Chapter 1 #2
My theory is that his ego was built in from the genesis of his actual name, Moseph.
Like, naming him after one biblical name wasn’t enough.
Apparently, his parents couldn’t decide between Moses and Joseph, so they decided to squish them together—hence giving him double the biblical superiority complex.
“Auntie Baby mentioned that Seph needed help setting up. Told her that you would be the point person.”
Achi waves at Auntie Baby, who’s standing by the kitchen, and gestures that I’m coming over. To my misfortune, Seph is right next to her and waves right back.
“Oh, I really don’t like you right now.”
“Go on,” Achi says, pushing me forward.
I grumble, “Can’t believe this is how you treat your only sister.”
As I make my way past the couch toward the dining area, I can feel the stares and even gawking from Derrick’s family. When they become harder to ignore, I hold on to the hair tie on my wrist, straighten my posture, and walk with even more confidence in my dress.
“Annika!” Auntie Baby lights up when she sees me. There’s a slight crack in her cheeriness when she eyes me from head to toe. “What a … dress.”
“Thanks, Auntie,” I deadpan, ending the window for small talk. “Achi said you needed help?”
“Oh, yes. Jackie put me in charge of the entertainment committee!”
I hold my tongue from pointing out that she’s the lone member of said committee.
She turns to Seph. “Can you show Seph where to set up? Your mom agreed that it’d be wonderful if he can play some background music when she enters the room.”
Not even the occasion of my mom’s engagement can stop the star of Moseph King from shining.
“What if the two of you do a duet? That would be such a great shot for the ting hun video!” She beams at me and adds, “You know, Nika, they also give awards to couples at prom too.”
It’s not enough that I have to put up with this guy’s presence—I also have to tolerate Auntie Baby’s not-so-subtle hints about going to prom with him.
As president of the Saint Agnes Alumni Association, Auntie Baby is also very active in the parents’ prom committee.
She’s made it her mission to secure my attendance, and to hint that I should bring her son along with me.
Based on our history, I’m pretty sure Seph isn’t a fan of going to prom with “Bad Luck” Ilagan.
During the summer after Pa passed away, I was supposed to be Gabriella to Seph’s Troy for High School Musical.
I never made it to the show. Ma and Achi were already in the car, ready to take me to the theater, but I couldn’t budge from the bathroom floor.
It was like every time I thought about my lines, or singing in front of a whole audience, my chest squeezed tighter and tighter—to the point that I had to cling to the edges of my sink so I could remember how to breathe.
My head still felt like it was floating when I lied to Ma and said I was sick.
Achi insisted I go to the theater the next week to explain why I didn’t show up.
As I made my way to the entrance, I saw Moseph talking to the other Trumpets theater kids.
They were saying how my surname Ilagan actually means “to avoid” in Tagalog.
I heard someone laugh and say that it made sense since I choked on opening night.
Then another guy made some joke about how they should avoid saying my name so it doesn’t bring bad luck to the show.
It was so incredibly obvious that Moseph was the one who started the whole thing.
I mean, he’s the only person who calls me Ilagan.
And it’s not like I’m holding a grudge. I’m great at letting things go!
The reason why I didn’t join Trumpets again was because I got busy with more important things.
Plus, why should I even care what Seph thinks about me?
His opinions are the least of my concerns.
Once Auntie Baby leaves us, Seph unfortunately opens his mouth. “Nice dress, Ilagan.”
To an uninformed outsider, Seph’s comment might be misconstrued as a compliment. I, however, an insider with tons of experience, know it’s an opening to what he really wants to say.
“Maybe you can get a prom date at this ting hun.”
See?
“Not going to prom, Moseph,” I tell him. “Based on all the shameless selfies you’ve been posting, I’m guessing you don’t have a date yet.” I tsk and tilt my head. “Couldn’t get anyone to say yes?”
“Taking my time with my options. Did you notice all the moms who have been visiting the condo? A lot of them were asking Ma if I’m free to take their daughters to your prom.”
“Makes sense,” I say, nodding. “Even hell has lots of visitors.”
The sides of his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches when his lips quirk up. Every time he gloats or shows off, he always adds in an obnoxious smile.
“So where should I set up?”
I gesture to where he’s standing. “Knock yourself out.”
His brow furrows. “How are the acoustics in this area? I’m playing the dying every day song and I don’t want anyone to miss the buildup to the chorus.”
“Do you mean ‘A Thousand Years’?”
He’s always been the worst at song titles.
“I’m sure the ‘famous’ Seph King can play in any environment.”
“Ilagan.” Seph clutches his chest, matching my sarcasm. “You think I’m famous?”
He smiles.
I smile.
Having a conversation with Seph King actually makes me grateful when Achi calls me to get the pitcher of orange juice from the kitchen.
Yet when I budge open the kitchen door, I see that Auntie Grace and Auntie Baby are already huddled by the ref.
Another reason why Ma’s barkada is called Marie-tres: The three of them are pro-gossipers, Marites personified.
Even when Ma refuses to sign up for any form of social media, she’s still up to date because of my aunties’ network.
Auntie Baby has sources far and wide, so she allegedly knew that Prince Harry and Meghan Markle got engaged, even before it was announced to the public.
As soon as they’re looking away from the door, I sneak inside and crouch down by the kitchen island. Achi always scolds me for eavesdropping, but I’m pretty sure she’d want to get first updates about the Royal Family too.
My ears suddenly perk up when I hear my name in their conversation.
“Does Beth know that Annika was going to be wearing that dress?”
I hear Auntie Baby sigh. “Hay, you know naman Annika. Didn’t Beth say that she wishes Nika could act more like Jackie?”
My fingers fiddle with the hair tie on my wrist while I keep listening. Granted, I enjoy chismis way more when it doesn’t involve me, but this is old news. I’ve always known that Achi was Ma’s favorite—no surprises there.
Then the gossip gets more interesting.
“I made excuses for her in front of Derrick’s relatives,” Auntie Grace says. “Told them that the girl’s been through a lot and they should pray for her.”
“Beh khan tshiu pa tapos ang judgy na,” Auntie Baby scoffs. “The amah was telling Derrick that she hopes the girls would look proper for the ting hun. She’s worried about Jackie and Nika when she’s the one with a single fifty-year-old son.”
Knew it! I knew that Derrick and the whole Go family was sketchy. This is the kind of chismis that’s healthy for the soul.
“But Beth does look happy, doesn’t she? It reminds me of Beth and Ton back then.”
“Grace, you can’t compare. That was first love and iba naman ang glow ng prom king and queen.”
Wait. My parents went to prom together?
… My parents were prom king and queen?
“Nika!”
My body knocks over a stool when Achi bursts into the kitchen. “What’s taking you so long?”
Auntie Baby comes over and bends to check my hiding spot. “Why are you crawling on the floor?”
“Uh…” I stand and smooth my dress. “I was looking for the orange juice.”
“You mean this one?” Auntie Grace points at the pitcher directly on the countertop.
“Ah, there it is!” I quickly grab the pitcher before this looks any more incriminating. Walking past Achi and my aunties, I push open the kitchen door. “Proud member of the juice committee. Tshia dim, tshia dim!”
Once I get through the difficult ordeal of serving people juice (and dodging Achi’s accusations that I was eavesdropping again), Auntie Grace tells everyone to settle down and get ready for Ma’s entrance.
Moments later, Ma emerges from the bedroom in the red dress her Marie-tres helped her pick out. I sometimes forget how utterly stunning my mom is—and her shoes accentuate her leg muscles even more. Ma has such toned legs that her calf muscles already pop when she’s wearing flats.
I shouldn’t be shocked that she was prom queen in a past life.
The music starts as Ma begins her grand entrance.
Even if Seph always makes his weird smoldering face when he plays the guitar, I hate to admit that he isn’t totally out of tune.
Auntie Baby is extra careful when she guides Ma backward down the steps leading to our living room.
I can practically hear Ma muttering a prayer under her breath.
“Why aren’t you Ma’s lucky lady?” I ask Achi.
“Auntie Baby knows more about these things.”
According to tradition, the woman who assists you in this ting hun entrance is supposed to be a “lucky” lady. Meaning: married, has kids, and ideally has parents who are still alive. So I guess with that criteria, Achi and I are zero for three.
And while Auntie Baby had the misfortune of having Seph for a son, she frequently mentions how “magical” her whole ting hun experience was with Uncle Francis.
Ma keeps walking until she reaches the center of the living room that has the prepared gift table covered with a red satin cloth.
Auntie Baby spins my mom around three times and finally faces her in front of Dr. Derrick.
While all this is happening, Dr. Derrick’s auntie keeps sneaking glances at me.
“Bo le so,” she mutters, very loudly so everyone within the vicinity can hear.
I expected better, to be honest. When Auntie Baby and Auntie Grace were gossiping about Dr. Derrick’s judgy family, I envisioned getting way more lethal comments from them than “She has no manners.” God, this family can’t even come up with good insults.
The Gos are becoming an endless cycle of disappointment.
Although, I do wish she didn’t say it while I’m right next to Achi. It’s like having an annoying life-size angel on my shoulder when I only want to listen to the devil. All the comebacks I have in my head unfortunately have to go to waste.
I keep expecting Achi to lecture me about the dress or read off another superstition listed in Ma’s notebook that I’ve broken, but she remains completely quiet while Derrick’s parents go on with the gift ceremony.
It’s only when Ma and Derrick exchange gold bangles and wear them on their wrists that she says something.
“Ma didn’t think this would happen,” I hear her say.
“What?” I scoff. “Her marrying our dentist?”
She shakes her head and pauses. “Feeling happy again.”
It takes all my willpower to hold back from screaming that this is not Ma’s happily ever after. Believe me—I really, really tried to be mature, be the kind of daughter Ma wants me to be. When Dr. Derrick proposed to Ma, her first question to Achi and me was, “Are you okay with this?”
What was I supposed to do? Say no when she and my sister were jumping for joy?
The tea ceremony begins with Dr. Derrick carrying the tray of teacups. Ma pours the tea and serves a cup to each of Dr. Derrick’s parents. Auntie Baby mentioned that this action symbolizes Ma communicating that she sees them as her parents too. Serving tea translates to: Now I call you Mom and Dad.
When his parents call for photo taking, Dr. Derrick’s family is all smiles and laughing like we’re witnessing some Disney fairy-tale wedding.
My wrist has marks from how hard I’m gripping my hair tie, but none of it calms me down. I can’t—I can’t do this. I can’t sit around here and pretend like I’m okay with Ma settling for this. That this is the life she wanted, that this is the guy she’s using to replace Pa?
Before they call Ma’s family for pictures, I get up from my seat and bolt straight to my room. I don’t care how many bo le sos get thrown my way again.
Like what Auntie Baby said, Dr. Derrick will never compare to my dad.