Sa Iyong Ngiti

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"So how was school today?" Mum asked after we got settled at the dinner table. I gave myself a moment to answer the question and finally settled on the safest answer.

"It was.. alright I guess? I got an essay to work on. What's the importance of the English language," I told her. She raised an eyebrow and I went on. "Right? How do I answer that?" I moved my eyes to Paul, he had a thoughtful look on his face.

Surprisingly it was my six year old brother Ian that came up with an answer first. "English is important so we can talk to each other. If I only speak Tagalog, how will mommy know that I love her?" 

Mum looked taken aback. I smiled and reached out to ruffle Ian's hair. "That's a good answer," I told him.

"I.. I love mommy too," Bella said quietly before hiding her face behind her stuffed rabbit. "And Daddy."

"I love you too sweetheart," Paul said to her before turning to me. "Ian made a really good point. English is important so that we can all be able to communicate."

"Yes," I agreed. "But I'm struggling with the question why can't it be the other way around? Like, when I came to the Philippines, I didn't expect everyone to speak English for me. That's why I pushed myself to learn Tagalog. Although Mum can't speak it, she understands enough. I've met so many kids lately that turn their nose when they hear me speaking English."

"Do they say nosebleed?" Paul asked, eyes lit with humor.

"Yes! Exactly that! I feel embarrassed everytime they do that." 

I struggled with Tagalog for so long. My biological father is Filipino but he left when I was two and we didn't reunite until I was ten years old. I was twelve when I saw him last, that was before we moved to Manila. He taught me the language as much as he could.

"Sounds like you're gonna have a long night trying to work on that essay," said my mother.

"I have until Wednesday but I will start working on it tonight," I told her before turning to Ian. "How about you? How was kindergarten today?" My little brother let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes dramatically before talking about the girls that have been fighting over him. Nobody was expecting that answer at all. I gaped at him and there was a minute of silence before we all started laughing, even little Isabelle was giggling.

Later that night when I was in my room working on my essay, someone knocked on my door. "It's open," I said without turning to look. 

I heard the knob twist and the door was pushed open. "Hey," said Paul. "Your mom asked me to bring you this." I put my pen down and looked up from my paper. Paul was holding a plate of cookies and a cup of tea. He walked over and placed them on my desk. "How's that essay going?"

I gestured towards my trashcan that's now filled with crumpled paper. "Splendid," I said. My voice laced with sarcasm. I put my pen down and took off my glasses to rub my tired eyes. "But thank you for bringing me tea. I needed a break."

"You're welcome," he said. I reached for the cup and took a sip. The warmth went straight into my stomach and I relaxed back on my chair. Paul hadn't made any move to leave so I looked at him.

"Uh is there anything else?" I asked.

He shifted on his feet before walking over to my bed to sit on the edge. I raised an eyebrow, turning my chair around to see him better. He opened and closed his mouth for a second, struggling to speak. I was confused until he finally asked "Are you having any girl problems?"

I was so startled by the question that I almost spilled my tea. Ha, funny. I set the cup down and let out a nervous laugh. "What? Where'd that question come from?"