My Identity

ONE

Thank you, Ma'am." Mother stood up and extended her hand  for a shake.
     Dr. Atienza took both my Mom's hands and said warmly, "You are always welcome."
     Mom smiled back before picking up her bag. She motioned for me to follow her out.
     "Mom, I'm so. . ."I wasn't able to finish as she waved her hand.
     "It's not your fault. We'll talk later, in the house. Go back to your class first," she said, dismissing me. "I'll go back to mine, too."
    Mom strode off to the north wing of the building without looking back. I hesitated for a moment before going to the opposite direction.
     I am Alex Ocampo, a 17-year-old twelfth grader.  I have a younger brother, Ardie, who's fifteen and in tenth grade.  We go to the same school where our mother also teaches.
     Today is not the first time Mom was called to the Principal's Office. Since fifth grade, I think this is the twentieth time, more or less.
No, I am not notorious. I don't get into fights or stuffs like that. Just being a teacher's kid and a 'has-been' school's pride make me an 'object of concern' for the principal. She monitors my grades every grading and immediately reports to my Mom.
     "I'm really sorry, Mom," I said once we reached home.
Mom sat on the sofa and motioned for me to sit beside her.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," she assured me. "I'm not really bothered by your scores. They're not low as in low. You're even in the honors' list still."
"But I could still do better. I didn't study hard enough," I reasoned.
"I know. That's why I'm not bothered. Don't think I'm disappointed in you cause I'm not. As you say, you can still do better, so just do it."
"But you should be bothered!" I cried in my mind.
I really can do much better. I was consistently either the first or second in our class when I was in gradeschool. I also won in interschool essay writing contests, chess tournaments, and even in art competitions. Indeed, I was my parents' joy and the school's pride. Then I suddenly regressed. Shouldn't Mom and Dad worry? They should, right?
I've watched too many movies. A child from a broken home rebels against his parents. He starts to associate with the wrong crowd, becomes notorious and fails his grades. Then the parents become worried. They feel guilty for breaking up. They sit down and discuss how to help their child. In the end, they decide to reconcile for their child's sake. They sacrifice their feelings for the good of their child.
But our life is not a movie and my parents do not follow scripts. It's really frustrating.
Should I level up my rebellion? Should I be wilder? I can try if that's what it will take to get my message across.
"Anything you want to say?" Mom asked, noticing my hesitation.
"Er. . . ah. . . nothing," I lied.
"Then go, change, and help me in the kitchen," she ordered.
The truth is, there are so many things I want to tell and ask my mother but I do not know where and how to start. Besides, I'm not sure if she will answer.

TWO

     I was ten that time and I just completed fourth grade. I finished second honors in my class. At the same time, I was awarded the chess champion trophy. Mom celebrated my achievements by treating me out to lunch at my favorite fastfood. Of course, Ardie was with us. He, too, ranked fifth in his class.
     We were waiting for Dad so we could start eating. Ardie was already complaining. Then we saw Dad entering the restaurant. He was clicking on his cellphone and did mot see us when we waved at him. Finally, he looked up and scanned the roon.
      "Here, Dad!" Ardie called.
Dad took his time walking towards us. He seemed to be dragging his feet.
     "We're all here. Let's dig in!" Ardie said, excitedly.
     "Dad will lead us in a prayer first," Mom reminded us.
Mom and Dad exchanged quick glances before he murmured a short thank you prayer.
"Why are we eating out? What's the occasion?" Dad asked.
"I finished second honors in class, Dad!" I bragged.
"And I am fifth in my claas, too!" Ardie joined in.
     Dad's eyes lit up.
     "Oh, so this is a double celebration. Congrats, boys!" he remarked.
While Ardie and I filled Dad in about our respective achievements, Mom ate silently. I wasn't so sure then but I felt a certain tension between my parents.
     It was not even fifteen minutes and Dad has barely eaten his food when he looked at his phone and said, "I have to go. Just continue eating."
He took some bills from his wallet and gave Ardie and me a hundred pesos each.
     "Wow, I'm rich!" Ardie screamed.
     One hundred pesos is a pretty big amount for a gradeschooler back then.
     After tipping us, Dad stood up and excused himself.  Without looking up, Mom murmured some form of acknowledgement which Dad took as a cue to leave.
     We did some window shopping after lunch. Mom went over to the appliance section while Ardie and I looked around for books.
     My brother and I are certified bookworms. We started liking books as young as we could remember. Reading is a hobby that our parents unconsciously passed on to us.
     We looked at the price tags of the books. All were over a hundred. Ardie felt as disappointed as I did.
"We'll come back next time and buy those books," Mom said when she saw us looking pitifully at the Hardy Boys.
We went home without any purchase but it was fun whiling the time in an airconditioned mall.
Dad came home much later. It was past midnight when I went to the bathroom to pee that I accidentally saw Mom and Dad quarelling for the first time. Dad's jaw was set hard and Mom was crying.
The next morning, Dad was gone.