Dalumat

VI. Weight of a Signature

"Laki ng ngiti natin ngayong umaga ah."

That was what Risa was greeted with as she came up to the table Dean Chel and Cong. Teddy were sharing in the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel. She returned Chel's "Good morning" with her own, placing her coffee on the table and pulling up a free chair.

"Malaki ba 'yun? 'Di naman masyado."

"Ah, so ngumingiti nga." Teddy grinned.

"Oo naman," she replied kindly, stirring her coffee. "Hindi bawal ngumiti sa umaga."

"Baka masarap lang ang tulog," Chel inserted.

"Naka-six hours kasi ako kagabi. Medyo matagal-tagal na rin akong 'di nakapag-six hours."

"Buti ka pa, Sen."

"Okay lang 'yan, Sir Chel," Teddy said. "Si VP nga eh, baka hindi na nga natutulog iyon."

Risa brought up the cup to her mouth for a sip to cover a smile. Oh, if only you know.

"Naabutan niyo ba siya dito?" she asked. She hadn't talked to Leni since she left her in her room. She guessed that she had probably already left by now.

"Nauna na ata si ma'am. Convoy niya ata 'yung naabutan kong paalis kanina," Chel answered.

"Naka-six hours din ata si VP," Teddy joked. "Ang laki din ng ngiti eh. Gaya ng sa'yo, Sen."

Risa couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from curling after hearing that. "Sana nga. Deserve niya iyon."

-

Out of all the people in the world, Risa was the only one who knew at what time Leni slept last night, what position she slept in, which side of the bed she slept on... and there was something Risa found undeniably exhilarating about that. It thrilled her, the idea that there were some things she knew that other people didn't.

Sure, Leni was surrounded by people 24/7 — by the same people, even: her staff, her security, familiar to her routine more than anybody else — but Risa felt a certain pride, almost childish in quality, intense enough that she wanted to pull one of Leni's people aside and say right to their face: Hoy, ikaw! I know something about her that you don't. Add in a triumphant, boastful smile.

Maybe they were useless things (Risa had to admit that they kind of were...), and they'd probably laugh at her, think she's crazy, or give her a weird look, but she didn't care. (It wasn't like she would actually do it. It would be very unlike her.)

Perhaps she should feel a bit more embarrassed about how childish it all was, and about the irony of the situation. Wasn't she initially reluctant to spend the night with Leni to begin with? Putting doubt where there shouldn't be any? Her brain insisting to put meaning unto things that didn't actually mean anything?

She shook her head, wanting to laugh at herself. May pa-molehill-molehill ka pang nalalaman kagabi.

But look at her now. She was so glad she said yes, even if it was just for this feeling.

She felt like a little girl again, back when every pinky promise was a matter of life and death. It was the same feeling she got when Little Risa in kindergarten found out that she was also the best friend of her best friend. It was a feeling that only innocent children experience in all its purity and fullness, unmarred by any complications only teenagers and adults bring into their relationships.

Who knew that, at her age, Risa would experience something like that again?

It was like reawakening a sensitivity long calloused by all the things that just came with life — betrayals; jealousies; life's other priorities; deaths; even politics, where you can smile at someone in one moment and defame them in public in the next — all thanks to a shared experience with a close friend, even if it was something as mundane as sharing a room overnight.