Anything Goes

All I Ask

Businessmen in their neatly pressed tailored suits talking non stop on their phones. A group of hipster backpackers with their perfectly crafted coffee in that all too familiar white paper cup with a green logo— excited for their next adventure. Screaming children. Stressed out parents running after their screaming children. Teenagers with their perfectly polished nails taking non stop selfies. A gloriously tanned couple who obviously looked like they just got back from their honeymoon, oblivious to the maddening noise around them. And amongst all these chaos, there are few lone ones who looks nervous, excited, but most of all— lost. I am one of those.

This is the usual hustle and bustle I encounter whenever I come home. Home— a word so comforting that what I'm feeling right now wouldn't make sense to anyone. For me, the word home is synonymous to dread.

I come home at least thrice a year, and each time I do, the heavy feeling in my chest grows more and more intense. It's not that I don't want to come home, I do. I really do, because it means I get to be with her— my best friend, but coming home isn't the same for me as most people. Coming home is not good. Coming home means something bad happened.

I wish that I don't have to come home this often. I would be thrilled if I don't have to go home for years.

I walked towards the arrival area as I rolled my heavy luggage— a thick Louis Vuitton one. A couple of years ago I couldn't even afford to get myself an education, let alone buy a school bag. But look at me now, dressed to impress, with a pair of shoes that is equivalent to someone's annual pay check. It's ridiculous how much money is wasted on such frivolous things, but I guess this is what happens when your benefactor is the wealthiest man of the country.

The chauffeur struggled as he carried my heavy baggage inside the shining white BMW. Each time I come home, the weight of my baggage becomes heavier— meaning that I have to stay a little bit longer. But along with that, the invisible baggage— the heavy burden that I'm dragging along with me is nothing compared to that. If only I have someone to carry it for me.

"Ma'am Althea, should I drop you off to your condo first or—"

"No, no. Bring me to her," I cut him off.

The chauffeur nodded and drove in silence as left me alone to wallow in my own thoughts. I was humming along to one of the latest pop songs on the radio while looking outside the window— trying to calm my nerves, when my eyes landed on a familiar slum area in Metro Manila.

I used to be one of those kids playing on the railways, chasing the PNR just for the thrill of it. I was one of those girls selling rags to make a living. I saw myself in that teenaged girl in her worn down school uniform, dragging her shoes to keep the soles from falling apart.

I was one of them.

I never had an easy life as a kid, I lost my mother to cancer at such an early age, leaving me to my alcoholic dad who couldn't be bothered to raise a child. I learned to be self sufficient, and I promised myself to do whatever it takes to get myself out of that hell hole. It was a no brainer for me when I got the opportunity to leave that place. It was a once in a lifetime chance that I couldn't pass up.

I was brought out of my stupor when the expensive car came to a halt in an all too familiar building. The chauffeur opened the car door for me and I walked slowly towards the main entrance, leading me to the wide expanse of the immaculate lobby. I made a beeline towards the elevator at the far end corner and automatically hit the button to the second floor.

The elevator door opened and I begrudgingly made my way towards the chapel— the first place I visit whenever I come here. I was never a religious person, I lost all my faith when I was a child. I used to pray every night, asking Him to help me survive, but all those prayers were left unanswered. Nobody saved me. I had to depend on myself, and that's when I learned that I couldn't count on anybody— even God. I could never understand how a God so merciful could let me, a child, live such miserable life. But all of that changed when I met her. She is the reason why my faith was restored— strengthened even.