Always Around

Chapter Five.1

Gladwell

"Done!" I sighed in relief as I jumped up from my seat and plopped down on my bed. Finally, after six months, my first book manuscript.

A week after I outed my family woes to Professor Rye, I decided to clear the air. Just in case it became a source of concern for the aged educator. It was a big deal to me that they showed interest in my writing, and I wouldn't want to be a cause of stress since they seemed to be the most effective and sincere teacher on campus in years. Also, I needed to thank them. It was most surprising that the incident turned from being a source of embarrassment into an opportunity to open up to my classmates.

I asked the professor to help me figure out and polish my writing style that day. They'd let out a hearty laugh and patted my head as they agreed to my selfish request. My weekly assignment was to read one published short story and then write one of my own. Then we'd meet up to review them together every Thursday night in a restaurant that serves pancit habhab (noodles traditionally eaten from hand to mouth), crispy fried chicken, and karioka (sweet rice balls) in platters. Prof's treat!

The only condition, I must not write the stories in school. They said I should focus on my academics and listen to my teachers during lessons. I tried to find a loophole to this agreement by looking for writers' clubs on the campus, but the journalism club was packed, and there wasn't a novelist or essayist club. My effort to best Prof was futile, so the original agreement stood.

"I have a question!" Raven's head suddenly popped up from the edge of the bed. He was rolling on the floor while playing Pokemon FireRed on my DS.

"Will you ask again about dinner with Prof Rye tonight? Because you can always not come. Just raid my cupboard. Not like you haven't done so already", I quipped.

"No, you can't get rid of me that easily. Prof asked me to hold you accountable for your writing goals, and I do not back down from responsibility!" He said this in a very know-it-all tone that was irritating but funny. "Although you are fresh out of biscuits - totally not my fault."

Raven sat straight on the floor while still intently staring at his game. "Don't you think it is risky for Prof to be meeting us every single Thursday night? Isn't this sort of setup frowned upon in the teaching community?"

I swear my head turned so fast that I felt a slight click somewhere up my neck. "You don't mean..."

"Yes, that's what I'm asking," he replied.

I gave him a perplexed look. "Wow. Why would people think that about a well-meaning teacher going out of their way to help their students?" I hesitated for a bit, then continued. "Is it because of Prof's gender?" I paused. This one is a touchy subject, one I did not expect to come from Raven, the least stressful and problematic person I know.

Despite the sudden discomfort, I continued the conversation. "Miss Katelyn's house, you know that one at Block Eighteen? She shares it with five more teachers, and they always have students over for projects and tutoring sessions. Our setup with Prof is no different from that. No, ours is safer since it's always in a restaurant. Always in public."

Raven looked up from his screen. "Yes, I know that. But I know you know that people have disgusting minds. Young male students meeting their old male teacher with a gender orientation many people don't get? It might get Prof in trouble if, God forbid, a malicious person starts sharing dirty thoughts with impressionable minds in school."

Raven wiped his face involuntarily, a telltale sign that he felt he bit more than he could chew with this topic. He took a deep breath, exhaled, then looked straight at me. "Gladwell, my good friend Well. Prof Rye is such an outstanding person that they must be a saint or something. No one here argues with that. They've been more parent-like to us than some parents I know. However, the world does not choose the wholesome explanation for things most of the time. They don't know us. They don't know Prof. There will be people who will see us only as underaged boys going out and eating 'free' dinner with an old gay man."

"Raven, my dramatic friend Ven. You say that as if being gay is bad, and old gay men can't be friends with young people. And Prof is not gay." I felt my face slowly heating up in anger. I think even I won't buy the fake smile I plastered on my face at this moment. Despite trying my best to keep the conversation light, I knew and understood in this instance that gossiping about my mentor is not something I can take sitting down.

"I know! And you should just be angry if you are angry. You look creepy trying to hide it. You know that's not what I meant. I like Prof, and I respect them fully. Come on, man. I'm just worried Prof might be negatively affected by this. I'm not the enemy here." I could feel Raven's discomfort with this conversation. His regret in opening this topic is almost tangible. He sighed, stood up from the floor, sat on the bed, and continued his DS game.

I went back to my study chair while staring at my manuscript, a stack of pad papers placed neatly on my desk. The cover says "Force Of Habit: A Novel." I took it and turned the page to see its Dedication. "Professor Rye - my future mentors will need superpowers if they're to be as great as you."

For a while, we were silent, mulling over the matter and its dangerously real implications for Professor Rye's career.

"I had a conversation with Professor Rye about their gender orientation once. It was that time you had to stay home for your mom. I asked them why they asked everyone in the class to use 'they' and 'them' when referring to them. Prof then returned the question to me, asking me what I thought the reason was. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to offend them. So I squirmed in my seat, uncomfortable until they noticed and offered me an answer."

I turned my chair to face Raven, still busy with his game. "Do you know what agender means?" I asked him.

"I only know it because one of your book characters is one. It means a person who does not identify as male or female, right?" he responded without looking at me.

"Yeah, Prof said they're agender. I guess we should've guessed that with their appearance and demeanor. The first time I met Prof, I didn't know if I was with a man or a woman. I didn't know what agender means, though. I actually thought that's another word for gay. So I made a total fool of myself by asking if Prof's 'wife' knew it. Prof just laughed at me and asked why I thought they had a wife. I mean, they told me they have a son! Of course, I am young and dumb, and I would assume they had a wife at some point. That's when Prof Rye explained that they have never felt attracted to anyone, romantically or physically, so they never had a partner. Their son was adopted. I was so intrigued by it. The idea of not identifying with the social norms of being male or female. Explains Edgar in the book."

"I mean... chew on that for a bit", Ven interjected as he turned to face me. "Even you thought Prof's orientation was gay, even when they already said 'agender.' That word, its meaning, is not taught in school. We are a long way away from fully understanding and embracing the wide variety of gender identities. As a society, I mean. We're fortunate enough to learn of it this early in our lives. Most adults have not even been introduced to the concept yet. And that's what I worry about, them judging Prof just because they don't know enough."

I gripped the manuscript in my hands. I didn't think of the repercussions my ask would affect our teacher, and the thought I could be creating unnecessary conflicts for them disturbed me.

Both of us stayed quiet for a moment. The only sound in the room came from Raven's game. I think he was fighting gym leader Surge.

"So, what's your story about this week?" Raven perked up. Thank goodness for him breaking the dead air. He placed the DS on my study table and went back to rolling on the bedroom floor.

"No short story this week," I responded. "I'm finally showing Prof Rye the first draft of Force Of Habit!"

Raven's eyes widened in excitement. "No way! That's what you've finished? Finally! How did you end it? Did they die? Did they ALL DIE?" He said this with gritted teeth, and it made me think he's more invested in this than I initially thought.

"Maybe you should start proofing to find out? Seriously, man, why are you so weird about this book?" I chuckled as I threw the manuscript to his feet.

"Hey! I've supported the making of this story. You taught me how to proofread and be your second set of eyes so I could help more! My reward should be that the secondary characters die horrible nightmare-inducing deaths." He stated this with a straight face. It was slightly unnerving.

He took hold of my manuscript, crawled to my desk to grab a pen, and sped through to the last five chapters. I hoped he finds nothing that'll warrant rewriting in this batch. I got antsy each time Raven started the proofing process, so this time I decided to get busy in the kitchen to cook lunch. I felt like making baked chicken and vegetables with parmesan and mozzarella cheese.

I couldn't get my mind off the idea that Prof Rye- the brilliant and all-around goodie Prof Rye, the only person I know who would risk getting run over by cars to save a kitten on the road- might be experiencing mistreatment because of their gender. What's more, there is a possibility that I might be adding fuel to the fire. I had never thought of what our mentor-mentee setup would look like from the outside. Although the people who'd possibly thought dirty thoughts about us are, without a doubt, some brainless, trashy, and judgemental scums of the earth, who's to say they can't do damage to Prof and his widely respected career.

"WEEEEEEEEEELL!" Raven shouted from my room. "Gladwell! Well! Well! Well! Well! Gladwell!" he tirelessly repeated.

"What is it, what, what, what, what is it?!" I replied, trying to copy his annoying chanting.

"I've been calling you for ages, you dumb prick! I was asking for more Eggnog!" Raven screamed, his head peaking from the floor of my bedroom door.

"Get them yourself, lazy prick!" I responded. I returned to the chicken on the countertop.

Suddenly, we heard the front door's knob wiggle. Following it was the sound of the turning lock.

"Gladwell, anak ko (my child)!" a loud, pesky, sing-song voice rang as the front door finally opened to reveal my mother.

I heard Raven's shock as he hurried from lying on the floor to standing up and tidying my room. This was the fastest and only time I've seen him do so.

Of course, they'd appear all of a sudden. Of course, because life was just too convenient up until now. Of course, they'll appear on a day like this, like how anime villains drop from the sky just before the heroes leave through the city gates. Maybe it's the universe rebalancing things? The sun is always hot, one day is always twenty-four hours long, and my parents are always, always, the bane of my passion for writing.

One look, a nod, and Raven already knew to hide the manuscript before going out of the room to welcome my parents. As he ran to my side, Mom removed her shoes and placed them gently on the shoe rack, side of the door. As she usually does, Mom realigned my pair of flip-flops that were always slightly unparallel for some unknown reason.

"Anak ko, your father's outside gathering your Christmas goods from the car. We'll only be here until tomorrow. We have a flight to catch. Oh, you know your sister, she wants us to celebrate the holidays at their Jasper home. You..." Mom trailed off as she looked from inspecting the shoe rack to me, then to my visitor.

I sensed Raven's hesitation as he reached out his hand in introduction. "I'm Raven, Ma'am. It's great to meet you." We waited for her to shake his hand, return his greeting, or stare at him in judgment. But she just stood there with a blank face.

Mom, the walking, talking definition of a social butterfly, was speechless for the first time in my entire life. And I'm not sure I understood why until she poked her head out the door and frantically shouted in my father's direction. "HONEY?!"

Raven and I stared at each other, confused. We then looked back at Mom, whose face changed from expressionless to furious.

"Gladwell, what is the meaning of this?!" she asked, her tone suggesting I might have done something incredibly wrong again.

"What is what?" I asked back, not sure why she was so mad.

"I knew it! I knew you would be gay!" She squealed, her eyes building in tears slowly but surely. She then searched her gigantic purse for the compulsory handkerchief for her waterworks.

"What?" Raven and I spouted in unison, although Raven sounded almost laughing. I, on the other hand, am indifferent.

"There you go again with jumping into baseless conclusions," I said as I tapped Raven's shoulder to keep him from exploding in laughter. "He's a classmate and a friend," I finished while slowly walking toward the living room. Raven followed.

As we sat on the sofa bed, a low, raspy, commanding voice rumbled behind Mom. "Your son is not gay," said the towering figure that is my father. "And even if he is, he will be a happy and successful one."

"Right," I said with a sigh. "Raven, Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad, Raven." I gestured to each person as I introduced them. Raven only bowed his head to my parents in response.

"Good to meet you, Raven," Dad said as he sat down on the couch across from us, placing bags of food, groceries, and boxed gadgets on top of the coffee table between us. "We're sorry we just met you now. Our work, you might know, takes us away from our son." He signaled my mother to sit beside him. Mom then composed herself in no time as she gracefully found her seat. "You'll have to excuse me, Raven. Gladwell here does not usually introduce us to his "friends." We weren't sure he had any." She ended her statement with a slight chuckle and a flick of her hand, bringing back her socialite version I've known all my life.

"It would have been nice if you've told me before you dropped by," I stated. In my head, I thought it would have been nice if my parents didn't drop by at all. They don't do anything in this house except bring items their workers could've shipped and give me money they could've remitted or transferred to my bank account. My parents sometimes use this place as a vacation house, but they have three bigger and more "aesthetically pleasing" houses. Their words, not mine.

"I thought it would be obvious, son. You know the airport is nearer here than anywhere else," Dad replied.

"My bad," I said under my breath. "I'll get you some water," I finished while standing up to head to the kitchen.

This is their deal. It always had been. My mother and father can take any issue in the world and make it seem my fault, my misgiving. It's relatively easy for them, I think. Seeing that my two older siblings are overseas and living their best lives, our folks could take pretty much any aspect of their existence, compare it to mine, and they would hit a condescension-powered home run each time.

I decided to repack the ingredients I was preparing earlier when I heard the beginning of Ven's interrogation.

"So Raven, you're Well's classmate," Dad started.

"Yes, sir! Since the first year," Ven answered.

"It's strange that we just met you now when it's your senior year," Mom said.

"We only became friends this year, Ma'am."

"Ah, that explains it. Well's not the most social classmate, I assume." Mom then proceeded to talk about how I'm always the quiet kid in the corner at every family gathering, vacation trip, and Christmas party. I could only silently cringe at how Mom expected Ven to laugh at how I was the awkward kid at social functions I never asked to be a part of in the first place.

"He'd rather stay in his room and scribble on his notebooks," Dad joined in on the conversation. "Gladwell writes, even when it's for nothing or nobody. No people skills mean he won't get good in business transactions. We're happy you're helping him out of his shell, Raven. Thank you." I could hear Dad's slight smile through his words. I would have been the happiest kid if they weren't insulting my one and only passion in life.

"I understand what you mean about his social skills. He is quite uncomfortable in a crowd, even with people he already knows. But..."

Shit. That "but" sounds like trouble.

Raven continued, "he's quite a talented writer, and he uses personal experiences and interactions in his writings. Maybe he could be more social if he's encouraged to write? Since he'll have more to write about?"

This guy. I don't know where he gets the guts to say just about whatever he wants to anyone. I was too scared to look at my parents' faces but curious about how they were taking Raven's valiant effort to free me from their control.

Before my curiosity turned my head, my father's voice rumbled as he cleared his throat.

"That is possible, but it is not a good idea to encourage his writing," my Dad sternly said- his tone the lowest, coldest, and almost robotic. "If he continues to pursue writing, he would lose time to learn more practical things. He would explore delusions like spending months working on scripts and sending them to publishers with networks of authors they put first on the publishing lines. He'll face multiple rejections, then he'll get one or two to agree to print and sell his books, but they will pay him the smallest amount possible only to milk him dry by asking for sequels, prequels, or maybe spin-offs. Then he will slowly get sick of writing senseless books that he himself won't read. He'll eventually quit, but he won't have many career options because all he knew to do was write fiction. No practical, manual, technical skills. No degrees, doctorates, or certifications to make up for his lack of experience."

"Oh, he won't be able to earn enough to sustain his current lifestyle without our help," Mom added.

I didn't know what I expected to hear then, but I sure did not expect my father to sum up my potential future so painfully casually. It didn't even dawn on me that he gave the topic a place in his head until now. Mom's take was more or less the only concern I thought they had of my dream.

It surprised me that I didn't get mad at their remarks. It saddened me. They don't see a bright future ahead of me even if they give me their support.

Not when they know how hard I'll work for it.

Not when I land a book deal.

Not when I get published.

Not when I get to publish a book series.

These things are my dreams. Being able to write is what keeps me up at night and gets me out of bed in the morning. If achieving any of these is not enough for them, what is?

I don't need eyes behind my head to tell that Raven is silently seething with frustration. I rushed to put the raw chicken in the freezer to get water for Mom, Dad, and Ven.

"Water. Drink up," I said lightly, ignoring the building tension between my parents and my best friend. Dad took his glass and drank slowly, without a care in the world. Mom took hers and looked closely to make sure it was clean before taking a sip. Raven just sat and stared at the couple. He then turned to me with bewildered eyes.

Keeping these people in one place is a ticking timebomb.

"We're heading out this afternoon to see our science teacher. I won't be home till early morning. We'll be cramming, just to be prepared for when school resumes." I waited for their response, hoping that they wouldn't probe.

Dad placed his empty glass down and wiped his mouth with his neatly pressed handkerchief. Tucking it back into his shirt pocket, he responded, "your mother and I will be next-door, catching up with your cousins and aunts. We will turn in early as we need to catch our 4 a.m. flight. Don't forget to lock up properly, and do not wake your mother when you come in."

"Copy that," I said.

"Raven, it's been a pleasure. Again, we thank you for being friends with our son. Keep him company when we're away." My father stood up and extended his hand to Ven, who reluctantly took it without saying anything.

Mom stood up, walked to my side, and handed me a new wallet. "Here's your money and some extra. We'll leave your gifts here. Take these to your room before you head out. Mag-ingat kayo (be safe)." She held my cheek for a second and stared at my face. This moment would've been sweet between mother and son if only her stare were less judging. After nodding to Raven, she took Dad's hand as they walked out of the house. Before closing the front door, Dad glanced back at me and shot a look that I've known all my life as a reminder to behave myself.

When we were sure the couple was out of earshot, Ven and I sighed as loud as we could, as loud as we needed to release the tension.

"Man, I knew your parents would be intense... but I didn't expect it to be this bad! That was infuriating!" Ven exclaimed as he sunk in his seat, seemingly tired after keeping good posture for only a few minutes. "How could you keep a straight face after what your father said? I would have started an argument with my Pop if he were to talk about me like that!"

"I've learned early in life that picking a fight with him is pointless. He has reasons for everything he says or does, and he's never wrong." I started to collect the used glasses on the coffee table. Dad's commentary on my potential future slowly took its rent-free space in my brain. It will be a core memory, something I will recall on my best and worst days.

Staring at the ceiling, Raven tried to make sense of my parents' words and actions. "Maybe... maybe they... no, that doesn't make sense. Hmm. Maybe they don't... hmm. No, that's too minor to consider." His face twisted and turned, running every backstory his mind could come up with the information he gathered in his short time with my parents and the stories I told him before.

I felt the urge to hop in on this, but my interjection might be more about trying to defend my parents than helping Raven understand them. Being a child can be complicated in this sense. "Have I told you that both my parents grew up poor? And they didn't study to be engineers in the first place. Dad was a sales personnel, and Mom was an office clerk. They both struggled during and after the dictator's reign, like the rest of the middle to low-income Filipinos. They jumped at a chance to work abroad, and they started from the bottom to become the top engineering duo they are now."

I ran a hand to my face. I don't appreciate how my parents go against my passion for writing. Still, I feel like it is my obligation to at least try and understand why they think the way they do. I wonder if they thought of my situation the same way.

"I don't understand. If your Mom and Dad understand from first-hand experience how it is to push for a goal, why would they choose not to support you even when people can vouch for your potential?" Raven asked. "I get that aiming to be a published writer will need patience and hard work, and you will fail many times... plus there will be days when you'll experience mental block... but isn't that how most jobs are? Or am I just too young to understand their logic?"

With a sigh, I answered. "In my mind, Mom and Dad are the way they are because they don't want us, their kids, to start from scratch midway in our lives like they had to. But it still hurts to think that they see my dreams as stepping stones to my future poverty and unemployment."

After skipping lunchtime and spending a couple of hours in the depressing mood my parents left us, it was finally time to meet up with Prof Rye. After grabbing my satchel and filling it with necessities - wallet with money and cards (ID and credit), the manuscript, mobile phone, a jacket in case I get cold, an extra shirt, and rolled towels just in case - we got out the house.

To our surprise, Prof Rye was already here.

In my family's compound.

Sitting at the table outside Aunt Julie's house.

Talking to my relatives.

Talking to my parents.