KABANATA LIMA
1680 Words
Shun Gray Williams
“Kuya…” maingat na tawag ni Selena.
“Hmm?”
“Ikaw ba yung gumawa non doon sa mga ’yon, Kuya?”
I fell silent because of her sudden question. Hindi dahil hindi ko alam ang sagot, kundi dahil alam kong may kasunod iyon.
“Yes,” maiksing sagot ko na lang.
“Is that so?” mahinang sabi niya—na siyang nagpakaba sa akin.
What if she sees me now as a monster? a sudden thought came to my mind.
“You know, Kuya,” pagpapatuloy niya, “in this country you should avoid glaring at people like that.”
Napatingin ako sa kanya.
“People could react like they did just now.”
Napangiti ako bago sumagot, “Well, even where I used to live, kailangan maging maingat ka, especially in making eye contact.”
“Really?” then why did you do that just now,” nakataas ang kilay na tanong nito sa akin.
Biglang bumalik sa aking alaala ang mukha niyang takot na takot kanina. ’Yong boses niyang nagmamakaawa. ’Yong pagyuko niya para sa mga taong walang karapatan.
“It’s just that it looked like they were causing you trouble,” sabi ko, pinipiling maging simple ang explanation. “So… serves them right.”
Hindi na ito nagsalita. Agad itong yumuko—but I saw the glimpse of her smile. Small. Quick. Parang sinikap niyang itago, pero nakita ko pa rin.
So I just smiled also and didn’t bother asking if there is a problem.
Pero hindi pala doon matatapos.
Paglampas namin sa kanto, may narinig akong mabilis na hakbang sa likod.
“Hoy!”
Hindi ko na kailangan lumingon para malaman—may isang lalaking tumakbo palapit sa amin. Siguro guard. Siguro tanod. Siguro bystander na gustong makisali.
Instinctively, bahagya kong iniharang ang katawan ko sa harap ni Selena.
“Kuya…” mahinang sabi niya, parang kinakabahan na naman.
Huminto ang lalaki sa harap namin, hingal na hingal. Naka-tsinelas, pawis, at may hawak na maliit na baton—tanod nga.
“Ano ’yon?” tanong niya, “Sinasaktan mo ’yong mga tao ro’n?”
Tiningnan ko siya. Hindi ko pinakita ang irritation ko. I can’t. Not here.
“Defensive,” sagot ko. One word. Straight.
“Defensive?” umirap siya. “Eh nakita ko, tumalsik sila sa basurahan!”
“Because they grabbed me,” sagot ko. “And they threatened my sister.”
Tahimik siya sandali. Lumihis ang tingin niya kay Selena—nakakunot ang noo, parang naghahanap ng clue kung sino ang may kasalanan.
Si Selena naman, kahit kinakabahan, tumango. “Kuya… hinawakan niya ’yong kwelyo niya. Tapos… sinigawan nila ako.”
Nakita ko ang pagbago ng ekspresyon ng tanod. Hindi na siya ganun ka-angry, pero hindi pa rin siya kampante.
“Okay,” sabi niya, “may tumawag daw kasi. Baka may magreklamo.”
“Let them,” sagot ko, calm.
At doon siya parang nabigla—hindi siya sanay sa taong hindi natatakot.
“Pero…,” dagdag niya, “baka pulis. Baka barangay.”
I exhaled slowly.
Sa America, kung may pulis, may paperwork. Dito? I don’t know. I’m still learning the rules. Selena’s right—culture matters.
“Kami na bahala, Kuya,” biglang sabi ni Selena sa tanod, in a polite tone. “Pasensya na po sa abala.”
Tumango ang tanod, tapos tumingin ulit sa akin, parang gustong sabihin na “Mag-ingat ka.”
“Basta,” sabi niya, “next time, huwag na. Ang daming gulo.”
“Noted,” sagot ko.
Umalis siya.
At pag-alis niya, doon ko naramdaman ’yong bigat na parang bumalik sa balikat ko—hindi bigat ng groceries, kundi bigat ng pagiging “iba.”
We continued walking.
“Kuya,” mahina ulit si Selena, “hindi ka ba natatakot na… magka-problema?”
“Tatakot?” I repeated, almost tasting the word.
Takot is something I know. Takot is something I lived with. Takot is something I buried.
“I don’t like problems,” sagot ko. “But I hate seeing you bow down more.”
Napahinto siya sa paglalakad.
“Kuya…”
I stopped too. We were near a small pedestrian lane, may mga tindang fishball at kwek-kwek sa gilid, may amoy ng mantika at suka sa hangin. Normal life. The kind I’m trying to pretend is mine.
“Tingnan mo ako,” sabi ko.
Sumunod siya. Tumingin siya sa akin, pero hindi direkta—parang takot siyang makita kung ano ang nasa mata ko.
“Selena,” I said carefully, “if someone touches you or threatens you—run to me. Don’t apologize for them.”
Bumuka ang bibig niya, pero walang lumabas na salita.
“So… you’re saying…” she tried.
“I’m saying you don’t owe them kindness,” I said. “You can be polite. But you don’t have to be small.”
Nakita ko ang pagkurap-kurap niya, parang pinipigilan ang luha. Pero hindi siya umiyak. Instead, she laughed—small, shaky laugh.
“Kuya,” sabi niya, “ang scary mo minsan.”
I blinked, then forced a light smile. “I know.”
“Pero…” she added softly, “I feel… safe.”
That word hit me harder than any punch.
Safe.
Hindi ko alam kung kailan huling beses may nagsabi niyan tungkol sa akin.
I swallowed. “Good.”
At para hindi ako mahalata, naglakad ulit ako.
Pagdating namin sa gate ng bahay, hinilot ni Selena ang likod niya, parang doon lang bumaba ang adrenaline.
“Grabe,” sabi niya, “ang dami nating dala.”
“Groceries,” sagot ko. “You chose them.”
“Eh gusto ko masarap pagkain mo,” sabi niya, mabilis ang tono, parang gusto niyang takasan ang mabigat na usapan.
Pagpasok namin sa loob, inilapag ko ang mga eco bag sa mesa. Narinig ko ang tunog ng plastic, ang clink ng canned goods, ang marahang pagkahampas ng gulay sa kahoy.
Tahimik ang bahay. Walang ibang tao. Only us.
Selena started arranging the items—rice, noodles, eggs, canned tuna, vegetables, some snacks she insisted on buying.
“Kaya mo na ’yan?” tanong ko.
“Oo,” sagot niya. Tapos, parang may naalala, huminto siya. “Kuya…”
“Hm?”
“Promise mo,” sabi niya, hindi nakatingin sa akin, “huwag ka nang makikipag-away ulit.”
There it is.
Bumalik sa isip ko ang boses ni Captain Limuel.
Don’t ever fight.
Pero ang kaibahan… ngayon, kapatid ko ang humihiling.
Huminga ako nang malalim. “I can’t promise ‘never’,” sagot ko honestly. “But I can promise I will try.”
“Try?” she repeated, slightly disappointed.
I looked at her. “Selena, I don’t want trouble. But I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She bit her lip. “Ayoko rin naman masaktan ako.”
“Then don’t bow,” I said again, softer this time. “Stand behind me if you have to. But don’t apologize for someone else’s cruelty.”
Tahimik siya sandali, then nodded—slowly.
“Okay,” she whispered.
I turned away, pretending to check the bags again, but in truth… I was trying to calm down. My hands still remembered the movement. My body still wanted more. That was the scary part—the part I never wanted Selena to see.
A few minutes passed. She went to the kitchen to get water, and I followed, leaning against the counter.
“Kuya,” she said while pouring, “tomorrow… first day mo sa school, ’di ba?”
My stomach tightened, not from fear of school, but from fear of being watched. Being judged. Being normal.
“Yes,” I answered.
She handed me a glass. “Excited ka?”
I looked at the water. Then at her. “No.”
She pouted. “Kuya naman.”
“I don’t like crowds,” I said. “I don’t like noise.”
“Pero…” she tried to encourage me, “new start ’yon.”
New start. Another phrase that sounds nice but feels like a lie.
“I’ll do it,” I said. “Because you want me to.”
Selena’s smile returned—this time, bigger. “Good! Tapos after class mo, sabihin mo sakin lahat.”
“Okay.”
She leaned closer, playful now, like she’s trying to pull me back into her world. “Kuya, kapag may nag-bully sayo—”
“I will not fight,” I cut in quickly.
She blinked, then laughed. “Edi good!”
But I saw it—the small worry still hiding behind her smile. The same worry Captain Limuel had. The worry that I might snap.
I took a sip of water, then said quietly, “Selena…”
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” I said.
She tilted her head. “Huh? For what?”
“For… not being scared of me,” I answered.
Her smile softened. She put down her own glass and hugged me.
Bigla. Mahigpit.
And for a second, my body froze—instinct, reflex—like the old days when touch meant danger.
But then I forced myself to relax.
Her arms were warm. Real. Human.
“Kuya,” she whispered against my chest, “kahit anong mangyari… kuya pa rin kita.”
My throat tightened. I didn’t reply immediately.
Instead, I rested my hand on her head—gentle, careful, like I’m holding something fragile.
“Yeah,” I finally said, voice low. “I’m your kuya.”
At that moment, I realized something.
The fight earlier… it wasn’t about pride. It wasn’t about me being strong.
It was about the line I drew in my head.
A line between my past and my present.
A line between war and home.
And I promised myself—quietly, without saying it out loud—
Tomorrow, in that school, in that normal world…
I will do everything I can…
to keep that line from breaking.
But if someone tries to drag Selena to the other side—
I will burn the whole line down.
- Writer
