“They’re Mommy’s siblings,” Claudine explains. “Some of them are dead, but most of them are living in Manila.”
It never ceases to amaze me how Claudine can be so blunt, even when talking about her own family.
I know it’s not my place to ask, and she’d probably answer anything because of the gayuma, but I’m curious. Besides, if she does something awful to me again when the gayuma wears off, I’ll have some dirt on her. Am I being mean? I guess. But the past months being her punching bag haven’t been easy, you know. “Which one is your dad?”
Claudine winces. “We don’t have a picture of him.”
“Oh.” I blink. Okay, I take it back. I am being too mean. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. This is Mommy, in case you haven’t figured it out yet.” Claudine points to a picture. Claudine’s mom is as pretty as her. She seems older than my mom, but still very beautiful. Ms. Dimasalang actually reminds me of those rare morena actresses starring in the Tagalog movies Mom loves to watch. The media prefers light-skinned actresses, so it’s not often I see someone with dark brown skin get the spotlight.
“I never met my father. Mommy said he had another family. They didn’t want a scandal, so they gave Mommy a lot of money to keep quiet.” Claudine pauses, shifting her sleeping cat to her other shoulder. “Mommy is so hardworking. She raised me on her own and built this house for us and runs the best resort on the island.”
“It’s not just hard work.” As much as I don’t want to jeopardize Mom’s job, I just can’t help myself. It doesn’t sit right with me not to speak up. “My parents are hardworking too, but they don’t have a truckload of money to start their own resort. And because of that, they might never be able to have such a successful business. Not because they’re lazy, but it’s just the way the world works, you know? It’s just … It’s just—”
“Unfair,” Claudine finishes for me. She nods soberly.
“Yeah.”
We continue the house tour in silence. I feel terrible saying those things to Claudine on her birthday, but she needs to know how lucky she is.
The picture frames on the walls change as we walk farther down the hallway. I notice a woman with long black hair appear often in photos with Claudine and her mom. The woman looks to be Mom’s age, and her hair is so thick and long and layered that it reminds me of a black bird’s feathers. “Who’s this lady? She’s very pretty.”
“She’s Raven,” Claudine answers. I notice a change in her tone. She sounds wary. “She’s my mom’s partner.”
“Business partner?”
“No.” Claudine shakes her head. “Life partner.”
I feel Claudine’s eyes on me, like she’s testing me or something. But I understand. Many people in our country aren’t very welcoming to relationships like Ms. Dimasalang and Raven’s. I see nothing wrong with it though. If anything, Claudine should be proud of her family. Love is love.
“Your mom sounds amazing,” I say. And I mean it. Her mother does sound like a superwoman.
“She is.” Claudine opens the door to a room with mint-green walls. Winter the cat jumps off her shoulder, sauntering to her cat mansion beside the queen-sized bed. “Welcome to my abode!”
Everything in Claudine’s bedroom seems like it was cut precisely and fitted like a jigsaw puzzle. All her things are also properly labeled. Her dolls’ clothes are arranged according to season: winter, spring, summer, fall. There’s even a “rainy” season. Claudine is so weird.
But the thing I’m drawn to the most is the beautiful bike parked on one side of the room.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Claudine takes the bike off the stand. “Mommy got it for me from Manila. Do you have a bike?”
I frown. I really don’t like talking to anyone about what happened to my family, most especially to Claudine. But she did tell me her story, so it’s only fair that I tell her mine.
“I used to. But we had to sell it to help pay for my grandmother’s cancer treatment,” I say, kneeling to turn the pedal with my hand. The chains are well oiled and clean, like it hasn’t been used yet. “My bike had a basket too so Kidlat could ride with me.”
“That sounds fun,” Claudine says wistfully. “Would you and Kidlat ride with me if you had a bike?”
“Sure.” I mean it, really. Last week, Claudine would have been the last person I’d go riding with. But now? I don’t know.
It’s odd, and I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but Claudine and I are more similar than I initially thought. We enjoy the same things. If our circumstances were different, would we have been friends? Like, real friends, not the gayuma-induced kind. If my mom didn’t work for her family, would she have hung out with me? If I didn’t have dark gums, if I had more money, would she have considered me a friend?
“Awesome.” Claudine smiles. “Come by the window. Let’s take a picture with Winter and Kidlat.”
We take a picture. And another one. And another. Both our phones are full of our faces by the time we’re through.
“Your dog really knows how to pose!” Claudine laughs. “Look at him. That head tilt!”
“I know, right?” I point at Winter. The scowling cat looks like her face was smooshed on a glass window. “But your cat doesn’t seem to like selfies. She looks so grouchy.”
Claudine giggles. “She’s always grouchy.”
I join her in laughter.
Real or not, it’s nice to laugh with a friend.
“Claudine!” A shrill voice calls from outside Claudine’s bedroom. “Where is that girl? CLAUDINE!”
“That’s Mommy.” Claudine’s laughter dies down, and she sighs loudly. “I’m in my room!”
Ms. Dimasalang appears in the doorway. “What are you doing here— Oh, hello.”
“This is Jolina. She’s Sun—” Claudine throws me a wary look, as though afraid I’ll be mad at her. “I mean, she’s my friend.”
I don’t like the idea of anyone fearing me. But I do appreciate that she didn’t call my mom by her first name. One thing though. I’m torn about letting Ms. Dimasalang know that my mother works for her. Part of me wants to tell her who I am, thinking that maybe it’ll put Mom in her good graces at work. Another part of me doesn’t want to—the same part of me that feels weird about this whole thing. My parents told me that not being rich is okay, but I don’t know. It’s just awkward.
“You remind me of someone.” Ms. Dimasalang peers at me. I feel like I’m under a microscope with her scrutiny. “What’s your surname?”
One of the things I’ve noticed about living in a small province like Isla Pag-Ibig is the importance of surnames. The community is small enough that everyone knows everyone else, growing up together, generation by generation. Some are more powerful and prominent than others.
We’re far from a “powerful” family, but my grandfather is known by everyone. Ms. Dimasalang will certainly recognize our surname. There’s no point in hiding it.
“Bagayan po, Ms. Dimasalang,” I say. “I’m Sunshine and Rainier Bagayan’s daughter. Sebyo Bagayan is my grandfather.”
“Oh! No wonder you look so familiar.” Recognition dawns on Ms. Dimasalang’s face. “Call me Tita Peachy. How is your grandfather? I see him at church, but I’ve always wanted to visit his eatery. Do you still sell the yema balls? I loved them as a child! Where is your mother? Claudine, why didn’t you invite Sunshine?”
“Mom-myyyy!” Claudine groans. “Stop it, please. You’re embarrassing me! Why are you looking for me anyway?”
“Oh yes!” Tita Peachy nods. “You distracted me, silly girl. Your guests are here. I’ll see you downstairs?”
“Yes, yes.” Claudine pushes her mother to the door. “I just need to change first.”
“Why? Your dress is fine!”
“Mommyyy!”
“Okay. Okay!” Tita Peachy holds her hands up in surrender. “See you downstairs.”
“Ugh. My mom is so makulit.” Claudine rolls her eyes, meaning that her mother is annoying
.
“I think she’s nice.” I’m not just saying that to make Claudine feel better. Ms. Dimasalang—or Tita Peachy, she prefers to be called—is nicer than I expected. She’s not the snobby rich lady I imagined. “And I agree with her. You look great in that dress already.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Again, I’m telling the truth. Claudine really does look pretty. Her yellow sundress with teal, green, and purple reminds me of the beach—its bright colors make a pretty contrast to her brown skin.
“Okay. I’ll stick to it, then.” Claudine grins, flipping her hair. I notice she doesn’t have any colorful streaks today. “Let’s go downstairs before Mommy comes back.”
Claudine hoists grumpy old Winter on her shoulder before stepping out of the room. Maybe Claudine isn’t that bad a person. After all, anyone who likes animals and can actually have animals like them is usually a good person.
It’s amazing what a huge difference a few hours can make. The ballroom has turned into a fairy-tale land.
Above us, there are giant paper cutouts in three different shades of green hanging from the ceiling. There are yellow Christmas lights in jars in the middle of the dining tables. They remind me of little fairies trapped in jars in a magical forest.
“Have some roast beef, Kidlat,” I say, putting a small piece in the dog’s bowl on the chair beside me. Claudine lent him one of Winter’s gazillion food bowls. “It’s really good.”
My dog eats the roast beef eagerly. I know how he feels. I’m happily stuffing myself, away from the people but close to the buffet table. We’re all alone here with Winter, and I’m perfectly fine with it.
“What’s up, Winter?” I check on the cat. She just looks at me and yawns.
I laugh. “You and me both.”
Claudine is busy greeting her guests, but I don’t mind not talking to anyone human. I don’t know any of the guests anyway.
“You three doing okay?” Claudine stops by our table as I’m helping myself to a heaping spoonful of potato salad. “I swear I’ll be with you soon. My guests—”
I swallow my food, waving a spoon at her. “Don’t mind us. We’re fine here. The food’s wonderful, by the way.”
“Awesome.” Claudine is all smiles. “You should try the hazelnut shake. It’s the best. I’ll be back soon!”
And with that, we’re alone again. Well, for a couple of minutes at least.
Two girls sit down across from me and the animals. They seem like they’re my age, but I can’t tell for sure. They’re wearing makeup and designer clothes that make them look older.
“Are you Claudine’s new Antonette?” the taller one, a white girl with light brown hair and hazel eyes, asks me. I can’t know for sure if her eye color is real or fake. It’s hard to know with foreigners.
“Am I Claudine’s what?”
“Antonette,” says the other one. She’s a pretty Chinese Filipino girl with fair skin and full red lips. “Antonette is Claudine’s best friend. She lives in the US now.”
Before I can say anything, the tall white girl brandishes her fork like a baton and grins. “She is the new Antonette!”
“I’m Jolina.” What a weirdo. “This is Kidlat—”
The girl flips her hair, Claudine style but with a lot more poise. “Selena Ciervo.”
I don’t really need to know her surname. But I guess if you’re a Ciervo and you’re on Isla Pag-Ibig, you make sure everyone knows who you are. Unlike Tita Peachy recognizing my family name, it’s a different case with this Selena girl. The Ciervos were the first Spanish family to settle in Isla Pag-Ibig. Lolo Sebyo said they own almost a third of the land, a gift granted to their ancestors by the Spanish government when the Philippines was still a colony. Even now, a lot of their relatives have positions in government.
“I’m Maui. Hi, Kidlat!” the other girl chirps. “He’s a cute dog.”
“He is.” I smile. Maui seems nicer than her friend.
Selena peers at Kidlat. “Jack Russell terriers are expensive. I’ve seen one cost as much as eighty thousand pesos. Are you rich?”
Okay. That’s weird.
“No. A neighbor gave him to me as a gift.” I don’t really owe her any explanation. But I feel like she’s going to assume I stole Kidlat if I don’t tell her the truth.
“Oh.”
Now I’m getting annoyed. What’s this girl’s problem?
I can’t resist a jab of my own. “Is your mother a fan of Selena Gomez? You know, the singer?”
Selena’s eyes narrow. “I’m named after my grandmother. My Spanish grandmother.” She looks me up and down. “No. You can’t be an Antonette. Antonette never wears cheap shirts and shorts. And your sneakers, what are those? I’ve never seen a Nike check mark so big!”
Selena giggles. Maui’s smile looks pained.
I already know I don’t belong here. Selena doesn’t need to remind me of that.
I eat my food in silence, hoping the girls will leave me alone. Thankfully, Selena and Maui forget about me and talk about the fancy parties they attend with their international-school classmates in Manila. They talk about which European countries their parents will fly them to for summer break. Or which cruises they’ll take. They talk about themselves, basically. But when Selena says going to Isla Pag-Ibig is not worth it anymore now that Antonette lives in the United States, it’s time to butt in.
“Isn’t Claudine your friend too?” Surely, attending her birthday party makes it worth visiting Isla Pag-Ibig. I can’t help but feel bad for Claudine. If this is the type of person she’s friends with, it’s not surprising she says the mean things she does.
Maui toys with her fork. “Well, yeah. But—”
“Now I’m pretty sure you’re new here. You have no idea.” Selena’s lips curl into a sneer. “Let me explain. Maui, Antonette, and I … our families have been on this island for ages. Claudine’s family—they’re new blood. Peachy Dimasalang used to be this poor labandera who had Claudine with a rich married man. The man’s family gave Peachy a lot of money, which she used to get rich herself.”
A frown creases my forehead. Selena’s telling of Claudine’s family history is similar to what Claudine told me earlier, but it rubs me the wrong way. It’s like she’s mocking Tita Peachy. No wonder Claudine was embarrassed to tell me.
And honestly? Hearing her refer to Tita Peachy by just her first name grates on my ears.
“Ms. Dimasalang worked hard to get Sampaguita Premiere Villas where it is.” I grit my teeth. This girl is really testing my patience. Maybe even more than Claudine ever did. “That’s what my mom says.”
“How does your mom know?” Selena raises a perfectly arched brow. I didn’t know kids my age already got their eyebrows fixed.
“She works for Claudine’s mom,” I say, making sure to meet her gaze. I’m not ashamed of what my mom does. She’s hardworking and she does everything she can to help my dad and Lolo Sebyo provide for our family. “She’s a receptionist.”
“Really? Fascinating.”
Selena and Maui erupt in giggles. The sound reminds me of a hyena’s cackle.
I ball my fists under the table. Kidlat licks the one nearest him, and his touch calms me down a bit. But just when I think of a witty and less-rude comeback, Claudine arrives at our table.
“Oh good!” she says. “You’re getting to know each other.”
Selena smirks. “We are. A whole lot.”
A deafening silence falls on our table. I can feel the tension among the four of us humans. It’s like the heat coming off an empty pan on an open stove—slowly smoldering before finally emitting a burnt smell and nasty smoke.
Maui clears her throat. “Is your mom doing an outreach program for your birthday, Claudine?”
Claudine and I exchange glances. What does she mean?
Then we follow Maui’s gaze. My eyes land on new guests arriving—the kids from our Bible study group.
Is this girl for real? “Actually—” I begin.
&
nbsp; “I got this.” Claudine folds her table napkin and daintily dabs her lips. “No, they’re my friends from Sunday school. Just like Jolina here.”
Maui blinks. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”
“It’s okay. Excuse us, ladies. I have guests to entertain!” And with that, Claudine slams the napkin on the table, gathers her cat, and marches to where the Bible study kids are.
Personally, I think that Maui girl genuinely thought the kids were attending an outreach program. For one, it seems like something Tita Peachy would do. For another, the kids are dressed like me—simple jeans and shirts and sneakers screaming, We are not rich like you! Maui isn’t a total snob like Selena. She’s just really clueless.
I was expecting that Claudine would entertain the group as she said she would. But she stops and hides behind me instead. Which is pretty useless, as Claudine is a head taller than me. When I turn to face her, I notice she has tears in her eyes.
“I can’t believe they came!” Claudine says, her voice breaking.
“Of course they came,” I say. “Go show them the buffet table. Kidlat and I will help Tita Raven set up the videoke machine.”
Tita Raven already has most of the wires sorted out when I reach her. “You must be Jolina.” She has a really pretty smile. “Claudine told us so much about you. Is that Kidlat?”
When he hears his name, Kidlat hops up and takes a seat on the chair next to the one where I dumped my backpack.
I nod. “Yes po.”
“He’s as gorgeous as Claudine described! And so well behaved too. Please hold this.” Tita Raven hands me the plug as she rummages behind the videoke machine. I hand it back to her outstretched hand. “It’s so nice to see Claudine being friends with someone who loves animals as much as she does.”
“Yeah.” I say nothing more. I don’t want to rag on Claudine’s so-called friends, but I figure I don’t need to. Tita Raven already knows.
“Claudine also told me about your mother’s employment status at the resort,” Tita Raven says. She gives me another pretty smile. “Sunshine’s our best trainee, so you can be assured she’ll be promoted soon.”
Sugar and Spite Page 7
