If some shits happen because of shitty situations, then maybe I've done enough shits to deserve this kind of shitty life.

That same scenario keeps on repeating inside my head. Mga paratang, mga pagduda. Bawat oras mararamdaman ang konsensyang naapakan para sa paniniwala na ayos lang ilihim ang mga bagay kung makakasakit naman sa ibang tao.

Kailangan ko nga sigurong lunukin ang katotohanan para mapagtakpan ang taong walang pakundangan kung manloko ng iba. Nang ilang beses. Lalo pa, at sarili kong ina ang kailangang kong isalba sa mga pahanong ibinabaon niya na ang sarili sa kasalanan.

Dali's innocent gaze bore on me. She was clutching some of her books, her eyes were squinting, her attention directed to what I am supposed to say.

"Ano'ng oras umuwi ang Dad mo kagabi?" tanong ko na parang hindi man lang iyon importante—a trivial thing needed to be shared to prevent the silence eloping the atmosphere between us. I wiggled a strap of my bag hanging loose on my back just to release the tension building up against my palms.

I don't know what sort of shit happened next. But when we both get to a scenario of putting our entire atensyon towards each other, while talking or even doing anything. . . something becomes something. Nothing usual. Some sort of unknown disguised in some kind of familiarity.

Hindi ako palasalita, pero sa sobrang kaba ko ngayon mababaliw ako kung wala akong makakausap. It was instinctive when I smiled after recalling that memory I had with Dali. Back when we barely knew each other.

Dali and her self-restrictions on behaving like a normal person. We humans, as our basic nature, are susceptible to nonsense blabberings, small talks, and even diversions. But no matter how she tries to hide her anxiousness it shows in her eyes.

Naalala ko, magkatabi kami sa upuan noon habang nakikinig sa opening remarks ng isang event. We were participating in an interschool debate competition. Malapit nang magsimula ang contest nang kinalabit niya ako habang sinusubukan kong magfocus para sa sunod na mangyayari. While she can't remain steady in her seat, I was constantly raking my fingers on my hair. We both felt the tension at that moment. She was well aware that we had to calm ourselves down before the competition properly starts. Kung hindi, hindi kami makakapag-isip nang maayos—matatalo, at matatameme sa gitna.

Hindi ko naman first contest 'to pero—she mumbled. Tapos ay huminga siya nang malalim. Pumikit siya at hindi na dumilat pa—syempre, habang hindi pa nagsisimula ang event namin.

That's when I learned a thing or two about her.

She always gives her all despite the pressure and tension we were put into. That time she did. I did too. We won in that event.

Dumapo ang paningin ko sa mga mata ni Dali saglit. Ngayon ay nakaharap siya sa akin at mataman na sumasagot sa tanong.

"11 pm."

I maintained a stoic face. "Sigurado ka?"

"Yes," agad niyang sagot. "Why?"

Hindi na ako nakatitig sa kanya at nakatingin na lang sa malayo. Konting pagtitig pa sa kawalan, babalik ulit sa pag-alala sa mga nangayari na. "Hindi na ulit siya umalis ng bahay niyo?" I asked again.

The shifts in her tone are enough for me to gauge that this conversation is slightly catching her interest.

"Hindi na," she answered.

She's giving me short answers. Hanging. As if she doesn't care much too. Yet I know that she has something in her mind right now that's bothering her.

"Wala siyang ibang sinabi?" muling tanong ko.

"Nothing," she replied.

Then she asks about my mother. . .

Now, I couldn't help but gaze at her again, now, slightly troubled. "A-Ano ulit 'yon?"

But she fell silent. Still gazing at me. Hindi siya nagsalita. "Nevermind."

I slowly lowered my gaze. Tumikhim ako.

Ilang minuto ang lumipas napansin ko na hindi siya mapalagay, narinig ko ata siyang bumuntong hininga. Nang balingan ko siya nang paningin, alam ko na kung ano kung sakali ang iniisip niya ngayon.

Iyong nangyari noong isang araw.

"You're still bothered with that scene at Cielo coastal route?" I proceeded to ask.

Siya naman ngayon ang napahawak sa sling ng dala-dalang bag. Nilingon niya ako pagkatapos ay napalunok. "A bit."

I gave her a small smile. "'Wag mo na isipin masyado."

Natawa ako sa sariling sinabi. 'Wag mo na isipin masyado. Simple words. Yet, it's so hard to keep a grasp on it...

Kumurap-kurap ako at napansin ang sariling ilang oras nang nakatitig sa kisame ng kwarto. Nakaunan ang ulo ko sa isang braso, ang isang kamay ay pinapaikot ang cell phone na kanina lang ay hindi matigil sa kakailaw.

For the third time this day, thoughts of what could've happened when I have enough balls to confess to Dali that something's off with my mother and her Dad's relationship bothered my head.

Something's not right. I drawn to doing something, only to realize that it isn't my duty to keep things in place altogether.

Pinasadahan ko ng tingin ang naka-on na computer sa gilid ng kwarto. Sa mga DVDs at CDs na nakakalat sa papag. Sa cabinet kung nasaan nakalagay ang pictures na nakaframe. Na kung papansinin ay may makikitang picture ng isang pamilyar na mukha.

It was a picture of Dali. In a wallet size.

She dropped it once in school last week. Nagmamadali kasi siyang lumabas ng gate dahil naghihintay na ang Dad niya habang siya, lutang at hindi mapalagay.

I didn't know exactly why I decided to keep that picture here. Plano ko namang isauli iyon sa kanya.

Pinanliit ko ang mga mata. Mas tumitig pa ako lalo doon. It's a recent picture probably. Because she has her current hairstyle, her hair as black as charcoal—slick, smooth, cut to the level of her shoulders. If it's not higher a bit. Her lips stretched into a wild smile, wearing conservative clothes for someone hanging out at a beach.

Maybe tomorrow.

Bumalik ang atensyon ko sa cell phone nang mapansing may tumatawag.

Nagmadali akong tumalon sa kama. Kinuha ang unan na nakaharang sa likuran at kalmadong sasagutin sana ang tawag galing kay Dali.

But her horrified voice silenced any of my plans to act altogether and keep things cool.

"What's happening there? Are you alone?" I asked.

Her voice was enough to dig up some horrifying events in the past that I always wanted to forget. Naglagi ang mga mata ko sa dingding ng kwarto na kalahati pa lang ang napipinturahan. Sa dami ng mga gusto kong gawin, hindi ko namamalayang hindi ko pa pala natatapos ang isa. There were also torn-out pages of a magazine cluttered on the floor.

I waited for Dali's answers on the other line. To which I've waited for minutes. Those minutes were enough for me to try to calm the reflexes that I had not noticed had taken over my system.

Am I that worried?

Dali. . .

Napabangon ako sa kama.

Well, I guess I really am.

Her response was that casual, 'I couldn't sleep. . .' and that, I must admit, might have calmed me a bit.

That's it. She just can't sleep. That's why she called. Nothing really happened.

Naging kalmado ang paghinga ko. Then I moved, trying to find a comfortable position while sitting on my messed up bed, also to buy time to think of the best response that I could muster.

Several words have already crossed my mind before muttering the words. . . "Why is that?" Maybe that question would not put an end to the conversation. It would encourage her to share or talk a bit. Hindi ko inaasahang tatawag siya, pero ngayong tumawag nga siya hindi ko iyon gustong matapos agad.

She said she can't sleep? I guess I'll have my fair share of that mischief too tonight.

Hindi ko naman sinasadya. Bastang sumagi sa isipan ko ang itsura ni Dali sa tuwing magsasalita---bahagyang nakayuko ang mukha, malayang nakalugay ang buhok, ang iilang hibla ay mapapunta pa sa bandang pisngi tuwing kikilos nang bahagya.

I know she was not forcing it. And when she gets affected by something thus, mumbles and chatter more than she usually does. . . I realized how her eyes freely express her repressed emotions, her control over her emotions, and the words she badly wanted to utter but didn't bother because it was totally out of her character.

She believed that she must portray the right image people have branded on her. The uptight girl. The one who is armed with rationality and reasons. But I honestly don't see her entirely like that.

But she then said something on the other line that made my breath hitch a bit. "I think I. . . I saw someone."

I repeated what she said.

But she immediately changed the subject. She proceeded on asking me what I usually do to fall asleep. I muttered a simple reply, katulad nang madalas ko ngang gawin.

The moment I arrive home, usually, I would check the driveway to clean it a bit. Tapos titingnan ang motor ko kung maayos pa ba at walang sirang maaring lumala kahit gamitin ko pa araw-araw. Pagkatapos ay madadaan ko ang magulong sala. Ililigpit ko ang bote ng wine na kada-dalawang araw ay wala nang laman at pinabayaan na sa sahig. I won't mind the cluttering noises in the kitchen and my mother saying, 'Theron, malapit nang matapos ang hapunan. You might want to have dinner with me tonight?' I-iling lang ako at mabilis ang mga yabag na aakyat sa hagdanan paakyat ng kwarto.

That was it. But I said these instead, "I don't know, Dali. Nakakatulog agad ako pagkauwi sa bahay."

"Minsan hindi ka na nagdi-dinner?"

"That's it."

Her sigh had me thinking that she's not quite feeling well.

"Bakit parang ayaw mapagod ng utak ko kakaisip ng kung anu-ano?"

Truth be told, I almost wanted to get off the bed when I heard her faint sob. Tumitig ako sa nakabukas pang bintana. Hatinggabi gabi na, but I can still swing by her house. To check. . . if she's fine.

It's not like it's necessary.

Napahawak ako sa batok, napatitig sa kisame.

Mas lalong hindi ako mapalagay nang hindi na siya nagsalita pa sa kabilang linya at naputol na ang tawag.

And yeah, that night I went out of our house—drove through the empty streets and parked not too far from Dali's house. Nakasandal ako sa motor ko. Nakatanaw sa hindi kalayuan. I watched outside Dali's windows. Observing. Tahimik naman ang paligid. Tahimik ang bahay nila.

The lights in her room are on. The blinds are almost covering the windows. A shadow crossed the room. It was hers, I bet. I found myself staring at her room's windows for minutes. Hanggang sa nakita kong i-in-off na ang ilaw sa kwarto niya.

I got my phone from my jean's back pockets then typed the words, "Let your thoughts go, for now, Layla Dali Maranda. That way you can have a peaceful sleep tonight."

I pressed the send button then sighed.

Tomorrow's another day to fight for our thoughts we wish to just stay buried inside our minds.