all this time, you were begging for love , silently thinking they couldn’t hear you, but they smelt it on you. you must have known that they could taste the desperate on your skin. and what about the others that would do anything for you ? why did you make them love you until you could not stand it ?
he gives himself about three seconds to gather his bearings before entering the coffee shop. he’s been coming here near enough EVERYDAY & if he were to be honest ( which he hardly ever is ) he feels slightly out of place. but he blames that on the obnoxious way he carries himself ; chin lifted & an arrogance in his walk. they’re not exactly desirable traits. however , spotting cherry , a knowing smile passes his lips & he MAKES his way over to her table. ❛ did i ever tell you about what my psychology teacher told me about that report you wrote ? ❜
cherry immediately looks up at the man approaching his seat, nervousness rising to her throat as he spoke. “oh? which one? the one discrediting freud or the one on carl jung?” the tips of her fingers meet her lips - a bad habit - she should really stop biting her nails. “man i think i really blew the freud one - i didn’t really have a strong theoretical framework, you know? but jung. that one was pretty fun. research actually made me find out a LOT about him. there’s this story, god, it’s so silly, you wanna hear?”
“lima !” a laugh escaped as she half-slammed a now-empty shot glass down the counter. “nakalima na ako!”
cherry put a hand over her mouth, red rising to her cheeks. “oh, sorry. ‘meant to say i’ve had five.” five drinks. five drinks and she wasn’t completely gone... yet. her tolerance was improving. “like, parang— teka. waitwaitwait, sorry, wait.” the slight intoxication blurred the line between her two languages, and every now and then cherry needed a reminder: english was for here and tagalog was for home. it wasn’t something she was used to. back in manila, the segregation of the two was never necessary; everyone blended both as if the two were a single tongue, their sentences whole patchworks of words from disparate worlds.
and even if cherry were fully sober, it an easy mistake to make. the other girl’s features resembled that of a filipina mestiza, all dark hair and sun-kissed bronze skin. “don’t they have same word in indonesian? lima. five.”
henlo folk ! i am currently out and my laptop isn’t with me but i have a HUGE AMOUNT OF WORK to do so ... replies and starters are gonna come a bit later im sorry ,
hello my name is ricci and i have no time to format this post nicely because my grandma’s waiting in the car so uh ! this is cherry. she’s a filipino immigrant who’d moved to lorfield for college and now lives with her aunt and uncle. but it’s not her first time here ! she spent a couple of summers with them too, once in 2000 when she was 2 and another time when she was 12 ? anyway to sum up her personality: she’s a smol doormat bean who was once a huge fandom nerd, but prolonged exposure to american culture turned her into an irreverent party girl / pot brownie dealer. has issues with both commitment and abandonment and is basically A Mess. i’m not on my laptop to as of now i can’t make my wanted connection page but they’re all pretty simple anyway ( childhood friends from past summer trips, bad influences, pot brownie buyers, college friends, neighbors, someone who read the embarassing sirius/remus fanfiction that she wrote when she was 15 and wont let her live it down ) anyway i’ll be on the ims i love you all !!
( 7:07 pm ) looney 💖: pagkatapos ng bora dapat magsama sama tayo
( 7:16 pm ) You: thurs na alis q
( 7:18 pm ) looney 💖: THURS ???????????????????
( 7:18 pm ) looney 💖: GAGO HANGGANG SATURDAY KAMI SA BORA
TRANSLATION
luna: hey asshole
luna: when are you leaving again
luna: why aren’t you having a farewell party?
luna: after we come back from boracay we should all get together
You: i’m leaving this thursday
luna: THURSDAY ?
luna: WE’LL BE IN BORACAY UNTIL SATURDAY
DICTIONARY
despedida: filipino/spanish word for a farewell party held speficically for people moving ( most of the time, permanently ) to a foreign country
Batch Bora: a non-mandatory tradition held among incoming college freshmen ( usually from private schools ), where they fly to the island of Boracay for a few weeks over the summer to drink and party. ( cherry’s friends, luna, pat and angel are about to leave for Batch Bora, but cherry decline to follow )
NAIA: Ninoy Aquino International Airport, the main airport of the Philippines
maleta: luggage bag
SUMMARY
while packing her bags for california, cherry receives a surprise visit from her best friend, who’s supposed to be on a flight to boracay.
eyes widened, luna tipped her self forward, arms outstretched with one hand on the door name and the other resting on the frame of the exit hole. a greeting fell out of her lips. “what the fuck, dude?”
anyone would have been startled by the juxtaposition: a large but neatly folded pile of clothes sat on the sides of her bed, but on the floor lay the scattered evidence of a long decision-making process, pieces of clothing covered almost every available surface - thanks to cherry’s poor attempts at discerning what was and wasn’t worth keeping. and there, at the end of the room, a short girl had been lying down inside an large, open luggage bag, arms sprawled out in exhaustion.
kicking herself forward, cherry sat up, her bottom still seated inside the bag. she dropped the tank top she’d been holding ( no need for that in american climate ) and said, “shouldn’t you be at the airport already?”
“pare, ang lapit lang ng bahay mo.” dude, your house is so near. luna shut the door behind her, leaning lazily against it. “my car was already on the way. it’s a good thing i texted. if you’d replied to me, like, even JUST a bit later,” her forefinger pressed against her thumb in emphasis of the point, “i would’ve already been at NAIA.”
“that’s an exaggeration.”
“you should have told pat and angel. they’re already at the terminal, i think.” face growing stern, she added, “and get out of that maleta.”
defiance betrayed itself as cherry let her body collapse back into the bag. “no.”
luna sighed. “kikilitiin kita, gago.” i’m going to tickle you, stupid.
upon hearing the threat, cherry shrank deeper inside, curling up her body to protect any vulnerable spots ( with almost six years worth of friendship on their belt, luna had grown to know them all ). a shriek nearly escaped her throat as footsteps made their way over to cherry’s makeshift bed, but instead of dragging her out, as cherry expected her to, luna lay down next to it.
stretching her arm out to the luggage bag’s direction, luna flicked cherry’s nose. “dude.”
“yeah?”
“this is the last time i’m seeing you. and i’ve only got like what, ten minutes to stay or i’ll be late for the flight? this is so unfair.”
her lips formed the shape of three words that cherry couldn’t quite make out. it almost looked like: i’m so sorry.
cherry pretended not to notice. it was a habit, by now, scrubbing sadness out of her expression and holding it in with a smile. her sadness was hers and hers alone, and it terrified her, how much it would poison people if ANY of it came leaking out. “i’ll be around in imessage? facetime.”
luna scoffed. “god, if you meet nick jonas and you don’t take a selfie with him, i WILL fly my ass to california and kill you. don’t underestimate me.”
“dude,” cherry said, barely able to suppress her laughter, “lorfield’s hours away from LA.”
“still! when you come home, bring back white dudes for all of us, okay?”
“angel’s boyfriend’ll kill me.”
“eh.” luna rolled her eyes, contempt betraying itself in her hand’s noncommittal squiggly wave, her expression twisting into something dismissive and judgmental. “you and i both know she could do better.”
a short laugh escaped cherry’s throat. “seriously?”
“ang pangit kaya niya, gago. pansin mo ba na hugis tite yung ilong niya?” he’s so ugly. have you noticed that his nose is shaped like a dick?
“hindi naman tite.” no, not a dick.
“o, sige, kabute na nga,” she said in her half laughter. “tawag nga ni nanay sa kanya, ‘mushroom nose.’”
okay, a mushroom, then. my mom actually calls him mushroom nose.
it dawned on her then, how much cherry would miss this, this language and the raw emotion it contained. luna’s tagalog was always so sharp, so crisp, the harshness of her tone allowing even the nicest of compliments hold the vulgarity of marketplace insults. still, the language carried so much beauty — hard vowels, unblended consonants and lilting inflections coming together to create a soothing staccato song. by moving to america, she hadn’t only subscribed herself to four or more years of limited self-expression, she’d also deprived herself of the sound of the only language she had ever called home.
not only that, she’d deprived herself of luna.
her best friend looked at her, her expression carrying a soft sort of sadness. “sana mas maaga ako pumunta. mas marami ako sanang makukwento sa ‘yo.”
if only i’d come over earlier. i’d have more time to tell you stories.
“sana.”
if only.
“sayang.”
sayang.
english didn’t have a translation for sayang. there was no single word that could carry the same wistfulness, the same passive yet rueful regret over an opportunity lost. what a waste meant the same thing, but felt heavier, as if someone stomped the gas pedal on emotion and pushed the guilt out of a person. sayang, as in, there’s nothing that can be done, it’s too late.
“my mom just texted. i have to leave.” luna stood up, extending a hand to cherry. as cherry reached for it, her fingers closed into spaces between luna’s, and with her touch, every memory of their one third of a lifetime together replayed in her mind like scenes from a movie.
pulling luna into a goodbye’s embrace, cherry said, “i love you.”
and with a light punch to the arm, luna said, “mahal din kita, gago.” i love you too, stupid.
my mother’s trust issues are leaking into my chest
and I’ve got my father’s nose and his tendency to
stop calling back
so I’m sorry
about the 9 missed calls I have from you
and the 6 voicemails I never played
I swear I’d love you if I could
