***Florante's POV***
Cooking is my weekend bonding with Nana. It's the one time every week when we get to talk on a personal level. She's trading my darkest secrets with her most guarded recipes and the kitchen becomes our Zen zone.
I am preparing the lean meats of pork that we bought earlier from the dry market. I grabbed the chopping knife from the knife-rack and carefully cut the pork evenly into sizeable cubes fit for cooking adobo.
"The size of the cuts must be regular and equal or else the marinate would not be absorbed evenly..." she says while carefully administering my every move like a true chef.
I barely breathe while I run the sharp edge of the knife against the rosy-red carcass afraid I would make a subtle mistake.
For Nana cooking is a serious business.
The phone rings after I finished slicing.
"Why don't you pick up the phone and I'll start the fire?"
"No..."
"What has that poor boy ever done to you for you to be as cold as that dead meat you're cutting?"
"Why don't you ask him, Nana? I bet you're besties now..." I grimaced.
"Damn, this onion bulb's getting into my eyes!" said I.
"You're slicing a garlic dear..." she rolled her eyes which look weird.
"You're too old to be rolling your eyes, Nana!"
"And you're too young to tell me what to do..." she snapped back.
"Whatever! Why don't you pick up the phone Nana? Seems like you've found a new grandson."
"Oh, you don't have to tell me dear...nothing can stand between me and that phone" her eyes flickered as she wiped the dirt off her hands with her apron and strutted towards the telephone receiver like a lady.
"Tell him I'm dead!" I snarled.
I looked at Nana as she picked up the phone expecting her to swoon, or giggle or twirl strands of her gray hair but she did not. She stood stiff, almost shaken.
"What's wrong? Did your little boyfriend break up with you? Well, guess what? Cos he's moving back to the States for good!" I chimed and went back slicing garlic cloves and onions.
It was a quick call and Nana is back at the kitchen table in no time. She bit her nails and fidgeted as she stared down at the chopping board then up to me.
"What's wrong?" I asked setting aside the ingredients on one side of the chopping board.
All the air seemed to disappear from the room.
She cleared her throat and gazed blankly outside.
"It's Feli...your mom...she wants to come over this weekend to see us...especially you..."
She surveyed my face looking for a glint of emotion. But I can't find one.
I don't know how to feel or what to feel about it. It's the only news that I have ever heard of from mom in almost ten years after she eloped. I can't even remember what she looks like.
"Say something Florante..."
"What did you tell her?"
"I said yes..."
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? She's your mother!"
"My mother is already dead Nana..."
"You should not say that!"
"Then what do you want me to say, Nana? That I miss her? That I long for this day to come? That I would run to her and wrap my arms around her as if nothing happened?" I gasped for breath as if it took all my energy to say those words.
"She's still your mother Florante..."
"And I'm still her son damn it!" I hollered.
"And how unfortunate can that be Nana? To be that son she left behind without a proper goodbye!"
"To be that son who had to suffer being called a bastard at school by other kids for having no mother!"
"To be that son who used to look at the door every morning as a kid hoping his mother would come back and take him with her!"
"To be that son who had to explain to his teachers every year during elementary days that his father is dead and his mother went away to a far-away place that's why no parents can attend P.T.A meeting and no parents can play with him during the family day!"
"To be that son who used to coil up on his bed crying every night wondering what's wrong with him and why is everybody leaving him behind!"
Tears fell from my eyes and I stared at the ceiling hoping they'd stop falling. I sunk on the chair feeling heavy. It's as if the weight of the years of trying to suppress all the pain I had when mom left came rolling down like boulders to my chest.
I briskly ran my fingers through my hair and wailed in defeat.
I can feel Nana's arms wrapped around my bust.
"Shhh...Nana's here...Nana's here..." she kissed my head repeatedly. Her warm tears fell on my arms.
I became a child again in her embrace.
How pathetic!
She lifted my chin and smiled at me tearfully.
"Damn onions ayt?"
I heaved and half-smiled.
"Yeah...damn onions..."