Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 149982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 750(@200wpm)___ 600(@250wpm)___ 500(@300wpm)
Not able to look at the screen while I change lanes.
“Kuya,” my mom calls out to me, using a Filipino term that means big brother.
I rotate my wheel and check over my shoulder. “Po.” I usually say po instead of yeah to my mom, out of respect.
“Have you heard from Jesse? I can’t get ahold of him. He’s not in his bed.”
Jesse. My seventeen-year-old brother.
I frown, more at the street as a car tries to cut me off. “No, but he’s probably just at the beach.” And giving our mom a heart attack. “I’ll call him, Mama.”
“He shouldn’t be at the beach. He’s already been grounded. No surfing for two weeks. And it’s too dark outside. It’s late.”
I glance down at the cellphone. My protective, sweet-natured, generous mom fills the screen on FaceTime. Short black hair molds her heart-shaped face, glasses perched on her nose, and she’s in a robe like she hurriedly woke up out of bed.
I smile at the sight of her features. I like talking with my family, but nothing beats seeing their faces. It makes it feel like we aren’t split apart on either coast. We try to FaceTime as much as possible. Even when we all should be asleep.
She sees my smile. “This isn’t funny, Kuya. He could be in trouble or hurt.” Worry is etched in her voice. “What if he’s not at the beach? What if it’s drugs?”
“It’s not drugs. I’ll find him, rest assured.” I’m more confident than concerned.
My brother spills his whole life story to me when we talk on the phone. I literally know when he took a shit yesterday, and not because he called me while he was on the toilet, which he’s also done before.
So I’d know if he were snorting coke or shooting up heroine because he can’t keep his mouth shut, and he’d tell me in a bout of word vomit.
“You never broke curfew. You told us where you’d be,” she says, “and you always came home on time—are you sleeping? Why are there bags under your eyes?”
I glance from the phone to the road. She tries to inspect my face through the screen, but I’m further away from my cell’s camera.
“It’s dark in the car right now, Mama. The sun hasn’t risen yet.”
“You’re working too much?”
I want to say no, but again, my life has an outline. I want to work towards something big. I always have. And she understands hard work and working hard. I’m just glad she’s not asking me about dating.
Or marriage.
Or kids.
That part of my life is starting to be an astronomical who-the-fuck-knows. I blink and picture Oscar, and my heart rate jackhammers.
I inhale and try to stay calm. “My job always has weird hours,” I remind her. “I’m gonna call Jes—”
Another voice is muffled in the background. I switch lanes again while my mom turns her head to look over her shoulder.
“Ano ho?” My mom says what in Tagalog to the other person in her house. She speaks more in the language.
I figure my Lola—my mom’s mom—must’ve woken up. She’s lived with my parents ever since I was a kid. I hear her ask what’s going on.
“Utoy?” my Lola questions, using a Filipino term for Jesse which means little boy.
I can’t hear their exchange until my mom moves closer to her phone and tells me, “Call me back if he doesn’t answer you. Ten more minutes and I’m waking up your dad. We’ll drive past every beach until we find him.”
Jesse has broken curfew before, but that was when he had a girlfriend and snuck into her house. My mom knocked on the door demanding for his return, like the girl’s family was holding him captive. Our mom is on our side, always, but she’s not afraid to tell us we’re doing something wrong. She grounded Jesse on the car ride home.
Our dad slams down the gavel just as strongly, but I’d say that my mom does everything better. My dad would be the first to agree. She’s the heart of the Highland family.
“I love you, Ma,” I say goodbye to my mom. “Ingat po.” Take care.
“I love you more, ‘nak.” ‘Nak is a shortened term for anak, which means child.
We hang up, and I give my cellphone a voice command. “Call Utoy.”
You better answer, Jesse.
The phone rings.
And rings.
And I wonder if he’s actually at a girl’s house. Not the same girl. That one broke up with him two summers ago.
It rings.
He would’ve definitely told me if he had a crush on another girl…or guy. He’s straight. He said he’s straight before. I said I’m straight.
Because I am straight. I can appreciate good-looking guys, and yeah, Oscar is one of the best-looking bodyguards. If not the best.
And I’ve only had sex with women. All of my celebrity crushes have been women. Whenever I’ve envisioned my future, there’s always been a wife at the end.