First Touch

You come from a typical Filipino family. You are not of a very luxurious living but at least your family has something to eat thrice a day and you can get more than the basic needs.

Typical also means that you look just like the girls who you are seen everyday in school, in your village and everywhere. Your hair, which glazes just enough, is plainly straight and is neither of blonde or brown sort. It has the color of the hair of a common Filipina: black. You have eyes which are as ebony as your hair. They, too, are resemblance of those of your friends’. Yet, something deeper and more shinning about your eyes make them more precious and unique in a hidden way. Your skin however is not the same. It is fairer and you are taller than most elders. These qualities make you noticeable.

People talk about how meek and modest you are, how very rarely you speak and how obedient and well-disciplined you act. You never really talk except when you are directly spoken to. Sometimes, you don’t really speak at all. Often, you are silently sitting in a corner. If not reading or writing, you are tacitly observing the things around you. You’ve become like this because your mother earnestly made you this way.

Those who scarcely know you adore you and say that you look like an angel. But your mother says that you must not believe this. So, you do not.

You have every gift others have dreamed of: beauty, good impression, intelligence, a little wealth and a family. You are not very sure though if you have the last give they believe you have.

You are the only child of your parents. Your father is overly protective of you. As much as he can, he gives you the things he supposes you want even f you really never ask for anything.

In every accomplishment you make, your father applauds and celebrates. When you were in kindergarten and gained second honors, he exclaimed, “Hurray! You really are a very bright kid!”

But your mother on the other hand neither even smiled nor congratulated you and said instead, “Well, that is not all you can do. You could have done better.”

So during the next years of your studies, your mother’s wishes are your command. Every year, you receive gold medals not just from being the first honors but from every contest you join. But after all, your mother still says things like, “Maybe you did great but you could have done better if you rather orated that in Spanish or French. Try to do something new.”

“You could have done better if…” is on no account out of her lines.

You do your best to get rewards to please her. While your father is delighted in your every feat, it seems to affect you mother not. And in spite of almost every faultless way you perform, she insists that you lack discipline. Your father though is as powerless as you are against your mother. So all he does is to let her “discipline” you.

So what you do is to just obey her without loathing because you know that it is the right thing to do. But still, you are seeking for the love closeness you see from other mother-daughter relationship. Somehow, you know that she cares but you want it to be confirmed. You want to feel it.

You are thinking about these things again when your mother opened the door of your room. You are startled and immediately stand from being seated in your bed.

“Fix yourself,” she instantly commands you. “Wear that blue turtleneck dress your grandmother gave you last week. Be sure you look appropriate for we are having dinner with an important person. Don’t spend much time. Be downstairs in 20 minutes.”

She pauses and flashes you one of her forbidding squints. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mommy.” you answer her.

She walks away and you still hear the steps she makes with her stiletto heels.

Then, you fix yourself as nice as you think your mother wants and go downstairs. You go together inside the car without saying a word. Your father drives out of the gates of your house and in half an hour you are already in front of an enchanting mansion.

“Don’t forget your greetings,” your mother reminds as you walk. You’ll still know that you have to do it even if she doesn’t repeat it anyway.

A woman who seems older than your mother yet acts elegantly meets you in the door.

“Bon soir, Madame.” you address the woman.

“To all of you as well. I’m so glad that you come. Let’s go inside. Dinner is waiting.” the woman says.

You all have dinner and your mother converses with this woman very assertively. You do not speak except when your mother signs you to agree with what she’s saying. So you nod or say, “Yes.” or “Very well.”

Then the owner of the mansion tells your mother,” I heard that your daughter plays the piano so well. Will she mind to play for us?”

“I’m sure she’d love to do that too, won’t you dear?” your mother looks at you.

You know of course what that means.

“Definitely,” you say. Then you make your way to the expensive-looking piano, sit and brace yourself. This is the classiest piano you’ve ever seen. You constantly play few of your favorite pieces and your audience listen very earnestly and harmony. Then at the end of the last note, they clap for you.

“How astonishing you are young lady! You are very talented!” the woman comments.

“Thank you for the kind word Madam. It is especially pleasant to hear it from a great person like you.”

“You’re indeed a very lovely girl. How proud your parents must be!”

You offer a calm smile.

“Anyway, I like the first piece you played. What’s the title of it?”

“Kiss the Rain, Ma’am, composed by Yiruma.”

“Please, play it again.”

So you play the music once more. This time, you do it more gracefully and with more of you in it. Afterwards your mother excuses you out and says, “You’ve already done your part. Go to the car now and wait for us there. We’ll still have important business talk to do. So, go!”

You get your clutch bag in the piano and bid the woman goodbye explaining that you have to go to your friend’s party. Then you go out and stay in the car.

You stare out from the car’s window. The sky is dark and it’s around eight at night. Gradually, you see the stars shine individually in the sky. They seem to talk to you. Each of them glowed as if to impress you. You just stared at them, thinking nothing. Soon, a late night breeze rushes to your face. You love the cold feeling.

More minutes pass and you are still staring there, not very awake now but still, you keep an eyes open, leaving a star, after star, after star. For some moments you stare at the almost inconspicuous figures of the trees, flowers and other plants. You also feel the coldness and loneliness of the night. You remember many nights like this when you needed the most care, the tightest embrace and the loving caress of your mother.

They still have not arrived in the car yet and you’ve been waiting there now for more than a couple of hours. So, you count this night as one of the nights of sadness. But in spite of this gloomy feeling, you still open your senses to every call of the environment. You memorize the smell, the sound, the look, the feeling of the ambiance and even the taste the air.

You grow a little tired now so you close your eyes, but your mind-presence is still complete. A few minutes later, you close your eyes. They then come together. You hear the steps of your mother’s stiletto heels. You hear the sound of the car when your father opens and closes it for your mother.

The smell becomes different. Even when your eyes are closed, you still know that it is your mother who sits beside you because you smell her redolent perfume. You know that she moves closer to you because the scent grows stronger.

She thinks you’re already asleep. She strikes your hair very gently and holds you closer to her. She does not stop on playing with your hair.

“You are so beautiful. More beautiful than I’ve ever been.” she mutters.

Now you are not sure if you are already dreaming. But the scene continues. She tucks your hair behind your ear and stares at you for a moment. Then she slowly touches your nose. She extends her arms and fingers very slowly as if afraid to touch you.

She smiles at you.

You are having an emotional disturbance inside you as she does this. Then she touches your left cheek with the back of her hand. You feel the velvety tap of her skin to yours.

Even if it’s just like this, you don’t want it to end. It’s like you’ve already felt this way before, but now you can’t seem to recall when.

She continues touching your cheek.

“I’m sorry.” she whispers in your ear. “But you’ve always done your best. I’m sorry for not showing you how proud I am that you are my daughter.”

You are feeling overwhelmed now because of the words you just heard from her. She holds your face and you stay still. She leans on you and now you recognize the smell of her strawberry-scent lotion. She gives you a long kiss in the forehead and as she breaks the kiss, she says the words you’ve yearned to hear, “I love you so…”

She touches your whole face once more. Now you can smell every part of her. You smell the sweetness of the touch softened with her dainty strawberry-scent lotion. The smell is perfect together with her Victoria’s Secret womanly scent and the kiss wet with her Dior lipstick on your forehead.

As your eyes are closed, you shouted in your mind how much you love her too. But you choose to stay still.

She returns to her usual seat and goes to the other side of the car. You are left and you feel tiny tear drops from your eye as you slowly open them. You smile in the dark. Your happiness is like you’ve never experienced before.

You think of the touch, of the words. You know that this had happened before. You close your eyes again and you see everything. You felt the same touch the day you were born; you heard the words the same day too. With the same touch and same scent. Same strawberry-scent lotion she uses.

Now you see how this evening has been.

How glad you are to feel your first touch again! Everything is as if you were born again. Tonight, you are sure that you will in no way forget the saccharine touch you received. And with that will the strawberry-scent of her lotion remain in you.