Memories of 1994

MEMORIES OF 1994

*translation: "Anak" is a term of endearment used when one wishes to address a person as if he/she were one's child.

* * *

          It is December 2006 and my cousin Yasmin is getting married. She will be the first among her cousins in my mother’s side of the family to tie the knot. So, for the first time since 1994, the entire Yu Clan is having a reunion in Manila.

          My family and I are attending Sunday mass, but my mind is uncharacteristically too distracted to focus on the priest’s homily. Instead, it is dwelling upon the act that my relatives from the United States have finally arrived— my cousin Cece is eagerly waiting for me at my grandmother’s house.

* * *

          Cece and I first met twelve years ago when she was five and I was seven. She and the entire Yu Clan gathered in Manila for the fortieth wedding anniversary of my grandparents. I would rather have spoken with any of my male cousins, but they were too young and incapable of decent conversation at the time. Thus, I had to speak with Cece instead. Seeing each other for the first time, she and I were painfully shy with each other. She was hiding behind her mom, and I behind my dad.

          Back then, she was thin-bordering on skinny. Her straight black hair was shoulder length, and she had a large blue ribbon tied atop her head. Like a little doll she was clothed in a lacy dress that reached slightly below her knees. She was her mommy and daddy’s little princess.

          I, on the other hand, wore an oversized collared shirt (inherited from my dad) tucked under dark blue slacks. I looked like a carbon copy of my dad from my hair down to my shoes. But, weight-wise I was just as thin as Cece.

          “Go on anak, don’t be shy.” Auntie Cynthia encouraged Cece. “Don’t you want to say hi to your cousin Verne? You don’t see him every day.”

          My dad gave me a similar but more direct command. “Go on and talk to your cousin, Verne. Be a good host to your guest.” Her mom and my dad then stepped behind us and prodded us towards each other.

          “Um…hi,” I greeted her in a whisper. “So, how do you like it here?” I continued when she failed to reply.

          “Not so much. It’s really hot,” she replied. Her hands were clasped together in front of her and her head was bowed down slightly as she swayed slightly from side to side. “Back home it snows.”

          “I’ve always wanted to see snow. I like the cold,” I told her, before she finally looked me in the eyes and smiled.

          “I love it in my home. It’s so cold. It’s perfect. We should have a sleepover there sometime.”

          “That sounds fun!”

          “Mommy, can Verne sleep over in our house this summer?” she asked Auntie Cynthia as she bobbed up and down in excitement and interrupted the conversation the adults were having.

          “Of course, anak,” she replied. “But he has to ask permission from his parents first.”

          “Maybe not this summer, Verne,” my mom answered in anticipation of my question. “But soon,” she added. “I promise.”

          It only took a few more hours with Cece for me to realize that we had a lot in common. We both loved watching Disney movies and role playing scenes from them. It was something we did a lot those days— playing prince and princess. We pretended to fend off monstrous dragons and evil sorcerers, sometimes using my brothers and our younger cousins as pretend enemies. They were all too happy to play the parts as they ran after us laughing and screaming.

          Our playfulness carried on even during the wedding reception. After eating, Cece and I, with the younger ones tagging along, began climbing up and jumping off the stage where the wedding cake was placed. The stage was a bit taller than me, so it was a quick thrill for us to jump off it again and again, sometimes one at a time, other times all at once, parental warnings about the possibility of getting tummy aches ignored.

          After we got tired off jumping, Cece got this crazy idea to try to kiss each of us on the cheek. As young as we were, the idea of getting cooties completely grossed us boys out, so we ran for our lives. By the time she had kissed everyone but me, and even though I ran much faster than her, she would not give up the chase. Then I accidentally caught my foot on a chair leg and fell to the floor.

          “Are you okay?” Cece asked as she knelt beside me to help me up.

          “Yeah, I’m okay,” I replied as we both stood up.

          “Gotcha!” she yelled in triumph after planting a kiss on my cheek.

* * *

          When Cece left I felt as if I had lost my best friend. I started wishing and praying to God for a baby sister. If I had a sister that was half as fun being around with as my cousin, that would be grand. At least if I had a sister I could talk and play with her every day.

          But when summer ended and I started going back to school my life went pretty much back to normal. My interactions with my old and new classmates, my concentrating on my academics occupied most of my attention. I still thought about Cece from time-to-time, but these thoughts flowed more like fleeting happy memories rather than the painful sense of loss I felt initially.

          Nevertheless, every summer vacation I would ask my mother when we would be visiting Cece and her family abroad. My mom kept giving excuse after excuse until she finally fulfilled her promise three years later, when we went to America for our summer vacation. By this time, my mom was pregnant with her fourth child. I hoped it was my baby sister.

          Uncle Edgar (Cece’s dad and my mom’s brother) picked my family and me up from the airport when we arrived in Kentucky. It was already late in the evening by the time we arrived at his house. We were surprised to see Uncle Clement (my mom’s other brother) and his wife waiting for us together with Auntie Cynthia by the front porch.

          “O’, what are you doing here?” my mom asked her brother.

          “We decided to drive over and join you guys for the weekend, so we can all spend time together,” he answered.

          “Cece’s been waiting for you, anak,” Auntie Cynthia told me. “She and the cousins are down in the basement. That’s where you’ll all be sleeping tonight.”

          As I stepped into the basement, I was welcomed by the sight of a mountain of multi-shaped and multicolored pillows piled on top of a rectangle of eight single-sized mattresses joined together. It was an island of heaven. My cousins were engaged in a game of prince and princess, and they asked if I wanted to join them. I agreed.

          Unfortunately, that was the only time I got to play with Cece. She spent the entire next day out of the house because she was having her first holy communion. I was already awake before she left early that morning, and I asked my parents if I could come with her, but they refused to let me go.

          “All your other cousins are staying behind, Verne,” my mom said. “Don’t you want to spend time with them too?”

          The next time I got to speak with Cece was a day later which also happened to be the day we left. I was playing with the Nintendo 64 of Coco (Cece’s younger brother) in their living room early that morning when Cece came into the room carrying her school books.

          “Wow, Verne! Coco never reached that far,” she commented on the Star Wars game I was playing.

          “Really? I’ll be sure to save the game for him,” I replied.

          “Okay. I’ll be sure to tell him the good news,” she said as she proceeded towards the front door. But before she got out, she stopped and turned back towards me.

          “Hmm, maybe I could skip school for today and hang out with you. I can also go with you to the airport later.”

          “No, anak. You’re going to school,” Auntie Cynthia said as she walked in through the kitchen door.

          “But, mom! I might not see him for years.”

          “Your studies are more important. It’s not like you won’t see each other forever. And besides, we can’t all fit into dad’s car.”

          “Oh yes we can,” Cece said. “I counted the seats last night.”

          “You will listen to your mother, Cece!” Auntie Cynthia shouted. “Do not disrespect me in front of your cousin.”

          “I hate you!” Cece yelled before she ran outside the house and slammed the front door behind her. I heard the sound of the car’s departure a few seconds later.

* * *

          This was not the visit I waited three years for. I did not have a single decent conversation with Cece, nor was I able to spend much time with her. My feeling upon returning to Manila was that of a boy lost in the desert seeing a mirage and pursuing it only to find out it was only an illusion.

          But once more, I soon fell back into the normalcy of things in the Metro. My academics took a turn for the worse as I got more and more addicted to video games.

          Mom gave birth to another baby boy, making us children the Fantastic Four (with another boy in place of the invisible girl) instead of the Three Musketeers. A few months later, my mom was pregnant again. The rest of the family expected it to be another boy— one more and we would be enough for a basketball team, but she finally ended up giving birth to a girl.

          I was overjoyed, but then I realized that I would not be able to talk with my little sister until she got a lot older. All she did was poop in her diaper, run around the house, eat lots of food, play Barbie, and watch Disney Channel all day. Although, I still did enjoy watching Disney movies and cartoons, the age gap between my sister and I was just too wide. I could not get along with her like I did with my cousin.

          Memories of the first time I met Cece began flooding my mind once again, and I began to miss her more than ever. But with a one-year-old and a newborn to take care of, my parents would not organize a trip abroad anytime soon.

* * *

          It was four years later when my family and I (excluding the two younglings) embarked on another journey to America. By this time, Cece and her family had migrated from Kentucky to New Jersey. Luckily, this gave us an excuse to visit New York City. We were able to book ourselves in the Marriott Hotel, smack in the middle of Times Square, which we enjoyed the sights and sounds of for a few days.

          The morning before the overnight, my dad was engaged in a phone conversation with Uncle Edgar. They were discussing when and where he would be picking us up the next morning. My dad raised the telephone headset as if the conversation had ended, but he then called me to answer the phone.

          “Why? Does Uncle Edgar want to talk to me?” I asked.

          “No, Cece wants to talk to you,” he replied.

          I was surprised, but quickly moved over to where my dad was and grabbed the receiver from his hand.

          “Hello?” I greeted Cece.

          “Hi Verne!” came her very enthusiastic voice from the other line. “It’s so nice to hear from you after so long.” I tried to think of something to say in return, but all I could think of was how happy I was to hear her voice. “I can’t wait to see you,” she continued after a few seconds of silence.

          “Yeah, me too,” I replied on instinct. We had not spoken to each other for so long that I was at a loss for words. Also, I hardly spoke with people on the phone as well. “So…umm…”

          “How’s New York so far?” she completed the sentence.

          “It’s been great! I was able to watch Beauty and the Beast, and Chicago.”

          “Your parents let you watch Chicago? The theater people let you in?” she asked in disbelief.

          “Yeah, but all the guys there were old men wearing suits. I felt so uncomfortable.” We both laughed before lapsing into a few more seconds of silence.

          “You’re weird,” Cece said. “You’re so quiet.”

          “It’s just that it’s been so long.”

          “That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up on things later. Bye!”

* * *

          The morning after the sleepover, Cece and I hung out on a swing set in her garden. We talked about the how nice it would be if we lived together in America instead of far away from each other. Cece mentioned that her mom was hoping I could study high school in New Jersey. All these thoughts of hope and dreams filled our minds as the morning wore on and I had to leave for New York.

          That afternoon, my family and I (including Cece and her parents) took two cars back to the Marriott Hotel. Auntie Cynthia was driving the car I was in. Those accompanying us were my mom, my dad, and Cece. During the drive back, the possibility of my studying high school in New Jersey was brought up.

          “Yes, why don’t you come and stay with us, anak ?” Auntie Cynthia agreed with Cece. “We have a lot of good schools here.”

          “I’d love to study here in the States,” I replied.

          “I don’t think that’s possible, Verne,” my mom said. “We just don’t have enough money to send you here for high school.”

          “But Verne, your mom and I promise that if you do well in high school, we will send you here for college,” my dad added.

          “You promise?” I asked my dad.

          “I promise,” my dad reassured me.

          “Good! So we’ll be waiting, Verne,” said Auntie Cynthia.

          “You know what? It’s unfair,” Cece said. The rest of us stared at her. “Why does Verne have to leave so soon? Why can’t he stay longer?”

          “That’s life, anak,” Auntie Cynthia answered. “Verne and his family are just here on vacation, and none of us can do anything about that.”

          “Don’t worry, I’ll be back here for college,” I tried to reassure her.

          “It won’t be the same. I hate this,” Cece said. We all kept silent for the rest of the trip.

          Cece was in a grim mood by the time we reached the hotel. Our parents said goodbye to each other; I kissed Auntie Cynthia and Uncle Edgar on the cheek, and hugged Cece farewell. As I entered through the hotel’s revolving doors I took one final look at her. She was standing rigid, head down, her cheeks soaked in tears. My smile disappeared, and a sense of guilt pervaded within me for the rest of my vacation.

* * *

          I was never able to fulfill my promise to Cece, and I was to blame. The problem I had with my academics only grew worse in high school. My grades were so bad my parents feared my chances of getting into a good college in Manila, much less in America.

          In school we took the PSAT, an indicator of how we would do in the SAT (the entrance exam for undergraduate studies in America). I got excellent scores in the English portion of the exams to balance out my dismal performance in the Mathematics portion. The total was enough to merit a few invitations from prestigious universities such as Fordham University and Pratt University. However, my parents did not trust me enough to invest in my education abroad. They did not even let me take the SAT with my classmates.

          Cece and I were not able to talk about this because we did not keep in touch over the years. But the memory of her standing there crying was enough to assure me that she was waiting in New Jersey, wondering why I had not kept my promise to her. “It won’t be the same,” she said that night, and I wanted so much for her to be wrong.

* * *

          The priest gives the final blessing, and we finally return home to my grandmother’s house. After a five-year long wait, I will be able to meet Cece and the others again.

          She is asleep on one of the sofas in the living room when we arrive for dinner. She is wearing a plain white shirt and army camouflage pants with a healthier, more muscular physique to match.

          I, on the other hand, am still as underweight as ever, although I do not dress up like my dad anymore. I dress more simply— in a t-shirt, jeans, and rubber shoes ensemble.

          As if on cue, Auntie Cynthia mentions to the others eating at the dining table that “Cece goes to the gym now, and she’s part of the rowing team in her school.”

          “Her current goal in life is to build some muscles,” she adds.

          After dinner, her parents wake her up for a picture taking session, but she does not speak with me nor even notice my existence. At one point we even make direct eye contact with each other, but she just looks away. She looks sleepy. Perhaps she is just suffering from jetlag.

          One afternoon, she and I are hanging out in the library, each minding our own business with our laptops. I notice two thousand peso bills lying on the desk in front of her.

          “You’d better not leave your money there,” I warn her. “Someone might steal it.”

          “Really?” she replies with a look of surprise before refocusing on her MacBook Pro.

          Her money disappears the next morning.

          “This is not your home, Cece. You cannot just leave your things lying around. Not everyone in this house can be trusted,” Auntie Cynthia scolds Cece.

          “I told her to keep her money yesterday, but she didn’t listen,” I add. Cece’s face turns a shade redder. She is angry with me for the very first time.

          It is December 24, and my grandmother holds a Christmas Eve party in her garden. The entire Yu clan reunites once more. I am sitting in a table with some of my cousins, including Cece.

          Our discussion shifts from the upcoming wedding, to our favorite music tastes. I share my preference for bubblegum pop music groups. My cousins find that hilarious. Cece shares her preference for alternative and punk-rock bands, which receives a better reception from the group. Then, the topic shifts to Cece’s Korean boyfriend, a genius with dreams of becoming a doctor— a surgeon, in fact. I keep mum for the rest of the evening.

          Before I go to sleep that night, I wrap my Christmas gift for Cece. It is an anthology of Philippine literature in English that I thought she would enjoy reading. I wrote a dedication on the cover page where I told her how happy I was to be able to see her again and how she was one of my favorite cousins.

* * *

          Finally, it is the day of Yasmin’s wedding. As is the usual custom in our family, we have the afternoon church ceremony followed by the dinner reception. Once again, Cece and I are sitting in a circular table together with some of my siblings and other cousins. We arrive early, and the ceremony is taking a while to begin, so she and two of my other cousins step outside the banquet hall. As I am not invited to come along, I remain seated.

          I am saddened because Cece did not ask me to join her. What happened to the friendship we had the last three times we had seen each other? Was she giving me the cold shoulder because she now has her boyfriend, or because we are on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to music taste? My musings to myself are cut short as the ceremony is about to begin, and Auntie Cynthia tasks me with herding my cousins back to their seats.

          As I step outside I notice that Cece is taking pictures of Coco and Zachary, who are pretending to be Kung-Fu fighters on some empty stage in the garden. Cece then begins to twirl around like a ballerina and raise her hands up in the air.

          “What’s up with that, Cece?” Coco asks.

          “I love the weather right now,” she replies. “Cool weather is ideal for Cece Yu.” For the past few days the weather had been exceedingly hot even for Manila standards, so the suddenly cool weather soothed me as well.

          I then remember the first conversation she and I had back in 1994, when we talked about how we both loved the cold. At least there is one thing we still have in common. The three of them look so carefree that for the first time since we have met this December, I feel guilty about ruining their fun. Have Cece and I grown so far apart that we could never be as carefree with each other as we were before?

          The night goes on like any good wedding reception should. There is the speech by the parents of the groom and the bride, the wedding cake cutting and the feeding each other slices of it afterward. There is the bride’s goodbye dance with the father before she dances with her husband. Then, the night ends with a mini-disco where everyone dances the night away. All of us cousins have fun dancing until we are one of the two groups left (the other group is composed of the friends of the bride and groom).

          And just as the final song is about to end, I muster the courage to bid Cece goodbye. We had never been able to part ways properly in the past, and I want to get at least one thing right this December.

          “Cece,” I call out to her as I draw nearer. “You’re already going home tomorrow and I just want to say how much I’ll miss you…,” I begin, when without warning she comes closer with arms outstretched and holds me in a tight embrace.

          “Oh, Verne,” she says, before letting me go and giving me a kiss on the cheek.