25th, November 2006, my mother died from a heart disease. She was a great writer who helped many abused people by writing encouraging stories. But other than that, she was also a loving mother whom I’m very closed to. I always thought I knew my mother better than anyone. But I was wrong...
Three days after the funeral ceremony, I was entitled to clean her belongings for I was her only child and my father couldn’t bring himself to touch my mother’s things as he loved her dearly. My mother had many things kept in her own office, but a plain black folder with words clearly printed in the front cover on big letters that said, MY CONFESSIONS, intrigued me the most. I opened the folder thinking it might be my mother’s last story in which she was not able to finish. But what I discovered was something that changed my life entirely. It was my mother’s biography. But what she had written was completely different from what she told us...
It was her confessions...
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Her say:
I was thirteen years old when my father’s shoe company went bankrupt. In order to survive, I had to leave school, luxury, my friends and more importantly, my home full of happy memories. I was the oldest child between the two of us. My little brother was only five years old at the time. He did not know anything; he did not know my pain. We moved from the richest subdivision of Manila to the poorest part of Manila which was located under the railway bridge. Everything was a disaster, not to mention the smell of dead rats everywhere which you can get use to when you stay long enough.
But unfortunately, my little brother did not get use to the environment. Just a month after staying under the railway bridge, my brother became ill. My mother and father did not put him in the hospital for they thought it was only an ordinary fever. I took care of him every single day while our parents went out looking for money. And every single day he became worst... eventually, his pulse stopped.
Only then I realized that my parents knew that something was wrong about my brother, but they did not do anything due to our financial problems. Just seeing their relieved faces while we buried my little brother told me everything... I hated them. After my brother’s death, our family was never the same old happy family anymore. Both my parents were busy the whole full days earning money while I was busy of my own selling vegetables in the market.
Two years upon my brother’s death, another disaster came. I went home one day finding my mother sitting in front of the table with a piece of paper in front of her looking lifeless. “mama, I brought rice noodle for everyone. Nene gave it to me because I helped her with the store. Where’s papa? Let’s eat. I’m starving” I said. She was silent for a moment, and then she answered “He’s gone” she looked at me with sadness and tiredness from her eyes. She wanted to cry. But she couldn’t, perhaps she did not want me to see her weak in this kind of situation. We sat and ate in silence that night, unable to look one another in the eye.
Both of us were confused at everything that happened. But there was one thing we knew, my father ran away leaving a big debt on our shoulders. My mother couldn’t take the burden on her own therefore she lowered her pride and asked her brother for help. Mother’s brother had a very gentle face. He was a great man who helped us a lot... or so I thought.
Mother’s brother offered a house for us to stay in. He gave us the little house in his backyard. I remember the first day we came to his house. I was gasping and amaze about what I was able to see. It was bigger than my old house. My uncle’s wife, Anna, greeted us with a warm welcome. She was particularly fond of me. I always wondered why, but then I found out later that she and my uncle were trying to make a baby for years. Not long enough after staying there, I was able to get close to the both of them. They gave me food, house, and education as well my mother’s happiness. I was satisfied...
It was that day that ruined everything...
I was told by mother to help out at the main house while Anna was away for a business trip. Mother’s brother was very picky with food and never let anyone cook his dinner unless it’s a family member. So I was entitled to cook for him. I was happy to do the job since it was the only thing I can think of to repay him. Every night he compliments me with my work “a very PLENDID dish Elen! Better than your aunt Anna!” he giggled and wink at me “though keep it a secret or she would kill me”. Only then was I able to smile happily like a little kid.
He tells me every different compliment he could think of for my dish. I was too happy that I never noticed his weird actions. There was a time when he came up to me and hugged me while he kissed my neck. I stood stiff. I didn’t know what to do. When he let go of me, I turned around. But he was already on his way to the lounge room. That night when I serve his food, he smiled at me like always and gave me a complement like always.... like nothing happened at all. I disregard the thought, maybe it was just an accident or maybe I was imagining it or maybe he was joking. Because I believed mother’s brother who was kind and had a gentle face, would never do something like that... right...
Two days after that incident, I came to cook for him like always. That night, was the night I truly understand the meaning of, “don’t judge a book by its cover”. He came up to me and did the same thing as what he did two days ago. I closed my eyes hoping it was only an imagination like what I thought the last time. I was hoping he would go away like last time. But he didn’t. The last thing I knew, I was lying on the floor shouting for my life while struggling for him to let me go. But what can a mere girl do by her own? Nothing...
I shouted over and over again hoping for my mother to hear me. But no one came...
As he finished his crime, I cried in my helplessness with face sticking on the cold tiles of the kitchen. I twitched at the sound of his zipper. “That was a SPLENDID dish Elen. Better than your Aunt Anna” he said and he left me lying on the cold floor. I slowly sat myself on the ground. My body was aching everywhere. I gasp in surprise as my mother came to help me stand up. She was looking down without saying a word to me. At that very moment, I knew I couldn’t ask her for help this time. That night was the first time I’ve greatly hated someone in my whole life. I hated my mother more than I hated her brother.
When Aunt Anna returned, I pretended that nothing happened and so as all the people of that house. While she told me about her trips happily I smiled like a fool. I thought Anna's appearance in the house would stop his crimes. But i was wrong...
How many times was it that he crimed me? how many times was it when I looked at my mother with pleading eyes to make him stop? I can't even count them...
There was a time when I couldn't handle it anymore... Anna was bound to go over seas again to visit her family. Of course the husband insisted to stay. The first night when Anna left, I was ordered by mother to help the main house. I knelled in front of her with my head bow down on the floor and pleaded her to let me stay. I cried and cried while begging her attain my wishes, but all I heard she said was "hurry. You'll be late". I stood up with out looking at my mother's face. Because if I do, I might also kill her. I walked towards the main house while wiping my tears. I held the knife tightly on my left hand. "Today, I'm going to end this suffering". I whispered while entering the house. I saw my mother's brother going down the stairs with a gentle smile on his face. A true devil he was. For the first time in a long time, I smiled sweetly at him. He was more eager to come down the stairs. As he approached me, I struck the knife deep into his heart. "m-moster..." he whispered through his last breathe. But all I did was smiled and said "You created THIS monster".
I ran away from the house and never came back again. I was never afraid for my crimes. I f they caught me then so what? I was satisfied and he deserved it. But the police never looked for my name. In the days I left the house, I lived as a beggar. But then, I was took in by a priest who save me from dying from hunger on the church. He raised me like I was his child. He was kind to me, but I lost the will to trust people with that smile. He smiled at me, I scowl at him.But even so, he never fails to try again and get my trust.
For how many days of no news about my crime, I was finally able to hear the death of my mother's brother on the TV. It was a big uproar since he was one of the richest man in the country I grew in. I was prepared to hear my name as the suspect. But it never came out. Instead, my mother's name came out and was reported that she was sentence to life imprisonment for killing her own brother and daughter whose body was missing. I stared at the TV stunned and unable to move from the place I'm sitting. I sat there in silence for a very long time until the priest saw me and asked if I was OK. But the only thing I did was cry and cry. I told him everything that happened to me. But he never once told me to give up my self to the police for my crime. Instead he gave me a new name and told me to forget the person that I was before. Because that person was dead.
Finding my husband, going away from the country I grew in and having a daughter made me forget everything that happened... Or so I thought. The priest said to forget everything but I never could do it. because that memory was a part of me. I would never forget it. I guess it was the only way to atone for my crime. To never forget the torture of those nightmares...
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I sat on my mother’s couch for long silent moment, unable comprehend what to do next. All I remembered was the mixture of feelings I felt, feelings of anger, sadness and betrayal. It was not until my father called for my name that I was able to go back to my own self. I stood up while holding the folder onto my left hand. Before leaving the room completely, I threw the folder into the fire place, burning it to ashes. I left my mother's office with a question in my mind which hunted me to this day. Was I right to keep my mother's dark secrets? Was I right to make her innocent when she’s not? But whatever the answer was, it was already too late...
