“Wait, miss!”
I STOPPED in front of her, wanting to ask something. I was surprised when I found myself staring directly into her eyes. I finally understood why that girl had gotten angry at her. It was because of her eyes. They looked no different from anyone else’s, but the way she looked at me was something else entirely. They were just an ordinary pair of black irises, yet the way she used them to look at me had a strange effect on me. I didn’t understand it.
I returned to reality when I saw her raise her left eyebrow. Maybe she was asking, “What?” or “Why?” Maybe?
“Uh, do you know where I can buy flowers around here? We just moved here, so I’m still unfamiliar with the place. Could you point me in the right direction?” I asked politely while looking directly into her eyes. I just couldn’t stop staring at them.
She looked away and walked past me. Snob.
I followed her with my gaze. She glanced back at me. It seemed like she wanted me to follow her. Even though I wasn’t sure what she meant—since she didn’t speak—I still found myself following her anyway. Then I saw a flower shop with a huge pink sign bearing its name: Effloresce—a name fitting for what they sold.
I parked my bike and entered the shop. I wondered why she headed straight toward the backdoor marked Authorized Personnel Only, but my question was immediately answered by a woman who looked like the owner of the shop.
“Where have you been again, Leila? I told you to help me watch over the shop.”
The girl merely smiled and continued walking through the door instead of answering her mother or explaining where she had been.
“What do you need, hijo?” My attention shifted to the woman who asked. Her hair was short, reaching only to her neck. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties, but her hairstyle made her seem younger. And it was impossible not to notice how much she resembled Leila.
“Ah, I’d like to buy flowers,” I answered.
“What kind of flowers, hijo?” she asked with a smile. I looked around at the flowers on display before pointing at the one I wanted.
“White roses. One bouquet, please.” She started preparing them. While arranging the flowers, I asked her,
“How are you related to that girl?”
“She’s my daughter. Why do you ask?”
“I saw her at the playground earlier.”
“Oh, so that’s where she was. I thought she had gone somewhere else.” She glanced at me briefly before continuing to arrange the white roses.
“I was just wondering why she wasn’t speaking earlier. Your daughter seems shy.” And snobbish too. I even thought she might be an introvert.
I heard the owner laugh softly. “Oh no, it’s not that she’s shy. She really just can’t speak, that’s all.”
“W-What?”
“My daughter is mute, so people sometimes mistake her for being rude. But she can still communicate with us. Through her nods and shakes of the head, we understand her answers. Depending on the questions, you can still have a conversation with her.”
She smiled before handing me the bouquet of white roses.
I wanted to ask more questions, but I chose to stay quiet instead and simply paid for the flowers. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I got back on my bike and searched for the road home. I still couldn’t believe it hadn’t crossed my mind earlier that maybe she was mute—that was why she wasn’t speaking. I realized how hard it must be to communicate with others when you don’t have the instrument you need. It’s difficult to express what’s on your mind or how you feel when no voice comes out of your mouth. It must also be hard to explain yourself to people. You can’t easily correct the wrong ideas they have about you.
Somehow, I felt sorry for that girl, but at the same time, I was curious. What if she knew something important? How would she tell other people? How would she say it?
It took me less than fifteen minutes to find my way home. When I arrived, I saw Mom with swollen eyes while Dad gently rubbed her back. Both of them were already dressed. It looked like they had just been waiting for me. I placed the flowers on the table before heading upstairs to change clothes.
I thought to myself that just earlier, I had been riding in this same van, and now I was back inside it again. The only difference was that it felt more spacious now. The luggage that had once been pressed against me was gone. It felt brighter, lighter—like I could finally breathe properly.
It was almost three in the afternoon when we arrived at the place where Kuya was buried.
Honestly, I could no longer remember his face. It had been so long since we last saw each other—even in my dreams, he never appeared anymore. Maybe even if I dreamed about him, I still wouldn’t recognize him as my brother because I no longer remembered what he looked like. I couldn’t even ask Mom for a picture because I knew she would cry. Whenever Kuya was mentioned or the topic about him came up, she would suddenly burst into tears. That’s why sometimes, I just stopped asking.
Mom placed the flowers on Kuya’s grave. Dad and I simply stood behind her—watching their reunion… listening to the conversation between mother and son.
“Robin, my child, I’m sorry if I forgot… Forgive me, anak. I didn’t mean to. You know Mama loves you so much. She’ll never forget the day she lost you ever again. Never again. Okay? Forgive me. It won’t happen again…”
I looked at Dad. I knew he was still hurting from losing my brother. And it also hurt him seeing Mom like this.
“It’s been so long since we last saw each other, anak. I miss you so much. If you’re not too busy up there in heaven, visit me sometime… even just in my dreams. I want to see your face again, anak. Please grant the wish of your mother who longs for you so much. Mama misses you terribly…”
Once again, Mom broke down into loud sobs. Her cries were filled with grief and suffering from longing for her eldest son. Even I felt heartbroken watching her like this. It was obvious how deeply she loved Kuya.
I didn’t know why every time I came here, I had nothing to say to him. I didn’t know what I was supposed to tell him. All I knew was that he was my older brother, yet I couldn’t remember the things we used to do or the games we used to play together. So many years had already passed… maybe that was why I truly couldn’t remember anymore.
I glanced at his grave.