With an S

When people from different nations trade with each other, they do not only barter their goods, but their culture as well. And accompanying one's culture is language. Such was the case when when the Chinese traded with the Filipinos. In Chinese, they called their brothers ahia, dihia and sioti, and their sisters achi, dichi, and siobe. The Filipinos modified it, calling their older sister ate (pronounced “ah-teh”), the older brother kuya, and finally, the youngest sibling bunso, regardless of gender. This story is about an ate and bunso.



Ciara Marie ran her palm over the crumpled crepe papers that supposedly adorned the cover of a thick, wide book. The said papers were glued haphazardly to the cover and she could see, not even upon close inspection, the pattern of the glue on the other side. The papers were in red, blue, green, and yellow, and they almost covered the whole front cover. But there was a flat space at the center where a white square was placed. It contained the details of the book written by hand in blue ink.

My Scrapbook

Passed to:
Ms. Ma. Josefa Lumilay
and
Ms. Regina Conception

Passed by:
Beryl Marie M. Villones
VI – Blue

Blue. Ciara always thought of that as the other class when she was in grade six and in the honors class, Gold. That was four years ago. The scrapbook was a combined final project for both Beryl's English and Art class which were the two subjects where Beryl's grades were a little rocky. That was why she worked extra hard on this project. She stayed up late working on it, used her own savings to buy the materials in the biggest school and office supplies store that their mother could drive to, and she even made use of the big blue hardbound dictionary that she had never even opened before.

Ciara knew all this, how much effort her sister put into putting the pages together, making each page look like a work of art, making the content at least have correct spelling. She knew how important the project was for Beryl. That was exactly why Ciara went in the pink room next to her own and took the scrapbook from the wooden desk. To destroy it.



It all started with baby gurgles and jewelry. Ciara's sister was only a few days old and still nameless. Their mother was always indecisive about names. Even Ciara was nameless during her first few days. The four-year-old and her father were alternately suggesting names for the newborn.

“Sally?”

“Mariella?”

“Joanne?”

“Alice?”

“No, no, no. I've heard all of those names before. Some of those names belong to my friends. I want something a little more unique.”

“I've got it!” Ciara's father said, happiness evident on his face. “Rumpelstiltskin!”

Ciara's mother slapped her forehead and said, “Now why didn't I think of that? You're a genius. Just brilliant, dear!”

Ciara tried to cover her giggles under her hands, but it was not working. “Brilliant,” she repeated. Then she had an idea for a name. “Brilliance! What about Brilliance, Mommy?”

“Hm... it just might work,” she mused, not completely sure yet. But Ciara did not hear the hesitation in her mother's voice. For her, she already heard a yes. Her mother walked over to the pink crib. They were all in the baby's room. When Mrs. Villones picked her youngest child up, the baby let out a gurgle which sounded like “Yeh-yil” to Ciara, and her mother exclaimed, “Beryl!” She turned to the other two and repeated, “Beryl! That's the name.”

What happened was that a small beam of sunlight filtered through the thin white curtains on the window above the crib and hit one of Mrs. Villones's many rings. That one just happened to be a beryl, and the reflection just happened to catch its owner's eye. But Ciara did not know that.

She froze. What she heard was her mother praising the baby for gurgling and giving her the idea for the name. The former only child used to hear praises directed only to her. But now, after she suggested a brilliant name, praise went to her sister.

Ciara stared at the bundle in her mother's arms with its tiny pink face sticking out between the folds of white cloth. Her rightful praise was taken away from that thing? She tore her eyes away from the bundle and started inspecting the room like it interested her. Now that she thought about it, the room used to be hers too. It used to hold the things that she did not use as often, like old toys. Now her inanimate friends were stuck in the attic while this room was filled with useless baby stuff like diapers and milk. She was convinced that this room was taken away from her which made her wonder. What else could this small creature cause to be taken away from her?



Little Ciara tried to get over her initial shock at suddenly sharing her parents' attention with a sibling. She tried to believe that maybe, just maybe, she and Beryl could be friends. She thought that since the two rowdy brothers next door who she sometimes played with, six-year-old JB and four-year-old Tony, were friends with each other, she could befriend her sister too.

There were times when her tries went well. She would talk to her starting with, “Hey, baby,” and little Beryl would respond and they would have a conversation in baby talk. But sometimes it went bad like Ciara would get hit by a rattle that Beryl threw.

There was one time that Ciara would never forget. Her mother was carrying the little thing when Ciara walked into the baby's room. Mrs. Villones was standing up and Ciara could not reach the baby so she grabbed onto her mother's legs instead. She looked up and asked, “Can I play with baby Beryl?” Diapers, like panty liners, are not good to be worn twenty-four seven. Their mother almost never put diapers on Beryl if she was just staying at home. Ciara felt warm liquid on her face which she took for the answer.



Growing up, Ciara felt and saw the unfairness of it all, of having a little sister. She got more food than Ciara, more gifts, more attention, more time on the television and computer, and less chores.

Then came the last straw.

It was Christmas break but, being in the tropics, it was virtually always summer, and it was hot on that particular day. Ciara was actually perspiring when she rarely did that. Her mother and sister walked down from their rooms to the living room, where Ciara was, on their way to the front door. “Beryl and I are going malling,” Mrs. Villones informed her. Malling was what they called going to the mall, something just the two of them frequently did. Only one thing crossed Ciara's mind then. The mall was air-conditioned.

“I'll go with you!” she said as she peeled herself off of the couch.

At the mall, Mrs. Villones stayed in between the girls, Ciara staying at her left and making sure it remained that way while Beryl stayed on her mother's right. The older sister had not gone malling with her family for a long time, and she did not quite know how they went about it. Did they actually have to buy anything or were they just window shopping? Were they sticking to the shops or going to the supermarket or arcade?

Ciara's initial ecstasy from being hit with cold air at the entrance soon faded as she felt the awkwardness of her situation. She stayed quiet as the other two lead the way. She wished she just stayed at home and stood in front of their fridge while holding the door open. But it was too late and she thought she might as well make the best of it. She followed her mother and sister from store to store, looking at clothes, shoes, bags, and more clothes.

After visiting a few stores, Ciara found that she liked looking at the girly things her mother and sister were looking at and sometimes buying. She was caught up in her looking, she did not notice her companions gain some shopping bags. Then they came across a small store that had lots of random things in it. It had things from clothes, to toys, to decorations. Ciara gravitated towards a shelf of books which was right under another shelf at her eye-level that was full of small pots, vases and big mugs. She spent a good ten minutes just hovering around that part of the store, looking at the book titles on their spines, and occasionally picking up an interesting-looking mug.

She did not know she was being observed by her mother and sister. The two shared a look and Mrs. Villones acted on it. She leaned toward the entrance of the store, pretending to follow someone with her gaze and said, “Ciara, I think I saw some of your friends pass by.” Ciara perked up and was on her way out before her mother could add, “Why don't you go say 'hi' to them.” But she was still within earshot when her mother told Beryl, “Go buy what your sister was looking at for so long. You can get one for yourself too.”

Ciara found it strange. Beryl did not like books. But still, she could not help but smile even when she couldn't find any of her friends like her mother told her.

Soon after that, it was Christmas Eve and they always opened their presents then, as long as it was near midnight. They finished eating their dinner of sweet ham, queso de bola, and seafood pasta, all four gathered around the tree in their living room waiting for Beryl to read out the tags on each present. The two girls took turns doing this, and this year was Beryl's turn. In this family, they never did pretend that Santa Claus was the one who brought them their presents. Their parents thought it was better this way, to let the children know that they were getting presents not because they were “nice” the whole year round, but because they were loved.

Beryl began and took the package closest to her, a small box in shiny green wrapper, opened the card and read, “'To our precious Beryl,' oh, it's for me, 'for being a wonderful daughter. Merry Christmas. We love you. Mom and Dad.'” She put the box behind her and thanked her parents. And so the process went on until all the colorful packages under the tree were all with their respective recipients.

They were about to open it together when Mrs. Villones interjected to Ciara with a wide smile, “Why don't you open that blue one with the silver ribbon, dear.” Ciara looked down at the package in her hands. It was from her aunt and had reindeer on the wrapper. She set it aside and grabbed the present that her mother pointed her bejeweled finger at. “Your sister picked that out for you, you know.”

Ciara remembered what she heard during their malling and brightened up. “Thanks, Beryl,” she said sincerely to her sister for the first time that night. Ciara held the package up, wondering which book they got her from that store, not noticing that the package was not the right size and weight for any of the books she saw.

“Your welcome, sis.” Ciara did not even cringe this time like she usually did when she was called that. “Let's open together. I got one just like it,” she said as she took out her own blue and silver package. Beryl had been the one to wrap her own present, something their mother used to let Ciara do to one of her presents when Beryl was so much smaller.

When they opened it... Ciara saw that it was not a book. It did not even look like it was something picked for her. It was a white mug-like vase. And it had a big black S painted on it. Confusion dwelt in Ciara's mind until she saw what Beryl had. It was just like hers but had a B painted on it. B for Beryl, she thought, and S for Ciara? Bitch can't even spell my name.

Had Ciara not blocked out anything, she would have heard the explanation. Back at the store in the mall, her mother and Beryl thought she was looking at the shelf above the books. Beryl tried looking for an A for ate but could not find one, so she settled for an S for sister. The B for herself was for bunso. It never crossed Beryl's mind to look for letters representing their name, because she wanted a gift that could connect them. To her, their strongest connection was their relationship. But Ciara had blocked any other reasoning from reaching her mind. Thus she decided. She was going to make things even.



The End