Writing that thesis meant I would always drink to get drunk. Drunk, I still knew when I couldn’t drive anymore. So I would call Sly. Sly would come to drink with me some more and then drive for me.
Before going home, we would pass by Select in Katipunan and he would feed me siomai and Yakisoba. Sometimes he would sleep on the sofa (with a basin on the floor) and sometimes he would go home. Sometimes Sly would simply come over to any of our “homes”, go straight to the refrigerator to get a bottle of beer, watch TV or play cards with us while we talk, or when he’s hungry would simply get a pancit canton from the cupboard and cook it himself.
The first time Dad saw this happen, he laughed, “Ok ‘to si Sly ah.”
Sly has been TJ’s friend since 1997 and both were from the National College of Public Administration and Good Governance in UP Diliman. Sly has sisters but no brothers and he’s the youngest. He never really had playmates. Once he said to his Dad, “Gusto ko maglaro ng basketball.” His Dad had built a basketball court for him in their home.
Sly is a UAAP gold medalist in fencing: they found him scary because he’s smiling the whole time behind his mask.
One night when they were still in college, he gave TJ half of an old peso bill that his Dad gave him and he said to TJ, “You and I are brothers.”
I was playing volleyball once and the ball hit my head.
I fell, stunned, vertigo triggered.
I immediately called Sly and asked when he heard me sobbing, “Oh! Ano nangyari?”
And I just sniveled, “Sly…Sly… Tinamaan ulo ko ng bola…”
“Papunta na ko diyan. Hintay ka lang. Wag ka na umiyak.”
He had arrived 40 minutes before in his boardinghouse in the campus after driving for me and dropping me off in the UP gym. When he arrived at the gym, he looked fresh out of the shower and all the girls and gays were staring. He was smiling and came over to where I was sitting on the bleachers.
When I saw him, I started crying again and he started laughing and patting my head, “Sino nakatama sa yo? Upakan ko.” Then he grabbed my gym bag and pulled down my knee pads. He said, “Tahan na…Sa lahat pa naman kasi ng ipapatama mo, ulo mo pa. Uwi na tayo? O gusto mo mag-lunch?”
I answered, “Yosi tayo.”
He held my hand while I was walking and the world was spinning and I was choking on nausea.
Later on he would say to everyone, “Haaaaay, parang batang yagit si Mia na umiiyak dun oh!”
I was 24 years old.
On the first Saturday of last January, he saw me talking to a bully about poetry, bristling anger in the air. Smiling, Sly had whispered to me (in our language), “What’s this one’s problem? You want me to take care of him?”
I shook my head, “I’m handling it” as I hurriedly wiped my tearstains.
Basha was angry when he found out what happened that night. He said, “We were there! Why didn’t you call us?!” I gave him the same answer I gave Sly.
Sly is two years younger than I am.
His nose is perfect: all kinds of shades would look good on him.
He’s my brother, too.
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