I Love You Since 1892 (Book 1) por Binibining Mia

1892 WAS THE YEAR that the Katipunan was established. It was also the year when Dr. Jose Rizal was captured and exiled to Dapitan.

Our professor, the most boring one of them all, is giving a lecture and I’m bored out of my skull. “Read and pass,” my seatmate whispered to me. I opened the sheet of paper and read what’s written on it.

House party @ James tonight, 8 pm. - Shae

I let out a sigh. James Gilbert is a famewhore who’s so full of himself, well, not so different from Shae. I looked over behind me and shot Shae a glare. I raised my eyebrows as I tore the sheet of paper apart and let the pieces fall on the floor.

"What's your problem?!" Shae asked me in a shrill voice that caused Prof. Hermios, our Philippine History professor, to stop speaking to look at us. I wanted to hit Shae and pull out all her hair but I had to stop myself because our professor suddenly started speaking again. Shae has always harbored resentment towards me. The feeling is mutual, so who cares?

“Quiet. If you want to fight it out, go do it at the Discipline Office,” Prof. Hermios spoke these words earnestly while scanning the entire room.

I stood up, gathered my things, and shot one last glare at Shae who looked like a witch who is all too eager to skin me alive. To annoy her even more, I spat out the gum I had been chewing and stuck it to her desk.

"Bitch!" shouted Shae behind me. She was about to snatch my bag but our classmates were able to hold her back.

I know all too well that Shae and James were holding tonight’s party to make me feel jealous. I looked at Shae and gave her an all-knowing smile.

"Where are you going, Ms. Isabella?" I heard our professor call out after me. I stopped in my tracks, but didn’t look at him anymore as I answered emphatically, "Discipline Office as per your command, sir."

"CARMELA! Where have you been?" Daddy asked me as I entered our home. It was already late, 11 in the evening to be exact. Dad had a serious look on his face, arms crossed over his chest. The living room was in a bit of a mess, with luggage scattered around.

“It’s Shae’s birthday and we celebrated … uhmmm … that’s why.” I managed to eke out an alibi with a smile. I immediately gave Dad a hug in an attempt to calm him down.

For a long time, Shae was my only friend whom Dad knew, that was why she was the first person who came to mind.

I actually did not go to James’ house party; I instead watched a Battle of the Bands event.

Dad looked at me intently, as if he was trying to make out if I was telling the truth or not. I immediately changed the topic and asked him, "Dad, what's going on here?"

My sister, Jenny, who was then too busy watching a movie on her iPad, looked up as I placed my bag on the sofa. She's sixteen and an avid fan of K-pop.

Our younger sister, Emily, didn’t even bother looking at me. She had her nose buried deep into a book she was reading. At 12, Emily is the family’s bookworm.

"I thought you and Shae are no longer friends?" Dad seemed genuinely confused. I didn’t dare look at him. Instead, I sat down beside Jenny and pretended to watch whatever it was that she was watching.

"Mrs. Falcon called earlier, and according to her, you and Shae interrupted your Philippine History class."

"Dad, it was nothing, just a petty fight."

"Carmela."

A few seconds of silence passed. Jenny and Emily gave each other furtive glances but held their tongue, worried that they would draw Dad’s attention to themselves instead.

"How are your grades, Carmela?” Dad asked me, looking serious as he took a seat beside Emily.

"I saw your grades," he said as he drew a deep breath. “Why are all your grades dismal? Haven’t you had …” I didn’t wait for Dad to finish his sentence. I abruptly stood up and made my way to the staircase.

I know Dad. He will just say the same thing over and over again like a broken record, “Why can't you be like your cousins? Look at them now, they are all successful, while you're left behind.”

"Okay. Fine." I answered him as I reached my room and shut the door behind me.

It’s tiring, being endlessly compared to other people. Even if I tell Dad that Business Management is not the course for me, it’s all useless. Nothing will happen. He’ll just insist on what he wants. He never listens. Never.

Frustrated, I threw my bag, it landed on the floor with a thud as I jumped on my bed. If only Mom were here, things would be different for sure.

I already fell asleep before I knew it and dreamt of the last day we spent with Mommy.

MOM WAS COOKING in the kitchen. She was pregnant. I was eight years old. Jenny was four. Dad just finished dressing up for work. He was an executive manager in a five-star hotel. Mom was a teacher until he met Dad and they got married.

Dad gave Mom a peck on the cheek. "Breakfast is ready,” Mom called to us with a smile. As usual, Jenny and I raced to the dining table. I’ve always loved to sit beside Mom, but Jenny wanted the same thing so we always got into a race to see which one would get the coveted spot.

“Carmela, please be the one to give way. You’re the *ate, right?” That’s what Mom always reminded me. I can’t do anything, I’m the ate after all. I resigned myself to taking the seat beside Dad’s.

“You’re as lovely as flowers in full bloom, my love,” Dad said as he wrapped Mom in an embrace. They laughed. Jenny and I shot a puzzled look at each other. We couldn’t understand what was so funny. We would always wrinkle our foreheads every time they called each other “Mahal”. Love.

"Mahal, I think we will be with Johnny soon," Mommy said as she gently stroked her belly. At that time, we still had no idea if the baby in Mom’s tummy was a boy or a girl. They didn’t want to know; they wanted it to be a surprise.

Dad broke into a wide smile.

Dad looks so different now, always neck-deep in work.

While we were eating, Mommy suddenly touched my hand, “Carmela,” she said, causing me to stop munching on my cereal to look at her.

"You will understand all of this, maybe not now, but someday you will." I nodded. Maybe Mom felt that I was feeling a little bad towards her because, as the eldest child, I always had to give way to Jenny.

"Mommy, I want more cereal!" Jenny cried. She was a messy eater.

As Mom was about to hand the cereal box over to Jenny, she suddenly lurched forward causing the box to fall and the table to move a few inches away from her.

Good thing that Dad was quickly on his feet and steadied Mom so she wouldn't fall facedown.

“I think my water broke already,” Mommy managed to say in between pants. Our eyes widened as we saw a trickle of water trace a curved line on her legs.

Dad hurriedly scooped Mom into his arms and made a mad dash towards our car.

“Carmela, please look after Jenny for now,” Dad asked me before closing the car’s door. Jenny and I stood agape by the door. We were simply too stunned by the sudden turn of events.

Just in time, our *yaya bolted out of the kitchen to bar the gate, effectively preventing us from running after Mom and Dad.

Little did I know that that would be my last memory of Mom alive.

She was sweating and looked like she was in so much pain. At that time, I was more scared than excited at the prospect of having a new family member.

But, all the excitement, the happiness, and the hope I felt that day disappeared the instant Dad went home carrying a baby girl with Mom nowhere in sight.

“ATE! WAKE UP!” I felt someone tap my cheek. I covered my face with a pillow, but Emily kept on doing whatever it was she was doing.

“Emily!” I shouted at her. She quickly ran off while laughing out loud. I knew that she was up to no good again. True enough there was something sticky smeared on my face. I stood up and put a finger to my face—it was glue! I immediately went after Emily.

“Ate? Is that a facial mask you have on your face?” Jenny, who was then lying down on the sofa, teased me. To annoy her back, I wiped my face and smeared glue on her face as well. “What the … Dad!!!” she started calling on Dad. I finally caught up to and cornered Emily, and with a triumphant flourish, smudged her face with glue as well.

“Enough! We have to go now,” Dad ordered us. I looked at him as he stowed our luggage in the car. I remembered that we were going to Lola Carmina’s place.

My two sisters seemed oblivious to everything as they continued wrestling each other, taking the other down in turns on the plush sofa.

"Girls, come on," Dad called on us again. Still furious at Jenny and Emily, I heaved my full weight on top of them both.

“Why don’t you girls go and take a shower already? You’re all so icky and sticky,” Dad reminded us. Emily made a move to hug Dad to also smear glue on him, but Dad scolded her. Jenny and I just stuck our tongues out at her.

Moments like this make me think how Dad is able to endure all the stress that comes with taking care of us, his three mischievous girls.

It took us an hour to finish prepping ourselves up for the trip. “Carmela, bring this out first,” Dad held out his bag to me; I looked at Jenny and in turn passed Dad’s bag to her. She stopped herself from complaining. She knows that in instances such as this one, I get my way because I’m the ate.

Jenny shot me a glare and looked at Emily while handing Dad’s bag over to her. Emily also knows of our family’s unspoken rule—the ate gets her way.

The trip from Manila to San Alfonso lasted a couple of hours and my body ached from the long journey. San Alfonso is Mommy’s province. We are here because of Lola Carmina’s request that I spend my birthday on Monday, February 29, 2016, with her.

IT WAS ONLY SATURDAY. That means we still have two days left to endure being at Lola’s place.

"Wow! Lola’s place is newly painted!" exclaimed Emily. She followed Dad inside Lola’s house as I heard Jenny wonder aloud, "Is there WiFi here?"

I examined Lola Carmina’s house, which is more like an actual Old Spanish mansion than a house. Mom once told us that the mansion is already centuries old.

Mom also recounted to us that she chose to study high school and college in Manila because there was something unexplainable about the house that unsettled her. I understood what Mommy was saying because every time we came over for a visit, I also felt something strange.

“Come, come, my apo! Come!” Lola Carmina cheerfully greeted us by the front door. She had a huge smile on her face and she looked very excited to see us. She gave each of us a hug and a peck on the cheek. It has been a long time, indeed, since I last saw her. We hardly go home to the province anymore because Dad has always been so busy.

“Aren’t my apo so pretty? Oh, Emily, Jenny, and Carmela,” Lola said happily as she inspected each of us. When it was my turn, she stopped for a few seconds longer. She was just staring at me for about 10 seconds. That felt really awkward.

"Ma, we have *pasalubong for you," Dad said, causing Lola to finally stop staring at me. It felt strange while she was staring at me. It was as if she was trying to tell me something. Weird.

Jenny suddenly nudged me and whispered to my ear, “Ate, I have a feeling that Lola found you so ugly," she teased me and made a beeline to the door. Lucky her that I can’t fight back because we’re not at home. We had to be careful not to break any of Lola’s valuable antiques that were on display.

As soon as I got inside the house, I noticed that even the interior was renovated. There were plates, statues, paintings, and religious figures that it felt like we were in a museum.

LOLA COOKED *caldereta, her specialty, for us to feast on for dinner. She and Dad were talking about so many things; she also had a lot of stories about Mommy when she was still alive. Emily was so absorbed in every story, so excited was she to know more about Mommy who she never knew outside our stories. Sometimes, I think that Jenny and I were luckier than Jenny because at least we had the chance to experience Mommy’s love, even if it was only for a short time.

The night we learned that Mom passed away and that she was actually carrying a baby girl and not a boy, Dad spent the entire evening locked in his room.

Mommy wanted to name the baby Emilia if she turned out to be a girl. Good thing Dad made it more modern by making it Emily. Unlike me, stuck with an old-fashioned name.

“My apo, you should all learn how to cook caldereta the Montecarlos way. This is one of the things our family has always been proud of,” Lola said, beaming. Montecarlos is not the surname of Lola Carmina, but she has always admonished us, especially when we were younger, to always keep our ancestors, the earlier Montecarloses, alive in our memory.

We continued eating. Lola’s caldereta is really delicious. It’s just that I find the name Caldereta a la Montecarlos rather tacky.

Everything seems weird.

I WAS STUDYING MY REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR, in the room that Lola prepared for me. Lola’s mansion has about ten rooms, leaving us with one room each. To be honest, I wanted to share a room with Jenny or Emily, but they shouldn’t know that I was scared, too.

I find the classic interior of the room quite beautiful. But sometimes, it makes me imagine a ghost suddenly appearing through the wall, grabbing me, and throwing me out of the window because this is not my room.

Half an hour had passed with me sitting in front of this antique mirror. I thought to myself that maybe this one’s already a hundred years old. I also can’t shake away the thought of Lola Carmina’s strange actions and glances.

The sudden knocking on the door startled me. I hurriedly leaped out of the bed and draped an old, musty blanket over me. The door slowly opened.

From under the blanket, I could still hear the high-pitched creaking of the door much like how it was in horror movies that took place in old houses.

“Carmela, apo?” I heard a familiar voice speak. It was just Lola Carmina. I stood up from the bed pretending that nothing happened.

“You’re still awake, apo? Are you

having difficulties sleeping here?” asked Lola. I noticed that she was holding a flashlight. I looked at my watch and it was only 7:30 in the evening. Do I really have to go to sleep already?

“I’m okay, Lola,” I assured her. In just a few years, Lola’s features have dramatically changed. Maybe, she’s still overwhelmed with sadness when Mommy died, her only child. I remember the last time I saw Lola Carmina during Mommy’s funeral, she almost passed out from crying.

“Child, I wanted to show you something, come,” Lola beckoned at me to follow her. I was about to ask what it was that she wanted to show me, but she had already stepped outside the room and I was left with no choice but to go after her. A flash of thought made me smile—maybe she’ll bring me to a room full of gold and leave everything to me!

"You’ve grown so big already. I’m sorry if I haven’t been able to reach out to you as often as I should. Lola is already old and I’m clueless about all these gadgets,” she said. I couldn’t help but smile at her words. I don’t resent Lola at all. She never forgets to call us during Christmas and birthdays.

Before I knew it, we entered a room that’s teeming with the oldest books I’ve ever seen. I’ve never imagined that there was a library in Lola’s mansion! The comforting smell of old books wafted through the air.

Lola went up the second floor of the library, pulled out a black book, and without warning, the shelves separated into two halves revealing a hidden passageway.

I blinked twice in disbelief. I was about to ask Lola if she were a detective or what, but she had already stepped inside what was once a concealed hall.

Lola switched on the flashlight and signaled me to follow her. Ahead of us is a narrow staircase leading to the back of the bookshelves. Another thought made me smile—I can feel myself closing in on the riches of the Montecarlos family!

It got darker and darker around us with each step-down. I instinctively held onto Lola’s shoulder just in case I lost sight of her.

“We’re here!” I heard her say. She pushed what seemed like a button on the wall, and all at once, we were bathed in light.

For a moment I found myself blinded by the sudden brightness. So there’s light in here after all! Why on earth is the light switch at the bottom of the staircase? Do people need to fall first before they reach the switch?

I still haven’t gotten hold of my senses when Lola slowly turned to me, catching me off guard anew.

“Come, Carmela. Don’t feel like a stranger in your own home,” Lola said with a smile. A creepy, disconcerting smile.

The look on Lola’s face confused me, especially the words that she uttered, but I was just as surprised to see where we were standing. Around us are expensive-looking paintings and vases.

I couldn’t help but smile. Surely, luck was on my way! I glanced at Lola who was also smiling. I have to admit that Lola’s smile is a tad creepy, but I don’t really care anymore as we are surrounded by all these luxurious things! I wonder how much I could sell all these! Had I known where we would be going, I would have brought a notepad and a calculator so I can already start adding up how much all these are worth.

“Why did you bring me here, Lola?” I asked. “I think Jenny, Emily, and Dad would be just as happy to see all of these,” I said as I started examining each of the shiny vases.

“I wanted to introduce you to someone,” said Lola Carmina, and these words wiped out the smile on my face. Lola turned away from me and started walking toward a wall on which hangs a red curtain. My heart raced.

I was suddenly nervous. I could feel the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Maybe Lola’s hiding a hermit that has long been imprisoned in this place. Maybe Lola wants me to befriend him.

Lola tugged at the curtain causing it to cascade to the floor. We were enveloped in a thick cloud of dust blinding us and making us sneeze. What was Lola thinking making me inhale all the dust here?

“Sorry, apo. It has been many years since I last cleaned this place,” Lola said apologetically. The dust here is worse than an unpaved road! When the dust had settled, I was finally able to open my eyes while one hand covered my nose.

“Did you bring me here to help you clean, Lola?” I was starting to doubt if she’ll be leaving all of these to me after all. Maybe the dust, yes.

Lola did not respond nor did she look at me. She just stood and stared at the wall from where the dust-ridden curtain used to hang. I wondered why she was in a trance.

I looked at the wall and it was only then that I realized that there was a huge, old painting of a beautiful lady wearing a red *baro't saya.

I felt my eyes pop out of their sockets when I realized that the lady in the painting looked exactly like me!