I was having second thoughts on whether I should wear the pink, off-shoulder blouse mama had bought for me from the ukay-ukay or borrow stuff from Asher. Ever since Ester came into the picture, my usually organized train of thoughts has gone topsy-turvy. Although she had known me as Judy, I couldn't tell how long I could keep that act whenever I was around her.
"Judy, what's taking you so long? We're going to buy groceries today," Mama called, which I believe was coming from the family room.
"Coming," I said.
I grabbed the first pieces of clothing that I could access and threw them on before going outside.
When I emerged from the room, I met Mama's disapproving gaze. Her hands rested on her waist.
What now?
"I've bought a bunch of cute blouses for you and you still wore Asher's?" she scolded.
I looked at my clothes and saw Asher's oversized jersey and his knee-length ripped denim shorts on me.
Well, what's wrong with that?
"Go back and change," she commanded.
But I stayed still. Her eyes widened threateningly.
"Judy, I said, go back and change," she insisted, struggling to sound gentle.
To avoid a heated argument, I dragged my feet back to my room and grabbed the pink blouse mama bought me, pairing it with a white pedal pusher. Then I placed the butterfly pin on a few strands of my hair above my ear before going out of the room. With a smile on her face, mama beckoned me to accompany her to the supermarket.
If only I could cover my face, I would. While mama and I walked down the street, I couldn't help pulling my blouse upward in an effort to hide my shoulders. It would have been better if I had come with her in jeans and a white shirt, but knowing mama, the sight of it would make her cringe to the bone.
But which is more cringe-worthy? The clothes that I threw on seemed like a hairy caterpillar on my skin.
"Can you stop moving like that?" mama said. "You look like you're chasing a rat inside your clothes."
Well, what else could it be?
"Don't you find your clothes pretty? Look, it suits you well," she added.
Exactly after she said those words, a wolf whistle echoed along the street. My head shook. If I knew better, it could have been a bunch of drunk men from the corner who were trying to bully me for cross-dressing. Mama stopped to tell them off, calling them rude.
"I should have just stuck to wearing Ash's clothes," I murmured.
The words, however, did not escape my mother's sharp ears.
"No, Judy," mama said firmly. "Don't mind those drunkards. You're beautiful just the way you are."
Her encouraging words were not helping. It's not the way I am.
Reaching the supermarket became a good breather. Mama and I parted ways so that we could easily get what was needed in the house. While she walked the aisles to grab some food supplies, I went for the detergents and toiletries. In one of the aisles, I passed by a section that displayed men's clothing. I stopped for a while and picked up a blue t-shirt.
I was about to put it in front of me to measure its size when a familiar voice stopped me.
"Judy?"
When I turned, I almost dropped the shirt on the floor. I was face-to-face with the person that I have been longing to see since Ben's wedding.
"Hello," I said timidly, my eyes trained on the shirt to avoid her gaze.
"What's that shirt for? Your boyfriend?" she asked.
Before I could completely wonder how she could think of such things, I remembered I was wearing an off-shoulder blouse. My cheeks grew warm.
"This? No," I replied.
In embarrassment, my hand automatically fumbled for the neckline of that stupid garment and pulled it upward to cover my exposed skin. She giggled.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm not really comfortable in this blouse," I replied. "I'm trying this on, actually."
I was talking about the blue shirt I was holding.
"Eh? But you're a girl, right?" She said. "Are you a lesbian?"
Did she really think that?
"What? Of course, not," I answered.
"What not, you're not a girl or you're not a lesbian?"
"Both," I said simply, before putting the shirt back on the shelf.
"Oh," she said. "But why do they call you Judy?"
I shrugged.
"It's mama. She wanted me to dress like a girl because I look like one," I explained.
Ester took the shirt from the shelf and placed it on me to measure the size. In passing, her fingers touched the exposed skin of my shoulders. I thought I shivered at its warmth. I hoped she didn't notice.
"So what's your name?" she asked again.
"Judah," I replied. "But you can call me Jude."
"Jude... That's a nice name," she commented.
I smiled at her appreciation.
Someone familiar coughed from the back. I turned and saw Mama looking at me with a stern expression on her face. I cringed, seeing that the cart I was pushing was still empty.
For the rest of our time in the supermarket, Mama refused to speak a word. She must be making me feel that I have done something worthy of her silent treatment. She only opened her mouth when we were on the way to our house.
"Is she your girlfriend?" Mama asked monotonously.
Her head was held high, and her eyes, which were somewhere between sad and angry, were trained on the road.
"No," I said.
Although that was the truth, I couldn't help but feel guilty, like a criminal caught red-handed.
"Really? Why is she helping you with that shirt?" she followed up.
"I'm not sure," I said again.
Her eyes widened. "And you're smiling at her like she's the only girl in the world!"
Why not? Ester is the only girl in my world.
"She's a newfound friend, that's all," I replied.
Mama didn't need to know how everything would turn to cloud nine with Ester around.
"She's actually Naya's little sister," I added.
But it didn't help.
"And then what, she's going to trap you into marriage too, like what that woman has done to your brother?" she asked.
My brows furrowed.
"It's not like that, Mama—"
"Then remember who you are going to be, Judy! You will grow up to be a fine woman and help me in our house!" she reminded in a raised voice.
Before I could voice my frustrations, I caught a glimpse of two familiar-looking guys approaching our direction. They were swaying, their faces red, and they reeked of a mixture of beer and spoiled meat.
I paused my walking.
"What are you standing there for, Judy? Hurry up," Mama said.
One of those boys gave me a wolf whistle again.
"Oh, these rude drunkards again? Never mind them. Let's go home," she said.
I tried to avoid them as they got near, but five, strong fingers clutched my arm, holding me still in place.
"Hey faggot," he called. His stinking breath blew on my face. "Where do you think you are going, huh?"
While everything inside of me trembled in fear, I tried not to let the feeling reflect on my face. My eyes darted to the guy who clutched my arm without even moving my head, while mama yelled at the two drunk men, telling them to go home.
"It's none of your goddamn business, hag," the other guy said. Then, with one push, Mama dropped with a loud thud on the pavement. She squealed in pain.
"Mama!" I cried.
I was about to attend to her when the guy tightened his grip on my arm and yanked me close to him, so close that the stench of alcohol stormed inside my nostrils. My face crumpled.
"What now, little girl? You gonna cry, huh? You gonna cry?" the guy asked. My other hand dropped the bag that I was carrying.
My eyes flared, and as the guy smirked in what seemed like victory, I hit his nose with my forehead. His grip on me loosened, and he cursed at me as he cupped that bleeding part of his face.
The other guy lunged forward to attack me, but when he was close enough, my fist connected with his cheek, sending him sprawled on the ground.
When the guy with the broken nose retreated, I rushed back to the one who pushed Mama, pinned him on the ground, and bombarded his face with punches until he could no longer find the strength to fight back.
One punch for turning me into something I'm not.
Another punch for calling me a faggot.
And another punch for hurting a poor, defenseless woman.
My fists couldn't seem to have enough. One more hit and that guy would be borrowing the face of a mutt.
"Who do you call a faggot, huh?" I asked.
I raised my fist and was about to make a final blow on his face when mama's voice stopped my hand in midair.
"Judah!" she cried.
I swear it was the first time she called me by my male name.
"Please! That's enough."
As if awakened from a stupor, I dropped my fist and ran back to Mama to attend to her. She clung to my shoulders as if her life depended on them.
"Anak," she called, which turned into a cry that she could not control. As I rubbed her back, she mumbled incoherent words of thanks.
"This is far from over," the guy threatened, then they ran off.
Like they would. After what happened, I doubt if anyone will ever call me a faggot again.
"Can you stand?" I asked, and Mama nodded mindlessly.
As I carefully scooped her up, her body swayed in dizziness, and we almost lost our balance.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
