Chapter 1

Media Noche

 

 

It’s a couple of hours before midnight, and we’re giving you the top hit songs that made it to Billboard this year!

We are live here at the seaside boulevard with the famous band Ace of Spades! As you can see behind me, people crowd the area as we count down the hours to midnight. Back to you, Jing.

As an actress, I’m looking forward to the coming year. I’ve got so many plans in store for all of you! So, you guys should watch out for them!

The 2020 Pantone color of the year is classic blue. It’s calming and has a sense of familiarity. It’s a timeless shade of blue.

 

 

“You believe that?”

Cleo raises an eyebrow at her sister, Anne, whose mouth is stuffed with lumpiang shanghai. Bits of the spring roll’s ground pork are stuck on her chin. Just the thought of lumpiang shanghai has Cleo drooling over it, and now she’s tempted to get one, too. Imagining it, she can already taste its yummy sweet goodness, especially when dipped in ketchup.

“What?” Anne asks, fixing her full bangs on display and acting innocent because she’s not supposed to eat anything until the clock strikes twelve.

Cleo touches her chin. “You have something on your chin.”

Anne takes a tissue and wipes her chin clean. “We should just eat, instead of watching this feng shui expert tell you your whole life.”

“There’s no harm in believing,” Cleo replies. Besides, she’s already wearing a classic blue polka dot dress. And she also likes the color, a sea of tranquility, a canvas of serenity. It makes her wonder if this classic blue can bring her good luck in the coming year.

“Classic blue,” Anne muses as she flops down on the couch next to Cleo, taking Candy, their Shih Tzu, onto her lap. “That’s something we can agree on. I think it suits you, but really, you should stop watching someone decide what’s good or what’s bad for you. You’re the only one who can determine your fate.”

Oh, if only life had Anne’s positive outlook and youthful appearance. Instead, life had Cleo’s lousy luck. Should she toss a coin right now, no matter what she chooses—tails or heads—the coin has a higher probability of spinning mid-air than landing on the floor and showing her the result.

“Let’s just watch this part. I’ve got a good feeling about this coming year,” Cleo says without looking at Anne. Their eyes are both glued to the TV as some feng shui expert keeps talking about the year of the metal rat. Candy wags her tail as she listens too.

 

“The year of the metal rat is deemed to be a year of new beginnings and renewals. It will be good for those taking advantage of the opportunities happening this year, but it will also be a challenging year ahead. Some may notice slow progress in their plans and projects, but it’s only a call for everyone to cultivate enough confidence and strength to bring a successful result.”

 

Cleo listens intently to the TV, mentally nodding in agreement with the Chinese Astrology Prediction this year. It’s become her ritual, listening to predictions at the end of the year so she has something to look forward to in the coming one.

“Geez, Leo. You might end up replacing that feng shui expert,” Anne warns.

If Cleo were to be a feng shui expert, she’d give everyone a good year ahead. A few bumps here and there, but other than that, they’ll get everything they want. Want to win in the lottery? No problem, she’ll give random numbers. Are they praying for good grades? She’ll give you a memory retainer medicine. Are they dreaming of being rich? Then, she can look for a team of skilled robbers to steal from the bank. Predictions are such life scams, but people will believe them anyway because they love gambling against the invisible force of fate.

And Cleo? She’s one of the most scammed beings on God’s green earth. She’s beginning to think she’s gambling against the devil—whoever stops betting loses.

“They’re coming,” Anne says, switching the channel to the top hits music countdown.

Cleo sighs. Of course, they are. There’s no New Year’s Eve without family gatherings in the Philippines. It’s a known fact that all Filipinos love family gatherings, except for Cleo. Don’t get her wrong. She loves her relatives, but there are times when they’re overbearingly intrusive. And when they’re not, they can make her feel ordinary and insignificant. There’s no middle ground when it comes to them, she’s either well-praised for her efforts, or she just doesn’t know what she’s doing in her life.

It’s New Year’s Eve, Cleo reminds herself. Surely her relatives will be more pleasant this time around. Cleo stands up and helps her mom, Thea, prepare the Media Noche, or as she likes to call it: Midnight Snacks.

Ma, at around what time will they be here?” Cleo asks as she looks over their black smoked glass dining table, spotting sticky rice cakes like biko and suman. “Isn’t this too much?”

Thea, Cleo’s mother, crosses her arms. “Nothing is ever too much in family gatherings. Sticky rice cakes will improve the bonds and relationships of the family. Pahalagahan mo ang.”

Pamilyang meron ka,” Cleo finishes for Thea. “Yes, Ma. I know. Family should be given importance and not be taken for granted, but they’re not even going to clean the plates afterward.”

At the end of the party, Cleo also expects that there will be leftover food for three days’ worth of eating. She doesn’t eat any new food until the leftovers have been consumed. It’s re-heat, repeat, and eat. That’s just how celebrations are. Festivities have always been so big and grand in the country that Christmas begins on Ber months, overlapping with New Year’s Eve and lasting almost until the Feast of the Three Kings.

“They should arrive at any time now. They’re just around—” Thea quickly drops the banana leaves on the table when they all hear the loud yelling of none other than Cleo’s loud uncle: Tito Allan. “They’re here.”

Cleo turns to Thea and sees how delicately motherish she is even with her cake-flour-covered apron, messy bun jet-black hair, and panicked look. Both Thea and Anne are a ray of sunshine, but her mom’s softer and more affectionate, save for the times when she’s really up for giving a good scolding like when the kids forgot to bring the Tupperware back home from school when they were young. On the other hand, Anne’s heart-shaped face and happy-go-lucky personality make everything about her sweet instead of Cleo’s calm, restful face and spontaneity.

Cleo just can’t make up her mind most of the time, but when she finally decides on something, there’s no changing her mind. She also comes off as too strong, which, to some people, might be a bad thing.

When she was in grade school, there was this boy she liked a lot, so she did everything to be just like the other pretty girls in the class. That boy told her she was pretty, but she didn’t have fair skin like the others, so she did everything to make herself even more appealing. One morning, she came in with full makeup on—courtesy of her mom’s makeup kit—but he ended up avoiding her. It turned out she looked like a clown, and ever since then, her confidence tended to vacillate. It was her first heartbreak. She envied the naturally sweet girls and, at one point, she even envied Anne. But then she realized that wasn’t her. She wasn’t going to greet everyone like Anne. She enjoyed her quietness and spur-of-the-moment-ness. And although the two sisters are opposites, they complement each other—Cleo weathers the storm while Anne navigates the way.

Ma!” Anne calls out. “We’ll get them!”

Cleo nods in agreement.

“Okay. Thank you, mga anak.” Thea smiles at her daughters.

“Don’t sweat it, Ma. And no rush. New Year isn’t going anywhere,” Cleo responds, following Anne, who’s already out on the porch and opening their rusting metal gate.

As soon as Cleo’s out in the open area, she hears the loud uproar of torotots. She sees the colorful sparks of lusis and the handheld fireworks lit by the children on the streets. Two houses away, she can already hear the drunken songs. A couple of guys at the karaoke are singing rather badly about giving their heart away last Christmas. Across from their two-story home, two Civic cars are already parked one behind the other, but Cleo’s relatives, having no parking space, have decided to double-park.

Tito Allan, I don’t think—” Cleo begins.

Tito Allan wipes his eyeglasses with his shirt and places them on the bridge of his nose. “Is that you, Cleo? Why you’re all grown up!”

She’s all grown up to him because the last time they met each other was five years ago in the province of Pampanga, the hometown of her Tito Allan. He used to be an overseas Filipino worker—an OFW—so naturally, he missed a lot of celebrations, like the feast in his province every twelfth of May. It’s the feast that honors the patron saint Sta. Maria of Balen Bayu, which translates to “New Town.” The locals are called Kapampangan, a large ethnolinguistic group residing mainly in the central plain of Luzon, and they speak Kapampangan, one of the major dialects in the country. And although she can’t understand the dialect, Cleo likes to listen to them. After all, the Philippines is home to so many unique and distinctive languages and dialects.

Feasts in provinces are not to be missed. Cleo remembered watching the marching bands parade on the streets and having boodle fights in the afternoon with everyone as they visited one home after another. It’s great because she can also see the ancestral houses like the Bahay Kubo or Nipa Hut and the brick-tile roofing and wooden walls that used to house the Spaniards during their occupation of the country. And then, at night, she and her cousins would go to the perya, a fair teeming with games and rides. Sadly, she got busier with work, so she didn’t have that much time to travel to Pampanga. But fortunately for her, when Tito Allan went on retirement last year, he promised everyone he’d be there for every occasion. She barely knows the man, but she knows he misses home, so she really can’t blame this overly-excited lively character when he visits any of them.

Cleo puts the double parking aside. She’ll just talk to their neighbor and let Tito Allan know if the car needs to be moved somewhere. Then, one by one, her relatives come out of the car. There’s her godmother: Ninang Erlina; her godfathers: Ninong Arjun and Ninong Ray; her aunts: Tita April, Tita Angela, and Tita Jennie; her younger cousins: Juan, Carlo, Ashley, and Amber.

 

 

Cleo does the pagmamano as a sign of respect and honor, making this traditional greeting to her aunts and uncles. She takes the hand of Ninang Erlina, her godmother, and presses it to her forehead.

Mano Po,” Cleo says.

Ninang Erlina replies, “God bless you.”

Cleo gives the greeting to all her aunts, uncles, godmothers, and godfathers—anyone who’s older than she is—well, except for Tita April. Her aunt refuses the pagmamano because she thinks it’ll make her older. Though Tita April is in her late thirties, she looks like she’s still in her late twenties, with all the whitening and anti-aging creams she slathers on her face every morning.

“You know me, Cleo. I’m forever young,” Tita April says in high spirits, tucking a strand of her bronze-highlighted hair behind her ear. “Is that Candy? Come here, girl!”

Candy, always playful with everyone, goes to Tita April, licking her face. Cleo considers her Tita April a millennial Tita. She’s the kind of aunt who’ll invite you to parties and make you chug down a huge bottle of beer. But she tries not to drink so much now. Her beer belly’s showing, and it’s making her self-conscious whenever she goes to the beach with her friends.

“We brought round fruits!” Tita Jennie announces the basket of oranges, grapes, and apples in her arms. “It’s a kiat kiat.”

Juan, Cleo’s seven-year-old cousin, quickly takes one kiat kiat from Ninang Erlina. “Yay, small orange!”

Juan has always loved anything small. Cleo thinks it’s probably because he’s so small, himself. He’s really cute, with his button nose. Anne takes him along with the rest of their younger cousins inside. She’s always been good with kids. It comes instinctively to her since she’s a preschool teacher. She handles the kids while Cleo handles the adults. And with so many people in the house, their hands can hold only some of them at a time.

Inside the house, Cleo gives their guests home slippers to change into. Once they’re all settled, she neatly arranges their shoes in the shoe rack. Back in the living room, her aunts and godmother are talking about the latest love teams in show business, or as they like to call it: showbiz. She likes to call them the Titas of Manila.

“I heard Jerrie broke up!” Tita April starts, disappointed that her favorite love team of three years has just broken up. “JerLie’s supposed to get married soon. I saw it on Nellie’s Instashot story!”

Tita Jennie butts in, pulling her brand-new designer bag onto her lap. Her newly manicured nails are lustrous and popping. The golden hoops in her ears must have been costly. She’s always been the high-end tita. “I think it’s her mom who’s getting married and not her.”

“Why are you so surprised? Celebrities break up all the time. Don’t you have anything else to talk about besides their love lives?” Tita Angela says bitterly, her graying hair tied in a bun. And unlike Tita April and Tita Jennie, who are fashionably dressed in a maxi and a wrap dress, she’s clad in a duster, a long and loose-fitting home dress.

Cleo knows her Tita Angela won’t admit to it, but the reason why she’s always bitter when it comes to love stories is that she’s an old maid. Cleo bets that’s why she’s always frowning and scolding the children too.

“It’s just that they started in a reality show! And now they’re here,” Tita April responds, obviously saddened by the news.

“And now they’re not,” Ninang Erlina adds. “There’s still Selene and Jake—the dazzling golden couple!”

Cleo doesn’t listen much. She lets their conversation drone along, Lil Nas’ “Old Town Road” blasting on the TV. It’s not even five minutes since Cleo helped Tito Allan set up the drinks table before Tita Angela comes out with, “Why, you’re too skinny, hija.”

Cleo knows her godmother is referring to her because Anne has already quietly retreated upstairs with the kids, murmuring, “And that’s my cue.”

Anne doesn’t want anyone to comment on her figure. She’s said it many times before: she’s getting a bit rounder than she used to be. But if anyone’s allowed to comment on her physique, it can only be Anne herself. Without Anne around, Cleo’s the one to be subjected to her aunts’ and godmother’s scrutiny.

“And too brown, too dark,” Tita Jennie adds, touching Cleo’s skin with her index finger. “I mean, Thea has great skin. She does, but everyone wants whiter skin now.”

Candy barks at Tita Jennie as if she can understand her and is defending Cleo.

“Maybe that’s why you don’t get so far in life, hija,” Tita Angela suggests.

“Yes, yes! Oh, if only she had her father’s white skin,” Tita Jennie agrees.

Tita April cuts them off. “Give her a break! She’s pretty even without some of her father’s American features.”

Nobody even bothers to ask Cleo what she likes. They always assume what looks good on her. But the thing is, what looks good on her may not be what she likes at all. She loves her brown skin, as earthy as it is. And she’s always been comfortable in it. Her skin has been her income and her familiy’s for a decade and more, with her modeling jobs. She hustles hard for the family.

It’s New Year’s Eve, Cleo chants in her mind, trying not to talk back. Talking back is considered disrespectful, so she’ll just be the bigger person. It just happens that long ago, someone invented family reunions so relatives can insult young women’s bodies and complexions and talk about their failures. Who cares? She can let it slide. She’s good at ignoring their jabs. But her mother? Not so much. Thea’s bothered by all of this.

After hearing all this picking, Thea stands up and heads for the kitchen. Cleo follows her mother and helps her out instead of staying with the guests. No words are spoken between them. It’s just Cleo helping Thea set the embutido, meatloaf stuffed with eggs, vegetables, and other meat inside, on platters. The TV’s ringing out loud with party music, and she’s still thinking about her skin and her father. She takes a glance out the door and sees the V.J. of the music channel happily chatting with the rising Original Pinoy Music (OPM) artists.

“Can you take the embutido to the dining table, please?” Thea asks, now washing the dishes.

Cleo can offer to wash the dishes, and she should, but a part of her knows her mom is just using it as an excuse to not be in the same room as her siblings, who only talk about the past.

 

“Sure, Ma.” Cleo takes the embutido on the table and stares at the TV screen again. In the bottom right corner screen: a digital timer, counting down from 60. It’s three hours before midnight, and she’s hungry. But she can’t eat until the clock strikes midnight.

So, Cleo sits down with her relatives and pretends she’s interested. Partly, she is, but only because she’d rather listen to them talk about other celebrities than about her and her mother. And half an hour later? They’re still chattering about it. They’re relentless, and she’s bored. She feels like her ears are about to fall off.

Thankfully, a call from Cleo’s talent agency gives her an excuse to leave the room. Going outside where her drinking uncle and godfathers are talking, she takes the call.

“Hello?”

“Happy New Year! Guess what? Your flip-flop commercial will air a few minutes before midnight on ABS!”

Is Cleo hearing her right?

Minutes before midnight? It’s fantastic. Her usual New Year’s Eve has just become interesting. Suddenly, she doesn’t mind her relatives and their tactless comments. It’s perfect that they’re here to witness her stardom. She’s not just a model in print ads—she’s now a brand ambassador of the national flip-flops! Her cup’s running over with excitement and joy.

“Happy New Year to you too, Ms. Aika!” Cleo practically squeals at her agent. “Oh, wow!! This is the best news! Thank you!”

What a way to welcome the New Year! Cleo hangs up, grabs the remote and clicks through the channels. Her relatives don’t mind. They’re busy talking about celebrities. Quickly, she slides through her phone contacts and starts texting Owen.