Page 4 of Chasing Mr. Prefect
Lapit na?
The train plunged into darkness as it approached Buendia station, which told me I was only one station away from my stop.
Yep. There in 10.
I tucked my phone inside an obscure pocket in my bag and zipped it closed. The crowd inside the train was thick, and as I had witnessed more than one incident of people getting their phone snatched, it would be nonsensical not to keep an eye on my stuff. Loads of people stood up and I followed suit, grabbing one of the overhead metal rods to keep from falling over once the train stopped. I dashed my way out, apologizing for inadvertently pushing into people as I did—good lord, this congestion—and it was all over.
Taking this train line, which spanned the length of Metro Manila’s busiest avenue, was always the stuff of nightmares. I got used to it after three years but there were still times that the system broke down so bad that my Dad had to drive up just to get me. He refused to let me take the buses as that was a different horror story altogether. Today, the trains did us a favor and did not act up so I got to Makati, where my Dad worked, at a reasonable time.
The only good thing about this was that my stop was connected to a network of shopping malls so I at least had a place to sit or rest while waiting.
Today, Dad did not take too long. His office was around ten minutes away from the mall on foot and five minutes away by car. He pulled up to our usual meeting place and I got into the back seat, making sure I was settled in before he drove away.
“Hi, Vinnie!” A huge smile popped up from the front passenger seat. My stepsister, Liana. “Rough day?” she asked.
I always made it a point to not acknowledge her existence but she just could not get a hint.
“Yes,” I replied, putting on my headphones and ending the conversation right away.
I saw Liana face up front again and then met Dad’s eyes through the rearview mirror. I ignored him as well and looked outside, trying to fall asleep as it was Friday and the traffic jam would make our trip home longer than usual.
Between songs, I could hear them talking about work, which I tuned out. Dad worked in a bank—one of the larger ones along Paseo De Roxas in Makati—and Liana had just joined him earlier this semester as an intern. Quite a huge achievement, as it was hard to even be considered for that, but having Dad vouch for her kicked the door wide open.
I did not realize I had dozed off until I heard Liana’s voice saying “Vinnie, we’re here.” I rubbed my eyes as our car rolledinto our garage. A white SUV was parked on the opposite side, and I suppressed a groan.
She’s back. YAY.
“Vinnie, hi!” said my stepmother as soon as she saw me trudging into the kitchen. She put down the kitchen knife she was holding and then wiped her hands on the flowery apron worn over an elegant wrap dress, looking pleased to see me. Her smile seemed to have faded a bit when she got a closer look at me. Based on my reflection from the cupboard glass, my usually pristine blunt bangs were still out of place.
“Hey, Tita Cris,” I replied politely, trying to return the smile. I then opened the fridge and fetched myself some water. I almost forgot the honorifics as I only referred to her by name inside my head. Grabbing a pitcher, I struggled to think of a reply. “Um. How was Baguio?”
“Good, good! I got you a couple of jars of choco flakes,” she told me, and the way she tripped over her own words made it sound like she had been bursting to tell me that all day. “Your dad mentioned it was your favorite?”
He remembered. Wow… NOT.
“It is, thank you,” I replied, trying not to sound rude. I guzzled my water. Maybe if she noticed I was thirsty, she would not think I was being insincere or rude. “I’ll just go and change.”
“Okay. Be quick, though. Dinner’s almost ready,” she said.
As my facial muscles refused to cooperate, I settled with a nod to excuse myself.
I went up to my room, which was at the far end of the hall. Despite the distance, the delicious smell of Tita Cris’s bouillabaisse wafted in the air just as I chose an oversized shirt and a ratty pair of shorts. The smell made my stomach churn. I had to give it to my stepmother—she was an amazing cook—but her attempts to act like my mother were just too much sometimes.
I had a mom. I did not need another one.
While I appreciated that she did not turn into an evil witch who threw her weight around and forced me to do chores, she did not need to kiss ass. She and my dad were already married. It was not like I could change that.
But putting credit where it was due, she was mostly responsible for me getting into a quota course in Dresden. I did not qualify for the course I applied for, which was a double major in Business Administration and Accountancy, and my applicant status was “Passed - Degree with Available Slots.” She then stepped in to help, as she was a Dresden University alumnus like my dad, and used to teach there, too. I was given a second chance to qualify for the Business Administration course by taking a qualifying exam for students with similar applicant statuses.
The rest was history.
This was probably the reason my dad used all of his power to get Liana into the internship program at his department. It was some sort of payment for Tita Cris getting me into college. While I had complicated feelings about my stepmother, I was grateful to her so I tried to be nicer. I also made it a point to maintain a decent grade point average so they could put a medal on me come graduation day. Given this predicament I had gotten myself into, though, my barely-surviving cum laude standing was hanging precariously on the balance.
Great. Another reason for me to take my punishment more seriously.
At least I had Seoul to look forward to, my birthday gift for myself. My piggy bank labeled ‘SoKor fund,’ which I had been dropping whatever was left with my baon into, stared at me from its spot on the study table. I took out a few hundred-peso bills from my wallet and stuffed those in.
Knock, knock.