Life #5

Dinner with the Kilali family was like dinner with a band of ghosts. Everywhere was quiet and as still as stillness itself. If it weren’t for the scraping of utensils against the ceramics and the gulping sound of someone drinking something, I would have lost my remaining sanity by now.

I slowly raised my head and looked at the faces of the six Kilali brothers. They all looked similar to Dakila, but they still had their own differences. Diwa and Isagani—the other two who were present when I had woken up—were the eldest and twins. But they had different builds and voices. I looked to the other two—Edcel and Jejomar—who where the third and fourth eldest. Jejomar was putting on flashy glasses and clothes, a lazy fist under his chin, while Edcel looked like a ‘good man’ on rampage with his shaved head and formal clothing and posture. I looked at Dakila. He was the fourth son and he had the fairest skin, and was the only one with a beautiful face and voice, according to me. He looked up at me with a wonderful smile, noticing my stare; I quickly averted my gaze and looked at the last boy. He was Datu, and the only person that I’ve seen that could have five servings and still look so lithe.

And then I looked at Mrs. Gani Kilali. She was at the other end of the long dining table, giving me a very cold look, her red lips sewn tight into an angry line.

I gulped. Is it going to me that’s going to get a face lifting?

I looked to the other end and saw Mr. Kilali just playing with his food, his gaze fixated on the table, lost in space. I dumped my head and rested my gaze on my empty plate, my brows furrowed. The sound of someone clearing their throat made me look up and I sideglanced at Mrs. Kilali. She sipped from her cup and took a slow breath.

“Leedum?” she asked, her voice small and silent.

I heard Mr. Kilali take a sharp breath before he answered, “yes?”

“When is he leaving?” she asked sharply, getting straight to the point, her index finger pointed at me.

I reeled back in my seat and let out a shallow breath.

Dakila straightened up in his seat and looked at his mother. “But Ina, he just got—”

“Dakila shut up I wasn’t talking to you,” she hissed.

Dakila dropped his gaze and mumbled, “sorry.”

“Leedum?”

Mr. Kilali exhaled stiffly and I heard him drop his cutlery on his plate. “I don’t know Gani. Even if I knew who his parents were I can’t just let him—”

“Oh you do Leedum. You do.” She slammed her hands on the table, making the boys jerk and stop eating. “I saw the way you looked at him Leedum. Who is Tonye?”

“Mom?” Datu—who was beside me—whispered, fear in his voice.

Mr. Kilali sighed loudly. “Gani I beg that we please not discuss such things here. Please finish your meal and—”

“Oh we’re talking now,” she hissed angrily. “Because if I were to call the name of someone you don’t know you would have destroyed my cellphone by now. Or better still, threaten the person.”

I looked up and saw Dakila flinch. His face squeezed in pain and he gripped his chest with shaking hands.

“Gani, stop this. Right now. Or—”

“Or what Leedum? Do to me what you did to Dakila’s father? Send me away? Kill me?”

Dakila’s face tightened even more at her words and he gasped, and leaned forward. Isagani, who was by his side, placed a hand on his arm.

She growled lowly and stood up. The chair she was sitting on fell to the floor with a loud thud. “Leedum why do you have such stupid and naive pity for people like him? Is it because they’re your towns—”

“Gani shut up and stop acting like I’m the only one who’s ever done something wrong!” Mr. Kilali roared and slapped his glass cup, throwing it off the table. It shattered against the tiled floor.

Diwa placed a firm hand on his father’s shoulder and whispered, “father your blood pressure. Please calm down.”

Mr. Kilali held the sides of the table, his hands trembling. He gritted his teeth and stood, his chair groaning against the floor. “I didn’t expect such childish act from you Gani.” He raised his hand and pointed at his wife. “Let’s. Take. This. To. The. Bedroom,” he said slowly, his voice barely audible.

Mrs. Kilali banged her hands against the table and yelled, “Leedum you know that—”

“Dakila!” Isagani screamed with his pitched voice and I turned to watch as Dakila dropped to the floor.

His brothers and mother rushed to his side, but Mr. Kilali just turned his head the other way, a pained frown on his face. I jumped to my feet, battling the pounding in my head as I rushed to his side.

“Leedum help! Your son—”

“He’s not my son!” he hissed, his eyes shut tightly like it could shield him from reality.

“You monster,” she cried out. She looked down at Dakila’s face, her arms wrapped around his unconscious body. “Dakila. Wake up.” When she got no response, she looked at the eldest son. “Get the car ready.” Diwa nodded and rushed out of the dining room.

I just stood in fear, my eyes wide, my breath shallow. Like I had said earlier, eating with the Kilalis was like eating with a band of ghosts. And looking at Dakila at that moment was like looking at a ghost. His skin was turning pale and it scared me.

“Dakila?” I said breathily, my headache catching up with me.

And I fainted.

·····

The sound of a heart monitor drew me out of unconsciousness and I was welcomed by darkness and the sound of sniffling. I released a wispy breath and the sniffling stopped.

A croak sounded before I heard, “Sotonye?” It was the voice of Dakila. But the pained and tired tone of it made me frown in confusion.

“Da...” I swallowed thickly, trying to wet my dry throat. “Dakila? Where... Where are we?”

He released a slow breath and silently said, “at the hospital.”

“Hospital? How—”

“It’s all my fault,” he cried out weakly. “It’s always my fault. My birth. Everything.”

I weakly frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s all my fault.”

And he started crying. It sounded so bitter and pained that even if I were to loose my memory today, it will be the only thing I’ll forever remember.

“It’s okay—”

“It’s not okay. It’s not. I’m dying Sotonye and Ama doesn’t want to do anything. Ina will be so heartbroken if I die. It’s all my fault.”

“How... are you dying?”

“I’m a sickler,” he said coldly, his voice quiet. “I know sicklers survive but... but Ama isn’t doing anything to help and Ina has tried all she could to help me.”

I gasped so hard that fear coursed through my body, numbing my bones. Why was life cruel to the wrong people? Why?

“Dakila... But your brothers are—”

“Half brothers.” He inhaled slowly. “My mother always told me that I was one mistake that she will forever regret and can’t seem to let go of. There was a time when my mother had gone back to the Philippines and had ran into an old friend. A cruel one.” He started crying again, this time louder and harder and it made my heart ache. “He was cruel Sotonye. My mother had let a friendship blind her. The crazy man had drugged her and raped her that night and my mother... She... She was broken... and damaged.” He sniffled deeply and continued. “When my mother had pressed charges he had killed himself. My father killed himself, just right before my mother realized that she was pregnant. Till this very day I don’t know why he had done such a thing.

“She couldn’t abort the pregnancy and kept it. When she had given birth to me I was so small and fragile. Everything was somehow fine until... until Ama had found out I was not his child and that I was a sickler. That day marked the beginning of his hatred for me. And to top it off I then realized that I was gay. Coming from a very homophobic family and country didn’t improve Ama’s relationship with me.”

When he finished talking I took in a deep breath. I turned his words around in my mind and contemplated on everything.

“Dakila?” I said slowly.

He stopped crying. “Y-yes?”

“I love you.”

He gasped. “Sotonye I—”

“And I’ll forever love you, even in death.” I shuffled in the bed a little bit before continuing. “Dakila in all the years I’ve lived today is the only day that I’ve ever wanted to live and it’s because of you. Because in you I saw a second chance at life, but good people don’t get second chances. Second chances are meant for people who have committed a crime, not people who have just cherished this world even more than they do themselves.

“Dakila I’ve spent my life hearing about good people meeting an early grave. My father, an example. My uncle, an example. My grandmother, my cousins, an example. But I’ve never heard about criminals, cultists, ritualist, murderers, meeting an early grave. Because forgiveness can only be given to the wicked and not the kind. Not the humble. Not the wise. Not the meek. I... Dakila?”

“Yeah?” he answered in a tiny voice.

“Am I... talking too much?”

He released his breathy laugh. “No. If you were, I would have dragged my aching body to your bed and kissed you senseless to shut you up. So, no.”

I felt my face warm up at that. “O-Oh...”

Everywhere suddenly became quiet after that, minus the sound of our heart monitors. After a while Dakila exhaled deeply and I listened as he started talking.

“Sotonye?”

“Yes Dakila?”

“If I...” He cleared his throat. “If we survive this, will you... will you follow me back to the Philippines so we could start a life? As boyfriends. That’s... if you’re of age.”

My face warmed at that and I stuttered, “w-well... um... u-uh... I... We... Oh sweet lord yes! Yes I’ll—ow!”

“What happened?”

“It’s just my head. I get headaches whenever I yell,” I hissed in pain, my head pounding.

Dakila suddenly bursted into fit of laughter and I became confused.

“What... What’s funny?”

“If your head always aches when you yell then why did yell you dummy?” he laughed.

I blushed in embarrassment and mumbled, “I was just excited.”

I listened as Dakila continued laughing till he stopped and took a healthy breath. It could be his last.

“Sotonye?”

“Yes.”

He hesitated before he said, “I love you too.”

I released a relaxing breath and shut my eyes, despite already being shrouded in my silent darkness.

No, not my silent darkness. I wasn’t in the dark anymore. I finally got to receive the life I’ve always wanted. And it was given to me as a gift. Now, only fate had the scissors to tear open that gift. That’s if fate were kind.