Note to readers: This short
story is fiction. It includes 20 titles of the 24 books I read in 2014 (as of Christmas
day) in an aim to veer away from the usual year end round-ups that I do since
2012.
Your past does not define
your future. This is what father always tells me when I confess my sins
in our parish at least once a week. Father frequently advises me to say 7
Our Father’s, 7 Hail Mary’s, and 7 Glory Be’s to repent and he also
says that I should strive to remain as dry
as I can and forget my previous self; treat it as a buried child.
It is never easy to confess your sins to a priest, you know,
especially when you can see through the sketchy window a figure of a pleasantly
looking man who I bet, in his younger years, was a certified heartthrob. Anyway,
the Catholic Church says that I should confess my sins as often as I can and so
as a faithful and obedient servant, I try to keep my values in check
(*wink). After my first encounter with father, I can’t help but think of him
night and day – he was on my mind for tatlong gabi, tatlong araw.
Imagine?
I tried to resist the urge but, what the heck, I want to add
confession in my weekly to-do list! I want to familiarize myself with our
parish and its people, including his eminence (*wink again) and so I go and call
each of our night ‘the session.’
I am not an innately sinful child but I try to commit and collect
sins whenever I can just so my lock out period with father will be longer. I tell
him about how I’ve been a bossypants
in the office because my officemates are incompetent and how I wish that like
me, they can also talk pretty one day.
I admit how I hate people obsessed with labels and how I say mean things about them. Honestly, why do they have to prefer between being straight versus being not?
on being professional versus being part of the BPO? on being geeks versus jocks? I also
tell father that I hate my siblings for being hard core gluttons. I stock food in our fridge so all of us have something to eat but every time I open
it, I am like, “Who moved my fucking cheese?” Most of the foods are gone
and my siblings will retreat to their rooms or pretend to do something
else. I don’t know father, I say, we never run out of food but for them it’s
always like the hunger games?!
Those are just some of the sins I add to the story
because I want to cherish my cleansing time with father, and you know what the funny thing is, he always, always, sends
the impression that he loves to hear my stories. One time I entered the
confession room and I saw his side view silhouette, but the moment I started
speaking, he turned to me directly! My knees trembled at the outline of
his physique, his well defined jawline, the shadow of his smile, that broad
shoulder, his youthful hair, and not to mention the scent – oh gosh – his breezy
scent cuts through the netted frame! His presence in that semi-lit room brings
me to another place and another time. I feel like I can do unbelievable stuff
like what? Climbing up the pyramids! Surfing through rice terraces! Or salmon fishing in the Yemen! Wild stuff!
Each night as I end my confession, I wait for him to speak, and when he does it’s like the first phone call from heaven! His breath in itself works
wonders – it makes me want to sin again.
But father knows whom he is committed to. He plays his role
so well and when he tells me what to do: boring stuff like being patient and understanding
of my officemates, taking care of and dressing
my family in corduroy and denim,
and suggesting I go through each day guided by the words, eat, pray, love so I don’t end up catching fire in hell; you know what, I just look at him and tell myself, “Say what you want father, but I’m just gonna stare at your obscured
charm and come back shortly after.”
I’m sorry father but you make the mockingjay in me chirp endlessly until I get your attention. You, father,
are the President Snow to my Katniss Everdeen!
I find an empty seat after each session, careful not to sit
beside weirdos who choke and cry while praying, and make the sign of the cross –
in the name of the Father, the son and the holy spirit – Father, forgive me for
I have sinned. I keep on questioning why you made him a priest while he can very well be mine. Seeing him (through the netted frame and the sepia room light)
tells me that sinning can be rewarding sometimes. I know this remains a call of
desperation, Father. Whenever I see him fixing his collar and that white suffocating
thing at the center, I am reminded that whatever I am keeping for him is wrong.
I know, Father, I know, this stupid is forever
even if I call on a miracle worker.
XoXo,
Alice (born Alden Prince Marcos)
P.S. In case this
journal got lost and someone picks it up and reads my entries, please burn after reading. I know I am living
a shameful life, and is using an embarrassing alias.
The books:
1. Your past does not define your future - Bo Sanchez / Self Help, Memoir
2. Dry - Augusten Burroughs / Memoir
3. Buried child - Sam Shepard / Play
4. Tatlong gabi, tatlong araw - Eros Atalia / Novel
5. The Session - Aaron Petrovich / Short Story
6. Bossypants - Tina Fey / Autobiography, Memoir
7. Me talk pretty one day - David Sedaris / Essays
8. Geeks vs. jocks - Jessica Zafra / Essays
9. Who moved my cheese? - Dr. Spencer Johnson / Short story
10-12. The hunger games trilogy - Suzanne Collins / Novel
13. The funny thing is - Ellen Degeneres / Essays
14. Salmon fishing in the Yemen - Paul Torday / Novel
15. The first phone call from heaven - Mitch Albom / Novel
16. Dress your family in corduroy and denim - David Sedaris / Essays
17. Eat, pray, love - Elizabeth Gilbert / Memoir
18. Stupid is forever - Sen. Miriam Defensor Santiago / Collections of speeches and jokes
19. The miracle worker - William Gibson / Play
20. Burn after reading - Joel and Ethan Coen / Screenplay
21. ABANGAN: The Best of Philippine Komiks 2014 - Various Filipino comics artists / Anthology
22. Virgin Labfest anthology volume 2 - Various Filipino playwrights / Anthology
23. Alice invents a game and Alice always wins - Nick Flynn / Play
24. May day eve and other stories - Nick Joaquin / Short stories
24. May day eve and other stories - Nick Joaquin / Short stories
