It’s a face I’ve grown up with, yet instead of the angelic smile he seems to exert in these photos, my memory reminisces mostly on the mischievous smirk he always held, followed by a childish prank. Emerging from the hallway, we’re led to the quaint living room space, where his awards are displayed in a cabinet.
“Marlon, Danny, they’re here!” Tita Reg calls.
I occupy myself with Marlon’s many achievements, my eyes tracing the lines of the trophies he’s won over the years. Basketball trophies from when he played competitively in high school, along with academic awards from end-of-year schooling events. A door hinge squeaks, and I turn, greeted with Marlon and Tito Daniel emerging from the hallway.
Marlon is dressed more casually than I’m used to as of lately; he’s wearing a cotton blue shirt that hangs oversized over a pair of denim jeans. His hair gleans, hinting at a recent shower, the wet strands sticking to his forehead. Something in my stomach jumps at the sight.
The two of them greet my family one by one, and when Marlon reaches me, he plasters a sweet smile.
“Heysweetie,” he coos, and only I can detect the teasing undertone in his voice. I slap at his stomach softly, but enough to cause an oof.
“Hi.”
Ria makes a noise that’s something between a groan and a chuckle, covering it up with a steady cough. I glare at her, but she doesn’t meet my eye. As Tito Daniel approaches me, I beso him, before he claps his hands together.
“Okay everyone, tonight we are having the Daniel & Regina Salvador special. Pork sisig and adobo fried rice!”
All of us erupt into cheers, my stomach grumbling in response. My family move themselves toward the dining table, and I begin to follow suit, until I feel something, or someone presses down on my heel, causing me to stumble a little.
I jerk back, and glare as Marlon saunters past innocently. Maybe he hasn’t grown up afterall.
The dinner begins smoothly, and I immerse myself in Tito Daniel and Tita Regina’s cooking. I’ve always loved their dishes, and in the recent years in which we’ve stopped going to their house so often, I’d actually missed it the most.
The last time I remember us sitting around the dining table like this, eating as the Salvadors and Garcias was for a small Christmas gathering around 6 years ago.
“So Jaslene, how has film school been?” Tita Regina asks.
I swallow my serving of sisig first, before diving into my first couple weeks of film school, of learning very briefly the ins and outs of the industry and how I’ve met two close friends already. I recount the events of today, of how Kiara had to pitch her idea, along with others in the cohort, for an upcoming short-film assignment.
The question carries onto Ria, who informs them all on the woes of being an 11th grader, about all the homework and test papers she’s been burrowing herself under. She tells them all about her closest friends Jessica, Monica and Xavier, who act as her light of hope. She seems particularly happy when asked about her music major.
Dad offers the same sentiment to Marlon, and he dives into his ventures at business school, how he’s been finding it much less difficult than he anticipated, and more details I soon drown out.
Afterward, our parents catch up amongst themselves, exchanging workplace gossip. Ria, Marlon and I eat quietly, too busy enjoying the sisig to engage.
That is, until Tita Regina chirps, “So, Marlon, Jaslene. Tell us. How did this start?”
I glance up from my plate, and am surprised to see that all five of them were glancing our way, even Ria, her eyes swimming with amusement, curiosity, and a hint of worry. Swallowing the portion of rice I’d popped into my mouth, I kick Marlon lightly under the table.
He twitches the slightest at the sudden contact, before clearing his throat.
“Oh yeah. So um, it all started. I guess you could say that, well, it was a long time in the making -” Marlon begins, and I think, good. A vague timeline, implying that it’s always been there.
I’m about to take a sip of my water when I feel Marlon’s foot step on mine. My turn. I resist the urge to glare at him, but instead I just smile sweetly.
“Yes, I would say it’s been a long time coming,” I add, “But it really started when Marlon started talking to me suddenly. On text. About a month or two ago.”
Our parents seem to love this detail, glancing at each other and clapping their hands together. While they're distracted, I glimpse at Marlon, who’s looking at me, eyebrows furrowed. Then, a smirk graces his lips. Oh no.
“That’s right,” he continues, “I wanted to talk to Jaslene more, just the two of us, but privately, you know? Soon I realised that Jaslene very enthusiastically returned those feelings.Shetexted a lot.”
My jaw tenses at the last detail, resisting the urge to glare pointedly at Marlon. That’s when I press down hard on his foot with mine, and I feel his leg tense.
“And then Marlon started to flirt with me,” I say, and our parents squeal, cooing teasingly at Marlon, “The courting started over text first, because he was too shy to do it in person. That’s when I told him to step it up and be a man.”
Marlon shakes my leg off, but I keep going before I lose my trail. I look at him this time, holding his gaze in a challenge, “He kept texting good morning, telling me I’m beautiful -”
“And she kept mentioning how cute I looked, and when we got home from Tita Lucillia’s birthday, when we sang karaoke, she told me how much she loves my voice -”
