Ate and Kuya Waiting Shed

Last night, I got down the commuter van, hoping to buy a bunch of those two-peso siomai sold across the street. This particular breed of siomai tastes particularly badly, but I'm a sucker for them stuff so to hell with taste buds and salmonella! It helps that the sauce is not something I wouldn't mind drinking for an indefinite period of time. 

The long and short of it is that after crossing the street (this should tell you that I must REALLY want that siomai because as mentioned here and here, I don't like crossing streets very much. I avoid the dirty chore as much as possible), there was no siomai vendor. Downhearted, I made my way to the bus stop that would take me home. I wasn't really paying attention to the world due to my latest disappointment. I noticed a man waving his arms at me, arms; normally I wouldn't even glance because I don't care about strange people waving their arms at me, but I think this person knows me because the fact that I'm half-blind at night is totally top secret. Or maybe not.

Anyway, the man turned out to be Kuya Waiting Shed. He and his wife, Ate Waiting Shed, used to sell sandwiches and some juice in the, what else, waiting shed. The bus drivers would usually buy from them while waiting for passengers to board, or the passengers themselves before going to wherever they were going, or just plain bored pedestrians wanting a bit of talk. After the long ride from Manila, my former Spouse Equivalent (okay, ex-boyfriend, if we have to be sophomoric here) would visit them for a while and buy some juice. He'll usually handle the conversation, and I'd just smile and nod like I paid attention.

You'd probably ask, how did I meet folk like them? I mean, if I've got to be blunt here, I'm an elitist bitch. Not to say that I discriminate, but I'm not very talkative and social. Hmm come to think of it, scratch the fact about me being an elitist bitch. I just don't talk to people, period, so I don't have much friends anywhere. So it'd be strange being friends with Ate and Kuya Waiting Shed right? Right, just say right. Guess what: the former SE was close friends with them. He's the sort of person. He exudes the masa ako vibe, although he's farking rich—anyway, his dad is. He likes wearing shorts and tsinelas everyday, despite my appeals to him to dress a little bit formally. He talks to everyone and he's friends with the whole damned world. Oh, he's an activist too. Got the pic?

The former SE is everything I'm not. Needless to say, we're exact opposites, like two poles in mitosis. He's fat and sweaty, I'm thin and I rarely sweat. He loves dressing down, I spend a minimum of 30 minutes in front of my closet. He loves Filipino literature, I go for foreign novels, especially science fiction—which he expressly hates. He disliked my dogs because he thinks I love them more than I loved him.  He disapproved of the way I dress, and he doesn't like my Louis Vuitton bag made of plastic because he thinks it's not environmental friendly. I can tick them all off, one by one. No need though.

Back to the story. He was close friends with Ate and Kuya Waiting Shed, which made me friends with them. Every afternoon they'd fuss over my outfit, and the former SE would ask them how they were doing, what sandwiches were available, and so on. At first I endured it the way you endure your aunts coming over for a visit. But later on…it would be a lie to say that I was ever comfortable with them. Being with them embarrassed me—not because we don't belong in the same social strata, but because I always find myself at a loss for things to say whenever we talk. I'm a very shy person. Screw you for snickering to that.

This went on from first year college to second year, until they closed down their small stall because of financial problems. After that me and the former SE saw them rarely, even if they lived near, mainly because our schedules did not match. Shortly after, me and the former SE saw each other rarely too, also because our schedules did not match.  That's just fucking sad, don't you think? So much for friendship. So much for love, too.

He was the man I was going to marry. We were going to live happily ever after and talk about all sorts of intellectual stuff over Milo and donuts. He would get me to read Lualhati Bautista and AMV Hernandez and I'd get him to love Alfred Bester and Poul Anderson. He was the one I didn't look for but found anyway, like a forgotten but legendary pocket book in the dingy shelves of Booksale. But I dunno where he is now, what he's doing, if he's even still alive (if I'm not mistaken he's dying pretty soon because he has a bad case of diabetes and hypertension) or if he's back in the seminary he always threatened me with. Like I said. So much for love. 

So yeah, last night I saw Kuya Waiting Shed again. We had a short talk.

"O Lizette kamusta ka na? Hindi ko na kayo nakikita ni Nong ha?"

"Nagtatrabaho po ako eh."

"Saan?"

"Ortigas po."

"Ahh. Ang layo pala."

"Medyo nga po eh, nakakapagod ang biyahe."

(Kuya gave me a meaningful look) "May hindi kayo sinasabi ni Nong sa amin ni Ate mo no?"

"Uhm. Hiwalay na po kami. Medyo matagal na."

"Ah."

"Ah, sige po, mauna na po ako."

"Hindi teka lang akyat ka muna kamustahin mo si Ate mo!"

"Ay, medyo nagmamadali rin po ako eh. Pasensya na."

"O sige, uwi ka na. Ingat ka ha!"

"Kayo rin po."

Curious, after this, I boarded the bus a little sad. And pity. I don't even know their names.