The Morning After

I had spent Saturday night with a guy I had been seeing for a few weeks now. Of course, my mother was completely clueless. I would usually spend the weekends at my parents, but I had told her that I was out partying with the anime-otaku crowd, and was too pooped to go home to their house, so I wanted to spend the night at my place in Makati.

I arrived at our Parañaque abode just in time for lunch. It was a warm, sunny Sunday. My sister, my brother, and his girlfriend were preparing beef steak and mashed potatoes, and my mom dancing to the "Ha-ha-ha-ha" song blaring from the computer speakers. All is right with the world, I happily thought.

So I went along in my merry way, made gravy for the steak, played with my baby nephew, lazed around, went to church. Oh what a great day it was.

I woke up at 5 am on Monday to get ready for work. I was surprised to see my mother up and about, bustling in the kitchen over two bowls of oatmeal. Oh cool, I thought, could get to eat breakfast before I left for work. Little did I know that this was a ploy, a trojan horse, a sneaky tactic from a sneaky woman.

As we sat down to have our porridge, my mother gently, with a smile, started to pry into my life. We had an argument a few months ago, so my conversations with her lately have been limited to sundry questions. "Have you paid for the gas? The water bill? We need rice," that sort of thing. I have never really been open to her about my life.

"Did you have a date last Saturday?"
"Wala. I told you I was with the anime kids."
"Who is this guy you've told your Tita Margie about?"
"Oh, no one, really. He's a writer."
"Is he your boyfriend?"
With wide eyes, I vehemently reply, "NO!" It was the truth. He wasn't my boyfriend. As best I could I tried to downplay the truth, lest she demands to meet him and make the relatioship I have with the guy go deeper sooner than I want it to.
"I mean, It's not even serious. We've only been on two dates. Marami pang pwedeng mangyari" (there's still a lot that can happen.)
"Oh really? Then what's a box of condoms doing in your bag?"

I nearly choked on my oatmeal. I had completely forgotten that I had it in my bag, and didn't think she would bother to check. In the year since I left home, I had completely forgotten that my mother was a snoop. And unbelievably curious about her children's sex lives. She would regularly check my sister's bag for cigarettes. Once, while she and my brother were watching TV, she suddenly asked my brother, "Dj, virgin ka pa ba?" (are you still a virgin?) My brother was saved from "the inquisition" by the sudden wail of my niece. It was my turn under the spotlight.

With a nervous laugh, I try to buy time to think up of the first cockamamie excuse I could think of.

"Ah, that? Wala lang. I was with the anime kids last Saturday and they were playing with the condoms, making balloons. They had some left over and they didn't want to bring it home so I offered to take it off their hands. I had used the same bag last Saturday and forgot to clean it out before coming here."

"Oh." And we continued eating our porrige in silence.

I think she bought the story. Or did she?