I had no choice but to descend the stairs and return to the kitchen. I scoffed and snorted. I didn’t want to join Simmy’s celebration, and I was disappointed. If only I had known that Simmy would pester me that day, I would have stayed in the hotel room after school. I had forgotten about it because of that stranger at school.
It wasn’t the first time Simmy had celebrated their “friensary.” In past years, I would lock myself inside the hotel room, and no one would force me to join Simmy’s celebrations. Dad never insisted I return home when I was staying in a hotel. Yet, that night, I had to celebrate with her because I was present in the mansion.
I passed through the kitchen entrance where the large, long wooden table was on the left side. The kitchen counter spanned the right side of the spacious room, and Simmy stood in front of the long wooden table.
The only sound I heard was the echo of my footsteps as I entered the kitchen. Simmy immediately looked in my direction and smiled. I rolled my eyes. I knew she wasn’t smiling because of me, but because Dad was walking beside me. He escorted me to the kitchen because he knew I would rather lock myself in one of the ground floor rooms than be with Simmy.
What a wonderful night to stay in that mansion.
“Ali!” Simmy called and walked quickly to meet us.
I stopped when Simmy was about a foot away. I frowned and looked away.
“She’s here to celebrate with you,” Dad said.
My forehead creased at his words. I didn’t want to celebrate.
“How about you? Will you stay here?” Simmy asked Dad.
I saw from the corner of my eye how Dad nodded at her. I snorted again. Why did he always give in to Simmy’s wishes? I couldn’t remember the last time he had denied her! Such a problem.
I quietly made my way to the table and sat down. The food was already laid out on the long table, and some of the maids stood nearby, waiting for instructions. The aroma of caramel cake filled the air, momentarily easing my tension. I had always liked the smell of caramel cake even before this so-called celebration.
After a while, Dad sat in his chair, and Simmy sat across from him. We ate in silence. Then, I remembered that I hadn’t had dinner yet and felt grateful for the food on the table. If I had been stubborn earlier, I would have gone to bed with an empty stomach.
There was silence among us. I didn’t care about them; I leisurely ate my food. But then, someone placed a shrimp on my plate. When I looked up, I saw Simmy putting another shrimp on my plate.
“It’s delicious,” she said and smiled at me.
I rolled my eyes in annoyance. I immediately scooped the shrimp off my plate with my spoon and placed it on the table next to my plate. I didn’t want to eat what Simmy had put on my plate.
“Azora,” Dad warned.
I snorted again. But then, Simmy said, “Let it go, Ali. She’s not a child anymore. And I’m used to her ways.”
I gripped my spoon tightly. In Dad’s eyes, he didn’t like seeing me ignore Simmy or refuse to acknowledge her efforts. I didn’t understand why.
“Don’t put anything on my plate. I won’t eat it,” I said coldly.
I saw from the corner of my eye how Simmy nodded in agreement. Good. But then, my lips parted slightly when I saw Simmy scoop adobo onto my plate with the serving spoon.
“You ate so little. That’s not good, Azora. Eat more,” she said.
My lips formed a thin line. I glared at her, but she looked away and smiled at Dad. Huh. She dared to annoy me because Dad was there. She knew Dad would soothe and protect her.
“Take it off,” I said through gritted teeth.
“That’s enough. You shouldn’t put it back on the table. Azora, you need to eat that.”
“Stop it,” I warned, annoyed.
That’s when she looked at me again. There was a hint of playfulness in her eyes, and shortly after, I saw her smile again.
“Eat it. It’s not good to waste food, Azora. And it’s a shame to throw it away. Do you know how many people in the world have nothing to eat tonight? And here you are, sitting at a table full of food. Don’t you realize how lucky you are, Azora?”
I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath. “So what?” I opened my eyes. “It’s not my fault I was born into this family, and it’s not my fault that people are suffering from poverty. Don’t guilt-trip me about having food to eat because I didn’t ask to be part of this family, and I didn’t ask you to prepare extravagant food for your so-called ‘friensary’!”
“Azora, know your place. Apologize to your Aunt Simmy!” Dad said. He was angry.
When I looked at Simmy again, I saw how she lowered her gaze and didn’t move. My forehead creased. Was she playing the victim here?
“Why are you so angry, Azora? What did I do, and why are you so mad at me?” Simmy asked without looking at me.
“You’re acting like you’re my mom.”
“Azora–” But I didn’t let Dad finish his sentence.
I cleared my throat. “You act like my mom, like you’re Dad’s wife! I hate it! I hate pretentious people!” I stood up and walked out of the kitchen.
I quickly climbed the stairs and hurried to my room. When I stepped inside and closed the door, my knees gave way beneath me. I fell to the floor with a thud. But I didn’t feel any pain; I just sat there, motionless and speechless.