Fan Fiction ❯ Magnolia ❯ Welcome Home ( Chapter 2 )

Magnolia

 

Chapter Two: Welcome Home

 

By Rockette

 

Subdued in the purgatory rays of the sun, Jill brought the back of her hand to feel the increasing warmth on her smooth cheek. Sitting back down on the scraggly, wooden bench near the commercialized thrift store, she crossed her long legs, swinging her foot in circles, hoping to attract the attention of any prospective admirers. It was easier to find someone at night, she reminded herself, this time of the day, most people would be at the office finishing up last minute paperwork to be submitted to a less than appreciative boss. The numerous men she had lied in the hotel bed sheets with never left without sharing a little excerpt of their daily woes and worries. If there was one common thing the men she'd slept with had, they complimented her for being so… talented.

 

Tapping the rectangular cartridge of imported cigarettes, she pulled out a slim stick and enjoyed the creamy texture between her lips. With silver lighter in hand, she lit the tip, inhaling and exhaling the nicotine enriched aerosol, filling her mind with contentment, she withdrew the cigarette to let the first puffs ease her and guide her to delirious steady steps towards potential diseases. Only with death will she find fulfillment. But it would be shameful not to let a certain traitor watch the product of betrayal deteriorate before them. Sparks of burning nicotine played fiercely on the tip of the cigarette as she took another forceful heave, allowing it to leave through clenched teeth. Traitor, liar, backstabber; these words were too kind to describe that sad excuse for a relative. That person was the reason why her life fell apart, it was all the fault of one human being, but was that person even worthy to be called human?

 

Stripped of trust and camaraderie, no one knew how it felt. They fooled her, saying it happened to the best of people, they have no inkling of the pain that caused her to stand at the brink of insanity. Unfathomable sorrow engulfed her. She had nothing but the bitter taste of betrayal pecking constantly at her wounded heart. She felt so alone at that time, so lonely that she would unquestioningly surrender to anyone, a savior from the dark, empty world of lies.

 

“You're smoking again.”

 

The sickening, feigned voice of concern interrupted her moment of sulking. Gray smoke escaped the thin slit between her pinkish lips. Licking her lower lip and tapping the cigarette on the rim of the bench to remove excess ashes, Jill's eyes traveled from the cracked cement sidewalk to Hazel's softened face of disappointment. Perusing the prominent fine lines scrunched midway from her nose to forehead, it needed no further deciphering. She was upset with Jill's nicotine addiction.

 

“I ran out of ecstasy…” Smoke slithered from her pursed lips, “Till I get more, cigs will do for the meantime.”

 

“That's even worse than smoking, why do you do… these things?” Constipated anger held its place, Hazel wanted to say more but the words slept in her mouth.

 

Jill turned away, settling the cigarette against her lower lip but refusing to inhale, “It helps me forget everything.”

 

Hazel watched the escaping smoke. Strangely, it reminded her so much of Jill, drifting away to complete termination. She was never like this before. Brilliant, considerate and loving, where had that Jill gone? Like the unexpected storm on a sunny island, everything had twisted, Jill morphed into a drug addictive, self-harming… whore. It wasn't a word she was accustomed to dispense at any time, but how else was she to describe Jill's disreputable sexual escapades with men she hardly knew. A one-night stand, Jill would simply brush it off as dust. Precisely one year has passed, the insatiable longing for numbing agents whether oral or intravenous, Jill tried them all, got high but always left with an incurable want. She never told them, it was a secret, but Hazel knew the reason for Jill's rebelliousness.

 

“You should quit while you're still young… it may be too late before you even consider it.”

 

Jill, irked by Hazel's synthetic concern, blew the trail of smoke in her direction, “You sound like my mother… remember she's dead, now shut up and leave me alone, damn it!”

 

“You need a mother.” It sounded shaky, coming from her.

 

“Don't tell me what I need…” Each word was pressed with pulsating irritation.

 

Hazel's grip tightened on the green-clover printed, paper bag she held in front, “You should go home.”

 

Jill shot up and glared, “I said leave me alone… why don't you go home?”

 

She thought the Earth had used a magnetic pulling force, keeping her planted to the spot, unmoving but terrified. “There's a party at your Auntie Milan's house, why don't you go there?”

 

“Whether I go or not is really none of your concern, what I choose to do with my life is solely my decision.” Jill threw the cigarette on the ground, grinding it beneath the tip of her black boot.

 

“I, I'm just worried about you.” Whispered Hazel.

 

“You can't fool me, Mendoza, why the hell would you be bothered by anything I do? If you ask me, I say, quit this charade and show me what you really want… if it's about that stupid Physics competition, don't worry, I'll show up.” Picking up the white leather bag, hanging it over her right shoulder, the girl intentionally pushed Hazel aside as she advanced, “I'll show up but I really don't give a shit if we win.”

 

~*~

 

Jacqueline mustered the best expression of surprise, seeing all her close friends and relatives at the celebration her Aunt Milan had prepared for her arrival was incredibly touching, but it was difficult, especially after Maurice had spilt the milk. The exotic aroma of her favorite Filipino and Italian dishes pranced seductively in the air, enticing her appetite and causing saliva to form in her smiling mouth. Passing through the living room, meeting her friends in tight embrace, warm greetings and questions of consideration, these simple things brought tears of joys, it felt as if she never left at all. Sitting down to converse and catch up on old times, it didn't take her long to realize that this party was incomplete. The absence of her family caused an ill, cold chill to run up her spine, just to know they were fine, it was all she needed to finally be at ease.

 

“How was Japan?”

 

Only did that genuine, surprise look surface at the sudden inquiry, “Japan?”

 

“Yes, Jacky, how many friends have you made there?” The question came from one of the male neighbors, twirling his fork in a generous serving of spaghetti.

 

A momentary grim look flashed before that cheerful smile they were familiar with came with reply, “A lot, people there are so friendly, actually I've both Japanese and Filipino acquaintances, one of them, Sarah returned here yesterday.”

 

“There are other Philippine native entertainers there?”

 

“Yes, quite a bunch of us, from all regions of the Philippines.” Jacquelyn took in the spoonful of rice and roasted pork, humming in satisfaction, “Oh, I missed Aunt Milan's cooking… I've seen several Philippine restaurants there but nothing can compare to the food cooked here.”

 

Milan swung the bamboo, woven fan in front of her face, observing every movement of Jacquelyn, thus reincarnating the dreaded thought of her family. If possible, she didn't want the news coming from her, it was painful for herself, let alone informing the person who was an actual blood relative of the people whose lives had deteriorated. Jacquelyn's bright face could bring peace to a hot-blooded assassin's eyes, thinking it could shatter anytime soon. Cursing in her mind, Milan was going to burn in hell if she didn't tell her, and still be damned if she did. However, now was not the time, after the festivities lie low, then an inevitable confession will take place.

 

Jacquelyn patted the beading sweat on her forehead with the neatly folded handkerchief, gazing over the guests in the house, until she stopped to look closely at a certain curly-haired student glancing nervously at her surroundings. Excusing herself from the circle of chatting neighbors, she stood up and walked towards the direction of the familiar female.

 

“Hazel?” It came out unsure but hopeful.

 

Hazel sucked in air, taking in the view of the recent Jacquelyn, “Ate Jacky?”

 

“It is you!” She wrapped her arms around the stiff form and received an embrace in return.

 

Nodding and adjusting the glasses, nearly sliding down the bridge of her nose, “Thank you for inviting me.”

 

Jacquelyn crossed her arms, “And why wouldn't you be invited? Don't worry, I didn't know until I arrived so I told them to make sure your family was included in the crowd.”

 

“My mother's… at the office, sorry she couldn't make it.” It was the same timid, thoughtful girl Jacquelyn remembered.

 

“It's okay, come on and eat something.” She led the shy student into the kitchen, handing her a plastic plate and utensils, presenting the smorgasbord aligned circularly in silver, rectangular containers.

 

“So, how are your studies going?” It wasn't the real question but will develop.

 

Hazel smiled subtly while discarding the steaming tomato-chicken stew on the plastic plate, “I-It's pretty good. I'm still trying to earn that scholarship. It would certainly help my mother in expenses.”

 

“I think it's a great deed to be so considerate of your parents like that but remember if you need any help, I'm always here to lend a hand.” Jacquelyn placed a reassuring hand gently upon her shoulder.

 

She envied Jill for being related to someone so extremely kind and charitable. And this was coming from personal experience. Hazel's mother was an alcoholic and consistent gambler, pouring every cent she had in the Pot of Gold Casino. It was her rotting home. Her heart hurts every time she thinks of confronting her mother, once she gathered the courage to do so and she ended up with a swollen eye, violet and shiny from internal inflammation. With no one to talk to and nowhere to run, Hazel turned to her studies and focused on them instead, for her, academics is her family. At least, when she read about happy families from the daily English textbooks in Literature, it could apply to her, even if it were in her dreams. Like glass, it cracked and shattered when the college registrar untimely informed her through a pink slip that her mother was no longer paying for her tuition. And a scholarship was not an option, her grades depleted from the required ninety-percentage cut. She wanted to die. Time and time again finding herself holding a kitchen knife against her wrist but shivering with fear, coming to the conclusion, she was also a coward at taking her own life. A drunken mother lied passively on the living room couch, tickets to casinos in hand, no siblings to console her, life nearly lost its meaning for her.

 

Answering the phone call from Japan, Jacquelyn was asking about Jill, like protocol, Hazel was trained to reply with positive news or to divert the subject to something else. Then the question came, “How are you doing? How are your studies?” Hazel felt her chest burst out with anguish, she hid the painful tidbits of her life, but mentioned the fact that she might not be able to study anymore because of financial predicaments in the family. Just to tell someone made her felt lighter, to relieve her from the burden of agonizing years. Jacquelyn changed everything. A week later, Hazel received a letter from Japan; it was from Jill's sister, Jacquelyn Minelli. It was probably a greeting. Slowly as she flipped the top of the brown envelope and reached inside, a letter as presumed… and check slipped out and fell on the floor. Hazel cried in thankful sorrow. Embarrassed that Jacquelyn had sent a plentiful sum of money to pay for her tuition and allowance. This time, when Jacquelyn called, she also asked about Hazel and how things were with her family. Hazel told her mother of a part time job she had, especially when she started to question the origins of her tuition. Although the pain of knowing her own family was not accountable of support, happiness was once introduced in Hazel's life, because someone cared. And that someone was Jacquelyn.

 

“Do you come here often? Seeing that you're so busy with schooling and all.” Jacquelyn cut a slice of chocolate log cake and served it on Hazel's plate.

 

Jacquelyn never failed to move Hazel's heart with her simple acts of kindness, “Yes, whenever Jill and I need to study.”

 

“Speaking of Jill, where is she?”

 

Hazel wanted to omit the question, but seeing Jacqueline's fixed gaze, patiently awaiting her answer it was impossible to do so, “She's still at the library in the university.”

 

Jacquelyn nodded approvingly unaware of the escaped lie filling her mind with positive images, “Studying even at this hour? She's so industrious.”

 

“Y-Yeah…” A creeping; eerie warmth filled her back and neck, the devil was glad with her sheathed reply.

 

“But I was hoping she could come to the party. I missed her so much and I still do.” Jacquelyn poured Sprite into a red-dyed, plastic cup, handing it to Hazel.

 

Holding the cup in hand, swirling the sparkling carbonated, clear drink, coalescent with the red reflection of the plastic container, taking a sip, it tasted bitter. Probably it wasn't the drink that tasted bitter but the pang of guilt that extended from every inch of Hazel's body. Jacquelyn didn't deserve being averted from the truth, one way or the other she's bound to find out but to see that heart-warming smile fade away into horror and disbelief felt more shameful.

 

“I couldn't stop thinking about Jill and Jonathon while I was in Japan.” Jacquelyn sat down with her and helped herself to a slice of chocolate cake. “And of course Lolo, being away for so long… at least I've returned prosperous, I can finally pay for the mortgage, buy Jill that Casio calculator she's been wanting for so long and I bought a Playstation for Jonathan, the latest one. I hope he likes it.”

 

“I'm sure he'll love it. Jon's a good boy, he's doing great at school.” Hazel was aware of Jonathon's swell deeds at school and outside of school, unlike a certain someone she knew.

 

“And you know what else?” Jacquelyn leaned closer, “I bought a house in Ayala. One of those… two story, newly built homes.”

 

Hazel looked in awe, “Wow, those houses cost so much… you really did earn a lot in Japan, but how were you able to pay for it while you were there?”

 

“Aunt Milan, I sent her the money and she paid monthly, now there are only five more installments until it's finally ours.” A squeal of joy came from Jacquelyn as she intertwined her fingers together in delight.

 

“That's so nice…” Said Hazel.

 

Jacquelyn sighed, “I spent so much time in Japan, at least now I can enjoy myself and my family will be well off too.”

 

“The good Lord has blessed you and your family.”

 

“Hazel, once you graduate, you can move in with us if you want.” Jacquelyn rewarded her with that timeless smile.

 

Rushing through her body was another wave of guilt and shame, “I couldn't really. You've done so much for me already.”

 

She took the younger girl's hands in her own, “You're a part of our family too.”

 

“I don't feel worthy to be so.” A softened look settled on Hazel's face.

 

“Good things happen to good people, you deserve to be part of a real family.” She lifted Hazel's chin up with her curved hand.

 

Do good things really happen to good people? What a lie. Jacquelyn was not just a good person, she was an epitome of an angel, but why must she face these kinds of trials? Why is the Lord punishing her in this manner?

 

~*~

 

Jonathon stole a quick peek at the schoolyard; hundreds of uniformed grade school students were walking, running, playing. Ebony, stray strands of hair spiked his view of the playground, shoving a hand towards his face to brush up the unaligned hair with his fingers, his white shirt was dirtied with brown debris. Holding his backpack close to his body, he began to move away from the massive tree he hid behind. Taking merely two steps forward, a strong force from the rear had him seeing the sky and sun before crushing to the ground on his back. Moaning in pain, someone made contact with their heavy boot and Jonathon's heaving chest. As his vision cleared up from the flying particles of dust and dirt, the antagonized school bully and his two lackeys surrounded him like a helpless bug in a spider's glimmering web of close call termination.

 

“Where ya goin', halfie?” The leader of the pack grinded his tattered boot in Jonathon's chest.

 

Hissing in retaliation, Jonathon struggled to stand, finding it undeniably difficult with two subordinates pinning him down, “Let me go, Luke!”

 

“Listen you piece of shit!” Luke scooped down to grab him by the collar and shoved him against the tree. Jonathon remembered that Luke was taller and bigger than him, much taller, much bigger. “I hate half breeds like you! You think you're better just because you're French?”

 

“Italian, asshole!” Jonathon fought to regain control of his own body.

 

Luke's eyes pivoted to his lackey on the left, “Gary, you said he was French.”

 

“Ain't no difference, whether he's Spanish or French!” Gary replied.

 

“I'm part Italian, you morons!” Hacking up the mucous secretions of his progressive cough earlier that day, Jonathon settled the salty, sputum in proper direction before delivering it across, Luke who was prepared to say something virulent opened his mouth and caught the bubbly phlegm in his mouth, swallowing it in the process.

 

The other boy witnessing the entire incident; loosened grip on Jonathon, laughing maniacally, “Ha! Ha! Ha! You ate his mouth juice!”

 

Jonathon felt the softening grasp and tugged his arm free from constriction, meeting Gary, who was bellowing in uncontrollable laughter and mockery with a tightened fist to the center of his face. He urgently balanced his footing before diverting to the next subordinate with fists entwined, forcibly hitting the side of his cranium, falling straight to the ground. Luke partially suffering incontrovertible physical and mental shock from the extemporaneous intake of foreign bodily fluid had his pupils dilating and bottom lip quivering. He roared in fury, cheeks flushing with embarrassment and rage. Luke swung his bulky forearm toward Jonathon.

 

Jonathon fell back to avoid the impact, his rear making direct contact with the tree stump. Luke advanced, thrusting his right arm backward to create greater acceleration for the tremendous punch he had in store for the prone boy. To be beaten to a pulp once again was not his cup of tea. Ever since he transferred to this new school, Jonathon was the center of attention and it wasn't the kind of limelight he fancied. He was not the only half-bred in the school, there were other children, but the campus villain found him to be the most suitable punching bag. And yet time and time again, they all fell in the principal's office, scolded and punished to sit in an afternoon class filled with life coaches and sermons that proved inefficient to pacify Luke's innate disability to recoil from violence. It had gotten worse when Luke began to dislocate his limbs, bringing inconspicuous instruments that were used for causing Jonathon more excruciating torture. The school's custodians started to circle the immeasurable vicinity, spotting trouble and interjecting to cease any corrupt intentions. Problem was, they were nowhere in sight. Now Jonathon was forced to face his nightmare, to go home again with bruises and cuts, he feared the endless lectures his Aunt Milan bestowed him even more.

 

But it was not going to happen this time. He steadied his body against the tree stump, pushing himself lower to dodge the injurious contact with Luke's fists. Thrusting his foot forward, crushing the sensitive area between Luke's legs, Jonathon pushed it further, rewarded with an incomplete yelp from his attacker, he rolled away to watch the larger boy fall to his knees and grab his crotch in unexplainable pain, yelling loudly. His two subordinates shook as they stood up to regain composure, pounding fists into open palms. They slowly approached Jonathon with ill intention. Still unable to stand, Jonathon found himself shuffling rearward, arms serving as means of transporting the entirety of his form.

 

With one hand clutching his testicles, Luke walked abnormally in Jonathon's direction, “I'm gonna pound you so hard, your brain'll spill out!”

 

“Rosario! What are you doing?”

 

Jonathon thank the heavens, the muscled military teacher showed up with arms crossed firmly across his tightly build chest, pectoral muscle protruded prominently through the thin, white shirt. He was an old man, middle-aged, gray hair shaved on the sides, once he had joined the military and now he was teaching CAT and ROTC in high school and college. This school after all, was conjoined with the high school and college division along with the grade school division where Jonathon was currently stationed. So it wasn't surprising to find the military man, Peter Osmond, another half-bred just like Jonathon.

 

“Sir!” Luke pivoted to face the towering man; embarrassingly he couldn't remove his hand from his crotch, he pointed accusingly at Jonathon, “He started it! He hit me first!”

 

“Are these two your comrades, Rosario?” Peter eyed the two subordinates, who tried to look elsewhere.

 

“Y-Yes! They were saving me from him!”

 

Peter's fixed, sharp stare transferred to Jonathon. He stepped up to him, graciously lending him a hand to stand up, in which he took into consideration. He dusted off the dirt on the young boy's clothing, taking note of the rudimentary swelling on his arm. He remembered the principal speaking of these boys. The largest one was Luke Rosario, an acknowledged campus hooligan. He had seen this boy in the disciplinary office countless times. And the boy who shared bruises enough for the four of them, he didn't know his name, but he was aware of his heritage. It could be a contributing factor of his constant encounters with Luke's triad, yet that issue should be indifferent. He faced his own demons with cross-ethnicity boundaries; to be misconstrued and sequestered from the group, even in the military he had his experiences too.

 

“Rosario, first I'm taking all of you to the infirmary but once you're released, we'll meet with the principal.”

 

“But sir!” Luke protested.

 

Peter spoke monotonously, “And I'll contact your parents, this has gotten out of hand!”

 

“It's all your fault! I told ya to get him after school.” Gary muttered under his breath.

 

“Shut up.” Luke razzed.

 

“Go to the infirmary now, I'll meet all of you there in a while.” Peter kept a hand on Jonathon's shoulder.

 

Luke and the other two turned around toward the clinic, he looked back to notice that Jonathon was not headed the same way, “Hey! Why isn't he coming?”

 

“I said go NOW!”

 

Luke and his subordinates scurried to the clinic without question. Jonathon's head fell down, looking at his dusted shoes, tears welled in the inner corners of his eyes. They began to fall down drop by drop, each tear falling on his boots, leaving a thin glittering stream to polish his shoes. It was humiliating, to face battering everyday and not be strong enough to fight back. No one in his family taught him to stand up for himself. His Aunt Milan simply scolded him and the other boys and it ended with the load of guilt passing on him. Jill was never helpful either, she ignored him most of the time, she was either occupied with her horrid vices or flirting with every human male species on Earth. She never showed concern. His grandfather was unaccountable for support too. And Jacquelyn…

 

“Oh my God! I forgot!” He slapped his palm against his forehead.

 

“What's wrong boy?” Peter looked down on him

 

“Sir, can I be excused please?” Jonathon pleaded.

 

Peter rose an eyebrow, “Where is your destination, trooper?”

 

“My sister is here! She's finally home! She's back from Japan!” Jonathon scattered to find his backpack, finding it he threw over his back.

 

“Look, you're injured and we need to convene with the principal, I can't let you go.” Peter reached for him but failed when Jonathon quickly ran off.

 

“Just give me detention tomorrow!” He waved, immediately running out of sight.

 

~*~

 

Blinding, alternating colors of the disco ball illuminated the club, scantily dressed bodies, slicked with sweat and oil reflected the flaming lights. Like canvases of living, breathing art, they danced rhythmically to the bouncing beat of the music. Men grabbed women by the waist, grinding against one another. Indirect sexual innuendoes ignited fire in the room. Jill sinuously shook her hips between two admiring men, both tempted to touch the abundant, bare flesh that assembled the tantalizing cleavage in her midriff halter-top. Deliberately running two hands down her abdomen, hips until she caressed her own thighs, permitting them to view her bottom, promptly pulling down her skirt to leave them begging for more. She danced away from the floor to the U-shaped sofa, mounting the vacant middle area.

 

One of the men followed her, taking a seat. He watched as her tongue traced the rim of the wine glass, sipping a portion of that bubbling, gold liquid. Moving closer, daring not to defer his movements, he placed his hand on her exposed thigh, racing it up. Jill halted his hand, shoving it away.

 

“Don't tell me you're not interested.” He leaned closer, planting sensuous kisses beneath her ear inhaling her sweet scent, “After that little scene back there… I thought you were begging for my attention.”

 

“Your friend is cuter, I'd rather have him.” Jill pushed him off gently, pointing to the other man.

 

He looked back on the dance floor, “Just between you and me, babe…” He lowered his voice, exclusive to the two of them, “I'm way better than him… and I'm well endowed.”

 

Jill smirked, “Well, hello there.” She took his hand, placing it atop her thigh.

 

Locked in a passionate kiss, they were oblivious to their surroundings. The people hardly cared. This type of public display of affection was conventional in the club. He introduced himself as Nestor, an owner of an electronics company. Without a second to spare, he took her out of the club and they entered his car, headed to his nearby condominium. Ending the day in carnal pleasure was perfect, rather than going home to greet that backstabber.

 

~*~

 

Jonathon's hands clutched firmly on the straps of his backpack, looking inside through the gate, from his observations, majority of the guests had left. Wiping the immovable dirt on his face, he took out his handkerchief rubbing his face vigorously against it, resulting in reddening, irritated skin. Pulling the gate forward, stealthily walking in and closing it unsoundly. Jonathon caught a whiff of his sister's scent, seven years had passed but he could never forget her natural aroma. He opened the front door, looking inside to see dozens of boxes lying on the floor, a few were unopened; some boxes had chocolates, clothing and several items poking out in display. Removing his backpack and throwing it aside, he ventured in the house, looking for anyone familiar, prospectively his sister. Strangely, no one was around, not the housemaids nor his Aunt Milan.

 

“Ate! Tita Milan!” He called.

 

No one replied. He moved down the hall of bedrooms and restrooms. Opening Milan's room, he peaked inside, no one was there. One room caught his full attention, the unoccupied room of his eldest sister, Jacquelyn. Hesitantly, he turned the knob and peeped through the crack, deciding to go further, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He noticed the opened, black trolling suitcase on the bed, with curiosity he looked inside to find neatly folded female clothing, underwear, perfume… and a picture half-inserted inside an envelope. Pulling the picture out of the envelope, he began to smile although it hurt the bruise on his cheek; he remembered the time they took this picture. Memories flooded him, causing tears to settle in his eyes again. That soft, feminine aroma sang in the air, filling his mind with ease and contentment.

 

“Jonathon?”

 

Presenting himself disarrayed was inexcusable in his standards but to see her face would bring him the greatest happiness. And there she was. Water dripping from her drenched tresses, inviting pink lips curved into that timeless smile, her angelic, understanding eyes of amber looked at him with uncontainable love. Her beautiful features framed in delicate, pale skin. He shut his eyes, tears pouring out as he ran forward, embracing her with all his might. It felt like he was a lost bird finally finding its nest, her motherly charm and selfless love radiated through her smile. He lied his head against her abdomen, indifferent to his tousled appearance, she came out of the shower and there were smudges of dirt and debris on every inch of him.

 

“Ate!” He cried.

 

“Jon…” She knelt down, leveling her eyes with his, bringing her hand to caress his untidy cheek, “How are you?”

 

“Ate! I missed you so much!” Entwining his arms around her shoulders again, he continued to cry.

 

She returned the embrace, “I missed you too, Jon.”

 

“When they said you were coming back… I was so happy because now I'll never be alone again!”

 

“What do you mean?” Recoiling from the embrace, she looked at him intently, “You have Jill and grandfather.”

 

Jonathon shook his head, “But they're not you!”

 

“Oh, Jon…” She dusted off his clothing, “Where did you go? Why are you so filthy?”

 

He couldn't tell her, she'd think he was a coward, “We played a lot today.”

 

Jacquelyn wiped the tears from his eyes, kissing his forehead, “Let's tidy you up, then we'll eat and you'll get your presents later on.”

 

“Ate, I'm just glad you're back.” He rubbed his eye.

 

“Me too.” She whispered.

 

“Welcome home, Ate.”

 

----

 

Notes: Ate means `older sister' in Filipino, it is like Oneechan or Onichan in Japanese.

 

Lolo is Grandfather, Grandpa in Filipino.