drunkan (sic), we

my younger sister A rapping at my bedroom door: "nang (term for 'older sister'). nang. help me."
A is there. drunk as a skunk. i help her to the toilet and she worships the porcelain god.

years after: "B, where are you? come pick me up."
my baby brother, then 20 or so, drives to where i tell him. holds me by the back of my blouse, at the collar, nape, like a mommy cat guiding a kitten, and hoists me up into his SUV.

a year or two after, A visits from the states. i am at a farewell party with friends from publishing. i have discovered jagermeister, and perform a scene from exorcist on the 2nd floor of a building in makati. A and B come to save me. they stuff me into the "mafia car" my dad had acquired recently, all soft and quiet and plush, and drive me home. it is dark and soft, like a cocoon.

tonight, holy thirstday, B says, sure, come by. i had just finished several drinks with friends in their new posh home in makati, and needed more alcohol. so i join him and his friends for more.

"isn't it a good sign," i text A, "that our baby brother considers me cool enough to drink with his friends?"

and maybe it is.

we get to our mom's place a couple of hours after. my bladder is bursting and B is about to blow. instead of "over the bakod", he does "under the bakod", and opens the gate sans help of the maids, lying on the pavement and reaching upward for the lock. the kids and i are sleeping over because my new house is being painted, see. i should feel and act grown up, but instead i feel like i'm in high school and uni again. B is the co-conspirator i never had. we let ourselves in through the window. i clamber over the sofas, gently, lest any blemish be blamed on my 6-year old twins, and hurry to the bathroom.

when i come out, i hear B heaving and hacking the alcohol out of his intestines.

some things never change.