KARAMIHAN sa mga bumibisita sa libingan ni Vanilla ay dumadating ng gabi at umaalis nang madaling araw. Bukas ang munting musoleo sa publiko kaya sandamakmak na mga fan nito ang pumunta sa ikatlong anibersaryo ng pagkamatay nito. Hindi alintana ng mga ito ang haba ng pila, makasulyap at makapagbigay lang ng mga bulaklak o ilang memento para sa kanilang paboritong rapper-singer.

Para makaiwas sa dami ng tao, lalo na sa mga reporter, mag-a-alas kuwatro na ng madaling araw pumunta sa sementeryo si Meika Dasilag na mas kilala bilang Jen Duh. It was such a quirky name for a serious pop diva who usually collaborates with rap artists, but in her opinion, the weirder the better and she's right. Her stage name caught people's attention and she surpassed their expectations of her. 'Jen Duh' sounded unserious, even the way she specifically instructed everyone to pronounce it. She would always smile and teach them to call her 'Jen Duuuh!' But when she starts singing her songs, they were blown away by the intentional and purposeful details lyrically, vocally, and musically.

But at this hour, Meika was caught in between her two personas. She needed to keep up her Jen Duh image, because who knows if she'll come across a sneaky paparazzi or reporter? At the same time, her personal self, Meika, was present. Katrabaho lang kasi ni Vanilla si Jen Duh, pero si Meika talaga ang kaibigan nito.

Meika wore a pair of big, dark tinted sunglasses. Everything was black too, from her long hair tied carelessly in a low ponytail to her long-sleeved turtle-neck shirt, tight pants, and thigh-high boots.

Her car stopped at the side of the concrete street. Hindi pa siya nakabababa pero kitang-kita na niya na may mangilan-ngilang mga tao na natitira sa tapat ng musoleo. This scenario was so similar with what happened on Vanilla's actual burial. Then in the next two years, people have already forgotten to visit her. What made Vanilla's third year death anniversary so different was that it was heavily publisized. Paano'ng hindi? Ang pagkamatay ni Vanilla ang naging resulta ng isang scandal video na kumalat nitong nakaraang mga linggo lang.

It took three years before the truth has resurfaced, but the wait, for Meika, was worth it.

"Are you still going? There's still people there," sabi ng kanyang manager na si Istela. Isa itong Fil-Am na natural na blonde ang alon-alon na buhok na lagpas-balikat nito. Her skin is almost pale and her eyes were light brown.

She took in a deep breath. "I'm already late. It's better to be late, than not visit her at all."

Sinukbit na niya ang shoulder bag at hinintay na pagbuksan siya ng pinto ng kanyang bodyguard na si Rommel. As soon as Meika stepped out of the car, heads turned and eyes curiously tried to identify her immediately. She was easily recognized by her friend's fans, but no cheers or greetings happened. Sa halip, habang naglalakad siya ay walang mga sumugod sa kanya para yumakap, magpa-picture, o anuman. After all these years, Meika is still impressed with how Vanilla influenced her fans to be kind and respectful on any occasion.

These fans gave her space to get close to the mausoleum. Its white-painted fence gates were already closed, but she can still poke her hand in to place the flowers at the foot of the white tomb in it. Hindi niya nilingon si Istela. Nilahad lang niya ang kamay para iabot nito sa kanya ang isang bungkos ng puting mga bulaklak. It has vanilla flowers—Vanilla's favorite—and white daisies.

Meika just stared at the tomb, mentally talking to her friend. Some of Vanilla's fans just watched her, waiting what she'll do next. This time, she did not shed a tear, nor tremble. She was as cold, immobile, and hard as the stone that cased her friend's coffin. Pagkatapos ay walang-imik siyang umalis. Nagmamadaling sinabayan naman siya ni Istela.

May dinaanan silang isang fast food chain. Walang masyadong tao rito kaya pumasok sila para kumain. Meika was thankful, somehow, that United States has improved its laws when it comes to paparazzis and boundaries. Hindi katulad noon na halos hindi na makalabas o makapunta sa mga pampublikong lugar ang mga public figure dahil sa ilang mga paparazzi na halos stalker na ng mga ito.

While having some fries and burger, Istela was already briefing her, in a low voice, about some offers. "Warren's Show wants you to be their guest next, next week," seryoso at walang-buhay nitong saad sa kanya. Isang cup lang ng kape ang in-order ng babaeng naka-beige pencil skirt at white button-down blouse na napapatungan ng itim nitong leather coat. "The invitation just came last night, so I bet, their intention is to get your side about Gertie's scandal video."

"I'll go there," tipid niyang sagot bago sumubo ng french fries.

"Are you sure? When I said Gertie's scandal video that means they'll touch the topic about your friend's death."

"I know," she said flatly with her eyes on her food. Even if she was still wearing sunglasses, Meika still wanted to avoid her eyes from looking at Istela.

"This guesting will be next, next week. You won't have enough time to get yourself together."

"Vanilla's dead for three years," titig niya rito. "I won't break down there like how I used . . . how I did . . ." She took in a deep frustrated breath. Mas madali kasing mag-English kapag kumakanta kaysa kapag nakikipag-conversation. Meika chose to be more patient with herself. "I won't break down," pagtatapos niya bago ipinagpatuloy ang pagkain.

"It's a sensitive issue. Whatever you'll say might affect Vanilla's image too, so I'll coordinate with your publicist, alright? Then, I'll give you a briefing on what topics to avoid, how to address possible questions . . ." Istela trailed off when Meika sighed heavily. "What's wrong?"

"Can you do me a favor, Istel? Can you buy me a burger for take out? Add a medium-sized drink."

Nagsalubong ang mga kilay nito. "What for? After this we're already going home. Susmio, Meika, ang daming laman ng ref!"

She would usually smile at Istela's remarks like this, but not this time. "Please."

Napailing ito. "Fine." Hinanap muna ng mga mata nito si Rommel, ang bodyguard na nakaupo sa mesa katapat ng kanilang puwesto. Their eyes met and in an instant, Rommel already got Istela's silent message to keep an eye on her. Noon lang tumayo ang kanyang manager para um-order uli ng pagkain.

Rommel sat straight on a chair, complete with his earpiece and armed in a way that is not visible to the eye. Maingat kasing nakatago sa ilalim ng itim nitong polo ang baril. He wore a pair of dark blue jeans and sneakers. He usually dressed up like this because he can move freely in this attire. He even got his head cleanly shaved so no hair can distract him just in case he'll get into dangerous action.

Nasa unahan nila si Rommel nang lumabas ng fast food restaurant. Hawak ni Meika ang paper bag ng take-out food nang biglang humiwalay sa kanyang mga kasama. Gulat na napasinghap si Istela.

"Mei—" Naputol ang sasabihin nito nang makita siyang lumapit sa isang lalaking naka-puffer jacket na itim at nakaupo sa gilid ng kalsada katabi ng fast food restaurant.

Meika took in a deep breath and handed him the paper bag of food. Namilog ang mga mata ng Amerikanong lalaki sa gulat. Tila manginig-nginig pa ang kamay nito nang tanggapin ang paper bag mula sa kanya. Bahagya pang umawang ang mga labi nito habang sinusundan siya ng tingin nang iwanan na ito.

"Meika, ano'ng ginagawa mo?" bulong ni Istela sabay angkla ng braso nito sa braso niya.

"Giving him food."

"Bakit? Sino ba iyon? What makes you think that he's a street person or something?"

"He's not a street person. He's been following me all week."

Napasinghap ito. Sakto namang napagbuksan na sila ng pinto ni Rommel.

"A stalker?" pabulong na pagtaas ng pitch ng boses ni Istela. Naalerto tuloy ang kanyang bodyguard at seryoso itong napatingin sa kanilang dalawa.

Meika remained straight-faced. "Get inside the car, Istela."

Hinawakan lang siya nito sa mga braso at pinihit paharap sa kanya. "Are you out of your goddamned mind? Why did you give him food? He's your stalker? Why didn't you tell—" Nagtitimping binitiwan siya nito para harapin si Rommel. "Rommel, why are you unaware about this? You're supposed to do your fucking job—"

"You shouldn't have given him food, Ms. Meika," tila pangaral naman sa kanya ni Rommel na dinedma lang si Istela. "That will only encourage him to keep stalking you."

Meika glance at the stalker without moving her head. In the side of her eye, she saw that he was still sitting in a safe distance away from them. Ito talagang mga kasama niya kasi. Dito ba naman naisipang pag-usapan ang tungkol sa stalker niya. Sa lugar kung saan posible silang marinig nito.

Napailing siya at nagpaliwanag kay Rommel. "I have to do that. So he won't hurt me. If I . . ." she struggled with translating her Tagalog thoughts into English. Pinasimple na lang tuloy niya ito. "If I treat him bad, he might do something bad to me."

"That's why Rommel is here! To protect you! You don't have to always play nice, Meika!"

"Your tone, Istela," Rommel warmed while looking emotionless.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Your job, Rommel."

Napabuntonghininga na lang si Meika. "Are we going or what?"

"No," ani Rommel. "You are going to tell him off, Ms. Meika."

Tell him off? Napaisip siya kung ano'ng 'off' ang sasabihin niya sa stalker. "Tell him . . . 'Off'? Then he'll turn off like light bulb?"

Nanatiling seryoso ang dalawa.

"No. Tell him to stop stalking you," anito.

"But," panlalaki niya ng mga mata kay Rommel.

"It's up to you, Ms. Meika. But I recommend that you tell him off or else he'll misinterpret your kindness."

Meika lowered down her head and considered what he just said. Paano mami-misinterpret ng stalker na iyon ang simpleng pagbibigay niya ng pagkain dito?

"What you did will only encourage him to keep stalking you. It will tickle his teenie-weenie imagination that he can make you fall in love with him and live happily ever after—"

"Istela," saway na naman ni Rommel dito.

Istela just groaned. "You're really fun at parties, Rommel. Palibhasa, pa-kuwarenta ka na."

Bago pa bumalik sa kanya ang tingin ng dalawa, nilapitan na ni Meika ang lalaki. Napaawang saglit ang mga labi nito na may laman pang burger bago manginig-nginig na sumara ang mga labi nito.

She stared at him for a while. When she was way younger, she used to feel giddy when a man gets so stunned at her presence. Now, reactions like that makes her cringe.

"I have been nice to you. I gave you food. I hope, you'll be nice to me too by respecting my boundaries. You can always see me on TV, or YouTube, or on social media, in my concerts . . . so please, stop stalking me."

Hindi na niya hinintay pa ang sagot nito. Mabilis niya itong tinalikuran para dumeretso pasok sa sasakyan. Katatayo lang ng nagimbal na lalaki nang isara agad ni Rommel ang pinto. Muntik pa tuloy ito mabatukan ni Istela na naiwan sa labas kaya pinagbuksan na lang nito ang sarili ng pinto para pumasok sa kotse at umupo sa kanyang tabi. Rommel closed the door once more, glanced calculatingly at the stalker who watched them, then got into the shotgun seat of the car.

Ilang minuto pa at nilisan na nila ang lugar na iyon.

***

"TODAY, we will be interpreting paintings done from different styles," the teacher said. She pressed a key from the laptop, which made the Powerpoint presentation on the projector screen move to the next slide. It showed a picture of a painting done in 1937. It was The Therapist by René Magritte.

"What do you think is the message this painting is trying to convey . . ." the teacher trailed off as she shuffled the index cards and drew one of them randomly. "Meika?"

Meika smiled gracefully and stood up to answer. "The painting . . . For me, the painting's message is that, you are someone else's home, but . . . you are homeless."

The teacher curiously cocked her head to the side and smiled with understanding.
Meika squirmed a bit, smiled shyly.

"You're close. You just have to elaborate it a little bit more, Miss Dasilag."

Meika lowered her brown deep-set eyes, took in a deep breath for courage them lifted her head. "For me, the painting shows that the man is homeless because he is sitting on a rock outdoors. He carries a stick with one hand, and his bag on the other. He has a hat and . . . a blanket? Too?"

"A cloak," the smiling teacher corrected nicely.

"Yes. A cloak." Ano ba ang malay ko sa 'cloak' na iyon? Ano ba ang ibig sabihin ng 'cloak?' Hahanapin ko na lang sa dictionary. "Meanwhile, inside . . . ? Inside the man's body , or cloak, there is an open bird cage. Two doves are living in it. They treat it as their home since they can freely get in and out of the cage . . ."

"Let's make it more simple, Miss Dasilag. Focus on explaining the message of the painting."

Meika internally sighed. Kanina pinapa-elaborate, ngayon naman simplehan daw.

She maintained her composure. "The man is homeless, but the doves have a home, which is in his body, which gives the message that some people who we treat as our home are those who are also homeless."

"Great, interpretation, Miss Dasilag. What brings you to that conclusion? Aside from basing it on the objects in the painting, of course. I mean, you could have interpreted the painting in another way, but why does the image made you think of that message first? About home and being homeless?"

Something clenched Meika's heart. Gusto bang ipahiwatig ng teacher niya na kaya ganoon ang interpretasyon niya sa painting ay dahil nami-miss na niya ang kanyang tahanan?

"Well . . . I just based on what I saw . . ."

The teacher stared at her for a while. She has this pleasant smile but expectant eyes. Tila nag-aabang ito na baguhin o ipaliwanag pa niya ang kanyang sagot. Hindi naman umimik si Meika Nakipagtitigan lang siya sa guro kaya tumingin na uli ito sa index cards na hawak.

"Thank you, Miss Dasilag."

Mabilis siyang umupo sa kanyang armchair.

"Bourdon, Wade," basa nito sa pangalan sa index card. Tumayo naman ang kanyang kaklase. "How about you, Mr. Bourdon? What's your interpretation of the painting?"

Tinitigan nito ang painting na nasa projector screen at nanatili roon ang mga mata habang sumasagot sa prominente nitong French accent. "I think, the painting is trying to say that sometimes, people run away in order to protect their peace."

Nilingon ng guro ang projector screen at tinitigan ito. Her eyes twinkled as she gazed back at Meika's classmate. She seemed impressed.

"That's what I think," the clueless Wade continued, "because the hat and cloak looks like they are covering the bird cage where the doves can freely go in and out of it. Doves symbolize peace. Also, the man is outdoors and carrying a stick and his bag."

The teacher nodded. "That's a pretty unique take, Mr. Bourdon. I haven't heard anything similar with your interpretation from the students in my other class." He grinned sheepishly.

"Is it wrong then?"

Umiling ang guro. "Not really. We can actually connect your interpretation with the original message of the artwork. Moreover, that's the beauty of art. It allows us to have our own interpretation of an artwork. It is not always about being right, but being able to identify how an artwork makes us feel so that we'll understand ourselves better."

At nagpa-recite pa ang guro sa tatlo pa nilang kaklase bago nito ipinaliwanag kung ano ang mensahe ng painting na masa kanilang harapan. "I asked you to interpret this painting not because I want to see who will get it right. I asked you to interpret it so that you can show me if you can already recite in English way better compared to our previous recitations. But, I won't miss the chance to teach you a little trivia about the paintings I've shown to everyone in class today. As for this one," she pointed a hand at the projector screen, "this painting is called 'The Therapist' by René Magritte. *It was made in 1937, and it is done in the style of Surrealism. The painter actually intended to express an important message through this painting which is about therapists, of course, particularly psychologists. For Magritte, Psychologists needs more therapy than their patients, which he expressed through this painting."

Napalabi si Meika. Paanong mare-relate iyong sagot ni Bourbon doon sa totoong mensahe noong painting? Ang layo naman ng sagot niya.

.
PAGKATAPOS ng klase, nagpaiwan si Meika sa classroom. Nakaupo ang kanyang teacher sa harap ng desk nito at inaayos ang mga gamit sa isang dark brown na briefcase. Siya naman ay nanatili sa kanyang arm chair at komportable sa suot niyang light brown drawstring pants, white branded sneakers, at fitting crop top shirt na puti na may 'sweet' na naka-printa sa pink na pang-90s aesthetic font. He long, straight black hair was neatly tied in a low ponytail.

"Do you need anything, Miss Dasilag?" tanong nito habang nasa ginagawa ang tingin.
Sumandal si Meika sa back rest at inekis ang mga braso at hita. She stared at her teacher, Miss Perez, intently.

"Ano ang relate noong sagot ni Bourbon sa mensahe noong painting?"

Nag-angat ito ng tingin sa kanya.

"Sabi mo, tungkol sa psychologists iyon. Na mas kailangan nila ng therapy kaysa sa mga pasyente nila. Ano ang kinalaman ng sinabi ni Bourbon na 'protecting their own peace by running away?'"

"Wala," natatawa nitong sagot. "Hindi siya related sa mensaheng nais iparating ni Magritte. Pero kung titingnan mo iyong painting nang hindi nalalaman ang tunay nitong kahulugan, mauunawaan mo na may punto iyong sinabi ni Mr. Bourbon. After all, paintings are not just about the artists' point-of-view, but also about the viewers' interpretation of it. Right?"

Meika looked down to give it a thought.

"At least, we know what's running through Mr. Bourbon's mind. He believes that it is okay to run away if it means it will protect his peace, or peace of mind." Ms. Perez looked at her and smiled wider

Napailing na lang si Sofia. "Ang sabihin mo, interesado ka kay Mr. Bourbon!"

Natatawang pinanlakihan siya nito ng mga mata. "Hindi, no!"

She just shook her head and frowned.

"E ikaw, bakit denial ka kanina? Obvious namang homesick ka, kaya tungkol sa pagiging homeless pero home ng iba ang sagot mo."

Meika shrugged. "Excuse me, no? Pero hindi ako homesick. Wala akong balak umuwi ng Pilipinas. Bakit ako uuwi roon? May mga Pilipino rin naman dito. Mas mabait pa kaysa sa mga nakilala ko roon. So, ano ang mamimiss ko sa lugar na umapi sa akin?"

Napailing si Ms. Perez. "A, mukhang hindi naman tama na isisi mo kay Pilipinas kung paano ka trinato ng ilan sa mga nakatira roon."

She just scoffed. "Mas gusto ko pa rito sa U.S. Kahit mapudpod utak ko kakaaral ng English dito sa klase mo, okay lang."

Natawa ito, pero kumalma rin agad. "But seriously, Ms. Dasilag. Dapat ay marunong din tayong lumingon sa ating pinanggalingan."

"Lingon lang, hindi babalikan," tuso niyang ngisi.

"A, kailan ba ako nanalo sa'yo?" she breathed out and closed her briefcase. Tumayo na si Ms. Perez kaya tumayo na rin si Sofia. "See you in our next class, Ms. Dasilag."

She shrugged. "See you."

Pinauna niyang lumabas ang guro mula sa classroom bago siya sumunod. Pagdating sa corridor, sakto namang naghihintay na sa kanya ang bodyguard na naka-itim na collared shirt at jeans.