It was mom who called the other night. She wanted to see me. Nana asked how did I feel about it. Nothing. I felt nothing. I asked her why did mom call after all these years? She did not know. We dropped the 'mom' topic after that. We had been tip-toing again, Nana and I. The ping-pong game of not knowing, not asking, not caring. Not. Not. Not. The hide and seek until we get lost and forget because we both did not want to be found.

Nana was out of town for a couple of days to attend a congregational camp at church. It's an event where churches from different congregations met up once a year to discuss about faith and stuff. While it's true that nana was big about her faith and all, she was never big about seeing people. I was glad she was warming up. Afterall, she wanted me to have friends. At first, she was hesitant to go because she was worried that I would starve myself to death.

"Call me when anything goes wrong, okay?"

"I will."

"Try not to burn the house down while I'm away," she kissed me on the cheeks. We hugged and parted ways.

I had the whole house to myself. Summer break had just started. No school, no nana, no nothing for a week. Freedom. The house felt bigger. The bigger it grew, the smaller I became. My thoughts were a constant struggle. They filled me up to the brim every day. My mind was flooding with strange thoughts, I was drowning. I needed to breathe so I applied for a summer job downtown. I was accepted at a chicken house. The pay was not decent enough to buy me my own house (preferably somewhere far away with no built-in black holes in it). I was bored to death. I needed diversion or else nana would be coming home to a pile of ashes. It would have been such a view.

My shift at the chicken house ran from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm with two fifteen-minute breaks and one hour lunch. I nearly burned down the whole establishment on my first day but Kiko, the owner was totally fine with it. "Happens to all of us on first day," he said reassuringly. I still could not figure out what breed of dog he was though, needed more time. I had free lunch which of course consisted of roasted chicken, a cup of rice and some vegetables. Nana and I were living off of my dad's and my dada's pension which was just enough to get by.

Kiko's Chicken House was famous around the block. He did justice to chicken genocide, 150 heads daily and 200-300 on a good day. Kiko was so big about the temperature of the chicken grill that he had to constantly monitor the heat. He said the right temperature helped retain the moisture. "Nobody wants their chicken dry as their grandma's pussy," he told me. The coals we put inside the machine were also measured in kilos. On my first day, I reloaded the grilling machine with half-sack of coal that was hot enough to dry the living hell out of the chicken's moisture. Talk about first impressions. I thought he'd axed me. But he just said "Make love with the fire, Florante, do not fuck it," and laughed it off.

Friday night, nana called on the telephone. She said she'd extend three more days. She planned to visit an old friend. I obliged. She reminded me about house chores that I needed to do like my life depended on it; watering her daisies, one in the morning, one in the afternoon, polishing the floor with wax to ward off termites, taking her most-beloved Evergreens, Aloe Vera, Spruces, Mistletoes, orchids for a bathe of sunlight every morning, among other things she listed on a notebook before she left. I assured her everything's in order just like how she had left them. The phone rang again after I put it down. It was Larry.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"Sorry I was not able to return your call immediately." He apologized.

"No big deal."

"I mean, it was like two weeks ago..."

"Yeah, you took your time."

"How have you been?" He asked.

"Good. You?"

"Been down in the dumps lately but I'm fine."

"You wanna tell me about it?"

"It's a long story."

"That's fine. I missed your big-mouth anyway." He laughed. I wanted to cry.

"I miss you." He said.

"You wanna hang out?"

"Where?"

"In my place. Nana's not around. I could use some company." I said tugging the telephone wire.

"Where'd nana go?"

"Blind dating some guys."

"Ha ha ha!"

"What do we do in your house? Read things?"

"You make it sound like I'm boring."

"Ha-ha. I mean, yes you are sometimes but it's more like you being you. It's not like it's a bad thing." he said.

"We'll watch movies for a change."

"Charlie Chaplin?"

"Yes, Charlie Chaplin. You do know me."

"Of course I do." He's warming up.

"Hey, sorry I was being an asshole last time. I wasn't a good friend."

"Yes, you're not. But here I am with my poor life choices." He sighed.

"Poor life choices." I sighed.

And then we laughed the way we did before; the no holds-bar laugh I could only possibly do with Larry. We talked again like we had all the time in the world. I told him about my summer job, I told him about mom's phone call. He told me about the medical mission he and his father did in far flung villages. How he found out he could run real-fast when chased down by a rabid dog. By the time we finished, it was already twenty minutes passed 12:00 in the morning.

"See you on Saturday night then?"

"Yeah, can't wait."

"Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

........

"Why aren't you hanging up yet?" I asked.

"You hung up first."

"No, you hung up first..."

"Stop being a boy!"

"Okay, okay. Good night."

"Good-night."