CHAPTER 36 - BLACK CAT

"AVERY, YOU'RE LEADING this one."

I looked up from my notes, meeting Carla's gaze across the conference table. Her tone was kinda scary—a matter-of-fact—like it was already decided before I even walked in.

I barely had time to process when Marco leaned back in his chair. "Not surprising though," he even chuckled. "Ikaw na ang naging mukha ng mga high-risk coverages natin, eh."

I snorted. "Mukha na ba akong walking disaster zone?"

"More like the journalist who always runs toward the storm," Carla quipped, tossing a folder my way. "Literally, this time."

I caught it with one hand, flipping it open. Photos of collapsed houses, flooded streets, and people lining up for relief goods stared back at me.

"Super Typhoon Rafael," I muttered, scanning the brief. "Barangay Santol?"

Carla nodded. "Wiped out ang halos kalahati ng lugar. We need a deep-dive coverage on the rehabilitation efforts, pero hindi lang figures and statistics. Gusto kong marinig 'yung kwento ng mga tao doon—ano na 'yung buhay nila after the cameras left, after the initial relief goods stopped coming in."

I tapped my fingers against the table. "You want a long-form piece?"

"Yes. Documentary style. Mas personal and mas may puso... ikaw ang pinakabihasa sa ganiya."

Marco whistled. "Translation: emotional damage."

Carla shot him a look. "Journalism, Marco. We're not here to sugarcoat."

I shook my head with a small laugh. "No pressure at all, huh?"

"None," Carla said smoothly. "Except for the fact that we have a week to shoot, and we need the first draft ready for review within the month."

Natawa ako nang bahagya. No pressure daw.

"Of course we do." I exhaled, leaning back. "Alright, I'll do it."

Carla smirked. "Knew you would."

"Wait, wait," Marco cut in, raising a hand. "Hindi lang tayo ang magko-cover, 'di ba?"

Carla nodded. "Yeah. The Super Typhoon Rafael was the strongest of the year—international media is flying in. BBC, CNN, Reuters, the whole circus. Some familiar faces, maybe?"

I raised a brow. "So we're competing for stories?"

"More like collaborating," Carla corrected. "Pero alam mo namang hindi ganun kasimple. We need exclusive angles. Hindi tayo pwedeng mag-stick lang sa relief updates na ipe-press release din nila."

"Meaning?" Marco prompted.

Carla leaned forward. "Meaning, we need to dig deeper. The international networks will focus on government response, casualties, and statistics—standard post-disaster reports. Tayo, we highlight the untold stories. The people. The realities they're facing after the storm. Their voices."

I nodded slowly. Unti-unti, parang nabubuhay ang dugo ko. Ang tagal na rin sumula noong nabigyan ako ng ganitong anggulo. "Got it."

Marco groaned. "Translation: mas mahirap na trabaho for us."

"Ano ba, Marco. Tumigil ka nga kakatranslate!" natatawang ani ko.

"Bakit, gusto mo bang makipag-unahan sa international crew na may dala-dalang million-dollar equipment?" Carla smirked. "Tayo, kahit handheld camera lang, basta maganda ang anggulo ng story, panalo."

Tumango ako and I smirked back. "Good storytelling will always be our biggest weapon."

Carla pointed at me. "That's the spirit."

Marco sighed dramatically. "And that's why ikaw ang lead reporter, at ako? Assistant producer lang ha!"

I laughed, closing the folder. "Alright. When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow. Departure will be at 2AM."

I exhaled. "Great. Guess I should start packing."

This was my life now. A journalist specialized in documentaries.

When I was in TVOA, I thought journalism was just a detour, a way to tell Jace's story. Na kahit gustuhin ko man, hindi ko maaabot ang pangarap na ito. Surprisingly, life has so much to offer. One moment, I was chasing stories as a campus journalist, and now here I am.

Pero hindi lang ito basta trabaho. It became my purpose. Every story I chased, every voice I amplified, every truth I uncovered—it reminded me why I chose this path.

There was something in it that lit a fire in my heart, like the more I listened to people and put their truths into words, knowing that my news could carry their grief to the world is something that made me feel... alive.

It was exhausting, yes. It was painful... but it was also fulfilling in a way nothing else had ever been like I truly belonged here.

Journalism taught me that the  world was full of stories more painful than mine, more urgent, more desperate. And yet, in every tragedy, there was resilience. In every loss, there was survival. And in every person I met, I found pieces of myself.

I just knew it was my purpose because I wasn't surviving anymore. I was living.

Paglabas ko ng conference room, mabilis na nilapitan ako ni Ms. Carla, may hawak na maliit na folder. "Avery, andito na 'yung bagong press ID mo," sabi niya, sabay abot nito sa akin.

I took it from her and glanced at the card. I ran my thumb over the plastic, almost surprised by how natural it felt in my hands. The familiar bold letters of my name waved at me.

Avery Carreon.

"Salamat, Ms. Carla," I said with a small smile, feeling a strange kind of pride.

She gave me a nod, her expression light. "Wala 'yan. Alam ko namang tatagal ka pa sa field na 'to. Big things ahead, Avery."

I nodded, more to myself than to her. The name felt like it fit perfectly now but I knew it wasn't always that simple. There was a time I thought changing it would be running away from the past. But now it felt like it was exactly what I needed to do to keep moving forward.

I walked out of the building and into the familiar noise of the city filled my ear. The busy streets, the chaos of the day, it all seemed normal and comfortable, even. Every step felt lighter than it ever had before.

Rayne, the girl from Mystown, is dead.

She had to die in order for Avery to bloom.

I could still remember the first year after I left Mystown. The confusion when I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder was a wake-up call I didn't expect. Maybe, it was the shock of Jace's death, the grief that had taken over.

But Tita Linda didn't let that stopped me to experience life. She helped me through the first year. I didn't enroll but she made sure that I went to therapy.

After a year of therapy. I tried to go back, to be the old Rayne. But I couldn't. I wasn't supposed to go back... That's when I realized I had to let go of who I was to become who I needed to be.

Avery Carreon wasn't just a name. She was my new beginning.

On the second year, Tita Linda persuade me to take up Journalism. She was right, too. Journalism gave me a purpose. Wala naman talang fire sa akin para sa pagiging guro. At ngayon, I felt it—stronger than ever.

I loved this. I loved what I did, and I was good at it. I was at peace with where I was. I was finally where I was supposed to be.

Pagpasok ko sa bahay, nakita ko si Tita Linda na nakaupo sa sofa, nanonood ng mga balita.

Dalawa na lang kaming nakatira sa bahay niya. Si Savi, my cousing, decided he wanted to live alone. Tita Linda allowed him to somehow—become independent. Hindi ko siya kayang iwan mag-isa. At sa ngayon, wala naman akong balak na bumukod pa.

"Babalik na ako sa coverage, Tita," sabi ko habang tinitingnan ang pagkaing nakatakip sa mesa.  Hindi ko na tinanong kung may dinner pa—alam ko naman palagi siyang naghahanda para sa pag-uwi ko.

Tita Linda just looked at me and nodded, then flashed a smile. "Saan ka naman ngayon?"

"Sa Barangay Santol po. Yung nasalanta ng Super Typhoon Rafael. May isang linggo akong coverage. Deep-dive documentary," sagot ko, habang naglapag na ng pagkain sa mesa. Naupo ako sa kabisera at nagsimulang kumain.

Tumayo naman siya saka kumuha ng tubig sa ref, ibinaba iyon sa gilid ng pinggan ko, saka naupo sa tabi ko.

She hummed in response but I could feel her eyes on me. I smiled, though. Ang saya ko lang na andiyan siya, even when we didn't need to say much.

"Be careful, ha?" she said after a moment, her tone soft but firm. "And keep your phone on. Call me when you can."

I chuckled, "Syempre naman, 'Ta. Update kita kapag nandoon na ko, promise!"

Tita Linda stood up and patted my shoulder.

"Good luck, Avery. I'm proud of you," she said, "O' sya, matutulog na ako. Ikaw na ang bahala diyan."

"Thanks, Tita!"

Pagpasok ko sa kwarto, hinubad ko ang jacket ko at inihagis sa gilid ng kama. Naupo ako sa vanity table ko saka nagsimulang mag-alis ng make up.

Limang taon na rin akong nandito, pero minsan, pakiramdam ko, parang kahapon lang ako dumating.

Anim na buwan pagkatapos kong madiagnose, mamatay si Itay.

I wasn't there when it happened. Wala ako sa ospital nang binawian siya ng buhay. Pinadala ako noon ni Tita sa isang retreat camp sa Mandaue kasama si Savi. Hindi ko alam pero hindi rin ako umiyak noong nalaman kong wala na siya.

Hindi kami naging malapit ni Itay, pero wala akong pinagsisihan noong nawala siya. We were civil during his last years, and that was enough for me. Hindi rin naman ako pinilit ni Tita Linda na patawarin siya o ipilit ang relasyon namin bilang mag-ama.

Alam kong hindi normal na hindi ako umiyak noong nawala siya. And I had to process grief, hindi pwedeng ipagsawalang bahala ko iyon. So with the help of my therapist, I grieved my loss.

Humugot ako nang malalim na buntong hininga saka dumiretso sa banyo para magshower at magbihis. Habang napapatuyo ng buhok napatitig ako sa bintana ng kwarto ko, pinagmamasdan ang city lights sa labas ng bintana.

I had come a long way since then. Manila wasn't just an escape anymore—it had become my home. Manila taught me to just ride the flow of life. Kahit minsan, hindi ko pa rin alam kung saan ako dadalhin nito.... hindi na ako takot.

Maaga akong umalis sa bahay kinabukasan, dala ang backpack na may laman ang ilang damit, notebook, recorder, at camera. Sa baba, naghihintay na si Marco sa van kasama ang iba pang crew na sasama sa coverage.

"Nakapagpaalam ka na ba sa tita mo?" tanong ni Marco habang inaayos ang tripod sa likod ng sasakyan.

"Hmm," tango ko. "Sinabihan ko na siya kagabi. Alam niya namang hindi ako mapakali nang matagal sa iisang lugar."

"Sabi mo 'yan ngayon," aniya, saka bumuntong-hininga. "Pero 'pag dumating 'yung panahon na magso-settle down ka na, tatawanan na lang kita."

Ngumiti ako, pero hindi ko na sinagot. Instead, sumakay na ako sa van at sinimulang i-review ang notes ko para sa coverage.

Mahaba ang naging byahe namin, inabot iyon halos ng siyam na oras. Pagdating namin sa Barangay Santol, ang unang tumama sa akin ay ang init. Dumaan kami sa ilang kalye, at kahit halatang may malaking pinsala ang lugar mula sa bagyo, may buhay pa rin doon. May pag-asa.

Sa gilid, may mga volunteer na namimigay ng pagkain. Sa covered court, may isang grupo ng construction workers na nagtutulungan sa pagpapatayo ng isang bahay. Mga bata ang sumisilip sa amin, nagtataka pero nakangiti.

"Iba 'no?" bulong ni Marco habang bumababa kami ng van.

Tumango ako. I had expected devastation, hopelessness. Pero ang bumungad sa amin ay isang komunidad na patuloy bumabangon.

"Alright," sigaw ng isa sa aming field producers. "Let's set up the tents and gear!"

Walang patumpik-tumpik, nagsikilos na ang crew. Ako naman, inilabas ang camera ko, ini-frame sa lens ang lugar. Sinubukan kong kunan ang kwento sa harap ko—hindi lang ang sirang bahay, kundi ang mga taong patuloy na lumalaban.

Dati, ang tingin ko sa mga ganitong eksena ay trahedya. Kapag may mga nasalanta ng bagyo, hindi na noon maibabalik ang naperwisyo. Pero sa ilang beses kong nagcover ng ganito, unti-unti nagbago ang paningin ko.

Ganito naman yata talaga ang buhay—binabayo ng bagyo, nilalamon ng unos, pero hindi kailanman tuluyang nawawasak. Lagi't laging may babangon, may pipiliing lumaban kasi sisikat din naman ang araw.

Na sa likod ng bawat trahedya, laging may kwento ng pag-asa.

Habang naglalakad ako, hawak ang camera at kumukuha ng shots, may narinig akong mahina pero paulit-ulit na meow. Napahinto ako, inikot ang tingin, hinanap ang pinagmulan. Ilang hakbang pa at may nakita akong isang maliit na kuting, kulay itim, nakaupo sa gilid ng isang lumang pader.

Sa harap nito, may isang lalaking nakatayo lamang doon. Nakatalikod sa akin, pero kitang-kita ko kung paano siya nakatitig sa kuting na parang may kung anong iniisip. He has a camera wrapped on his neck.

Tumaas ang kilay ko dahil para silang nagsusukatan ng tingin. Ang kuting naman, hindi natinag. Patuloy lang itong nagmeow sa lalaki as if he was asking for help, but the guy refused to.

Unti-unting umalis ang kuting, naglakad papalayo. Sinundan ko ito ng tingin. Hindi ko alam pero bigla na lang lumakad ang mga paa ko, hindi man lang nililingon ang lalaking naiwan. Mas importante sa akin ang kuting ngayon.

Nang maabutan ko ang kuting, lumuhod ako, pinanood itong maglakad-lakad sa lupa bago ko dahan-dahang iniabot ang kamay ko.

"Hey, little one..." bulong ko, hinihintay kung magpapahawak ito.

Nagmeow ulit ang kuting bago kumiskis sa palad ko.

Napangiti ako.

"Nasaan amo mo? Mag-isa ka lang ba?" Mahinang tawa ang lumabas sa bibig ko habang kinarga ko ito, ramdam ang liit at init ng katawan nito laban sa palad ko.

Gosh, I want a cat! What if?

"Gusto mo ng bagong pamilya? Hmm?"

Napaupo ako sa lupa, abala sa pag-aalaga sa kuting na nasa kandungan ko. Hindi ko man lang namalayang may taong nakatayo sa likod ko. Hawak ko na ang kuting nang sa wakas, lumingon ako.

Nanlaki ang mga mata ko at napasinghap ako. Doon ko tuluyang nakita ang pamilyar na bulto ng lalaki. Nash was staring on his side... may kinunan siya ng larawan sa kabilang banda. He may not be looking at me but something in the way he held himself felt... heavier.

I thought I was imagining things. Pero nang bahagyanglumingon siya, tumama ang araw sa mukha niya, enough for me to see the sharp lines of his features, the familiar furrow of his brows.

Para akong binuhusan ng tubig sa sobrang gulat. Sa dami ng posibleng mukha na makikita ko rito, sa isang binagyong barangay, si Nash talaga?!

He's standing tall. Too tall, actually.

Mas tumangkad pa siya kaysa sa huli naming pagkikita, at ngayon, may kung anong aura sa kanya na hindi ko maipaliwanag. His black windbreaker was slightly unzipped, revealing a plain gray shirt underneath. His dark jeans were a bit dusty—probably from walking around the barangay. At yung buhok niya? Mas mahaba ng konti kaysa noon, pero mas bagay sa kanya ngayon.

Sa likod niya, bahagyang sumisilip ang isang rainbow sa madilim na ulap. A freakin' rainbow.

Ano 'to? Fate working overtime?

Napakurap ako. Before I could decide whether to stand or walk away, Nash looked down. At for the first time in years, nagtagpo ulit ang mga mata namin.

Mas lalong lumakas ang tibok ng puso ko. Hindi dahil sa kaba pero dahil sa bigat ng presensyang nasa harapan ko ngayon. Humigpit ang hawak ko sa kuting bago dahan-dahang tumayo.

Ngayon, magka-level na kami. At doon ko lang napansin ang bahagyang pagkagulat sa mukha ni Nash. Para bang hindi rin niya inaasahang ako ang makikita niya rito.

Pero mabilis niyang binawi iyon. Halos isang iglap lang, at bumalik ang malamig at walang-emosyong ekspresyon sa mukha niya.

"Rayne..."

Halos hindi lumabas ang boses niya, pero dinig na dinig ko. Ilang taon na rin simula noong huling may tumawag sa pangalang 'yon.

Hindi ako agad nakasagot dahil parang may nakabara sa lalamunan ko.

Sa huli, I took a deep breath. Hinayaan kong dumaan ang ilang segundo ng katahimikan bago ako sumagot.

"It's Avery."

***