Pick Up

“Darassem! Aiy! Amom na ladaw-en!” Seden’s Tita calls from the van’s passenger seat. Her Tito pounds on the horn. “See-dun! Enya ti oras en?” Tita’s accented voice booms from the running car. She jumps into the van, slamming the side door shut. Her Tito questions, “Why do you slam doors?” Seden responds, “sorry, but if you didn’t rush me, maybe…” Her Tita cuts her off with a glare, “Hmmmph, watch your mouth. You are the one making us late! Sica met, awan te panunoten. You don’t behave properly when your Nanay and Tatay arrive.” Trying to rid the annoyance in her voice, Seden responds, “Well if you could’ve told me sooner, I would’ve gotten up early.” “Hummmph, taking so long, and look at you, narugit pay, dugyit! Tita retorts. Seden holds her tongue. Her Tita continues the barrage of insults, “Why don’t you look properly? Look at your clothes, what is that? You look like a bum. Your Nanay and Tatay will say we are not taking care of you, Ai dugyit!” Seden understands the wrath to Tita’s reasoning. She ignores her Titas commentaries and psychoanalyzes the situation at hand. Tita is disgusted by urban youth culture. She hates on street art, scratch that, she doesn’t understand art, let alone street art, or my art for that matter. She lacks an un-biased point of view, therefore allowing her to confuse the appearance of a working artist versus poor hygiene.

Tita continues her ranting while they travel street mazes until they reach a clear shot at the free way towards the San Francisco International Airport. Tita’s mouth twists like a tornado, spinning through her reptitive argument, while Tito grunts in accord every now and then. “Why didn’t you change your bado buisit, your Nanay and Tatay are arriving and you can’t do one thing? Ai, see your cousin, she’s no disgrace.” Seden turns flush, yet she keeps her temper out of her inflection, “who? Marie-Criss, she’ll be there?”

“Wen your cousin looks proper, her bado is always very nice. Look at you, so dugyit, I don’t understand. You should look like a lady, where’s your purse huh?” Tito slams on the brake. The passengers snap with a whiplash ripple. Tito growls at the yellow Corvette culprit who cut them off. “Tay-ina! Stupid, learn how to drive son of a gun!”

Unfortunately, the jostled car does not derail Tita from talking. She complains about Seden’s appearance up until the on ramp to the airport. Once Tita realizes their close position, she flips the mirror down and checks her face, re-applies her pink lipstick and pats stray hairs into place. The van winds its way into the traffic-controlled pathways of patrolled curbs and metallic reflective signs. Tito pulls into one of the multi-leveled parking structures. Seden rests in the moment of peace as they enter the cave like cement complex. They circle the ramps until an empty space is revealed. Seden watches the flicker of the florescent lights from above dancing on the parked car tails. He stops the engine and the adults dash out of the van. Tita turns to Seden as if she were blind and hard of hearing, “Psst! We’re here now, behave yourself properly.”