23: Earphones

                                    

                                          
KEVIN
I may have made the wrong call.
What am I thinking, letting Gabby come over when my mother's around? And why is she asking about me?
I keep clenching and unclenching my fists under the table, itching to flee. It's been so long since I had dinner with my mother; why should I bother now?
But... I can't just leave. Gabby's here, and the way she handles my mom's grilling makes my heart jump. Why is she defending me? Does she truly think of me that way?
And when she said that everyone likes me—does that include her, too?
"Anyway!" Gabby continues. "What I'm getting at is... um... you really don't need to worry about Kevin's academics."
Okay. Maybe not so bad of a decision then.
My mother leans in slightly, her chin supported by her intertwined fingers. "Is that so? Well, that's nice to hear."
Some kind of pressure is building in my chest. Am I coming down with something?
Plates clink softly as they are set down, and the tension eases as everyone reaches for their utensils. The discussion about me is diverted, thank God. 
Gabby beams at the sight of menudo and bangus on the table. I like watching her eat comfortably. It takes me back to our first mall trip. No, it wasn't a date—if it were, I'd have chosen somewhere nicer. Not the mall. She was a bit on edge that day... I've noted that she doesn't like crowded places.
I'll think about it.
For dessert, we share a plate of leche flan, and the spontaneous chatter continues. My mother invites Gabby to visit the garden, while Francis drops a chunk of leche flan on his shirt so he excuses himself, opting to take a shower. I trail behind my mother and Gabby, stopping by the sliding door. Oddly enough, I feel at ease that they seem to get along. I was a bit worried about how my mom would react. She's not strict—not at all—but I've never introduced a friend to her before. So, bringing a girl over as my first introduction... that's a real wild card.
Or maybe she thinks this is more about Francis than it is about me?
Mama glances over her shoulder, looking at me, while Gabby examines the flowers. She asks, "Are you joining us?"
I release a breath and choose a metal chair to sit in. They join me shortly, and Mama asks whether Gabby has told her family about being late.
"Ah, yes. I texted my Kuya," she replies.
"Good. I'll have the driver drop you off. Don't worry."
Predictably, she waves her hands and says, "Oh, no. I can commute."
"No, we insist. It's not safe."
"Take the car," I utter, failing to conceal my irritation. Instead of getting annoyed, Gabby giggles.
"What's funny?" Mama asks, perplexed, like me.
"You and Kevin are alike."
I shove a tongue into my cheek, staring down at the Bermuda grass. That's unexpected. We resemble each other in some ways, but we weren't alike.
Mama smiles fondly and changes the subject. "Gabby, what are your plans once high school is over?"
Gabby brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, taken aback. "Oh. Ah, I'm not entirely sure yet."
"Have you applied anywhere? Don't you need to take entrance exams for universities?"
Gabby's face blanches, a reaction I recognize from previous encounters. When she's overwhelmed, embarrassed, or triggered, her complexion pales and her eyes lose their sparkle.