Writers: Xandra Yugto, Sai Varun Tumuluru, Tiffani Lee, Barton Lu
Bacon sandwiches always reminded her of her life before the pandemic hit. It was a bite of the outside world. It was a bite of something… missing nowadays. All the flavors twirling seemed bitter. She didn’t want to continue eating it, because all she felt was regret. But San knew that if her mother was in that room with her, she would whisper in rushed Tagalog, telling her to eat.
So she took the last bite.
San’s mother loved bacon sandwiches. Her father thought bacon sandwiches were okay. But her ex-girlfriend? Absolutely hated it.
-------
It was 2:22 AM.
“San, this tastes like complete trash.” She rested her hand on my shoulder to grab my attention, I looked at her and shook my head.
“How could you possibly call this COMPLETE trash?” I pointed at the crispy bread. “Because it is,” she whispered back and I laughed a little.
“Babe, I think your taste buds are broken.”
“You think so?”
She slid her arms tighter around my waist and poked at a crack in the wall. “I think so,” I replied, lightheartedly.
-------
Exes are exes for a reason. Perhaps her old girlfriend was just too different - or maybe San made too many mistakes. This crossed her mind as she threw the wrapping of the bacon sandwich away and the old conversation with her ex replayed in her mind. She shook her head to try to drive the thoughts away.
San remembered many things. She remembered the day she counted all the black hairs on her head when she was little. She could memorize the song her mother sang. At least when her mother was alive. She could still see the first tears her father shed in front of her like a movie. Hell, she could even remember her ex’s least favorite drink topping to order at the same old little boba shop. But one thing she always forgot? To water the plant sitting in her room.
That poor plant was hanging on for its dear life, and San knew that she needed to water it. Weeks. It’s been weeks since she watered it. Grudgingly she picked the plant up and swung on the nearest hoodie from her bed for warmth. In the bathroom, she let the faucet water run into the plant soil and became startled at her image in the mirror. The eyebags seemed to be sinking into her cheeks and the mismatched sharp edges of her hair poked into her shoulders. She wondered if there was more to this. Quarantine seemed to be one of the things ripping every part of her up. Bit by bit.
She noticed the pot was starting to overflow with water and stopped the faucet. Truly, how was the plant not dead? San was always between completely drowning her plant or dehydrating it. It was exhausting… for the plant. The girl shook her head in distaste. Then crossed her arms. It wasn’t fair. Someone used to remind her to water the plant. It used to be her mom, or her girlfriend, or her dad.
But they were all gone. She was alone now.
It felt unfair.
-------
San laid back again, and closed her eyes, her breathing shallow as her mind flicked through the memories once again. She clenched her hands tight, not even noticing the pain, as her fingernails dug into her skin. But before they drew blood, her phone rang, the sharp tone and heavy vibrations snapped her trance.
She picked her phone up from the side table beside her and swiped to accept the call. A thin haze of static cushioned the silence on the other end of the line.
She ended the call.
Tossing her phone onto the bed, she turned to her side and curled up under the blanket. She remembered her dad, he had disappeared one day, he hadn’t spoken to her since her mom had died – and had abandoned her just like she did.
They all left her.
Droplets of sweat dripped onto the white sheets, as she tossed and turned. The comforting warmth of the blue blanket had turned into an almost unbearable heat, but she hadn’t felt like leaving until now.
As she threw the blanket off of the bed in frustration, her dishevelled hair curled down her shoulders. San opened the drawer of the side table and pulled a packet of cigarettes from them. She had been smoking for the last year – since she was 17. Opening the window, she lit one, and inhaled, the smoke seemed to fill her chest, she could feel it swirling and wild – expanding to fill the cavity – and then releasing, wisping in the air as she released it from her mouth. The smoke disappeared into the hazy grey sky.
A knock came at her door, and she stamped the cigarette on the windowsill, tossing it out of the window, she yelled, “Wait, I’m coming!”
“San, I put breakfast on the table,” the voice from the other side of the door called.
“I’ll be right there Auntie Helen,” she called back – rubbing her eyes. She pulled down the sleeves of her jumper, covering her arms, and walked out.
“Aren’t you going to school today San?” Helen asked.
“No Auntie, I’m n-”
“You’re missing too much school San, I want you to finish breakfast and get ready for school”, Helen said, firmly.
San stayed quiet.
“Did you hear what I said?” Helen asked again.
“You’re not my mother Auntie. Stop telling me what to do” she said, picking up the plate from the breakfast table and storming off.
San escaped with the plate, still filled with untouched fried rice, eggs and tocino that she wasn’t really hungry for anyway. She arrived back to her room and slammed the door. Enough was enough. Why did her Auntie try so hard to replace the people who left her? San understood Auntie Helen was just trying her best, still grieving the loss of her own sister while attempting to pick up the pieces of the daughter she left behind. But what was the point?
Eventually, she would leave too.
San started at the full plate and began to push the food around. It’s felt like years since she had a real appetite. She took a few bites of the warm rice and mixed in some pieces of the sweet tocino. Mmm. This dish did bring back so many memories of eating breakfast together as a family before school. Mom would be making fresh coffee while trying to pack her lunch, yelling at her to remember her homework from the night before. Dad would be humming a tune as he read the morning paper, sneaking extra pieces of tocino when Mom wasn’t looking.
It was the 3 of them. Mom, Dad and San.
San quickly shook her head and the memory floated into the air as she finished a part of the sunny side up egg on her plate. She checked the time, 8:34am. Classes started at 9:00 am.
To be honest, she couldn’t remember the last time she went to class. It’s all different now. With the pandemic going on, classes were structured so she would take 2 classes for the next 2 months straight with the same bubble of people and the same teachers to prevent any potential spread. Oh, and everyone had to wear a mask.
Coming into classes in the middle of the semester would just make everything awkward. Everyone already knew each other and had been working through the material for 3 weeks now. San knew she would end up sitting alone and having to catch up. On the bright side, at least she would be completely distant from everyone. Safe right?
San also knew students going to school meant facing the whispers and rumours that were already circling about her absence. When her mom passed away, a few friends reached out with thoughts and prayers, letting San know they were here for her. But when her Dad disappeared, radio silence. It’s not like she told anyone her Dad just up and left but she knew there was gossip circulating on the grapevine.
Pushing aside the plate on her desk, San packed up her navy backpack with a notebook, some pencils and markers. She threw a few granola bars she found in her drawer into the front pocket and grabbed a light jacket as she zipped up her bag. Should she apologize to Auntie Helen before she leaves? The only way out the door was through the kitchen where she was still sitting.
San creaked open her bedroom door and slowly made her way into the kitchen.
“I’m heading out,” mumbled San. “I’m sorry for what I said I didn’t mean it. Thank you for breakfast.”
Auntie Helen was in her nursing scrubs as she poured a new cup of coffee into her travel tumbler. She looked up at San.
“It’s okay. I’m going into work now. Do you need a ride?”
San shook her head and stated she was going to walk. Better than an awkward car ride with her Auntie.
“Alright, don’t forget your mask!” Auntie Helen gestured towards the door hanger where various cloth masks were hanging from the hooks.
San shuffled towards the door and grabbed a mask. Stuffing it into the side of her bag, she opened the back door and the cool fall air hit her face immediately.
Looking back, she quickly waved at her Auntie and shut the door as she left. It was a crisp autumn day as San watched the colourful leaves fall to the ground around her, her feet crunching beneath her sneakers.
There were two options today that San could choose. One, go to school and try to catch up. Two, walk to the lake where almost nobody would be on a Wednesday morning and sit until the day was over.
While the school was near the lake, the path to either point was the same until Griffiths Street where the options truly split into two. She decided she would take her time, thinking through what she wanted to do today.
Was she ready to head back to class? How much more could she really miss at this point? Would San be able to deal with answering all the questions her friends had? She had ignored them for the past couple of weeks.
As she approached the crossroad on Griffiths, San noticed a small box peeking out from under the leaves on the side of the maple tree. She sauntered over to get a closer look and brushed away the dried leaves that sat on top of the red box.
The red box looked relatively new, with only a few corner scratches and some dirt from the falling leaves. It was a smooth, square, leathery box just big enough to fit a few notebooks inside. The gold trim, while still prominent, had a bit of fading.
San inspected the box and found a small label on the left side that said: for Darrien.
“This box was not anywhere near Darrien,” thought San as she fiddled with the lid. She decided to open the box to see if there would be a clue as to who Darrien was and what he was supposed to receive.
San soon realized that the red lid was surprisingly stuck onto the box as she struggled to pry it open while walking. She would need to put it down somewhere to see if the top would pop off.
San decided to turn left on Griffiths and head for the lake. The bench on the willow tree side was usually quiet except for the few dogs that were being walked in the morning. There would be some sticks she could use to wiggle the lid loose.
The box was not heavy but there was some weight to it. She didn’t want to shake it in case what was inside was fragile. Walking along the lake path to the bench, San began to wonder what could be inside. Was it a present from an ex-lover who was just returning their stuff? Maybe a long-distance friend who gave Darrien this box as their last moment together in person before the pandemic. Maybe it wasn’t even meant for a Darrien and the person just forgot to remove the label.
San finally made her way to the bench and took off her backpack and toque to lay it down on the seat. She placed the box on the bench and placed both hands this time underneath the lip of the lid in another attempt to pry it open.
After a few good tugs and wedging a stick into the box, the lid snapped off and San was able to look inside.
The leather box was full of cassette tapes, each one labeled with a different date and letter. San only saw these in photos with her parents and YouTube videos where Older Millennials would show cassettes to Gen Z to see if they understood what they were. “We aren’t that clueless,” San thought every time she saw such videos on her timeline.
She picked up one of the tapes labeled November 13, 2012 C and peered through its plastic casing. The tape was dusty and had a faint smell of smoke and dried grass. She placed the tape on the bench and began to dig through the rest of the box to see if there was anything else.
The only other item in the box was a single button, likely just fallen in and the sender never noticed. Maybe it was a button Darrien needed to be returned for a sweater. San wondered what this Darrien would have needed this box for. Clearly, something on these tapes was for him and if she was going to return the box, she would have to figure out who he was and what exactly was on these tapes.
She would rather sift through the box than walk into a school she no longer knew. Plus, the only whispers she would have to hear were the ones that hummed through the cassette tapes.
-------
Once San got back home, she kicked her shoes into the corner and threw her backpack onto her bedroom floor. After lathering her hands in sanitizer, she headed to the kitchen, and then stopped at the doorway.
“I know class doesn’t end at 12:00 PM, San” Auntie Helen was sitting at the kitchen table, her back to San.
San gulped. “Why are you back home early?”
Auntie Helen slammed her hands into the table and swung around to face San.
“You can’t keep doing this San! I know your mother’s death is hard on you, but do you think your mother would have wanted to see this? Do you think she would have-”
“You don’t know anything she wanted!” San narrowed her eyes. “You have no idea how hard this has been for me.” She clenched her hair in her fists and struggled to think.
“It’s hard for everyone San, but we keep on going because that’s what we do.” Helen rubbed her temples. “What else can we do? What else can we-”
“Why should I keep on going when my mother’s dead?” San started to get red. “When my father might as well be dead, and when my ex fucked someone else and left me in the middle of a PANDEMIC?” Her head began to pulsate with pain.
Auntie Helen flung the chair away and stood up. “SAN. I KNOW it’s been hard for you. But do you know how it’s been for me? Have you ever thought about that?”
She sat back down and clutched her hands in her lap. For the first time, San noticed the dark eyebags under Auntie Helen’s eyes, the grey wisps of once luscious hair flying around her face. In the dingy yellow light of the kitchen, Auntie Helen had suddenly aged a decade.
“You asked why I’m back from the hospital.” She looked up. “I had a panic attack, San.”
Auntie Helen closed her eyes. “Everyday, I see so many people die, die the same way your mom did.” She looked up at San, eyes glassy with tears. “So many of my Filipino colleagues have died too. And everyday I’m scared to death that I’ll be next. And that you’ll be alone.”
San stood at the doorway. “I-I- didn’t know.” Silence filled the tiny kitchen.
Auntie Helen sighed. “You didn’t get a lot of sleep. Get some rest, and we can talk later.”
-------
San slumped into her bed and squeezed her eyes shut, massaging her temples with such force that her fingertips were turning white. Her head whirled with thoughts about mom, school, dad, Auntie Helen, her ex. She needed a distraction.
Suddenly, she remembered that Auntie Helen had a cassette player in the attic. Untangling herself from the mess of blankets on her bed, she grabbed the cassette player and brought it into her room to dust off. She cradled the red box and opened it, carefully popping one of the cassettes into the cassette player.
As she listened to the cassettes, she realized that nearly every song was one of her mom’s favourites. She could almost hear her mom singing along, her cantabile voice permeating the notes. She hugged the cassette player and curled up in her blue blanket. It was crazy, how in a pandemic, she could connect with a stranger who had nearly the exact same taste in music, and who didn’t even know they were connecting.
Then, the next song played.
Summer after highschool, when we first met
We’d make out in your mustang to radio head
On my 18th birthday, we got matching tattoos
San’s lip quivered as she realized what was playing. This was her and her mom’s favourite song.
The song had come out the summer before her 8th birthday, and she remembered blasting it all over the house, prancing around in the sweltering heat. She would scream the lyrics, pretending to be a heartbroken teenager while her mom made her pancit noodles and crispy pata pork knuckle. She always begged for bacon sandwiches instead, prepared as plain and American as possible, but her mom would always sneak some crispy pata in. She never wanted to admit it, but it was always better that way.
She shook her head, wondering why she ever passed her mom’s cooking for bacon sandwiches.
In another life, I would make you stay
So I wouldn’t have to say you were the one that got away
The one that got away
San began to bawl her eyes out. Hailey really had to cheat on her, cheat on her with some bitch who was probably better and more put together than she was, who could probably water a dumb plant, who probably didn’t have a dead mother and a father who wasn’t strong enough to stay. She banged her fists into the ground as she cursed Hailey, cursed her father, cursed her teachers.
Then she heard a knock on the door.
She sniffled and quickly wiped her tears with her sweater sleeves. “Come in!” she said with a laugh still laced with tears.
Auntie Helen tiptoed into the room. In her hand she held a plate with a bacon sandwich. “You feeling better?”
San looked up at Auntie Helen and bit her lip. “Y-yeah!” She smiled and sighed shakily. “I’m fine!”
Auntie Helen sat down beside San and offered the sandwich to San.
She barely held onto it as she took her first bite. It was greasy, and it was slightly burnt, and it wasn’t nearly salty enough, and it had too much bacon, and it didn’t have crispy pata, but she took another bite, and then another, and soon she was scarfing down the sandwich, tears streaming down her face in rapid rivulets. She heaved into Auntie Helen’s shoulder, shaking and clinging to the back of her shirt. Auntie Helen was crying too.
“You’re hungry. You need to eat more,” she whispered in Tagalog.
“I’m so sorry Auntie. I’m so, so sorry.”
Auntie Helen sniffled and looked into San’s eyes, holding her by the shoulders. “Don’t be sorry. We’ll get through this together.”
