Jollibee V. Luna

By Virginia J. Pasalo

 

CURIOUS as to how mothers are treated on Mother’s Day, I went to Jollibee V. Luna, the only branch with a middle initial and a family name. The V. represents the mother’s family name, an identity reduced to one letter and a period (.), a very telling signification of how her identity is lost upon marriage, in a society that encourages the use of the husband’s name.

In front of me is a family of four, all in their teens and a man, most probably the husband.

“Anong gusto ninyo?” (What do you want?) the mother said. The father replied, “Aloha, gusto ko ng Aloha!” (Aloha, I like Aloha!). The three boys chorused, “Gusto ko rin!” (I like it too!). The young girl rolls her eyes, “Yaikks, gross!” The mother leaves the table to join the line, saying, “Angel, you have to make up your mind, what’s your order?”

To my left is a mother with an obese boy. The obese boy said, “Mom, gusto ko pa ng rice!” (Mom, I like more rice!). The mother answers, “No more anak, you already had 3 cups of rice”. The boy retorts, “Eh, gutom pa po ako, eh!” (Eh, I ‘m still hungry, eh!) and starts to make hissing sounds. Then he gets up, and stomps his feet.” The mother said, “Umupo ka nakakahiya ka!” (Sit down, you are embarrassing!). Then she says in a lower tone, “Eto, rice ko sa iyo na, putang ina kang anak ng baboy ka! Mukha ka ng baboy kagaya ng tatay mong babaero!” (Here, take my rice, sonofabitch, child of a pig! You look like a pig like your womanizing father!). The boy said, “Hindi naman eh, girl po ako, eh!” (Of course not, I am a girl!).

Behind me is a family of three. The child comes to my table with a hotdog stringed on a fork. She looks at me with her curious eyes and then at the sliced tomatoes which I brought with me for the eggs I ordered. The father keeps saying, “Huwag ka diyan, dito ka lang!” (Do not go there, stay here!) but the girl sat in front of me, and started to scratch the bench till she was able to widen, to her satisfaction, the tear that was probably inflicted by another child, or an adult-child. Then the mother comes, carrying a tray. After putting it on the table, she came to my table and took her child’s hands firmly. The child cries.

The young girl on the table in front of me finally ordered and shouted to her mother, who was by then at the counter, “Sige na nga, Aloha na rin!” (Okay, get me an Aloha too!). The boys chuckled, “Pa-reduce reduce ka pa, ang takaw mo naman pala!” (You want to diet, but you gobble up food!).

My order comes. The child behind me comes to me again. The mother follows her and firmly secures her grip, like a handcuff, on her child’s wrists. The father continues eating his chicken.

“Aloha! Finally!” the boys chorused on the table in front of me. The girl gets her burger silently, and everyone starts to eat. The father, halfway though his burger, asks the mother, “Oh, bakit di ka kumakain?”. (Oh, why are you not eating?). The mother suddenly got up, “Nakalimutan kong mag-order.” (I forgot to make my order.)

On my right, the obese boy finally finished his double order chicken. He smiled and blurted out, “Mom, gusto ng…”, (Mom, i like….) but the mother interrupted him and said, “Isang hirit pa, le-lechonin na kita, anak ng baboy ka!”(One more word and I’ll roast you, you son of a pig!).

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