Chapter Text
I see my mother tensing in her seat, a rare occurrence for someone of her stature—always performing, always in the eyes of the public. The only time I’ve known her nerves wracked in craze was when I travelled alone for school, a month alone in the big city of New York. The rest of the time, she kept her composure. Always the strongest in the room, always the most fearless. Except today.
“I’m just going to head to the lavatory, anak,” she whispered, even though the performance had just ended and there was no need for it. But before she could trudge through the filled seats, an usher approached us.
“Miss Regine, would you like to proceed backstage po? Nirerequest po ni Miss Lea ‘yung presence ni’yo,” the usher said obliviously, “only if you aren’t in a rush po, Miss Regine and Alex. All instructed po by Miss Lea.” My mother tensed more than she ever was—her silence seemed to be a response of some sort that no one around us noticed, not even the usher. Seeking some semblance of divertion, she fumbled with the stack of bangles and bracelets she kept on her wrist.
“Sure,” she replied, “pero hindi ba busy si Lea?” There it was, the source of her nervousness being fleshed out by her very own voice. I’ve known for a long time the impact THE Lea Salonga had on my mother; the way the media portrayed the fallout of their friendship was never something I truly believed. I love my mother to the point of knowing her greatest yearning for love never truly was because her marriage with my father dissolved in the blink of an eye, but because she knew what happiness with someone who loved her earnestly was like: in her early years, young, dumb, and madly in love with her best friend, Lea.
“Ma’am, Miss Lea made sure that if you ever got tickets before, she could ever send you a couple na malalaman niya po na pupunta kayo. It turns out, there were a lot of Regine Velasquezes in the Philippines, and we only knew it was you when Alexandre’s ticket was in the system along with yours.” The usher smiled, no longer oblivious to Lea's intention. My mother smiled, taking in the information, which seemed to evoke a wave of nostalgia over her.
“Si Lea talaga, sige na nga. Alex, do you wanna meet your Tita Lea?” I nodded, sharing my mother’s nervousness because, as much as I’ve seen my mother in love, I’ve never seen her in the flesh with THE love of her life.
***
I knew to be curious about the impact Lea had on my mother’s life when she read me one of her letters, talking about how freeing it is to be in New York and how independent living feels different without my mum. I’m pretty sure there were parts skipped, some that would clarify the intensity of their relationship but I felt it in the yearning in my mother’s voice. There was once a time in her life when she talked about my father like that—once or twice, if my memory served me right. Never more than that, though.
At the end of it, she didn’t expound more on Lea’s letter, except only to switch the conversation to the demise of her marriage with my father. “Alex, anak,” tears quietly streamed down her face, “I’m sorry things have never worked out with your father. Alam ko na worried ka that mum doesn’t have much love in her life after all that—but I’ve got love to last me a lifetime, one I’ve had before you and after you.” I nodded, understanding what it meant even when her words seemed indirect and subtle. I knew Lea’s love kept her intact all this time, even when the love she was promised by my father never did.