Twenty In Tagalog Novels & Stories

Quarter to 12 na Me: Ok lang naman, naka ready na ako eh Bab: Ok, we're on our way Pagkabasa ko non ay tumayo na ako sa pagkakadapa sa kama at nilabas na ang gamit ko "Akala ko ba 1 pa? Ang aga pa oh" sabi ni mom sa akin pag baba ko "Mapapaaga daw po eh. 12 na raw ako susunduin. May lakad kasi si tito after" sagot ko "Ok then. Dala mo na passport mo?" Tanong nya sa akin at tinaas ang passport ko

“Mr. Monteverde.” "Tinawag mo ako sa pangalan ko, tawagin mo akong asawa. Ayoko nang marinig ang 'Mr. Monteverde'." Malakas at nangingibabaw ang tono ng lalaki na walang puwang para sa pagtanggi. Natahimik si Lisora. Rael: "Papunta na ako. Mga 20 minuto andito na ako. Kung nagugutom ka, maaari kang umorder ng makakain sa halip na hintayin ako."

"Everything was wrong!" "Huh? What are you saying?" "That wasn't how you say I love you in Filipino; we say "mahal kita." Aish! Don't listen to anyone but me, okay?" I asked before starting the engine again. "O-Okay. Mahar kita?" "It's Ma-hal, not Ma-har; say it again," I commanded. Oh, my gosh. Who the fuck taught my younger brother that word? Do they want to die? "Mahal kita."

This is helplessness in its simplest term. At around nine o’clock in the evening, while waiting for matters to somehow improve, I remembered the kid next to our apartment saying, “Ma, mababa na ang tubig, kita na yung plate number ng kotse.” (Ma, the water is finally subsiding. I can already see the plate number of the car)

Dinner was loud. Filipino-loud. Grant-family-loud. Chaos-loud. My titas sat at one side of the long table speaking rapid Filipino, mixing English every two seconds. “Tyler, ang gwapo mo nung nag-propose si Mason. (Tyler, you were so handsome when Mason proposed.)” “Umiyak ka pa nga! (You even cried!)” “Pareho kayo umiyak! (You both cried!)” “Ang cheesy n’yo. (You’re both so cheesy.)”