They were having dinner at home later that evening. Aunt Laura had prepared bihon and fried tuna. Alegria made a joke about politicians, which caused Uncle Reyes to spill bits of bihon on his shirt. They were eating and laughing together. Then Tristan said, “I want to go back to Zamboanga.”
“Are you tired?” Alegria said. “Do you miss it there?”
“I just want to go home,” Tristan said.
“Don’t act like a child,” Alegria said. “It’s better to visit Mom and Dad in November. You still have classes. And I’m busy with work.”
They did not understand. Tristan again stuffed a large amount into his mouth, that he could not completely close it while chewing. “One at a time, Tristan!” Aunt Laura reprimanded. “Equal to the size of the spoon.”
“He’s not a child anymore, Laura,” Uncle Reyes said.
“He sure is acting like one.”
Tristan dropped his spoon loudly on the table, which only Alegria noticed.
“Hey!” Alegria said. “What’s the matter with you? Stop saying nonsense like that. Finish your food.”
Then the anger of Tristan was kindled against his sister. “Who attacked our city?!” Tristan shouted. Uncle Reyes stopped midway, and Aunt Laura, drinking water, spilled some on her neck. “Wasn’t it the MNLF? They separated us from mom and dad. Aren’t you angry at all?”