puta ka!

"No, Marcus and I are not an item, we just hang out!" I yell to the FX-load of people: the driver, the two passengers seated up front, the four in the midsection, and three with me in the back. Only Judith beside me is the intended audience. But this is how you avoid admitting everything during the cramped ride back home. You keep your voice down until your best friend infuriates you with her prying and you cry out in denial.

"Louder. I don't think the MMDA lady outside heard you," says Judith. I can feel glances, hear random bits of murmurs inside the FX. I am the one nearest the door. Is this bitch daring me?

I pull the doorhandle before any of three passengers near me can protest. The morning rush of sirens and engine roars and bus horns blast inside the FX.

"Manang! Yoohoo! Yes, you! Marcus and I are not a couple!--"

"Puta, Ellie--" Judith interrupts, but I can scream louder.

"--we are just going out! Nothing wrong there, di ba!?"

The FX brakes to a sudden stop. I let Judith reach the door handle across me and pull the door shut. She glares at me.

I glare back: "Happy now?"

"Miss," says the driver,"could you two just text each other about your lovelife instead?" His rearview mirror frames for me his exasperated eyes. He clearly doesn't need this so early in the morning. The FX is still not moving.

"Oo nga, keep your personal lives to your--"

"Opo, Lola,--" Judith fires me that look: let's-just-get-this-over-with, --"my friend and I are sorry."

"We'll be quiet the rest of the way. So sorry po," I add.

The other passengers sigh and resume their bored looks. The driver guns the engine back to life. There's a knock on the driver's window. He rolls it down. It's the MMDA lady. Via the rearview mirror, the driver shoots me that look: nuissance. I shoot him my indignant counter-look: live with it.

"What did I do?" the driver asks the blue-uniformed manang, who tells him to shut his engines off. He does. She glares at him and walks to the back of the FX while waving for other vehicles to pass us by.

"Lagot ka, Ellie," Judith whispers.

"Puta ka," I say under my breath.

The door swings open. The manang to whom I hollered my exasperation a while ago is eyeing each of us in the back. Her eyes settle on me.

"Were you the one who yelled at me?"

I blink. No one says a word. The manang’s eyes roll up and she sighs.

"Just make sure," she begins. I can feel it: everyone in the FX is just as attentive as I am. "Just make sure that Marcus isn't seeing anyone else. Mahirap umasa."

I am stunned. Judith is giggling. The manang looks dead serious. I can hear mumbles of sus maryoseps behind me.

"Partner!" another blue-uniform yells from across the street. "What's going on?"

The manang turns to her and yells back, "It's ok." Then, in her normal voice says, "just a potential accident." She smiles that knowing smile and slowly closes the door. The driver scratches his head. The engines coughs to life and we slide away from the manang and speed up on the road ahead.

Judith is suddenly too busy thumbing on her cellphone to even look at me. Her grin tells me she is already texting the world of what I had just denied, of what had just transpired.

She presses send. I know so, even without looking closely. We have the same cellphone model.

“Good thing you don’t have Marcus’ number,” I mumble, the streets a blur as I look out the window.

“I do now.” At that I scramble to open my bag, but I already know it’s not there.

“Puta ka, Judith!”