It was 1957 when the world started revolving, the year I met Isabel. I was driving my Volkswagen on a bumpy road in that side of our small town with my sister Patricia. She just arrived that morning for the school break where she was studying in the city. She hated the idea of going out with me, so she’s just sitting there with pouting lips and knocking eyebrows.
Our parents, who left in the afternoon for the city, wanted her to go with me for two reasons - so she could watch over me, and so she could socialize and meet new friends since we’re new in the place. Although we both know that it only boiled down to just watching over me, and her supposed to be socializing was just an alibi. She always hated the idea of socializing with the people in the place since she has long considered these people as going way below her level and without a taste of the good modern life, but all the more I hated the idea of having to tag her along with me.
The sun has just fully disappeared and the night was quick to swathe the whole place with darkness. In those times, there were no streetlights around. Streetlights are only common in big cities. In that place where it is more of a barrio than a small town, the wide bumpy roads are of more use for people walking, horses, carabaos, carabao sleds, and tractors rather than automobiles. It was so that at some point, grasses still grow in the middle of the road. It’s not cemented or asphalted, so that there’s nothing more that you can see in it than carabao wastes and stretches of trails left by the tires of these big tractors from the azucarera carrying heaps of sugarcane.
The houses are usually scattered and if a house doesn’t belong in the middle of the town where there’s a small market place, a big old church with a towering steeple, a town hall, a plaza, a barber shop, a bus terminal, and where you could have plenty of neighbors, it’s usually isolated from the high roads. It was so that no houses lined up on the roadside, and it was vast sugar plantation that you can see around during daylight, unlike today.
Road constructions at that time were still underway and it was yet to reach the place. Plans had already been laid out for the improvement of the place following the completion of the construction, which was a project of the president himself. Everyone was so excited.
Since the election of the president in 1953, the people, especially from small towns in rural areas like this one, have always have always taken pride in their humble life of farming. With his way of government, the plains’ folks seemed to have proven among themselves that they have made the right decision of picking the perfect man for the masses, someone of their own.
Their boy seemed to have possessed a certain charisma, so much that even after his election to office, people were still singing his campaign jingle, which has become more popular for lulling babies to sleep, on plowing the fields, on grazing the carabaos, among the workers of the azucarera, and that it became a song that brought life to every gropup of men drinking lambanog at a nearby sari-sari store after a hard day’s work, and among every group of women washing clothes at the river.
“Our democracy will die, kung wala si…” they go, and with that was the hope of a better life with their boy in Malacanan.
What we didn’t know was the fact that we will forever be spending the rest of our lives wondering what better life the president could have provided had he not died. It was just weeks before, the whole country was devastated by the news that the president died of a plane crash. The whole country wept with his passing. They have then since been asking who is going to handle the Huks. They have been wondering if the next president had any plans of pursuing the road constructions going to the place. I didn’t know if democracy died with him, or the majority of the people in the place died with their boy.
We’ve only been in the place then for two months. A week after we arrived, I met Isabel. The moment I saw her, I know then that she’s going to be mine. I pursued her for a month and a week, actually quite a short spam of time for courting girls in those days. It was already two weeks and a day then since she became my girlfriend.
I thought it could have been more romantic if I would have to fetch her up from their house, but since she’s the best friend and she was asked to help with the preparation for the party, it left us with no other choice but to just see each other at the event.
So there I was, stuck with my beloved sister in my car on our way to the party. In those times, it was not ordinary for a man of my age to own a car. It was not even usual that families own a car. People treat you with extra respect if you were seen driving one. My parents bought the car for me, and to be fair with my sister, they bought her a phonograph on her eighteenth birthday, since she was always dying to own one. In later years though, she realized that she was not able to get a fair deal. As she once said, every body got to listen to her music freely while they still have to ask my permission if they wanted to drive my car. It was made worse by the fact that our parents did not allow her to keep the phonograph in her own room. They thought it would be so selfish of her to just keep it for herself, so it had to be at the living room. I seconded of course, which made her hate me all the more, for all I cared.
“Straighten up that face of yours, Patricia or I’m surely to kick you out of this drive!”
“Well, whoever told you to take me along with you? I never really wanted to go with you tonight, just so you’d know!”
“Well, just so you’d know too! Neither did I, so don’t you get in my nerves and ruin my night… And remember! You are in my car.”
That was me and my sister having a regular conversation. Sometimes she just got too stubborn she doesn’t know where she stands. But I love my sister, I would say. I love her so much I could trade her for a new car since the Volkswagen was wearing out.
We halted right in front of the mansion where about five cars were lined in parking, some of which, I thought doesn’t belong to the place since they’re new to my sight. From where we were, I could see a lot of guests. The entire span of the garden was surrounded with lights, with the well-to-do families enjoying their time struggling for their own share of attention from the rest. I saw some friends I know, some were trying so hard to stay away from the watchful eyes of their parents. A band in their Americano and bow tie was playing the nights music, and the young people of mostly my age were dancing to the tune, burning out their inexhaustible youth.
But I saw no sight of Isabel.
I rested for a bit and we were not talking. I was too busy looking at my neatly combed cow-licked hair in an army cut, which seemed to me like the only known cut for boys in those days. I thought that was a World War II influence. I was too busy with the smell of pomade in my head, which has a smell that stinks thinking about it now.
I was dreaming and the air changed all of a sudden. From the corners of my eyes I noticed my sister was combing her hair and powdering her face, rushing. The sight of her brought me into a bursting laughter. I stopped, thinking how come she looked so excited if she’s not interested? Then I bursted into an uncontrollable laugh again.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing?”
“You’re annoying me, Romano!”
I thought, I know. I was thinking about that. For one you’d know if my sister was outrageously mad at me. She’d forget that I’m her kuya and would splatter every letter of the name Romano, which happens to be my name. But I know my sister, and situations like that no longer came as a surprise. She loves parties and would gather up all the bones of her body just to be able to compose herself for the dancing. I know she didn’t expect it to be a no ordinary small town party, and now that she’s seen the grandeur of it all, she was quick as lighting to change her mood.
I was always the alter ego, and if it were not for my Isabel, I would not have come.
“Aren’t we going in?”
“I thought you’re not interested?”
“Kuya, please?”
See? In times like this, she wouldn’t really mind being fooled around. All she cared about was for her to be able to dance the boogie the soonest she could.
“Let’s go.”
We stepped out. I took a moment to secure the car and she held onto my arms as we walked familiarizing the place. She was walking with all her graces looking at the entire stretch of the mansion. So we’re about to enter the gate and I was dragging her.
“Can’t you walk a little faster? Hurry up!”
“I have to keep my poise.”
“Oh yes, and you’re taking all the time in the world by the time we get in the party’s over.”
She ignored what I said and opted to change the topic.
“Wow this house is so big kuya.”
“Why, this is the governor’s mansion.”
“What, you didn’t tell me! “
“You didn’t ask.”
“What is the occasion, kuya?”
“It’s her daughter’s debut.”
“Oh! Is she a friend of yours, kuya?”
“She’s the best friend of my, of a good friend of mine.”
I almost forgot. I never really wanted to tell her about Isabel because she’s always sure to tell our parents. The first time she told them, they made me choose between having a girlfriend and my studies. The last time they found out about a new girl, they sent me here. It was a good thing I found out the girl’s breath didn’t smell so good on our first and last kiss before they sent me here or I’d have a hard time forgetting her. And my sister, I had just forgiven her after I found Isabel and realized for myself that it’s not all that bad to be in the place. It was destiny calling.
“Look, kuya. They’re dancing! Oh, I’m so excited, kuya!”
“Behave yourself, Patricia!”
She was giggling, but I was just irritated by her constant kuya-calling. I’ve been talking about my sister, but another thing one must learn about her, one must understand that her constant kuya-calling was never really a sign of respect, because it never occurred to her. That was just my sister’s way of winning me over, especially in situations like this when I got to hold her in the neck.
I on the other hand was trying to hide my excitement about my beautiful Isabel. I had been imagining her looking like a movie star since we learned about the invitation. She said, she’s never dressed her finest, though in those two Sundays that we saw each other at the church, I already found her the prettiest in the place and among all the girls that I came to know. Though I know it’s different because church dressing is supposed to be modest, to my opinion, she already looked her best with it, and I thought how much more if she’s going to a party?
We were standing at the entrance, and I was about to hand over the invitation to the man in-charge at the gate when I caught sight of Isabel. She’s the loveliest alright, but she was clinging to the arms of another man. I didn’t know if she saw me but it seemed to me that both she and the man she’s with were looking at our direction. I held back and struggled with my emotions about what I saw. I was furious and almost was not able to compose myself.
“Let’s go, Patricia!”
“Home, kuya!”
I didn’t know if it was asking, but it seemed to me like demanding a drive from her driver, which irritated me even more.
“That’s what I meant!”
“It’s good you thought about it.”
“Just shut your mouth, will you? Shut up!”
The doors on both sides of the car slammed, and immediately I started off. I went higher with the gear, speeding off on our way home. I was so angry I couldn’t even afford to give my eyes a wink. I was staring ahead as if finding my own way in the dark. That bitch, I thought. I was too preoccupied with my thoughts that I forgot to even bother why my sister herself insisted on going home when she was so excited about the party. I even forgot at that moment that she was on my side. The next thing I know, she was already sticking a cigarette in between her lips, sticking a lighter at the tip of it.
“What’s that?”
“A cigarette?”
She was talking as if I don’t know a cigarette. She puffed and blew and turned to snob.
“And since when did you learn to smoke?”
“Ah! What do you care?”
“That’s it! Give me that!”
Out of my anger, I snatched the cigarette, stepped on the breaks and reached for the door past her. I pushed her by the shoulder as the door swung open.
“Out! Out!”
“What? Are you crazy?”
“I will have no more of you. Out!”
I was pushing her out and she kept on resisting, giving me a look that’s both surprised and confused. She made attempts to answer back but every time she does, I pushed her away. Finally I forced her out and instantly I reached for the swinging door. I slammed it close and started the car immediately. It started moving and she was struggling to open it, running until she was no longer able to catch up.
She was out of sight and I remembered the cigarette between my fingers. I took a puff while maintaining a steady pace. I made a long blow, but before I could go far, I stepped on the breaks again. It was then that I realized that I left my sister out in the cold dark road and she doesn’t even know the place. I turned and saw nothing but darkness beyond the reach of the rear light. I pulled the gear to reverse and started off immediately. My tiyo Pedro’s stories of aswangs in the nearby barrios entered my mind and it worried me even more, though the pain of betrayal that my Isabel brought me ran along still.
A few meters back and she was already within my sight. She was just standing there from where I left her, carrying her shoes on one hand. She was standing on bare feet, I don’t know if she was expecting to sprout roots with her crying. I called her in without sticking my head out so that we can’t see the expression on our faces.
“Get in.”
She ignored me and continued with her sobbing.
“I said, get in!”
“No!”
“The aswangs are not gonna spare you, Patricia. Get in, now!”
That must have scared her, for she instantly grabbed open the door and stepped inside my car, immediately closing it upon taking her position. I sneered at her as we started off. I busy myself with my pains, my driving, and puffing the cigarette that’s already half consumed. I ignored her. She’s still wearing her stubborn face, looking away from me. I was puffing and blowing, and driving, and I wasn’t just plain mad, I could already feel the hurt inside. She again lighted a cigarette, but this time I ignored her. I thought, I was already puffing one. It was a quiet drive.
Tiyo Pedro came running to open the gate. I saw Tiya Lucia coming out of the door upstairs and stood by the doorway before she descended standing at the end of the stairs. Before I could even put the car to a complete halt, Patricia stormed her way out, still carrying her shoes on one hand. She hurried up the stairs with Tiya Lucia arm stretching to receive her. After I parked the car, I stepped out and Tiyo came up to me. I heard Tiya Lucia asking my sister if she was crying, and I didn’t know why she was still asking when I could even hear her sobbing from below.
“Mano po, tiyo.”
“Kaawaan ka ng Dios. Why is your sister crying? Is there anything wrong?”
“Wala po. Ewan kop o sa kanya. Sige po.”
I headed up the stairs while I untuck my shirt. Tiyo gave me a following look, shook his head. Tiya was eagerly waiting for me at the doorway with her worried look. They managed to look at each other and tiyo gave her a nod.
“O hijo.”
“Mano po tiya.”
“Kaawaan ka ng Dios. What’s the matter with you children? Why is your sister crying?”
I thought, so now she knows that my sister was indeed crying. I unbuttoned my shirt.
“I heated water. I thought just in case you might come home drunk.”
“Tiya naman.”
“O I only want to make you smile my son. You look tired.”
She was rubbing my head, and I thought, I wasn’t tired, I was angry. I’m not your son and I’m in no mood for smiling. Of course this didn’t get in the way. My anger could not cloud my respect for these people.
Tiya Lucia is tiyo Pedro’s wife. They’re not our relatives but our families came a long way back. Tiyo Pedro’s father and my lolo were early inhabitants of the place. Tiyo’s father was an orphan. Lolo owned the azucarera. They got along well and treated each other like brothers.
When lolo Alfonso, his father, got married, my lolo whose name was Pedro, built for them a house just beside the house where we are staying, which is lolo Pedro’s house. Since his father was a big help to my lolo’s running the azicarera, they were made katiwalas of the family. The year after, my lolo got married. Their wives gave birth, each to a baby boy, on the same day at the same time.
And so It happened that tiyo Pedro got my lolo’s name and my father was given the name, Alfonso, after tiyo Pedro’s father. They were baptized on the same day in time for the town fiesta and also grew up treating each other like brothers. And as if it wasn’t enough, they also got married on the same day.
The only thing that broke the twin of events came with the fact that unlike my mother, tiya Lucia was not able to bear child. That was the reason why we’ve grown dear to these people and the couple treating us like their own. After the war, we moved to the city. Then, the couple was always excited in the summer because we all get to spend it in the big house here.
I asked tiya to attend to my sister and give her a wash. That I’d be all right and just needing rest and will be in bed in no time. I headed by the window and stood there gazing at the evening sky as the woman went to my sister’s room.
The evening sky was filled with stars that night, but I never saw it glistened. To me it was like measles on heaven’s skin and it was never a comforting sight. Moments passed. I’ve been standing there and I haven’t even noticed the passing of time. I knew that with what was going on in my mind, I would not be able to get a good night’s sleep. Then I decided I might as well go out and see tiyo Pedro over at the other house.
The house that my lolo built for them was rather small, but it was made no less of the same concrete materials as the big house. My parents wouldn’t be home till Tuesday so tiya’s going to be spending the rest of the night with my sister at the big house, probably tiyo would appreciate my company.
I walked the damp alley going to the other house. I saw the pale light falling on the potted plants beside the big house, and the lush leaves of the chico tree next to it. I figured tiyo was still awake. I caught up with tiyo having his evening dose of lambanog at the veranda. The light that the wick produced on the table was enough to reveal his face, which shadowed when he turned to see me coming. He looked so relaxed I felt like I was on my way to confession and he was the priest waiting for my arrival. I slowed down almost tiptoeing, a little coy to approach.
“Romano, is that you boy?”
“Opo, tiyo. I can’t sleep. Can I just hang around with you for a few minutes?”
“Sure, son. I was just having a catch of fresh air.”
I pulled the only chair opposite him from the small coffee table. A moth flew past the wick. It burned dead, like my heart, I thought. The light reflected on the bottle half filled with lambanog and the glass beside it. It contributed a little more light to the place. I know he was already sensing something wrong but he went on looking so relaxed and seemed to me pretending as if everyting was fine with the soft wind and the cold air around him, as if just waiting for me to open up. But I just sat there quiet, as if trying to feel the soft wind myself.
“Got a problem, son?”
“Naaa…”
He got up and headed for the kitchen. He’s with a glass on one hand when he got back.
“In vino veritas.”
He poured a shot into the glass and gave it to me. I took it from his hand and drank it straight. I squeezed my lips and clutched my throat, and I thought, what did he say, in vino what? I thought it was just a benediction for starters so I decided to let it pass.
“Calamansi?”
“No.”
“I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind you drinking. I think you’re old enough.”
“So long as mother wouldn’t know.”
He laughed.
“You know what?”
He paused, and I wondered what he was going to say next. I gave him a suspicious look as f trying to stay on guard for whatever he had to say that might cause me to spill off. He took his shot and made his way to our next. I noticed that he’s filling almost half of his glass while I’m only getting not even half of his.
“You reminded me so much of your father when he was your age.”
“Tell me more, tiyo.”
I took my second straight shot. I know that any minute then, I was bound to give in anyway. My head began to spin and my eyes began to drop but I tried not to mind it. What hurts can’t catch up with what I was feeling, I thought. I didn’t really care. Much as I want to get myself drunk and fet the hang of it, I thought I might as well drown myself with lambanog and forget about Isabel.
“In those times he didn’t know much why he would drink. Anytime then, when the vast sugarcanes have grown tall over head high, we would hear him calling my name. Then the older men I was working with at the field would laugh at the hint of it all. They would tell my twin brother’s heartbroken again. I know that for sure but I would go about convincing them that maybe he just needed a hand with something to save his face. They would respond jokingly and tell me that with all the years that they’ve been working in the field, the can always tell when a beet of sugarcane is sweet enough for the picking and when stalks needed to be cut. This never failed to amuse everyone including myself that I we would just chuckle about it not to mock your father or anything. Then finding his way, your father would appear all of a sudden, indeed looking like a bitter bit of cane…”
I laughed, just a little more than smiling.
“He would ask me if I could bring some lambanong with me. We would hide ourselves under the mango trees by the river, afraid that your lolo would find us drinking. The river was our favorite place. At times we would go there to fish. Your father is very good at fishing. He had a certain swing that makes the line dance attracting the fish swimming. He always gets the bigger catch. Other than that, the river was always a place for drinking, more of for the broken hearted. Funny how he would always claim he’s born with lambanog on his side, but see he’s always too weak for it and would easily throw up after his second or third shot. Then he would talk no end about how he got into a heated conversation with your mother, or how your mother broke his heart back then when she was still his girlfriend. You’re father was a jealous guy…”
“Right! But that’s just because he loves her so much, right?”
For a moment there he could not speak, surprised by my sudden interruption. Then he smiled. He smiled as if he’s figured out the matter. I realized that I had already given in and throwing hints.
“Right.”
He calmly answered. He paused and there was an observing look in his face. And I thought, right what? Right, you got me, or right, you’re sticking to your story? I dismissed the thought for the heck of it.
“He was always jealous when your mother was with another guy. Even when she’s just seen talking.”
“Right!”
The view from the gate of the mansion of my Isabel clinging to the arms of another man entered my mind again, and I forgot that I was interrupting him again. I immediately grabbed the bottle and poured one for myself. He hasn’t touched his shot yet. I filled half of my glass and drank it straight thinking I might be able to shift his attention on my drinking.
“Right.”
On my third shot I could already feel my stomach turned and my brain twisted, it felt as if something was drilling a hole in my head. I was beginning to feel like throwing up.
I awoke to the knocking on the door in my room. A ray of light from the sun came struggling to find its way through the side holes of the capiz window. It struck my eyes. It was morning. I found myself lying flat on my back, in my bed with a new shirt on. My feet was stripped bare of my socks and my shoes, and I do not remember taking it off. Or was it I, it must be tiya Lucia or tiyo Pedro. I rose to my feet, walked and pushed open the windows. The sun shone bright, so strong it made my eyes squint. Searching through the view, I found tiyo Pedro, busy with watering the plants in the garden. Then I heard tiya calling.
“Romano, hijo. Wake up now. It’s Sunday church day today. You wouldn’t want to be late for the misa.”
“Oh right! Oh no!”
The thought of it woke me up. Missing a misa on a Sunday to the family is unforgivable, whatever the excuse. Then I started noticing how my head was still aching and with it the thought of Isabel.
The crown was just waiting for the priest for the mass to start when we arrived. We occupied the fourth pew from the altar on the right side. I was with my sister whom I never heard a word from since we left the house. It was as if she has lost her tongue. The couple had already attended the earlier mass. We were attending the last scheduled mass of the morning.
I looked around. The church was almost full. I saw a lot of families, mostly familiar faces, some would even give us a glance with a nod, but everything just looked blurry with my head and heart in pain. The women you see each holding a rosary. The older women were wearing those long veils while the young girls were wearing those rounded ones. Some were laced and some were knitted, hanging on top of their heads, which seemed to me like those being used for tablemats where you put the flower vase. The men were without distinctions except that most have those GI Joe haircuts like mine. Of course there’s no escaping the smell of pomade from probably more than half of the male population of churchgoers, so evident it made it hard to tell if you smell burning candles or pomade.
I genuflected and did the sign of the cross before I sat down. Patricia remained on the kneeler. Just when I was about to lean back, I turned to my left and saw Isabel on the opposite side. She just got up from kneeling and was then about to take her seat. She was wearing one of those laced veils. Our eyes met, but then my sister got up and before she could totally block my view, I noticed the man she was clinging to at the party. He was sitting right beside her. My sister took a quick glance at me and turned to where I was looking. Right then I turned to the altar. My teeth clenched and I started to perspire feeling the sudden rush of heat in my body as I burned with anger. The nerve, I thought.
It took me a while before I realized that my sister has already left me fast heading outside and crying. The open view made me turn to Isabel’s direction. In an impulse I got up when I found out that Isabel was crying on her seat and the guy was walking fast on his way out. I ran after him, sure to give him a hard-hitting punch on the face. I rushed my way out and spotted my sister running towards the grotto. It puzzled me when I found out that the guy was running after her. It flared me up even more and again I started running after him from halting at the church entrance. He was calling my sister.
“Patricia, please!”
“Stay away from me! I don’t want to see you anymore!”
The guy got hold of her arm and she was shaking it off. I was both at rage and confused. At times I would catch myself slowing down to a halt feeling lost and confused. How did he know her name? My sister was even talking to him like they’ve already known each other.
“How easily you’ve replaced me!”
“You don’t understand –“
He started explaining, but what I didn’t understand was, he took Isabel away from me and now he’s running after my sister. It was with that thought that then I grabbed him by the shoulder and threw a punch on his face. He was caught off balanced and landed on his back. My fist was still trembling and was fixed on giving him another when my sister grabbed me, her hands quick to wrap around my waist.
“Kuya!”
“Kuya!”
At that moment, the world stopped revolving. Those were two voices I heard, calling one after the other. I thought, that was in the movies, that was the part when everything goes slow motion. The voice, the other one calling, kuya, was too distinct to be just an echo of my sister’s voice. What’s more, I know exactly whose voice it was.
I let go of the guy to my surprise that it was Isabel calling from behind my sister. She threw her arms around the man. Time stood still. I was frozen in embarrassment, as I was quick to figure out who the man was. I couldn’t move my mouth as my jaw fell open, my eyes threatening to pop out of its socket. She gave my sister a wondering look.
“Who did you say –“
She stopped at mid sentence, her face already wet of crying. My sister was still with a confused look. I thought, she was too dumb to understand what was going on.
It turned out, the man was her brother and I’d like to tell my sister that Isabel is his sister. I’d like to tease her and tell her that it’s too late, the party’s over, as it dawned on me the reason why she didn’t insist of joining the party was because she saw her boyfriend with my Isabel. These thoughts I entertained myself with to distract myself from a huge embarrassment.
Then it’s time to face it. I scratched my head and shyly smiled at Isabel as my other hand was secretly searching its way to her hand hanging hidden by her ballooning dress.
“Oh, Romano. I thought –“
I blocked her lips softly with my fingers where our eyes had more to say. It was no time for words, I thought. Then the whole world started revolving again. It was spring all over and the world around us have blossomed to a garden.
I was about to sprout wings but was cut off when Isabel all of a sudden, slapped me in the face and left instantly, pulling her brother away. But I knew what that was for. I remained smiling. Girls, I thought… at least in those times. I know I had yet to work things out with Isabel after the incident, but I knew everything was going to be all right.
On our way home, something occurred to me. My sister has a boyfriend. She can’t look at me straight-faced and I was intentionally giving her a sneering look.
“He’s your boyfriend?”
“He’s my classmate at the university.”
“And he’s your boyfriend.”
Tiyo Pedro was at the gate when we arrived. He opened the gate when he saw us coming. I stuck my head out smiling, feeling relieved and more in love. He smiled back.
“So you finally met the brother, huh?”
I lost the smile and quickly held my head back in, my mouth dropped open. I turned to my sister and I thought, what did he just say? I looked back at him and saw he was shaking his head smiling while closing the gate. Tiya Lucia I saw was smiling from the doorway upstairs.
