I am an oracle. I am a seer of small things, or at least I claim to be. Even as I was a growing man, I have always given wings, the things that my eyes could behold, even for only a short moment that it occupied my sight. My thoughts always seek and finds in them, the things that time and the people around me tend to suppress.
I never subjected myself though to the corruption of indulgence. I get tired before I reached the point of scrutiny. If I fix my mind so much on the things that I see, they send for me a lot of horrifying premonitions, and I would forget that I am supposed to breathe.
I have managed to keep my judgment short-lived. I have learned that things change at the blink of an eye. And with it, all my thoughts came to pass. But then again, I have already collected all these thoughts in my mind. A tendency, both prevalent and inevitable. I did not will to, but I know I have collected all these thoughts even without my heart’s consent.
My heart is numb, yet still, I know somewhere it hides a cut, and it always bleeds without me knowing it…
Mira left in such a hurry, as early as the streetlights has just blended with daylight that following morning. I was lying and awake, cramping beneath my small blanket on the long wooden chair in the living room, when I heard the stomping and the squeaking on the floor upstairs. I knew then that Mira was already awake. I kept my eyes staring at the floor above, listening to the direction of the noise. I got up when she finally came down. She seemed surprised to see me awake. She smiled, bid goodbye, and left. She was too in a hurry to let a lot of word come between us.
It was a cold and windy morning, and she was easily blown to the direction of the wind, as quickly as she disappeared from the front door. I opened the windows behind me, but when I looked outside, she was already gone. All that I saw was the iron gate leading to the street that was half open swinging with the cold wind.
The whole gate was already stripped off of its red paint, and since, had remained half opened. It was stuck. It’s leaning on one side and it has become totally a waste of effort to be closing it if you have to pull hard and drag it open every time you use it. It was until late when Aling Taleng started going in regularly, that I found a good reason for closing the gate. If it were not for the boarders, I could have nailed it close, and I could just jump over it everytime I entered the house.
The whole time that I was looking through the window, I noticed our front yard and how it was slowly growing back into a jungle of tall grasses that it once was, before my grandmother or whoever came before her, have turned it into a garden. During the earlier years that I lived in this place, my grandmother, the late Lola, have always given it extra care. She used to grow daisies and chrysanthemums, gladiolas and garden roses all over the place. It was her own piece of paradise and her whole world seemed to have revolved around it.
But even then all her flowering garden have already showed signs of aging. The plants, in everyday that we woke up, have become more leafy rather than flowery. Then came a time when she would have to inspect every growing plant for a sign of a budding flower. If she were lucky to see one, she would rush of immediately to Aling Taleng’s and tell her about the good news. And they would spend the whole morning, sharing stories of their own gardening secrets.
Soon she would wait for weeks, and as the flowers grow scarce, so was my Lola’s interest in gardening. When it stopped blooming, so are her fondness to her flowers. Eventually she lost interests in the things that she finds leisure in doing. Everything followed. She stopped going to church, stopped cleaning the house, gotten tired of doing her knits. Soon she confined herself to her room. There was a time when, on my way out of the house and going to school, I would find her sitting by her bedroom window, and when I get home in the afternoon, I would still find her there, motionless and all. She just moves around in the evening to do her usual routine with my mother and me. It was rather predictable how her world grew smaller. After she’s gotten over her gardening, she locked herself inside the house, then in her room, and now, in her grave.
All that she had planted are still in the garden, but it has long resembled the tall grasses that have taken over the place.
On the end corner of the fence was a guava tree that has never grown its normal size. I figured, maybe it was because I used to climb on its branches and shake it for a swaying ride together with the kids of the neighborhood when I was younger. Other than being a swing tree, it serves no use for insiders, as much as it is for the outsiders. Because it grew with its branches hanging outside the fence, it yielded more shade on the street than on our front yard. The part where it bears fruit hangs over the front yard of the house next to ours, so they can enjoy the fruits it bear more than we could.
The short distance from our front door to the rusty gate is roughly cemented, but because of the soil that eroded from the garden, and because there has been not too many feet walking on it with the passing of years, some grasses have started to grow unharmed on the cracks.
I was looking at the sampaguita plant outside the fence, facing the street, immediately nest to the gate. This was the one plant that stood the weathering of time and seasons. Of all the plants that my grandmother grew, it was the most unattended, if not ignored. I even doubt if she planted it there. I thought, it just sprouted and grew on its own. It never stopped bearing flowers.
The fence is made up of three layers of hollow blocks that made up the lower half of the structure. The other half is made of iron grills, standing on top of the cemented blocks. This is the one whole structure that surrounded our house. While the lower cemented half have grown mosses and lichens on its different parts, the top grills have already been bent and deformed for the many parts of it, but it was entirely covered with rust.
The sampaguita plant has grown high, its soft branches have draped the rusty grills, at least the parts close to the gate where it grows on the side. It bears a multitude of little white flowers that blooms with radiant brightness in the morning and hides with darkness when night falls. What’s more, it’s small yet its sweet fragrance gives off a lingering scent that you could smell even from afar, especially in the morning.
I occupied my thoughts with it. It stood the glaring sun when it spits fire at broad daylight. It’s been continuously nurtured by storming rains, those stray dogs occasionally pissing on its leaves. Then I wondered if human blood kept it growing. Once a man was shot across the street in front of the house next to ours. It was raining and the blood gushing from the dead man’s body was carried by rainwater all the way down to our front gate, passing through the part where the plant stem stood.
I could smell it from the window. I kept my eyes on its little white flowers and its green leaves dancing with the stroking wind. In my mind, I see human blood running through it.
Right then, I was interrupted by sudden crackling gunshots that broke into the air of that quiet morning. I held myself back and laid down returning to the wooden chair. I wrapped myself with the blanket. The sound seemed far enough. There was a short moment of stillness where the wind halted from blowing. But that was quick, and then everything went back to normal. Soon the hissing of the leaves are back and I heard the barking of some dogs that woke the whole neighborhood into its usual poundings and honking and the sound of those little voices from across the street.
In a place such as this, when you hear the crackling gunshots breaking into the air, it should be heard back in a longer series of shots. If it doesn’t come back after a long wait, then it could only mean that you would not have anything to do with it, and there would be no reason to be alarmed and start to panic. Surely something must have happened, and somebody must have been killed, but if it’s not you or one of the members of your family, it would not be anything of your business and the best that you can do is get on with your life.
After a while, Aling Taleng came knocking at the door. I got up from lying and opened the door for her. She was in her church dress, coming home from the morning mass. A palm leaf fan and an oversized purse clutched in her hand, she held against her stomach. She was grinning to her ears. I let her in and before I closed the door I looked out and saw the usual group of neighbors chatting at the sari-sari store fronting the house. I thought, nothing has changed, everything’s under normal conditions.
She positioned herself on the chair next to the long one where I slept, while I was fixing my blanket and my only pillow and went to keep it inside the cabinet, the one next to the living room. When I got back she took out some rolled bills of money and laid it on the table.
"Where’s Mira?"
"She already left a while ago."
"The boys, are they here yet?"
"No."
"Why did she leave so early?"
"I do not know po. She did not say anything."
"Anyway, here’s the money, Leon. It’s seven-hundred and fifty, for all three of them."
I just looked at the money. I did not say anything.
"You will be going out with me. We will buy the things we need here."
"By the way, Aling Taleng." I remembered the empty gas tank.
"What?"
"The gas tank, it’s empty."
"Oh. Okay then, we will have that replaced too. Go get it."
I headed to the kitchen. When I left her, she started counting the money. She was in a thought of something, as if budgeting all the expenses.
While I was having a hard time removing the connecting pipes from the gas tank, I heard Albert and Tony Boy calling me from outside. I was about to run and meet them when Aling Taleng interrupted.
"You’re looking for Leon?"
She stuck her head out of the window, I could not see it from where I was standing.
"Good morning po, Aling Taleng. Is Leon in there?"
"Yes, but he cannot go with you."
She did not state any reason, and before I know it, she already sent them away. I heard the rolling sound of the kariton fading away in the street.
The whole time that I was with Aling Taleng, she kept on explaining how much of the money will go to where, including the payment for water and electricity that have not been paid since the month before. We took the jeep at the end of the block and got off at the market. I had to carry the entire weight of the tank on our way to Feliza’s Mini-Mart. Outside the open market building, scattered on the street are vegetable vendors. Stores such as Feliza’s and a number of carenderias and small eateries are the ones lining the other side of the street fronting the market. The marketplace is always crowded with people, sellers, and buyers, including pickpockets, and you can’t hear yourself when you talk, with all the noise around.
The lady at Feliza’s, the one watching the store, is a friend of Aling Taleng’s. For a while they chatted while I waited for her outside, sitting on the empty tank, watching all sorts of people walking in different directions. When she came out, she asked me to take the tank in and wait till they replace it with a new one. She handed me the receipt, telling me to present it to the lady for the claiming. She said it would take a while and that she has to leave me with it because she had to go to Super for the light bulbs. Then she left.
Super is the biggest and the only department store in Zaragoza. It is situated on the opposite side of the market, on the street after the one next to Feliza’s. There, you could get everything at a cheaper price. Not everyone can go there though, because all the little commodities that the many poor households of Zaragoza needs can only be found in the market place. Cooking oil for example. At Super, they sell cans and gallons of cooking oil. You cannot get a scoop of cooking oil worth a peso at Super, unlike in all other stores including Feliza’s or even those little sari-sari stores in the neighborhood. A light bulb is not a usual commodity that you can get in any of these stores, except at Super, because it is not everyday that you need a light bulb.
I have been to Super, but only once. It was the time when my mother bought the cloth she needed for her uniform at the barracks. She took me with her, and though she didn’t buy me anything, it was nice to see all those toys that they sell, all the delicious looking cakes and bread that they displayed on the racks. It was so big and cold inside, and the floor seems so wide and it was always shining that you would be tempted to take off your shoes or whatever it is that you wear on your feet.
Once, Victor and I attempted to get inside Super when we were younger and we used to wander around the city. The security guard did not allow us to get in. We were too rugged he must have thought we were shoplifters.
The post office building is not too far from where I was waiting. I had the letter that I wrote for my father the night before in my pocket. When Aling Taleng left, I ran the way to the post office to mail the letter. Albert already taught me the whole mailing process with my first letter, so I was able to manage mailing the second one myself.
I got back panting. When I presented the receipt to the lady, she pointed at the four gas tanks, all refilled, lining on the side, waiting to be claimed by their owners. She asked me to take one of those. I pulled one and carried it with all my strength using both hands on my way out. Its weight is about three times the empty tank. Just in time, Aling Taleng arrived. She asked me if I was hungry and I said yes. She handed me a plastic bag containing the bulbs and told me to wait for her and she went back in. She approached the lady and it didn’t take long until she went out, with the lady following behind her. The lady told me to park the tank beside the piled sacks of rice.
At the store entrance there were piles of sacks containing rice, each of a different variety. There were sacks that were opened, standing beside the piled ones. In every one sack that was opened, one can see the one of the different varieties, and though they all looked the same, it differed in price as seen on the huge tag inserted on every one of these.
Aling Taleng took me to one of those restaurants that serve mostly Chinese food. It is one where people and flies meet. Flies greet you, hopping from one table to another. Glass see-through walls on the front side enclose the restaurant. There was a man carrying a fly swatter chasing the flies from one table to another. But everytime a customer walks in, a fly or two entered from outside as well. There was a small garbage dump and some street food vendors outside the restaurant where the flies come from.
She then asked me what I want to eat when we found a vacant table at the corner. When I cannot decide on my order, she ordered for me a bowl of goto, a rice broth with bits of beef strips that you can hardly find by just looking at the broth. You had to run your spoon through the broth before the strips will surface. We had the same order.
The small restaurant was packed with people coming from the market and mostly jeepney drivers having coffee and pan de Sal for a fill that should last through the route going back and forth before lunchtime comes.
While waiting for our order, Aling Taleng gave me a rundown of all the money that she spent on her trip. I didn’t listen much to her talking because I was so hungry, besides, she’s been talking about it the whole time.
"Four-hundred pesos. This is what’s left of the money, but I still have to deduct two hundred from these for the bills."
She divided the money and gave me the two hundred, grabbing my hands that’s been lying dead on the table, stuck it on my palms and folded my fingers as if the money would fall off.
I stared blankly at my hands, holding the money. Then I shifted my eyes on her and again she gave me one of her seemingly treacherous grins. I found no apparent use of the money. I know then that I have to make another one of those hard decisions again, entrusting it to her for the moment that I won’t be using it. I thought of sending it to my father in San Martin but I still have no confirmation of their existence.
"Ohm… Aling Taleng?"
"Yes, Leon?"
"Would it be alright if I’d ask you to keep the money for me?"
At that moment I know she was pretending to be curious about whatever reasons I have. I can tell that she was anticipating my actions, and she has thought about the whole idea even before it occurred to me. But I didn’t give myself so much of a choice and I had to ignore her Judas smile. I handed her back the money. She pretended to be hesitating at first, as if she was still giving it a serious thought, but she took it from me anyway.
"Why?"
"I want to spend it for my food, but if I’ll take care of it, I might just live with it for a day. I want to save a part of it for future use."
I wanted to tell her of my plans of saving to go home to my father, but I do not really want to open to her anything about my father. I was just so fortunate that I only speak a small part of what I think. I have always made much use of my mind rather than my mouth.
"Oh, Leon! You have grown to be a mature young man indeed."
She was fooling me. I could tell. But I couldn’t do anything but buy it.
"Listen son, I have been thinking about it, but I want the decision to come from you. I am glad you thought about it."
"I’ve been thinking about it."
"We don’t just live for a day, you know?"
"I know."
I want her to shut up.
"Now you don’t worry. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll use some of the money for your food. This won’t be enough for this month because of all that we bought for the house and the bills that we have to pay for. So I cannot set apart some of this amount for your savings as yet. But I will take care of your food, you don’t have to worry about that. You just come to the house and I will provide for your meals. You come by for breakfast and lunch and supper, and you don’t be shy! By next month, when the boarders will hand in their payment for the rent, maybe we can set some amount for your savings. Is that okay with you?"
I just nod my head. I felt as if I was compelled to remove all my doubts about the lady. Anyway, it seemed a fair deal to me, or she was just good at convincing me that she’s willing to do things on good intentions. I just hoped that it would turn out as she said it.
Soon our orders arrived. I was quiet with my food. I tasted everything about the food including the taste of the spoon in my mouth. I was sweating until the last scoop of goto traveled down my throat. I finished every trace of food that I would have licked on the bowl if only it were not embarrassing.
We were on our way out. I was pushing the glass door when I was pushed aback in an instant. All of a sudden, people went running from across the street to different directions. Heavy bodies crowded in front of the glass wall and in front of me before the glass door, blocking our way out.
A young man bumped into one of the small stalls of sidewalk vendors and fell into a rolling cart selling peanuts. He stumbled upon a crate, accidentally grabbed the cart, tipping it over on the side that had all the fried peanuts thrown, scattering all over the area where the young man fell.
We were just looking at it from behind the glass door. Still there was a lot who were running. From where we were, we could also see the chasing police. The sudden commotion sent all the customers in the restaurant leaving their tables and running to our direction, leaving their food behind, interested to witness what was going on outside. From behind me, a man shouted, ‘Block the door, block the door!’ and all the customers, who were then rushing behind us barricaded the entrance, held on to the glass walls to block the way from any outside intrusion.
Outside, the vendors struggled to gather up whatever goods they can save, running on the side joining all other different kinds of people to take cover and stay away from all the chasing in the middle of the street. Soon the whole stretch of the glass wall has already been blocked with people, both outside and inside. Some of the people outside are struggling to get in.
In the middle of the street, a policeman was pulling another person by the shirt, almost ripping it while the man was trying to escape him. The young man who fell on the peanut cart has luckily escaped. The owner went on kicking him until he was able to get up and run.
The whole panic and wide disarray went on for a while. Men and women, some with bands around their head, some carrying poles and ticks, and streamers. A man carrying a placard on a pole tried to scare off the chasing police by swaying the pole on his direction, but the police was quick to grab it, and for a while they were pulling the whole thing from opposite ends until the man released it and they started chasing again. It was as if we were watching some kind of a running marathon.
Inside, I was all squeezed up but when I turned towards Aling Taleng, I found out that she was in a more tight condition. She was trying to pull herself away from the glass wall, against some four men pushing her, trying to get a good view of what was going on outside. She was almost grasping for air and has turned pale. The smell inside the restaurant was suffocating. The people behind me smelled as if they have all risen from the dead. I could not have blamed Aling Taleng if she fainted to her death. It never happened anyway.
Soon the commotion was over and everyone returned to his or her tables. I thought, the flies must have had a feast they could rest for days. Then everyone was talking to just about anybody as if they all knew each other.
"What is it this time?" One man asked with a loud voice, addressing anybody who may be willing to answer him. Taking a long loud slurping sip of his coffee that must be cold by then. He looked so relaxed as if he’s gotten used to it. It was as if you need not tell him what had happened, but what it was all about this time.
"Not again." Another man commented, shaking his head. He looked like that’s just as far as he can go concerning the matter.
Then everyone went talking.
I listened to all of them talk and took notice of all the words they said. The demonstrations, those students, the labor unions, hunger strikes, dogs, the sparrow units, the government, dogs, the plaza… And though I do not fully understand all the words they said, I knew it was no different from all that caused Zaragoza to fall into the seemingly unending chaos.
Aling Taleng was not able to stand all these. For a moment she searched for me, standing on the side. She grabbed my hand and pushed the glass door, hurrying on her way out.
"Let’s go, Leon!"
We went zigzagging on our way. Outside, everything was in complete disarray. The vendors began fixing back their stalls to their original positions. The owner of the cart could only stand in the middle of all his fried peanuts that scattered on the street. His hands locked through the strands of his hair in shock. A woman wept on the side. The vegetable she sells have been swept into the street, was run over by the running mob. The street blossomed various vegetations, as if the whole place was stricken by a tornado. We have come across a man whose face was bleeding, with blood running down his face.
From what I learned, everything started at the plaza. The police was ordered to disperse the rallying students from the university, along with various working groups who have stayed there on hunger strike the day before. As it turned out, what was ideally planned to be an orderly dispersal of a so-called exercise of the right to a non-violent protest, ended into a panicky riot of sorts. As usual.
From where the jeep halted, we had to walk a block more before reaching the house. I carried the entire weight of the gas tank on my back, walking like a humped back all the way to the house. Aling Taleng had been very quiet since we went back to Feliza’s and on our way home. Walking in front of their house, I looked at their big, wide-open window, and through it the view of the television set. I remembered that it has been quite a while since I last saw Rintintin.
"I have to get inside now, Leon. Maring must have been worried about me. You take care of that tank, okay?"
"I will. Thank you, po."
"And you come over for the light bulbs. You can come over in time for lunch, you don’t be shy!"
"Opo."
She pushed open their front gate with the plastic bag containing the bulbs in one hand. She went in, limping. Her rheumatism must have struck her again after all that we’ve experienced. I imagined, if it went on any longer, she must have broken down. The lady is very ill. Every once in a while she gets hypertensive, she has a heart problem, and have contacted arthritis and rheumatism. She’s invited the wrath.
It was a little perky way to start the day. I was in a way grateful that we have gone through the incident, and a little grateful that it happened, otherwise, she would still have the energy to follow me all the way to the house. I don’t like it so much.
I was dragging the tank going to the kitchen. I fixed the connecting pipe from the burner and had the tank connected. Then I headed back to the living room. I rested on the long chair. I felt my stomach with my hand allowing it to run around in circles. The food must have digested easily. It was starting to grumble. It went so fast I was feeling hungry again, though I’m not quite sure if it was hunger because I felt it still heavy. Maybe I was just sleepy then. My eyes were getting heavy and I began to slouch on the chair.
My eyes were about to shut close when I heard the stomping on the floor upstairs. Then came a man hopping down the stairs. I was taken aback, and was quick to straighten myself up. I felt like I came to the wrong house all of a sudden.
"Who are you?"
Before I was able to finish asking, he was already extending a hand to me. He was smiling.
"You must be Leon."
We shook hands. I do not know him yet. He was quick.
"I am Boyet. I’m the new guy, one of them."
"Oh yes. Pleased to meet you, Boyet."
"Yes. Same here."
"I’m sorry… I’m sort of… I just arrived from the market."
I searched for words. His sudden appearance came to me like another blow, a continuation of the incident at the restaurant.
"Oh. Yes." He was nodding his head. He kept on nodding his head. "I understand."
"You know what happened there? Were you there too?"
"Ahmn… I really have to go to the toilet."
"I’m sorry, it’s over there."
I pointed to the direction and there he was faster than the time it took me to raise my hand and point at the toilet. He is a flash. I followed him with a look, amazed, until he disappeared behind the door.
I was thinking, there might be another one of them that I haven’t met. No, there were only three. That was the last one. But they seemed to me so strange. The girl, Mira, she’s so lovely, but I was wondering how she allowed herself to live with the two guys. And she left so early in the morning. I thought, maybe that’s how their life is like, always catching up with school, always catching up with everything. I was just wondering how they all acted like they are all in a creeping rush. Julian has not returned yet. The night before, he left so quickly, came and left so quickly like a lightning. Just like that. He seemed to me like a normal kind of guy anyway. But this Boyet, he seemed kind of odd. He is tall and lean, and he’s wearing eyeglasses with lenses so thick and deep, his eyes reduced in size when you look through it inside its thick black frame. He looked so serious and stern, and intelligent but he behaves in total contrary, he smiles like he is so dumb and relaxed, and he was snappy and quick like a flash.
I rested my thoughts. It was useless, I thought.
I slouched my back, my head leaning on the chair. I sighed. I smiled, and my eyes smiled. My arms resting on my bulging stomach, I felt good. For the first time I got to listen to myself during the short introduction that we did. I analyzed myself. I was some kind of spontaneous. I was normally not like that. My thoughts, always in the middle of a talking, always suspend my face. My moves, my gesture, the handshakes, it seemed so mature I felt like I’m a real grown-up.
I was thinking, maybe he was treating me like one of them, like one of their age. I’m already a big man. I thought nothing and no one could fool me like I am a kid anymore.
My eyes felt heavy again. Then I slouched so much I fell on my side. I fell asleep. I fell asleep, smiling.
It was already mid-afternoon when I woke up. I did not wake up. Aling Taleng woke me up. Aling Taleng and her big mouth awakened me. She was sitting on a small chair. Boyet sat opposite him on the other small chair, and I was lying on the long chair in the middle I felt like a corpse in the morgue and they were discussing how to go about my embalming. Aling Taleng was talking to him about the incident at the restaurant. Boyet kept on nodding and smiling. He was being nice I could tell. She was talking as if she was telling a funny story. I thought, if only Boyet would hear my own version of the story, he would end up crying in pity for the lady.
"Leon, you’re awake."
Yes. What a surprise, I’m alive. I got up and remained on the chair. I was feeling a little arrogant because of my newly established mature self, I thought.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Around three o’clock maybe?" He answered.
"You slept through lunch. I brought you some food. I already asked Boyet to replace the broken bulbs upstairs."
"Oh."
"Go have your lunch now."
I turned to the dining table. There were about four bowls all covered with plates. Aling Taleng must have prepared a treat for my boarders. There were too much for me alone.
"You didn’t tell me Aling Taleng here is a good cook, Leon. We enjoyed her treat."
The lady gave him an unassuming smile, reached out to tap his hand, but the farthest she could reach was the center table. I wan to puke on her face.
"I’m not hungry. I’ll just save it for tonight."
"Julian and Mira are upstairs. Their playing with cards. You can join them if you want. I’m enjoying a conversation with your aunt here."
Aunt? Whose aunt? Oh yes. Aling Taleng. I remember we were playing aunt and nephew.
I heard laughing upstairs. They’re having fun alright, but I opted to go out and maybe look for my friends that Aling Taleng sent away, or just take a walk.
"I have to see my friends."
I excused myself and left. On my way out, I heard Aling Taleng telling him about our scrap collecting jobs. Boyet asked if I quit school. Yes, I did, so what’s it with you, I thought.
I stood behind the door after closing it when I finally got out of the house. I stuck one ear on the wall next to the door. I was hoping to hear Aling Taleng’s version of her tale about my life story, but I heard a lot of clicking sound instead. I turned and let my eyes ran all the way up to the wall. I saw little traces of termite holes. The termites are slowly eating up the house. I thought, it would fall anytime soon and I wouldn’t see anything much on the ground because they by then they have eaten all the interiors of the walls.
I ignored the termite holes and carried with me the thought of the house falling on the ground. I toyed with the idea of Aling Taleng and the two boys all buried underneath while Mira remained standing above all the debris that caught all the three on the ground. Then I would rescue hear and ask her to marry me. The idea sent me smiling my most wicked of smiles.
When I got out of the gate, still looking for a clear direction, I turned my head back at the house. I stared at the windows upstairs, my eyes searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beautiful Mira. I believed something went wrong with my eye vision, because right then, I saw my grandmother which, to say, was not at all desirable I saw her eyes sneering at me one moment, then a loud mocking laugh the next. I heard it echoed into the open air. It gave me the shivers and sent me running to the end of the street on the first intersection going down.
When I get one of these silly imaginations, I realize how hard it is to control my thoughts. I have quite a knack for amusing myself when everything gets so dull. And that was a good amusing prick I did to myself. It was ridiculous. I have never really feared the dead. I have always feared the living.
I was catching my breath after that race against my weird thoughts. I was standing at the corner of Amorsolo and Hidalgo streets. I looked as if somebody was chasing after me, so much that I caught a lot of attention from the passers by. A lady was looking out from the window of the house behind me. I recognized her. She was the mother of a young girl that Aling Taleng took as one of the muses for the procession, the one I particularly played the role of a constantino for. I was quite sure she recognized me as well, because after a long searching stare, the lady smiled at me, as if wanting to talk to me but just doesn’t know what to say. I turned my eyes away from her, still with no clear direction.
If I follow the intersecting street, on Amorsolo going to the left, I would find my way to Victor’s. It’s been a while since we last saw him, but I know then he was still at the restaurant. I was then wondering where the restaurant is located. If I go straight ahead, after the second intersection would be a short walk going to Tony Boy’s. But I know he and Albert was still out in the streets, and I could not afford to have another one of those frustrating conversations with his father as yet. I quite found him difficult to digest. I thought, if I caught up with his mother, I would only find myself talking to the sewing machine. His mother was suffering from scarcity of words. If I turned left down Luna Street from the next intersection, I would end up at Albert’s. And if I was lucky to find the old man there, if he was not at the police precinct, it would be either he would ask me to read the news for him or play chess with him that takes forever, if not listen to his stories of his days in power, things he kept talking about that I have long memorized and could relate back to him detail by detail if only he’d ask me to.
It was a shady afternoon, and the puffy clouds that have been running through the sky in the morning has stopped and have grown dark and heavy before the afternoon sun. I found myself standing at the banks on one end of the bridge crossing the river Sol. I figured I needed that time to commune with the things that have draped my soul.
Standing before the waters of the river Sol, I realized how much I have missed out on the passing of time. From the time since I have ignored the river, it seemed to me like I have just awaken from a long sleep. Everything has changed. Looking at the opposite side of the riverbank, I saw the growing number of houses on stilts that have become all crowded now, extending to the far reaches of my sight. It was a striking contrast to see how concrete buildings back dropped it, the distinct, unmistakable creeping stillness of the city hall, and the tall bell tower and the huge intricate structure of the cathedral of San Rafael.
Somehow, somewhere in my wandering thoughts, I saw the church to have a moving facade that will constantly remind the people of Zaragoza of the existence of heaven. The hope that somewhere behind the skies, there is always a God that watches over his people.
Still the river runs through. I may just have expected too much to see the river lotus that once adorned the river with its radiant blue flowers in the morning. Gone are the images of myself with the multitude of children gleefully jumping into the river and playing with the clear waters of the river Sol. Gone are the innocent children of the sun.
From where I stood, my thoughts run with the murky water of the river. The lotuses have bloomed into a fluvial array of decaying garbage. I saw a small group of children on the opposite bank, swimming among the floating wastes, now a picture of youthful affliction. I saw blood.
Time passed and the children were gone. I remained numb and motionless from where I stood. The afternoon died and the sun set into the smoggy air that hanged above the river. Still it managed to cast its remaining rays beneath the dark skies before it finally died.
I could have drowned my thoughts and soaked my soul into the river had he not arrived. Drawing nearer, I saw Victor coming from the bridge with a pack in his back. The growing twilight sent me a lean silhouette image of my friend. He came running when he saw me, but without a hint of excitement. He called out but his voice I hardly recognized with the noise of the screeching engines of the passing vehicles.
"Leon."
"Victor!"
"Leon why are you here?"
"I was just taking a walk."
"Where are they?"
"I was not able to join them since this morning. Aling Taleng took me with her to the market."
"Oh yes. I know."
"You know?"
"Uhuh. I saw you with Aling Taleng at the restaurant this morning."
"Oh. Is that where you work?"
"Yes."
"Why did you not approach us?"
"I am not allowed to leave the washroom."
"I see."
From the faces of the people that we come across with on the way, and from those that walked past us, I saw pieces of my friend, Victor. As we walked the side streets along the riverbank, I saw a different person in him. All the time he was just looking ahead, like looking at a distance, and taking only short glances on the side like he was totally at peace with the world around him. His head was half-raised like it bears so much courage, and his eyes, moving like he was trying to perceive something. He was with me and somewhere else.
Soon it started to drizzle, and we walked even faster. The route along the riverbank was his usual way going to and from work. He does not take the jeep to save money, so he had to leave early for the thirty-minute walk going to the restaurant, and goes home from work, late. He invited me over to their house for the night. He has just received his salary and had brought home some food in his bag. I did not bother to refuse.
"The incident this morning, what was it all about?" I asked, hoping to put up a conversation.
"The rain is coming, Leon. Walk fast." He spoke in a sober voice, ignoring what I said.
"Tell me Vic.’ what happened this morning?"
He took a deep breath, and sighed.
"I’m tired of talking about those things, Leon. Happens all the time. You’re asking me as if it was new to you."
I was silent. He said it so casually and he doesn’t even seem to care so much.
"Here’s the rain now, Leon! Run, Leon!"
Just in time, after a long race against the raging rain, we reached their doorstep. Upon entering the house, it poured even harder. I stood behind him, standing by the doorway. One of the younger sisters handed me a towel while one of the brothers took the bag from his back.
Their house still looked the same, except for the swing cradle crossing two opposite walls made of blanket with ropes attached on both ends. The baby was sleeping on it, still with an empty feeding bottle hanging from its mouth.
The mother, who was then gently swinging the baby, started nagging. She shouted at the younger ones who kept on jumping and were then yelling their excitement about the arrival of their brother and the rain. She then ordered two of the girls to gather the pail and the tin cans on the floor where the water dripped from the roof leaks. Then she scolded the brother who took the bag when she caught him on the side, silently going through the stuff inside it.
"O Victor! Did you buy the milk?" Asked the mother, sounding so disgusted, her voice wrestling against the sound of the rain falling against their roof and walls.
"Opo Nanang. I did." He replied as I handed him the towel after drying myself.
Soon I started to regret that I went with him to their house. I have sensed the unwelcoming air of the house.
"Vic,’ I guess I will have to leave now."
"No, no. It’s alright, Leon."
The mother went on with her nagging. She pointed at the holes on the roof where the drippings come, and on the wet spots of rainwater on the floor. The children then rushed to chase the drippings with canisters. The only pail was placed on the spot where it pours more than it dripped. The baby woke up and cried.
"The people at the house do not know that I’m here Vic’ they must be looking for me by now."
I had to excuse myself, though that was rather lame because they don’t really care to bother where I was staying and if I go home or not. Even Victor was well aware of that.
"But it’s raining hard. Leon."
“I’ll just run through the rain. I can still make it before the curfew."
"Are you sure you’ll be okay? I’m really sorry, Leon. I -"
"I understand, Vic.’ It’s okay."
I was turning towards the door when the mother called. It was as if that was the only time she saw me.
"Leon, where are you going?"
"I had to go po, ‘Nang."
"Why don’t you just stay for the night?" She was talking in a very accommodating way, though her full attention was on the baby, and we both know that at the back of her mind, she wanted me to leave.
"It’s alright, po. I don’t want to bother the people at home. They don’t know I’m here."
The mother went on again with her nagging. She didn’t even bother paying attention to the last words I said. Victor led me to the steps.
"You take care, Leon. Extend my regards to Albert and Tony Boy, will you? Maybe next time, I’ll try to find time to hang around with you."
"I will, and don’t you worry. Goodbye, Vic.’"
The water had begun to raise ankles high when I got down, and the rain was quick to penetrate my clothes the moment it touched my skin. The last time I took a glance at Victor, there was an amount of dismay in his face. I know he wanted me to stay, but there was a part of him that finds it better for me to leave than be soaked in their flood of a house. And we both know it.
