Falling… Piece by piece on all fours, I bend in to count the drops of blood from my chin. Pinned in a corner, curling like an animal. Hands together, almost like clasping, inches away from my head. My will, taken apart like before, leads me to bow in self-pity. My face had learned to tunnel itself in, as all this is happening. My head continues to burrow itself further in my chest until it was low enough that I could kiss the ground. I feel something rippling and splashing at my lips so I push myself up from it, shaking. Leather-clad feet gather in my peripheral. And I was panting. My vision snaps into blackness. I panic – half-blinded by my own sweat; I was too pathetic to wipe it off my face… Then out of the emptiness I feel, the panting resides... I let out one heavy gush of air from my diaphragm as I focus my remaining energy on my upper body. My hands were shaky but – in spite of the rush, decided not to end it there. Why am I fighting back?
I recover some vision when their dirty hands pick me off by the collar and set my head on its side; my left cheek numb from the damp air though relieved to be able to breathe and still hope. Closer. Closer. Closer. The exit is reflected through a shard of glass on the ground... This city burns. And… It was time for me to join the fire... The exit is reflected through a shard of glass on the ground where I’ve trailed. In the finality of struggle, I turn to my creation one last time. Then everything becomes dark and voices start jabbering around me. I close my eyes and I disappear. And so did everything.
“Am I getting nearer?”
“Nearer where, Ismael?”
“The answers.”
***
It was the first of February, a “working holiday” for my colleagues. Well, it really wasn’t a holiday but whatever the case I took the week off. I got out of bed and went straight to the bathroom and hadn’t checked the calendar – not once. But I knew what day it was. And I thought, leaning over the sink:
“You’re late.”
Pressed my face against a towel. Gargled. Tired, I stared blankly into the mirror to check if my face was still wet. It wasn’t. Took a warm bath, came out with a towel wrapped around my waist. My toothbrush hung about my pasty lips. And when I was done I spat out the water and returned my brush neatly in its cup. I dried up and clothed myself. I wore something semi-formal. Before I left the house, I watered my badly cared for flower I named Sammy (for Samuel was my father’s name).
“Oh Sammy,” I said softly to the plant, as if it were human,
“I’ll make it up to you soon Listen, I’ll leave the house in a while, so take care of it for me while I’m away. And have some water, you look thirsty…” I generously added a little more water.
It sat in its long vase on the center table. Sammy was given to me a long time ago by a friend I loved dearly. She bore a long name but I called her Rai-rai. She was a sweet girl. Rai had long black hair, which appeared light-brown in sunlight to match her sun-kissed Morena complexion. Rai was Chinita. She had small, thin, dark eyes, a small round nose with freckles and wide, often pale lips. She used to work in the newspaper business with me. She was the assistant of the editor-in-chief and I was the guy who helped with the layouts and advertisements. It was in the Cafe that Stephen, a mutual friend brought us together; she had no choice but to talk to me over lunch and I pestered her with questions… She’s more forgiving now. Rai always had that worried look in her eye whenever I see her. She remained secretive and hesitant in our short time together, but I loved her nevertheless.
We drank almost every Friday night and some Saturdays and Thursdays as well but kept professional in the workplace. To a point that it bothered me, but I was always too timid to do anything about it. So I stuck with the norm between us, and it’s worked out for us. She worked hard while she was still in the paper yet something pushed her to quit. I’m not sure why. It was part of my plan, seeing her today instead of going to work and have a picnic by the park near the corner where she now lived and somehow figure out the reason for everything. The address still strikes me to this day. I haven’t visited her since… Couldn’t believe that of all the places…
As I got out of the pedicab, I wondered, “Why here? Why can’t the venue be nicer, Rai?” and again, I kept questioning myself –
For I imagined the place would be much nicer the next time we meet. Good thing the horizon made my get-together with her a memorable one. The sky had flushed a gloomy orange glow in the park at sundown. The benches were rarely occupied but it was fine. It was not like we liked sitting there anyway. I sat near her on the newly-trimmed grass (forgot to bring a sheet). And I have to say, our spot smelled fragrant despite the dreadful place. Maybe the new bundle of flowers set in front of me had an effect on the scent that fluttered in the wind. But Rai was blank. I asked why but she didn’t answer. So I ended up talking about the company, that she missed out on a lot of projects. She didn’t snicker like she used to when I became sarcastic about it. I sensed anxiety near her but I think it was just me. I asked again if she was okay… Nothing. Not even a sound. So I let her be. I left shortly after the meal and left the food at her feet.
“See you, Katherine.” I whispered
“Heh, I miss that name…”
“I’ll know soon enough.” I thought.
There was something in the silence that told me she wanted no more trouble. It was peaceful and, at the same time, melancholy. Of course I could only interpret. Evening arrived. She didn’t even ask me where I was headed. She did nothing but close her eyes, bring her hands together, and face the clouds. And that was it.
“I’ll find out myself –” then I held back.
“You… I… I need to go.”
I wished I’d held her hand. I couldn’t – I needed to go. I bit my inner cheek and walked away while counting my steps to the paradahan. I finally boarded on the jeep when I stopped counting.
“Bayad po.” I said faintly, holding out my change. Some leaned over to look at the voice coming from the end of the vehicle.
“Sa Maria Clara lang, Nong.” I requested in a kind, sad voice. And indirectly, I instructed my seatmate to pass on my change to the driver.
As though scripted, a hand opened up at me as I held my fare out. My seatmate passed on the change from one person to the next until my fare reached the driver. I instructed the jeepney driver to drop me of in España twice. I got there several minutes passed six-thirty. Boarded off the jeepney and walked straight past a number of stores and markets, and some merchants selling off the street. I stopped in front of two stores in a dead-end.
It was an empty alley. Without the light, the whole area would be too dark for even sunlight is blocked by the drapes hanging above the buildings. It didn’t matter for it was night anyway. It was seven o’clock already when I came. Looking at the stores, I remembered my childhood. When I was up to about 13 and Nanay was then able, we would go here every Sunday after church to buy pan bread, milk and occasionally, Tatay’s medication for insomnia and vertigo… The city chose to forget about this alley three years ago when neighborhood miscreants started “dirtying” up the place but only the locals have that kind of knowledge. The others would have to do some research, just like I did.
I heard a rumor and it went like this: three years ago businesses began crumbling in this city; the only businesses that survived are the ones big enough and rich enough to support themselves. While others took risks, the others took a fall and moved on from it. Half of downtown area was abandoned just like that. This part in Maria Clara, especially. It is also rumored that the leaders of industry in this place are mob leaders from different families. And that the cartel holds the city. Rai’s father is said to be in grave debt to the cartel. He fled his family when the interest was too high for him to return in cash.
I did my research and everything pointed to this reminiscent alley. It seemed so unreal, all this coincidence. Then it made me think about her more and how I miss her before everything changed, and I thought about myself. What now? It felt like prying into other people’s business for my sake rather than hers. I took a second to readjust my values…
“This ends here.”
There was a gap in the middle of the stores that led to a different side. It caught my attention. That cold, narrow foggy alley. I skimmed forward until the rest of me got through to the other end. And on the other end, there was a wall with a mural of a rainbow… There was something under it. It was stowed in the corner. I crouched over and swatted most of the dust off it. It was a handbag. Zip! And I was brought to my knees. I embraced a photo, found in the bag. It was a photo of Rai captured many years ago. She had different hair, and wore a school uniform with a bowtie. This was taken in a university. She had a beautiful smile on too. This picture was concealed in a dented envelope with her previous address written. This was all I had to see… I discarded her photo with her eyes crossed out in red. Red as the flames it fed. It crept up the walls and made its exit onto the roof. And when its tongues reached the heart of the murals, the walls screamed in agony. A click! as my only lighter bounced off the ground, chipping itself in cement and shut itself close. There was a siren, and flashes of red and –
“Katherine.”
A sharp pain in my neck. Out of the vagueness, I am transported back to reality.
***
“Here we are. Please make it quick sir, we don’t have all day.” said the forgiving officer.
In the quiet rain, I get off the vehicle where a kind man waiting on the other side of the car escorts me to the grey park. It had rained. I walk past the cobblestone gate, getting my feet wet in puddles but I had little to care about. To be here was significant. I finally arrive in the same spot as before. I was there with her again. The kindly man steps away for a cigarette but leaves the umbrella with me. He rushes to the shed. I bend and say:
“Hey.”
“I’m sorry if it took a while”
“But… They could never hurt you anymore.”
“I will always miss you.” The last line shakes my bruised lips.
I leave the umbrella and wipe the muck off the stone where she lay six feet below. Letting go was the hardest thing for me, but it was time for me to move on. I return to the kind man having a smoke in the shed where tools such as shovels hung. The rain had hid my tears then. The man steps on his cigarette and we both walk down the park. I walk past the gate again, probably the last time again after a while. I get back inside the car and the kindly man drifts back into the park. As the engine starts gearing, I look outside through the window.
“Sir. Eyes front…” said the officer.
The kindly man lifts the umbrella I placed by Katherine and stows it away in the shed. He gets a shovel and heads into a crowd of other kindly people. They continue digging the hole. A woman cries. And I look front.
