II: LUMENGRACIA

The old house belonging to the Garcia’s can be found at the middle of the long street we used to call the Main Street, although it is officially Casa dela Reina Street. It used to be a busy lane since it was the only road going to the Church, the Our Lady of Sorrows (thus making it the road going to the House of the Queen). Now, a faster cemented road to the poblacion was built bypassing the whole barrio. The street has become quiet now. The houses were decrepit and sad-looking.

I stood just outside the bamboo fence, hesitating until that moment on whether I should bother Elias with my problems. I guess, at that point I could’ve called back the tricycle and asked to be returned to the bus station. I could have taken the 4 o’clock bus back to the city. But maybe it was Fate that intervened.

“January?” A woman stepped out of the house. It was Julie. She has become, shall I say, roundish now, but her cheeks were rosy and she looked healthy. She was carrying a baby barely a year old in her arms. “Is that you?”

“Julie. Kamusta? I hope I’m not bothering you.” I was nervous. My hands were flitting from my purse, to my sleeves, to my hair.

“What are you talking about? After all these years of not seeing you, I’m just glad to see you here!” She briskly walked up to me and then hugged me. She faintly smells of garlic and vinegar but not in a repulsive way. She’d been probably cooking. “ I saw you from the kitchen window. Come in! Come meet the kids. Elias is at work, but he would be home any minute now.”

I followed her lead and went inside the house. Oh, the house. It used to be one of the more familiar places to me. I half grew up here. But now, it stood as if it’s this alien structure, refusing me entry. I stood for a half minute at the doorstep, unable to move.

“Jan? Come on in!” Julie gestured to me. “Oi, kids! Come meet your Tia Jan! She’s come all the way from the City!”

I stepped inside. Reluctantly, grudgingly, I felt the house let me in. Now, don’t you make trouble here… it seemed to whisper.

From above me, I could hear running feet on the wooden floors. Darn it. I haven’t brought pasalubong… A few moments later, four pair of eyes were peering out through the slits in the staircase. With a bit more prodding, the boys went down and shyly stood in front of me. Goodness, they all looked like miniature Eliases.

“This is the eldest. He’s in Grade 5. That’s one is in Grade 3, come on! Introduce yourselves!” she ordered them.

“Spartacus po.” Said the tallest one, smiling and then shuffling his feet. He had his father’s light brown eyes.

“Aris po.” Said the next one, reintroducing himself. “Short for Aristotle.” Julie quipped in.

The third boy, who could barely be six said, “I’m Alexander!” He had a lisp.

The smallest one just stood there and stared while sucking his thumb. Julie ruffled his hair. “This one’s Philemon Cassius. He’s terribly shy. And this baby is our precious King Edward.”

She wasn’t joking. She really did name their kid King Edward. All five kids had their father’s light brown hair and fair complexion. There was almost nothing of Julie in them.

“I – I don’t have pasalubong yet… but I’m glad to meet all of you.” I kneeled to meet their eye level. “You all look like your father.” And I just had to smile. Philemon Cassius finally took out his thumb from his mouth and grinned at me.

“I’m five.” He said in the vernacular. “Papa would be home soon.” And then the thumb went back in.

“Okay, off you go, back to your chores then.” Julie told them. In under a half minute, they disappeared upstairs again. Julie winked at me. “Their task is to keep the house clean. If you could only see how much mess they could make out of it though… it’s just the principle of the thing, I suppose, that they take on responsibility while young.” she shook her head. “You would be staying for dinner, of course? No, I do not ask, I insist. Philemon would be heartbroken if you won’t. I think he’s half in love with you already.”

I couldn’t refuse to stay given that I had nowhere else to go, can I? I just nodded and offered to help with the dishes. Julie refused.

“Oh no, you’re a guest, just sit and in a while, I will… I will…” She was cut of by King Edward’s cry. She expertly rocked him in her arms. Then suddenly, I saw it. She was flustered. With a sigh, she looked at me and her eyes looked as if it was trying not to despair. “Oh, Jan. This all must look terrible to you. This old house falling to pieces, look at this mess inside…”

“No, Julie, everything is just fine. I love this house…”
“One wouldn’t think I’d end up this way. We had such promise when we were younger, hadn’t we? But unlike you, I never got any chance… I never tried to find any opportunity…”

When we were in high school, Julie followed me everywhere I went. She was at the top of the class, second only to me. She told me that since we were the brightest in our class, we should naturally be friends. I thought she just wanted me to help her get close to Elias, who was before her, inseparable from Moses and me. She let me read her fashion magazines, and once she even gave me makeover which went awry. By then, she already succeeded to be Elias’ girlfriend. During the high graduation ceremony, I found out Julie was pregnant and Elias would be marrying her. I was invited to the ceremony but never quite made it. I felt a rift form then, and I suddenly have no idea why I’m here after not communicating with them for so many years. I’m just so messed up.

“I don’t think there’s anything to be ashamed of. You have five wonderful kids, you’re keeping this house intact… Julie, you’re doing a wonderful job!” I assured her. “I didn’t come here to flaunt whatever it is you believe I have achieved. I’m here because my life is so messed up that I had to leave the City. I just ran away.” I shook my head and I let her see the despair in my eyes in return. “I haven’t any clothes, nothing! I just got on a bus to where I believe I can hide from it all. Lumengracia is the only other place I know, maybe it’s the only place I know. That’s why I’m here. I’m seeking sanctuary.”

We stood there quietly and awkwardly for a number of minutes. Then Julie smiled. “I am glad you came here. You came here because you believe we can keep you safe. I am flattered and -- relieved.” She gave a short laugh. “Well, seeing that you’re not here as guest, but as family, maybe you could help me with the dishes then.”

And at that moment, I repented from the grudges I held against Julie for taking Elias away from us. I felt guilty for not treating her better as a friend when we were younger. At that moment, I believe I truly loved her.

I: LUMENGRACIA

I’m home.

Except that, there is no real home now. No house at all to go back to. All there is now is just me, jumping on a bus on a whim. All the way to the province, where I thought everything was different.

You could say I went crazy. After the mistake I made at work -- that one colossal mistake which could lose me my job and my career – I had to go as far away as I could possibly manage. I had to go somewhere I understand things. Some place I could not possibly make a mess in. After the – blow up in the office – I rammed my way through the doors cursing at myself. I fumed all the way to nowhere. After calming down a bit I found myself walking along the bay. For the first time in five years, I watched the sun set in the horizon.

“Why have I never seen this?” I muttered aloud.

It reminded me of my hometown where life was simple and idyllic. That is why after spending six hours staring out the bus window seeing nothing, I stand at the old bus station of Lumengracia with absolutely no luggage save for a small purse. And of course, my useless bruised dignity and overtaxed sanity.

I absolutely had no idea where to go.

Ipa sold our house eight years ago, right after I graduated from college. It was about that time when Ima passed away and he couldn’t bear to live in the house anymore. And six years ago, he has gone ahead as well. My brothers and I, we never came back here after that. Roots pulled up, transferred it all into the city. I’m not even sure if our old neighbors are still alive.

“Neng, tricycle?” asked a nearby driver. “Where are you off to?”

“Sorry, Manong. Not yet.” I answered in the local dialect. I gave him a brief smile and sat at the hamburger stand.

“Order n’yo?” a girl wearing a frilly pink apron stood waiting, pen poised on paper.

“Uhm, hamburger.” I said. “And Coke Light in can.”

“There’s no Coke Light. Just the red one.” She scribbled my order down. I began to wonder how complicated should it be for her to remember to slap two pieces of bread together and insert a beef patty in between. I nodded to let her know whatever kind of soda will do. “Do you want to make it buy one take one?”

“The Coke?” I asked with clear surprise. She suddenly smiled warmly and giggled.

“No! The hamburger.”

I smiled back at her. In the city, I would’ve gotten a raised eyebrow and a sigh of irritation from the waiters. Here, my ditzy replies are just funny. Just because I felt good about this, I answered yes. I’ll worry about who will eat the second burger later.

After paying the bill (Pay as you order, ma’am, she reminded me), I turned the revolving chair and faced the street. Not much has changed around the place. The trees in the city plaza across the street looked smaller, but I have no doubt they were the same trees I used to play underneath of. The municipal hall still looked as grand and as empty as ever. The carabao statue in front of the municipal door still stood on its whitewashed pedestal. Although, somebody did add a bust of Jose Rizal beside it and now it looks as if the carabao was whispering to the Great Malayan’s ear.

The Church was closed. It would be this time in the afternoon. It won’t open until about three p.m., when the Mother Butler’s Guild will come to clean the place for the afternoon novenas. The playground beside the church was without children though. Ah, I said after checking my watch. It was not dismissal time yet. Come five o’clock this afternoon, it will be swarming with kids.

I shook my head in disbelief. Does anything ever change here? I mean, really change?

“Order n’yo!” The girl said again, but this time she had that tone of having accomplished a major feat. I wonder how many customers the store does get in a day? I smiled at her again and said thanks. She stood there and watched me eat. After a while, I started to wonder if I should offer her the second burger, since she was looking at me with such interest. But if I were her, standing in a booth flipping burgers all day, would I want a hamburger?

“Oi, Give me one burger. And gulaman, with lots of sago.” A brusque voice broke my line of thought. “Oi, excuse me.” I felt somebody pushing my purse. For a moment, I panicked. I turned around to face a hefty, dark-skinned man. He was wearing the blue barong which identifies him as a government employee, probably from the municipal hall. The man was tugging at my purse because he felt it was blocking his table.

“Urong ka.” He ordered me nodding his head to the next seat. I flared up immediately. Who is this --- this lowly cretin, asking me -- a magna cum laude graduate from UP Law School and currently working at a prestigious firm in Makati -- to move?

“I’m sorry, but there seems to be a whole row of other chairs you could occupy. I think you should choose another seat where you would be more comfortable.” I said this with utmost English precision, in a voice issuing from my diaphragm. This is what I call my power speak. But right after saying the words, I winced inside. I know I was being a complete airhead, but he started it by being a complete jerk.

The man raised an eyebrow. I could almost hear him wondering in his tinny little brain who I am. A devious thought came to me telling me to pretend to be the governor’s niece or a senator’s daughter. But seeing that I was seated at a Burger Machine stand eating sloppy patties, he may not be inclined to believe that. But then, all you have to do is act with power and power is vested on you.

I never got to see his reaction because as it turns out, this jerk was someone I knew.

“Nebuchadnezzar?” I shook my head in astonishment. He cringed.

“Please, it’s Chad now. Ah eh, January, how are you?” He smiled sheepishly and proffered a hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you right off.”

I smiled although a bit warily. “I understand. What with my name being just as --- uhm, well, it’s Jan now, Chad.”

In Lumengracia, mothers have a penchant of naming their babies after people from the Bible. In grade school alone, I have met twenty one Marias, eleven Juanas, fifteen Pedros, and of course, there was Nebuchadnezzar. His parents must’ve just opened the Bible randomly and found the name of this infamous king. When we were eight, he hated writing his name since there’s a tendency to run out of space in the paper. Mine on the other hand, is not found in the Bible. It is actually derived from the month I was born, the month governed by the Roman God Janus. My classmates called me a pagan. Oh, yes. My name gave me no small amount of trouble. It was a good thing I met my “protectors” then. I found myself smiling wistfully.

As if reading my thoughts, Chad started nodding his head and asked, “What are you doing back here? Vacationing?”

“No, just – visiting.” I replied.

“Are you here to visit Elias or Moses?”

I stared at him so hard he began to pull at the neckline of his exposed white undershirt. A few moments must have passed before I answered. “I’m really not sure… I’m not even sure where they live now.”

“Oh!” Chad’s face lit up. It looked as if he found a purpose in life. “Elias still lives at their old house. It’s a bit run-down now, y’know, life’s been hard-up for them the last few years. He’s raising his own family now. Julie is just fine. They have five kids …”

I choked on my burger. ‘Five kids? They have five real kids?”

“What do you mean by real?” his face contorted in the effort to grasp my meaning. “Of course, they’re real. None adopted.”

I shook my head and laughed briefly. “No, I was just surprised. I just meant five actual kids. Talking, eating, fighting ones.”
“Noisy ones too. All boys.” He grinned.

“Oh, boy.”

“And! Of course, and –“ Chad bit into his hamburger. “Ooh, hot!” He fanned his mouth with his hand. “Sorry. And then there’s Moses…”

Suddenly, it felt like my whole body stood at attention. I was trying to tell myself I don’t care. But why then does my skin prickle so?

“He got into a bit of an accident farming their fields. The automatic plow and all that. He lost his left hand and well, he had a major heart attack. The left half of his face cannot move now. He was hospitalized for three months. He’s fine now though.”

I was dumbfounded. I never knew what feeling aghast meant until that moment. I was unbelieving, then believing, then doubting. No, not him, surely?

Chad began to choke. It brought me back to reality, making me jump up from my seat preparing to administer the Heimlich maneuver. He waved me away and I realized he wasn’t choking. He was laughing.

“Asus, Jan!” He coughed and pieces of bread spurted from his mouth. I was really starting to hate him. “I was just kidding!” He continued to laugh hard, slapping the counter for emphasis. “You should have seen your face.” He started to imitate what he allegedly saw, eyes bulging wide and mouth hanging open.

“I didn’t open my mouth at all!” This comment led him to more raucous laughter. “Oh, grow up, Chad. What are you, still eight years old?”

He must’ve taken note of the irritation in my voice because he took a swig off his gulaman juice and sombered up a bit.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. Moses is practicing here.” He nodded sagely. “He’s brilliant. Everyone knew he would be. Just like you. We were still kids when we knew you’d be a great politician.”

“I’m a lawyer, not a politician.” I flatly told him. “And Moses is practicing what? I don’t suppose the violin?”

“He’s a doctor. Don’t you know that? And all lawyers turn out to be politicians in the end, don’t they? You run here today, you can easily be a councilor.”

Oh, that Chad. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but sometimes his simplistic points of view can get it dead right. I shook my head emphatically. “Are you married now?” I asked and this effectively changed the topic. I only half-listened as he explained that he has a girlfriend (poor girl) but they’re not planning to marry yet. The other half of my brain was processing the fact that Elias has a family now but maybe I can still go to his house and stay there overnight? Although Chad did mention they were hard-up nowadays and I wouldn’t want to be a burden. Now, Moses doesn’t live in his father’s house anymore. He moved out ten years ago after some increasing tension between him and his step mother. It wouldn’t be right to ask him for a room given that ---

“Why did you break up with Moses, Jan? I mean, I hope you don’t mind my asking.”

I do mind and I showed it, but I could’ve printed my hesitation up in neon lights and Chad still wouldn’t get it.

“You were best friends. You were both brilliant. You both had futures.” He said the last word with heavy somberness.

“Futures. Note the plurality, Chad. Our paths led us to different directions. Can we leave it at that?” I gave him a flat, even smile.

“It’s just that, you guys would have been married by now. With five kids, if you use Elias as a prolific measure.” He finished the last ounce of his juice. “Well!” With a mighty heave, he stood up and offered me his hand again. “Don’t let me keep you from what business you came here to do. It’s nice to see you again, Jan. I will see you around, you can make sure of that. Our small town hasn’t changed a bit.” He gave me a wink.

I nodded and said goodbye. I watched him plod across the street until he finally entered the municipal hall. So, I was right. He does work for the governor.

“Do you know Dr. Rivera, Miss?” the waitress whom I have forgotten was there asked. Quite clearly, she had been eavesdropping. “Moses Rivera?”

“Uhm, we were classmates until high school.” I answered politely.

“Oh, he’s my mother’s doctor, you see. He’s really nice. Won’t you say hello for me, when you visit him? My name’s Jing. Just tell him I’m the Girl from Burger Machine.”

Girl from Burger Machine. Huh.

“Sure.” I smiled again and stood up. The tricycle driver whom I met half an hour ago waved at me.

“Neng, where you off to? I’ll take you there.” He shouted. I walked over and gave him Elias’ address.

“146 Casa dela Reina Street, ho.”

I sat in the tricycle with building trepidation. Was it another mistake to return here? Am I far away from all my problems after all or did I just exchange one for another?

Tired. Too tired.

I refused to think about it. I just let the air whip my hair out of place, let dusty road probably powder my face white.

Nothing. My head is a clear space and I will think of what to do next when I get to Elias.

WE WHO HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP

We all have fallen asleep at one point.

Or perhaps, we all have woken up at least once in our lives. Nobody could really be sure which is which. More than just a bodily function to rejuvenate frayed nerves, sleep is a state of mind. To some people, it is even a way of life. Sleeping brings us to a landscape of dreams; it gives us access to hidden places we can revel in, hide out or escape to.

On the other hand, waking up is either harsh, amazing or both. It depends on the Waker’s reception of the shift in consciousness. Waking can be cruel as to cut short a dream or it can be a gift to help us see beyond the ordinary.

Sleeping and waking are endlessly joined. They are both from a country without maps or borders --- and we who exist to travel the land have to feel our way around the terrain until we find what we are looking for.

Do we crave sleep and shun being awake? Or are we tired of the never ending dream which has kept us from reality for so long? Perhaps at the very end of things when all of Life is measured, we will see the glimmering of those moments we were awake and moments when we are asleep and be content in the understanding that in sleeping and waking we were being alive.

UNPHOTOGRAPHED

Let me tell you about the year 1982.

It was in 1982 when Prince William of Windsor was born. He was touted to be the most photographed baby in the world. I guess nobody knew about that little girl in Caloocan City, Manila, Philippines who was born the same year and who could have given him a run for the money. That little girl was me.

My Mother and Father took enough pictures of me to fill a dozen baby photo albums. It might have been adorable back then to do all those cutesy poses where I’m wearing pink leggings and tutu skirts. But as I grew older, I started to think that, “Wait, this is getting embarrassing!”

You see my parents will ask me to pose anywhere. They’ll ask me to stand in with a bunch of people I do not know; they’ll have me flitting my skirt in the middle of a park where people has nothing else to do but watch you as you’re being photographed. They’ll ask me to pose beside paintings in a museum; hug a tree and smile as if saying “Wow, aren’t we having the darnest good time!”

Then as if that wasn’t enough, they’d send it out to all our relatives with obvious comments written behind the photos. Here’s an example: “This is Olivia, age seven, in front of our microwave oven.”

I’m sorry, but I have to admit it, I grew to hate being photographed. Get any random picture from one of those darn albums taken between the age of 7 – 10 and in all probability, I am not smiling.

But it seems that in my later years, I found out that the camera still has its uses for me. Although I hate being photographed, I realized that I love taking pictures. My favorite subject includes the usual passion for nature scenes. Nowadays though, I find it more interesting to take shots of people oblivious to the camera. Our unguarded expressions can tell so much. And in any given moment, you could have captured something important.

Let me explain further. I’ve come to realize that we all have pictures taken during our birthdays, graduation and perhaps, a wedding. You look at them and people are smiling and trying to look pretty. It doesn’t necessarily mean though that these special occasions have changed anything in the lives of those in the photos. But we are not always so lucky to have a camera ready during the “real” turning points of our lives.

Who in here has a photo that captured their very first kiss? Or maybe a picture of yourself that morning you woke up and realized it’s your first day at work? And how about a picture of that moment when you felt at peace with the world?

If you do have pictures capturing those things, treasure them. These defining moments can happen anytime, anywhere and sometimes in the most inconvenient manner. Suffice to say, they are very rare. But for those of us who aren’t as lucky, we can only relieve these unphotographed moments in our memories.

Today, I choose to introduce myself to the group by choosing three pictures that I never got to take and describe how they have changed my life. I hope that you, my friends, would indulge me.

The first photo I never took that I would like to share with you captures the image of a little girl. She’s in her grade school uniform and she’s standing on a wooden chair so that she could look into the mirror. This particular morning when the picture should have been taken, this little girl woke up early, ate her breakfast and brushed her teeth without much fuss. She asked her Mother to plait her braids more carefully than ever. I heard her say that it’s because today is a special day. The photo I never took was that of her making sure that she looks just perfect for what she’s about to do.

Later that day, the same girl was found making rounds, wearing too many commemorative pins on her uniform while distributing flyers. You see, her sister was running for student council president and she was helping her campaign. You should have seen her. She was bouncing off the walls. Her voice sounded tiny and overexcited as she thrilled, “Think Big, Think Burgos for President!” and she keeps on adding, “She’s my big sister!” Her eyes were shining, wide and big. You’d think she was telling people she was related to the Queen of England.

Seeing her do that reminded me of how she looked earlier that morning, as she painstakingly made sure not a hair was out of place. She was trying to look as neat as she could because of me. She was doing it for me. I felt really lucky to have somebody love me like that. And it dawned on me that I could never love any other mortal on this earth, more than I love this girl. I will do anything for her and my purpose in life must be about taking are of her. This photo taught me that I am a sister. And I’m loving the job.

The second photo I wasn’t able to photograph is a less cheerful one. It’s set in a semi-private hospital ward and it caught me unaware. In this photo, my father slept on the bed nearest the door and my mother, who was also asleep, was slumped on a chair beside the bed, her hands still clutching her rosary beads. My Dad had been hospitalized because of a wound that got infected and wouldn’t heal because of his uncontrolled diabetes. Back then, my Mother was also recuperating from breast cancer. I was eighteen years old and was in second year college. After years of living the easy life, my family was suddenly facing a crisis and I was scared. Heck, I was terrified. That moment, I saw my parents for what they are. They are human. They weren’t omnipotent superheroes. They were fragile too. The world that I knew crumbled.

I stood at the door for a long time. Internally, I tried to come into terms with what I suddenly knew. I began to grasp that as much as I am a sister, I am a daughter too. My parents have had their run; and in the face of doom, they are fighting hard to keep the last vestiges of innocence that my sister and I still have. But that day, I caught them asleep, amidst a room of four other sick strangers, and they would never know that it was there their battle was lost. They would not have guessed that it was also then that I resolved to take up the sword they dropped and fight in their place. As I understand it, it’s my turn now.

The third and last photograph I would like to describe to you is a much more recent one, and this picture is of a boy. He’s seated on a table facing me. His eyes are looking at me with quiet intensity and it’s obvious he wanted to tell me something important. This boy was the one I fell in love with when I was nineteen years old. He was my best friend; we have already shared too many memories for the last six years we’ve known each other. We were so inseparable back then that people mistook us as already having “mutual understanding.” My mistake was, to believe that this may be true. Suffice to say, my love for him was unrequited. And as the years progressed, I grew tired of the whole thing and decided to move on. I made semblances of getting over him – twice. But somehow, something always keeps me coming back to him. Something’s been keeping me stuck!

The day this photo should have been taken, he invited our closest friends to have lunch. I had a feeling I knew what he was going to say and I steeled myself for it. I vowed to myself that my face will not betray the shock I would probably feel when he tells us about the girl. That girl whom he has fallen in love with. That girl whom he could be marrying cum June. And that he might ask me to be a bridesmaid. Well, at least that’s how it happens in the movies. I told myself if Julia Roberts did just fine in that movie My Best Friend’s Wedding, I certainly can handle it too, right?

But the world has its way of pulling the rug from underneath your feet. Fate finds a way to out shock your shock. That day, instead of my best friend telling me he’s getting married, my best friend told me he was gay.

So, it turns out I’m no Julia Roberts. I’m Debra Messing from that TV show, Will and Grace. We’re to be the hag and fag duo. Great.

Of course, he was curious about my reaction. He wasn’t satisfied with the fake, plasticene smile I gave him and the inappropriate greeting of “Congratulations!” That’s why the next day, I decided to confess how I felt for him years ago. I also told him that he looked happy and at ease with his newly outed self, and I support him. And in the process of admitting my feelings and my commitment to remain his friend no matter what, I realized the one thing I needed to move on was --- closure. I needed to know why. I needed to know how it ends. And that day, I knew. I got to turn the last page of a chapter, and I’m feeling more confident that this time, I can really move on to the next. I do not regret having fallen in love with him. I learned so much about the human capacity to love and the range of emotions you get exposed to when you love. I believe that I am a better person for having loved that way. And I also learned that it’s time for me to trade in my gaydar with one that actually functions.

So there we have it. These are the photos I never got to take but have definitely changed my life. The first one taught me what to live for, the second one taught me how to live, while the third one taught me how to love.

I’m sure that the future still holds a lot of opportunities for me to make more memories. Some of them I might be able to capture in film and some of them will remain unrecorded.

You might experience the same thing. When that time comes, just remember that the turning points of our lives often catch us unaware. You can keep capturing Kodak moments, of course, and those memories will be precious. But sometimes, we find ourselves in the cusp of a great change and I say, instead of trying to take a picture, try living it instead. Savor it, remember it, don’t let it go. For these are the moments which defines who you are – and these moments almost always remain

unphotographed.