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.