 
Fisherboy

Stories and Short Novels

By Jonathan Aquino

Copyright 2014 Jonathan Aquino

Smashwords Edition

David's Soul

The Vampire Michael

Class of '07

Baywalk

Toti Cabrera and the Mystery of the Mind

Johnnybee

Jukebox

Fisherboy: Imaginarily Directed By Ishmael Bernal

Rain

David's Soul

The street was deserted. Rats scurry through the remains of the city's wastes under a broken lamp post. The dark windows of the ancient houses watched our passage like the eyes of blind sentinels. We were alone; the pungent smell of rodents our only reminder from the land where we once lived. My companion, a wistful man shrunken with age, gazed in silence towards the sky. The moon was hidden, the stars mute.

"When I was young," he sighed with an air of dignified sadness, "I used to walk these streets when, as a boy, I would accompany my father to the shop. He was a fine barber, my father. When he cuts your hair, you emerge a new person. A damn good chess player too. There was nobody in town who could beat him, not even the capitan del barrio.God bless their souls."

"God," I scoffed, not without bitterness. "You're a fool, old man. There is no God. There is nothing."

He looked at me with eyes clouded in despair.

"Yesterday was the last day of my old life," I continued. "I went to the hills, on the other side of town. It was nearly dusk then. Twilight, the struggle of good and evil.And darkness reigned. I shouted to the heavens, no, I take that back, there is no heaven either. I shouted to the sky. If there is a God, I said, show yourself! Show me! Show me the face of the jester who delights in the sufferings of humanity. There was no answer. Nothing. Not even a sparrow flying over the field. I was looking for a sign. There was nothing. I made the decision that midnight, the time when the spirits from the netherworld are said to roam.I dreamt that I, like Faust, can bargain for my soul. A deal with the Devil – untold wealth, glory, absolute power! But nothing. There was no Devil either."

"Why did you do it?" asked my companion with a troubled frown.

I narrowed my eyes, gazing thoughtfully at the blooming bougainvilleas in a dilapidated trellis of an empty house.

"Why?" I replied.

He nodded with an air of compassion.

"Why did I?" I asked myself. "Why not? What's the point of it all anyway? I'm seventeen. I was, as they say, at my prime. A promising young man, they called me. I was at the top of my class. They said, just by looking at me, that I had a great future. They said that I'll be a successful doctor, a famous surgeon in the city. That I'll grow in fortune and fame. And they'll proclaim me as the town's beloved son. My mother, she was proud, very proud. My only boy, she said, will bring the family great honor. I had two sisters. One went away with a farmer's son from the next barrio. She never came back.They said that that no-good bastard left her, and she killed the baby in her womb. They said she had gone to the city, selling herself. I don't believe that. But they were just rumors. Nobody really knew anything. Anyway, my other sister was – different. She never went to school. No, she did sometime, but they can never teach her to read. They said she had the mind of a child. And now, she's already a woman but can never do anything except play with her dolls. Mother once taught her to sew, but she can't learn even that. Once, she pricked her fingers. The sight of her own blood terrified her so much she locked herself in her room the whole day. Even her neighbors heard her hysterical cries. We weren't rich but my grandmother left a substantial amount of money when she died. That was why they were able to send me to school. I used to walk barefoot as a child."

"My father?" I continued, as he asked. "Well, my father left us when I was boy. I never really knew him. Oh, he used to visit us then. He even took me to the woods to teach me how to use a slingshot. I killed a bird. I remember killing a bird with my slinghsot and I cried. I hated myself then. I guess maybe I even hated my father. It was a sparrow. I saw it quiver before it died. I saw Death took it's grip and it lied still. Eventually his visits became fewer and fewer. And then one day, he was there no more. Even his photographs were hidden in the trunk. There was nothing to remind us of him. I've even forgottten the scent of his cologne. He was, after all, a fastidious dresser. A handsome man. He was, well, they called him dandy. He was the driver of a calesa. One day, while taking some passengers to church, he just fell dead. They said he was clutching his chest when he died. He was shaking, they said, his agonized cry was barely audible. It reminded me of the sparrow I killed, shivering in the cold clutches of death. I never went to the funeral. I saw no reason to. I wasn't even sure if I loved him."

Then suddenly I laughed bitterly. "Love," I said with resentment. "There was a girl," Iwent out. "Her name was Sonia. She works in the market. Her spinster aunt was running this food stall. I called it a restaurant when her aunt was there -- flatter people's egos and it's easier to manipulate them. I made it a point to eat there just to see Sonia. I met her last year, during vacation. She had just arrived fom their province in the north. A year. Was it only a year? Seems like a thousand summers. Yet I can still remember it clearly, like it happened only yesterday. We went to the carnival. That was during the fiesta. We saw this half woman, half fish. She looked sad. Then there was this old man who was only a foot tall. Oh it was wonderful.I never really believed in those stuff but Sonia did. She wasn't dumb but it was her first encounter with such things. She was a bit naive. She was younger than me by a year. Long hair, graceful moves, pretty smile. She was beautiful in her own way. She had this aura, you know what I mean?

"Yes I loved her. Probably too much. I wanted to marry her. But something happened before New Year's Eve. Just a month ago if you think about it. Her childhood sweetheart came. Sounds romantic isn't it? Well, it wasn't for me! She never even told me! She never told me about Rogelio. They were in love before. When he came all the way from Ilagan, she must have realized that she loved him still. Worse, that she loved him more than me. I found them in the fields. I always go there as a boy, when I want to be alone, when I want to think. Her aunt told me she went to the next town to buy something from a Chinese merchant there. But I saw her in the fields, under the shade of the big acacia tree. With Rogelio. I saw him put his arms around her. I saw her lift her head when he kissed her."

"They didn't see me. I crept away like a thief. Since then, that image of betrayal never left me. Many times I've asked myself why did it have to happen. Why did it have to be me? I questioned everything. I questioned God. I was looking for blame, and I found Him. And began to doubt.I drowned bottles of cerveza. My mother was very alarmed but I didn't tell her. Not even Anton, my childhood friend. I was ashamed of myself. I hated her, I hated Rogelio, but most of all, I hated myself. Finally, when I couldn't stand it any longer, I went to the hills like I told you. And found nothing. Somehow I wanted revenge, but there was nothing. I have nothing to live for, nothing to keep me here. That night, I cut one of the clothesline and tied it to a beam in my room. I never even left a note. I tied the rope to my neck and jumped from the chair. The noise it made was what probably woke my mother up. She was banging at the door while I hung there."

"I thought it was suppose to be painless and quick. I was wrong. I was terrified. I was choking. My body struggled to breathe, but I wouldn't let it. The pain was unbearable. My lungs were bursting with pressure. There was a ringing in my ears like the scream of a thousand banshees. I felt my tongue hanging out. I was being engulfed by an evil, living darkness. I was shaking like the sparrow I killed, like my father gripping his chest. The door suddenly flew open and the last thing I heard was my mother's scream." I stopped.

"And there was nothing"

We walked in silence for a while. Two people in silent companionship in the middle of a deserted road, unseen by mortal eyes.

"What happens now?" I asked him.

He turned to me, benign.

"Nothing," he said with sad smile

We continued walking. We were already at the outskirts of the city, nearing the gates of the cemetery, shrouded in the blessed silence of the dead.

The Vampire Michael

**Best Victim.** A KGB spy who was supposed to be an accountant at the United States Embassy across Luneta Park. It was midnight on a Laguna beach resort and he was alone in his cottage. I found a Swiss bank bearer bond worth two million dollars. His blood tasted like vodka plus I got a laptop and a bagful of PX goodies. I can't complain.

For the best-tasting victim, however, the honor goes to a French chef at the Mandarin Hotel. Red wine monsieur? Bon Apetit! Au revoir, oui?

**Best Escape.** After the Edsa Revolution in 1986, I was feasting on looters left and right. Nobody even noticed! Rallies are eat-all-you can affairs. Long live democracy!

**Best Enemy.** A Filipino boxer. At the top of his form at such a young age. Bloody but unbowed, going down in a blaze of glory. A worthy opponent! The exact opposite of the security guard last night who tasted like cough syrup.

**Best Moment.** I was once lost in a Basilan jungle in Mindanao and I was caught by an Abu Sayyaf patrol. There were seven of them but a had a toothache I was in no mood for guff. I killed them in three seconds flat. Anyway, I eventually pounced on some yoyos who just held up a highway bus. They even stole the live chickens on board! Imagine?

**Best Death.** Sunbathing in a southern beach. I tried to commit suicide but I was such a ninny I keep coming back. Incidentally, that was also the best resurrection - waking up on the white sand, looking up at the stars, listening to the soothing waves on the shore...

**Best Identity**. I was a double agent during the Philippine-American War. Since I was so anemically pale I could pass off as a WASP. And because there's a sucker on both sides, Pinoys and Yankees can rightly claim to have been blood-brothers.

**Best Girlfriend.** An Ifugao princess who taught me to "sing with all the voices in the mountain and paint with all the colors of the wind" hundreds of years before Vanessa Williams posed nude.

**Best Hide-Out.** An undergound tunnel built by Japanese guerillas near Corregidor. It was so full of spirits it was intoxicating. I even felt like that little squirt in Sixth Sense. I even brought a guitar and sang Freddie Aguilar and Asin songs. Sometimes the ghosts would join in.

**Best Place.** My favorite place to visit in this ancestral house in Marinduque island, The owner is such a swell guy and a darn good piano player too! And they sure know how to party! Of course, none of us are alive but that's beside the point.

**Best Mortal** Met. A boy who was escaping from an orphanage defeated me because he stood his gound like whats-his-name, that Greek guy with heels. I draw my powers from negative auras, you see, but the spunky little fellow was such a daredevil he made Van Helsing look like Scooby Doo. He taught me that a man who has conquered his fears can overcome even the most deranged evil spirit. At the same time, the greatest evils in this world came not from supernatural beings but human nature. And paradoxically, he is also capable of soaring to the highest aspirations of the human spirit. That true bliss and damnation - heaven and hell - is within. And that the freedom to choose is both a gift and a curse.

**Best Theme Song.** Theme song? Yeah, why not? _Shout For Joy_! I'm a Gary Valenciano fan - not that it's any of your business. Better dancer if I may add. Nope, I'm not religious - the hell I am! But I find it intriguing that it's possible to become a better person that who you are by surrendering to a higher power. But I guess it's too late for me. I mean, hey, I'm already dead! But you are not! Meaning, I'll be "Reaching out to you" and "When I smile you know that there is something more."

**Best Slayer.** An angel from God knows where. Well, what do you expect anyway? I can never win against those translucent freaks. I was about to pounce on a Habitat For Humanity volunteer when this wingless weirdo grabbed me by the ear \- oh please, my mother used to do that! He took me to a deserted alley near Plaza Goiti in Santa Cruz district in Manila when the tranvia train is still running last century. There, he literally beat the hell out of me. After that, you might say I was born again.

II

**Worst Victim.** There was this solvent sniffing starlet who thought she was a Taiwanese superstar. Her body is a wonderland - full of substance that would freak out even pharmacist. She tasted like 70 percent isopropyl rubbing alcohol and insect killer mixed with rancid vinegar.

**Worst Escape**. Before Jose Rizal was born in the 1860s, I was once chased by a group of Spaniards shouting _alto! alto_! Since this _macho guapito hombre no hablo Espanol_ , I took refuge in the first building I found.

It was a Catholic church.

**Worst Enemy.** My best friend. Well, he used to be that anyway. That attention-obsessed son of a bitch exposed my identity in a showbiz talk show in exchange for a press conference and an exclusive interview for a gossip column in a tabloid. The same thing happened the first time I was in New York. A fellow alien pointed me to Immigration agents. With the bounty he put up his own club. Lesson: never trust bartenders.

**Worst Moment.** During the Osmena administration during the War, I gate-crashed in a party in the President's house in Malacañang. That was decades before the Palace became surrounded by squatter areas. Then a woman screamed at me in horror! I don't get it, I look like the Revolutionary War idol Emilio Jacinto! What's her problem? Then I realized there was a wall of mirrors behind me – and I'm the only one who didn't have a reflection. Oh, it was embarrassing!

**Worst Death.** That was the day Marcos declared Martial Law in the 1972. I was running from the PC-INP uniformed terrorists. There was this idiot major who keep shooting at my back 'til I had more holes than a dozen doughnuts. I tried to escape by slipping in what turned out to be a septic tank and promptly drowned.

**Worst Identity.** The first time I wore a tuxedo was during the Commonwealth era in the 1930s. I was such a grim and relentless social climbers I keep popping up in balls. I wanted to hobnob with President Manuel L. Quezon and impress him with my tango. So there I was, dressed to kill (excuse the pun), zooming towards the buffet table when s lady hailed me to bring her some salad and a man at the next table asked for more ice.

**Worst Girlfriend.** A witch who played with dolls that look like me. We met during the Inauguration of the Third Republic while President Manuel Roxas was taking his oath. She cast a spell over me - literally.

**Worst Hide-Out.** Before the Americans left Clark Air Base in 1991, I was the only pimp there who've met the legendary voyager Ferdinand Magellan in person three hundred years ago. Anyway, I was living in a batcave during that time. For some strange reason I was down with syphilis when Mt. Pinatubo erupted and I was buried under tons of lahar and molten lava.

**Worst Place**. Near the Quiapo mosque in downtown Manila in the late 90s I saw a potential victim enter a dark building. Thinking he was alone, I followed him. It turned out to be a warehouse for pirated DVDs and five guys stabbed me to death. Later, they dropped dead from exhaustion.

**Worst Mortal Met.** I had this landlady once in Cebu who couldn't breathe without the latest neighborhood intrigues. She had the intellectual capacity of a moth but she had more opinions than a dozen newspaper columnists.

**Worst Theme Song.** I once had a victim who just came out of Hobbit House folk lounge in Ermita, Manila before the Dirty Harry mayor invaded the redlight district. He was drunk and I got drunk as well! Then I saw what looked like Batman coming after me! I evaded him by hiding in what turned out to be Baseco Compound slum area. Everybody's radio was playing something about tomato sauce going up and down, and I felt sick. Then I had a migraine. Then I had a fever. Then I collapsed. Then I had convulsions. Then I became comatose. Then I had nightmares. The next day I had a hang-over.

**Worst Slayer.** A ghost from Christmas past. During the Bataan siege at the height of the Second World War, there was this Makapili whistleblower, see, a Filipino collaborating with the Japanese invaders to betray his countrymen, wearing a large nipa bag over his head as a mask, and I made him dinner. My dinner. Then apparently, some fruitcakes with a weejee board - how do you pronounce that anyway? - brought him back. Then this ectoplastic maniac executed me with a little help from his frat brods – poltergeists mostly.

III

**Most Unusual Victim**. Imagine my first encounter with a drag queen. That was in the bohemian Malate district in Manila during Pope John Paul's first visit in 1981. Picture this: hot MTV VJ Giselle Toengi morphed with Bong Revilla Jr. - oh I forgot, it's _Senator_ Bong Revilla Jr.! Sorry. Anyway, try this one: pineapple juice mixed with brandy with The Hotdog's _Bongga Ka 'Day_ in the background. I love the nightlife!

**Most Unusual Escape**. A traffic policeman once asked for my license, and since I wasn't driving anything, he arrested me for sedition. So I escaped and hid in a large Balikbayan package box. Then somebody shipped it out and the next thing I knew I was being surrounded by windmills.

That was my first time in Holland.

**Most Unusual Enemy.** The Tayuman Being -a six million dollar man with an Ilonggo accent and a Kapampangan name that sounds like macaroni. It was a stalemate (of course!) and after that I had some Japanese - a Yakuza hitman.

**Most Unusual Moment**. In the next elections, I'll be running for Congress. Even the dead will vote for me. But first, I'll enter showbiz.

**Most Unusual Death.** Apparently there was this pager operator in the 90s, who got so depressed when he couldn't get into Latin star Thalia's concert that he jumped off the rooftop of a building, fell on top of me and broke my neck. That I actually died was the unusual part. But when I think about, that incident is about as good as any.

**Most Unsual Identity.** Once I came upon this Amazon tribe in the hinterlands of Mindoro while searching for the fabled Golden Buddha. It seems even lesbians need a king and they me one and I was too shy to protest. My first official act was an orgy and that was a royal decree. Then there was a drought, and in order to appease the gods they had to sacrifice the king.

**Most Unusual Girlfriend.** I was dating this girl from Panay Island but I suspected she was a nympho so I spied on her one night. I saw her standing naked in her room rubbing some kind of oil on her body. After a while, batwings grew from her back and the upper half off her body flew out the window.

**Most Unusual Hide-Out**. For a long time, residents of this Southern Tagalog province were literally terrified to death by a floating coffin that would suddenly appear in the highway. I decided to try it on for size and what do you know? A perfect fit! It beats the best first class cabins of any airline.

**Most Unusual Place.** Last Christmas I prepared a Barrio Fiesta cook for my Christmas eve Noche Buena meal and took him to La Loma Cemetery. Believe it or not, I saw houses there. You might find this weird coming from me, but I've always been too scared to live in graveyards and I find it really creepy to see mortals actually do so. Later I saw what's on the other side of the wall - North Cemetery.

**Most Unusual Mortal Met**. When Ruby Tower was still standing in 70s, I had an out-of- this world experience: I was abducted by aliens! Why on earth strange things happen to me I have no idea. Their leader was this ginger-colored, garlic-smelling, onion-looking dwarf who was supposed to be a woman from Venus and her name was Rose Well. She had a crush on me because I looked like a ginseng root but I told her I was already taken. She felt alienated.

**Most Unusual Theme Song.** Somerthing called _Mag-Exercise Tayo Tuwing Umaga_. Back in the eighties, I would scan the radio for Johnny Midnight's program. I never found it, but this early morning exercise anthem was always everytime I would go to bed.

**Most Unusual Slayer.** A fairy. A male fairy. You know, like Peter Pan? He wasn't gay but he's queer - I mean, his magic wand was a cell phone. He imprisoned me in an anthill in a forest. Then somebody burned the forest! And so now, we're both homeless.

Class of '07

Saint Lorenzo Ruiz Academy. Meryl Street. Pasig City. February 2007. Monday. 7:58 AM. Third Year Section 1 was buzzing while we're waiting for the next period. It was a week before my 16th birthday and I wanted to invite my crush Carmen. I've already written her a note and was showing the draft in my cellphone to my best friend. "It's hokey!" exclaimed Angelo. "I don't know if it's an invitation or a love letter."

"Listen to me!" I said eagerly. His seat was directly behind mine so I have to twist my spine. "She looks like Shaina Magdayao and I look like Rayver Cruz! It's a sign! We are meant for each other!"

Angelo's face was expressionless as he looked at me, then at Carmen. "Rogelio," he deadpanned, "have you had breakfast yet?"

I took my cellphone and right in front of him, hit the SEND button. "Corned beef with potatoes," I winked, "and fried rice with margarine!"

"Good morning class!" greeted our Civics teacher as she breezed confidently into the room and placed her books on the desk.

"Good morning Mrs. Torres!" We were all galvanized by her mere presence. She's very strict but her mastery is unquestioned. It's accepted that she's smarter and more formidable than the entire faculty put together.

"I expect you have all done your homework," she said pleasantly but with no room for nonsense. "Class monitor, is everyone present? Good. Now, a little review. Last Friday, I asked you to choose one outstanding Filipino of our time and to prepare a short speech on why you admire him. Raise your hand if he shows the quality I will mention. We will use this book by Pastor John Maxwell as a guide," she continued, tapping the slim volume on her desk but not opening it. "It identifies the ten signs of leadership. Write them down. Any questions? Good. We will begin The first sign of leadership is strength of character. A leader has integrity and moral convictions. He shows grace and courage under fire. Yes Nida. Who among the Filipinos of our time do you admire most? Then tell us why."

"Frank Gudani!" said Nida. Displaying her eidetic memory, the budding pre-school teacher continued, "Retired Marine General Frank Gudani was the commander of the 1st Marine Brigade and the Joint Task Force Ranao. He graduated with honors from the PMA, National Defense College, PAL Aviation School, AIM and the U.S. Marine Corps. He's a combat veteran and a soldier for Christ. He became a Born Again through the AFP Christian group JOSHUA in 1989. He appeared in the Senate and exposed the massive fraud in the 2004 elections despite orders to remain silent. Because of that, he was court-martialed. But EO 464 was later ruled by the Supreme Court as illegal and unconstitutional."

The whole class cheered. Even Mrs. Torres smiled. She next acknowledged Nestor.

"Jovito Salonga!" said Nestor. "Retired Senate President Jovito Salonga has become the embodiment of the ideal statesman." The poet in Nestor was shining through. "He has been forged in the crucible of tyranny, and it found him standing majestically tall in the name of freedom and justice in a time when these same values were being tortured into non-existence. Today, he acts as the nation's conscience as one of the most respected government fiscalizers despite having left the mainstream political arena. I am proud to say that my father is one of the legal consultants of Kilosbayan." Cheers.

"The second sign of leadership is influence," said Mrs. Torres. "A leader can move people and make things happen. He is a moral force for good. Yes Gloria."

"Christian Monsod!" said Gloria. "When he was Chairman of the Commission On Elections, our electoral system earned an unprecedented level of public trust. Then he retired. But when the relentless Charter-change campaign was nearly destroying our country, he returned and founded One Voice to help stop the complete meltdown of our institutions. My father is a proud member of this civil society group." Cheers. Mrs. Torres acknowledged Luis.

"Philip Piccio!" said Luis."When the pre-need industry crashed, we were affected because my parents had taken a CAP education plan for my brother Carlo. So when Mr. Piccio founded PEP Coalition, our hopes were revived that Carlo's schooling will not be jeopardized after all. I saw firsthand that nothing is impossible if everyone will join forces to stand up for what is right." Cheers.

"The third sign of leadership is a positive attitude," said Mrs. Torres. "A leader knows he will be vindicated in the end no matter what happens because what he is doing is right. Remember: a true leader always know what is right and what is wrong, and will never violate his conscience just for expediency. Yes Tita."

"Angelito Nayan!" said Tita. "He was the U.N. volunteer who was hostaged by terrorists in Afghanistan. It affected me because my father is an OFW. But I was one of the millions who were inspired by the strength, faith and hope he had shown during his ordeal. I learned that heroism is a way of life, and that true courage only comes from the Highest Power." Cheers. Mrs. Torres acknowledged Pancho.

"Harry Roque!" said Pancho. "He's my brother's law professor in U.P. who singlehandedly chased Joc-Joc Bolante halfway around the world because the government kept ignoring the case. As you know, Joc-Joc was the accused mastermind of the 728 billion peso Fertilizer Scam who's now jailed in the United States. My brother and I learned from Prof. Roque that good people always practice what they preach, and that no one is above the law." Cheers.

"The fourth sign of leadership is excellent people skills," said Mrs. Torres. "A leader understands what the other person is feeling. He has genuine concern for the welfare of others. People can identify with him. Yes Rosemarie."

"Rico Yan!" said Rosemarie. "Not just because I had this big crush on him while he was still alive. It's because the more I learn about him – about his public charisma and private public service – the more I realized what a beautiful person he was inside and out. I remember what my mother told me when my grandmother died: The true measure of a life is the beauty of the memories left behind. Rico made me believe that as long as there are people who still love you, you will always be here – forever young – because you got to believe in magic." Cheers. Mrs. Torres acknowledged Pepito.

"The Apo!" said Pepito. "Jim Paredes, Danny Javier and Buboy Garovillo redefined original Filipino music and gave birth to me. Would you believe their songs are the soundtrack of my father's life? Daddy serenaded Mommy with _When I Met You_ and _Ewan_. You'll never guess Mommy's name: Anna. Their wedding song was _Panalangin_. When I was younger, Daddy would always sing _Batang-Bata Ka Pa_ to me. When he and his childhood friends get together, they would sing _Saan Na Nga Ba Ang Barkada_ and _Doo Bi Doo._ For me, the Apo Hiking Society is the symbol of true friendship, solidarity and brotherhood. At this moment, my favorite Apo song is _Maghirap Magmahal Ng Syota Ng Iba_." The song means _It's Hard To Love Someone Else's Girlfriend_ so there are cheers while everyone was asking him "Who?"

"The fifth sign of leadership is the possession of evident talents," said Mrs. Torres. "A leader has something to offer. He can contribute significantly to enhance the world. Yes Delia."

"Ryan Cayabyab!" said Delia. "The Maestro has given us some of the immortal classics that have enriched our musical heritage. I took some voice lessons under him, and he taught me that quality – not novelty – is what makes a song beautiful, unforgettable and timeless. Right now, my favorite Cayabyab composition is _Can This Be Love_." Everybody cheered as we showered her with good-natured teasing. Mrs. Torres looked amused as she acknowledged Jose.

"Eddie Garcia!" said Jose. He was blushing and I think I know why. "I want to be an actor and work with him. His versatility, devotion to craft, humility, clean living, stature and longevity really inspire me. He's also a great director and I want to have a career like his. He has actually given more to society than what most people even think about giving – I mean aside from being the most transcendent actor in Philippine cinema." Cheers.

"The sixth sign of leadership is the possession of a good track record," said Mrs. Tores. "A leader leaves a mark in the world. His achievements, however small, reflect those ideals to which all decent men aspire. Yes Lolita."

"Raul Roco!" said Lolita. "The late Senator Raul Roco was the best President the country never had. I want to enter public service when I grow up, and he's my inspiration. His incandescent genius went beyond his magnificent track record. He had been consistently outstanding as a San Beda student leader, NUSP president, human rights lawyer, IBP president, Con-Con delegate, congressman, senator, presidential candidate, Education Secretary and family man. Roco authored the law that repealed the Anti-Subversion Act. He authored the landmark Bangko Sentral Act that liberalized the banking industry and spurred the economic boom in the 90s. He gave greater fiscal autonomy to state colleges and universities. His institutional reforms in the judiciary streamlined the Supreme Court and the Sandiganbayan so that their caseloads are now being resolved faster. He boosted countryside development by increasing the capitalization of Land Bank threefold. He has even been called the 'Honorary Woman' of the Senate because he is the author of the Women In Nation-Building Act, or WIN! He likewise authored the Plan of Action for the Inter-Parliamentary Union and The Legislative Council on Women bills. His legislative record included bills against rape, white slavery, sexual harassment, behest loans, censorship and so many others. The Ford Foundation officially cited him as the over-all Most Outsanding in the 8th Congress. Raul Roco has set the standards where all future leaders would be measured. I even adopted his secret as my personal motto: 'Aral, Sipag at Dasal, which means Study, Hard Work, and Prayer. Oh, and he's also the executive producer of Lino Brocka's classic film _Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang_." Cheers. Mrs. Torres acknowledged Rodrigo.

"Mayor Jesse Robredo!" said Rodrigo. "My family hails from Naga, and I can personally attest that the entire city is fiercely loyal to Mayor Jesse and his team. You have no idea how much we love and trust him, which is really rare for a politician. His track record can speak for itself. Mayor Jesse's flagship i-Governance program has completely computerized City Hall and destroyed red tape. All transactions, contracts, revenues, employees – name it! – they're all online. He's the first ever mayor to invite sectoral representatives and NGOs to participate in the City Council. He is one of the few local chief executives with the mental stamina to earn an MBA in Public Administration from the JFK School of Government in Harvard. His innovations have garnered more than 140 awards here and abroad, including the United Nations Public Service Awards, the AIM Galing Pook Awards Hall of Fame, and, listen to this: the Ramon Magsaysay Award for Government Service." Cheers.

"The seventh sign of leadership is the ability to instill confidence and a sense of self-reliance in others," said Mrs. Torres. "A leader brings out the best in people. He inspires others to achieve their dreams. Yes Pilar."

"Isko Moreno!" said Pilar. "He's a phenomenon! I mean, he started as a scavenger then he rose to become a matinee idol and now he's a consistently outstanding City Councilor in Manila! I mean, his rags-to-riches story is a bright ray of hope to millions of poor kids dreaming of a better life. And he's very young! I mean, he's what, 28, 29? My father admires him because he too knew what it felt to be a pedicab driver in Divisoria who reached his ambitions through honest labor and perseverance. He always tells me to emulate Isko's humility, conscientiousness, and sense of gratitude to those who lent a helping hand. MY family and all our relatives in Tondo truly believe that these admirable qualities will serve him in good stead all the way to the Presidency." Cheers. Mrs. Torres acknowledged Romeo.

"Senator Richard Gordon!" said Romeo. "Picture this: the Chairman of the Philippine National Red Cross slogging through mud to bring vital aid to typhoon victims. Here's another scene: a Senator of the Republic picking up litter and throwing them in garbage bins. That's Gordon. By the way, as some of you may know, my father is a judge. Do you how I was raised? Papa just told me to do as he does. And you know what? I'm thankful about the way I turned out. For one thing, I don't curse while playing video games. And everytime I see Gordon in action, I remember what Papa always tells me: True leadership is the gift of awakening men's higher nature by being a role model. I read the news this morning, and Gordon is fighting for the coming elections to be fully automated so that there'll be no more fraud in May and all future polls. All honest citizens are behind him. His battlecry is now my personal motto: 'Pag gusto, may paraan; pag ayaw, may dahilan.' Hah, I'm already excited just imagining Gordon as President!" Cheers.

"The eighth sign of leadership is self-discipline," said Mrs. Torres. "A leader is in full control of his senses. His actions are consistent with his goals. Yes Vilma."

"Paeng Nepomuceno!" said Vilma. "First of all, I would like to greet each and everyone of you a pleasant morning! Well, for me, I believe discipline is a matter of focus. Paeng Nepomuceno is the first athlete and one of the few awardees of both the Legion of Honor and the Presidential Medal of Merit. Why? Because he devastated all his opponents and stunningly won the World Cup Bowling Championship for an unparalleled six times. Six times! His amazing grandslam made the World FIQ and the Guinness Book of World Records to recognize him as the official, all-time absolute best-ever player in the history of bowling. The greatest lesson I learned is that by doing what you love supremely well, you can make history. I will always carry this inspiration even after I'm crowned Miss Universe in the future. I, thank you! Mabuhay!" Cheers. Mrs. Torres thanked Candidate No. 15 and then acknowledged Edgar.

"The Mount Everest Conquerors!" said Edgar. "My father is an editor and he showed me the value of simplicity so I shall be brief. One small step for Leo Oracion, one giant leap for the Filipino nation! And equal honors belong to his entire team, Dale Abenojar and his team, the internationally-acclaimed broadcast journalist Abner Mercado – and to all the visionary men and women who made that historic journey a triumphant success!" Cheers.

"The ninth sign of leadership is the possession of effective communication skills," said Mrs. Torres. "A leader can connect directly to people in the gut level. His stand on issues is clear and categorical. Yes Nora."

"Jaime Cardinal Sin!" said Nora. "Gosh, I'm sorry, I'm not really good in making speeches, I'm more of a story-teller. That is actually why I want to become a newscaster someday. Anyway, let's turn back the hands of time."

She began: "When Senator Ninoy Aquino was assassinated in 1983, his wife Cory became the symbol of the fight against President Ferdinand Marcos. Because he was under international pressure, Marcos called for a snap presidential election in 1986. It was now a showdown between Marcos and Cory! But Marcos rigged the votes! I think he called a Comelec commissioner on the phone, I'm not sure. But anyway, that unleashed a huge wave of national outrage! So Defense Secretary Juan Ponce Enrile and Armed Forces Vice-Chief of Staff Fidel Ramos staged a coup! They withdrew their support to the regime! But they became trapped in Camps Aguinaldo and Crame on Edsa! Marcos sent soldiers to arrest them! And you know what happened? Manila Archbishop Cardinal Sin mobilized the entire nation to take to the streets and barricade the camps! It was incredible! The sight of millions of men, women and children calling for peaceful change and national healing was spectacular and unprecedented! The whole world was spellbound as history unfolded before their very eyes! Marcos was forced to step down! Cory was hailed as the true President! And democracy returned to the Philippines!"

She continued: "Cardinal Sin helped saved the lives of generations of Filipinos. Because without Ninoy, Cory and Cardinal Sin, Marcos would have died while in office because he had no intention of leaving even when he was already sick. The resulting power vacuum would have been seized by Rightist and Leftist extremists. The magnitude of such a power struggle would have plunged the county into the pits of anarchy and genocide, and the Philippines today would have been a combination of Burma and North Korea."

She concluded: "Cardinal Sin united the country to depose a President though a bloodless revolution that captured the world's imagination. Not One! But twice! My cousins and I were in Edsa 2 when President Erap Estrada stepped down. Gosh, we saw our parish priest there! We asked him what's doing in a rally. He told us that the separation of Church and State ends where loyalty to the country begins. The late Jaime Cardinal Sin has been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize, and has inspired the whole world with the glory of true People Power!" Cheers! Mrs. Torres acknowledged Tirso.

"Fernando Poe Jr.!" said Tirso. "To make you understand what I feel about FPJ, I have to tell you about my father. I've never told this anyone before, but when my father was 14, he ran away from his cruel uncle in Pangasinan and went to Manila alone. He didn't know anyone and had no place to go. He landed in an endless variety of jobs just to survive. My father was working as a part-time butcher's assistant while sidelining as a movie extra when he met FPJ and asked for help. It was FPJ who gave my father his first stable job as a clapper-boy. It was FPJ who encouraged him to finish highschool. It was FPJ who secretly paid the hospital bills when my father had an emergency appendix operation. It was FPJ who gave him the capital for a small retail store which is now a mini-grocery. And it was also FPJ who secretly paid the funeral expenses when my father died during the LRT bombing."

Tirso was struggling not to cry as he continued: "For our family, and for the generations of actors, industry workers and ordinary people whose lives he had touched; for his family, friends and millions of loyal followers; and as long as there are young men looking for heroes, the King of Philippine Movies will reign forever – and not even dirty politics can take that away." He paused. "Da King is dead." His voice broke. "Long live Da King."

The silence was deafening, Then somebody, hesitantly, began clapping, and soon the groundswell of applause rose to a crescendo of admiration, goodwill and a stronger sense of kinship among the class of '07.

Mrs. Torres seemed to be composing herself. She cleared her throat. "The tenth sign of leadership is discontent with the status quo. A leader is a visionary. He lives for a higher purpose and wants others to discover that freedom. Yes Carmen."

Carmen!

"Tony Meloto!" said the love of my life as flowers bloomed all around her and the sounds of violins filled the air. "I came from a family of volunteers. My parents first met when they were both teenagers doing volunteer work for the Red Cross. They are still active in Red Cross and now, also with Gawad Kalinga. I myself am planning to volunteer for the Red Cross and GK this coming summer. My older brother and sister are both regular volunteers at Red Cross, PPCRV and of course, GK. So in behalf of my family, I would like to salute Mr. Tony Meloto, the Magsaysay Award-winning founder of GK, for waving the banner and volunteerism and rallying thousands of families to take charge of their lives and build their own homes – and a brighter future for their children and their children's children. The most unforgettable lesson I learned from Mr. Meloto is: Even a single individual can change the world – one selfless act at a time." Cheers! Guess who's the loudest? Then Mrs. Torres acknowledged me. It's my turn!

"Gary Valenciano!" I said proudly. I began to sing: " 'Here's to the old times and the best of new ones, here's to our songs of glee!' " Cheers from my fans. I started to speak from my heart and soul. "An artist and songwriter par excellence, Mr. Pure Energy has enough talents and achievements for 8 ½ lifetimes. But more than that, his personal relationship with Jesus Christ is a living reality, palpable even across the concert auditorium. Gary V. The Total Performer made a major impact on pop culture. But it is Gary V. the man of faith who continues tirelessly to spread the message of hope, encouragement and spiritual upliftment through his music, reminding us that only by letting go can the Lord take us out of the dark – and that God never sleeps."

Cheers everywhere. From the corner of my eyes I saw Carmen smiling! Angelo was twirling his right forearm in the air and hooting "Woo-woo-woo!"

Mrs. Torres was looking very pleased. "Learning about this league of extraordinary gentlemen makes us all proud to be Filipinos, doesn't it?" The Class of '07 gave a chorus of acclaim. "We will continue this tomorrow. On Wednesday, we will discuss the legacies of Fr. James Reuter, Fr. Shay Cullen, Fr. Bob Garon, Earl K. Wilkinson and all the other non-Filipinos who made the Philippines a better place. On Thursday and Friday, we will pay tribute to the most outstanding Filipino women of our time." Our ovation and excitement shook the whole building.

My cellphone vibrated. I read it nervously. It was Carmen! Her message: "y dnt u ask n prsn?" I twisted around and practically screamed, "Angelo, she said yes!!!" My heart was singing with happiness while my mind played _Ikaw Lang Ang Aking Mahal_ by Brownman Revival. You Are My Only Love

The recess bell rang. The entire class erupted into a cacophony of whoops and youthful exuberance. Angelo was grinning mischievously, patting me in the back and pushing me towards Carmen at the same time. I was too bashful to look into her eyes—but I wanted to shout for joy!

Baywalk

I went to Baywalk. I always go there when I want to think, to sort things out in my mind, when I need to be alone, which is strange because it's virtually a public park. There's something in my soul that responds to the open sea, the sight of a vast expanse of water; it's like gazing into infinity, if you away the breakwater rocks in the distance and the ships beyond, and the city's garbage floating before your every eyes.

I met a guy there. He's a high school drop out who's self-employed, offers reflexology to people there; when he was younger he also offered his body. He sleeps in Gwapotel if he has money, in Roxas Boulevard if he doesn't. If it rains in the day time, he'll watch a movie and take a nap there too, if he has money; and if he doesn't, he'll just browse in bookstores. But he says he's at peace with himself, with the world and with God, and he obviously is, even though he's all alone in the world.

His only long term goal is to work in a friend's piggery in Nueva Ecija for a couple of months, then back again. He isn't religious but he always visits churches when there's no Mass. Despite it all, he has own personal code of honor: he abhors alcohol and gambling; and condemns stealing, drugs, back biting and taking advantage of others. The most unforgettable advice he gave me, as he was giving me a massage, with my shirt off in front of the people of the Philippines, was to simply enjoy the moment, enjoy life, because there may come a time when I won't be able to do either.

He may seem the opposite version of what the world regards as successful, then it threw me down a spiral staircase of meditation: Can you be a failure if you are a decent and productive member of the society that looks down on you? Is your life less significant if you have the freedom to do whatever you gosh darn please?

Toti Cabrera and the Mystery of the Mind

(A Children's Story)

My name is Toti and I'm eleven yeas old. I'm in Grade 6 and an honor student. My class adviser tells me I look like Jiro Manio in _Magnifico._ I don't have any brothers or sisters but I'm very happy because my parents love me very much and I love them too.

Mommy is a housewife and she cooks the most delicious fresh lumpia vegetable salad mix in the world.

Daddy is a psychologist. A psychologist is a special doctor who studies what people think. He can explain everything. He can tell if you're a good boy just by looking at your drawings. When I grow up, I want to be a psychologist like Daddy.

Daddy loves reading, and he says little boys who read books become smart and successful. Every night after supper, Daddy would always read in the living room while I do my homework.

One night after finishing my homework, I sat in Daddy's lap. He was reading a book. I asked him what the book was about.

"It's about a psychologist named Dr. Carl Jung" said Daddy. "Dr. Jung was born in Switzerland. Do you know where Switzerland is, Toti?"

"Yes Dad," I said. "Switzerland is in western Europe. The capital of Switzerland is Bern."

"Very good."

"Dad," I said, "please tell me about Dr. Jung."

"Alright. Dr. Jung studied the mind. The 'mind' is our power to think. If you think about tapsilog, your mind is giving you memories of _tapsilog_."

Immediately a steaming plate of _tapsilog_ : dried beef, fried rice and egg.

"Is the mind different from the brain, Daddy?" I asked.

"Yes Toti," said Daddy. "The brain is like a TV set. The mind is like the TV programs."

Like _Game Ka Na Ba_?" I asked, laughing.

"Yes," said Daddy. Then he added. "Game na!"

We both laughed.

"You see Kris Aquino on TV," explained Daddy, "but she's not inside the TV set, right?"

I nodded.

"Now," Daddy continued. "Dr. Jung says that the mind has three parts. The first part is the conscious mind, or ego. The ego is you. Everything you do when you're awake is the work of your ego."

"You mean, when I play _patintero_ with my friends, I'm using my ego?" I asked.

"Yes, very good," said Daddy. "The second part of the mind is the personal unconscious, or subconscious. Your memories are kept in your subconscious,"

"I know," I said. "The ego is like calling Aunty Pattie on my cell phone. The subconscious is like my SIM card."

"Very good," said Daddy. "The third part of the mind is called the collective unconscious. This is where dreams come from. Dr. Jung says that every mind is connected to each other."

"Just like all computers are connected to the Internet, Daddy?"I asked.

"Yes, very good," said Daddy. "Okay, Toti. The collective unconscious uses patterns called archetypes. An archetype is a universal symbol. There are many kinds of archetypes. For example, the mother archetype can use any symbols of mothers."

"Like Mommy?"

"Yes. Can you name other mothers?"

"Mama Mary!"

"Very good. We can also use Motherland and Mother Nature. There are also songs about the mother archetype, like the classic lullabye _Ugoy Ng Duyan,_ composed by Levi Celerio and Lucio San Pedro; and Mama, composed by Ryan Cayabyab."

"What are the other archetypes, Daddy?" I asked, very excited.

"Okay, there's the Shadow archetype. It is neutral. Neutral means it's not good or bad by itself, But the Shadow sometimes uses symbols of evil," said Daddy.

"Like the _aswang_ vampire?"I asked.

"Yes," said Daddy. "There's also the giant _kapre_ ogre, the half-man, half-horse _tikbalang_ , the _tiyanak_ ghoul. There is Zuma. Zuma is a big bald man with a giant snake around his neck. There is also Kamandag, the boy who become a snake. There is Valentina, the woman with snakes on her head. Valentina is the enemy of Darna. Darna is a heroine, like a flying Wonder Woman. A heroine is a female hero. Now let's go the hero archetype. The hero archetype is the symbol of the ego versus the Shadow. Let's name some Filipino heroes. Ready?"

"Ready Dad!"

"Alright, I'll go first," said Daddy. "There's the Ifugao warrior Aliguyun, the folk heroes Bernardo Carpio, Ibalong and Bantugan; the movie action heroes Harabas, Leon Guerrero, Maskarado, Dalmacio Armas and Mr. Wong. There is also Prince Amante, and my favorite character, Crisostomo Ibarra. He is the hero of _Noli Me Tangere,_ the novel written by Dr. Jose Rizal. Okay, your turn. Can you name some Filipino characters that are symbols of the hero archetype?"

"Panday!" I said happily. "Agent X44! Captain Barbell! Lastikman! Aguiluz! The Sugo Twins! Pedro Penduko! Super Inggo! Enteng Kabisote! Fantastic Man! Exodus!"

"Very good," said Daddy. "The next archetype is called the Persona. The Persona is like a mask. For example, a scary _engkanto_ will use his powers to become a handsome boy so he can talk to his crush. Another example is Miguel, the boy in the story called _Tubig Sa Buslo_ written by Mateo Cruz Cornelio. Miguel is poor but he pretends to be rich. Do you know other symbols of the Persona?"

"Yes Dad," I said "There are the characters in the songs Totoy Bibo, Don Romantico and Mr. Suave. They want other people to think they are cool."

"Very good, Toti," said Daddy. "The next archetypes are the animus and the anima. They are partners. The animus is the boy, and the anima is the girl. An example is lovers Lam-Ang and Innes Kannoyan from our Filipino myth. Can you give some symbols?"

"Yes, Dad," I said. "There's Florante and Laura in the Balagtas poem! Florante is the animus because he's the boy, and Laura is the anima because she's the girl."

"Very good, son," said Daddy. "There are even songs for anima. Some of them are: _My Girl. My Woman, My Friend_ by Jose Mari Chan; _So It's You_ by Raymond Lauchengco; and _When I Met You_ by the Apo Hiking Society. Can you name some songs for an anima, Toti?"

"Yes, Dad," I said. " _How Did You Know_ by Gary Valenciano and _I Need You_ by Mark Bautista!"

"Very good," said Daddy. "Now. There are songs for an animus, too. There's _'Til I Met You_ by Kuh Ledesma and You by Roselle Nava. Can you name a song for an animus?"

" _Ikaw_ by Sharon Cuneta," I promptly answered. "That's what Mommy always sings to you, Daddy!"

We laughed. Daddy hugged me. "When you were born," he said, "I sang to you _Miracle_ by Martin Nievera. That's a song for a baby, and a baby is a symbol of the child archetype. The child archetype is the symbol of a new beginning. Can you name some child archetypes?"

"The Santo Niño!" I said. "And the child Jesus in the Christmas _Belen_ manger."

"Very good," said Daddy. "Next: the animal archetype. Their symbols are the relationship between a person and an animal. Before you were born, there was _Funny Comics_ , and my favorite is the story of _Darmo Adarna_. It's about a boy named Dario and his pet rooster who becomes a giant bird. That's one symbol of the animal archetype. Can you name more?"

"There's the 14-year old boy named Alejo and the doomed horse in the story _Seven Hills Away_ written by Mr. NVM Gonzalez," I said. "And of course, Prince Juan and the magic bird in the poem _Ibong Adarna_ written by Balagtas!"

"Very good," said Daddy. "Okay, I'm going to give an archetype, and you give me a symbol. Ready?"

"Ready, Dad!"

"The wise man archetype?"

"Mr. Arsenio Torres, the English teacher in the story _Courage_ written by Mr. Bienvenido Santos," I said.

"Very good. The old woman archetype?"

"The widow in the story _The Witch_ written by Mr. Edilberto Tiempo."

"Very good. The young man archetype?"

"Isagani, the student in the novel _El Filibusterismo_ written by Dr. Jose Rizal."

"Very good. The original man archetype?"

"Malakas!"

"Very good. The God archetype?"

"Bathala!"

"Very good. The family archetype?"

"Uh..."

"You know," Daddy explained, "There used to be intelligent TV programs that show good families. There was _Hapi House_ and _Munting Paraiso._ Decent families watch these shows because they teach children about good manners and right conduct. Anyway, do you know a song about families?"

" _Only Selfless Love_ by Jamie Rivera," I answered. "We sang that in school."

Daddy hugged me again. "I'm proud of you, son," he said. Okay, next: The most important archetype is the Self. The Self is about doing what is right even if you feel hurt. Here's an example. It's from a story called _The Sacrifice_ written by Celso Al Carunungan. It is about a young boy named Crispin who has a pet carabao that he loves very much. The carabao even has a name: Silver. Crispin's family is very poor. His father wanted to sell Silver because they need money. At first, Crispin didn't want to because he loves Silver. But in the end, he realized that it was the right thing to do. So he agreed even though he felt hurt. What Crispin did was called a 'sacrifice' Do you understand, Toti?"

"Yes, dad," I said. "I can even give another example. You were always telling me about Senator Ninoy Aquino. You said he was in jail for almost ten years but he never gave up hope. He remained strong because he knows that his sacrifice is for the freedom of the Philippines. Senator Ninoy Aquino is a symbol of the Self."

Daddy ruffled my hair. "Yes he is,|" he said softly. "He was a good man. Who else made sacrifices because they know that what they are doing is right?"

"Saint Lorenzo Ruiz," I answered. "The Blessed Pedro Calungsod, our national hero Dr. Jose Rizal; the three Gomburza priests Father Gomez, Father Burgos and Father Zamora; and former Supreme Court Chief Justice Jose Abad Santos."

"Very good! Who is the ultimate Self?"

"Jesus Christ!"

Daddy kissed my hair. "Okay, our last lesson before you go to bed. Synchonicity. Synchronicity is what other people call 'coincidence,' Here's an example: In Noli Me Tangere, there's a scene where Crisostomo Ibarra was thinking about the sad story of his best friend Elias. Then Elias suddenly came to his house to give him a warning."

"But Dad," I said, "I thought you don't believe in coincidences."

"No, Toti, I don't," he replied. "I believe that everything happens for a reason. But I like Dr. Jung's explanation for synchronicity. He said that our egos are like islands in the sea – like the Hundred Islands in Alaminos, Pangasinan. When you look at them, you see that they are not connected to each other because they are separated by the water, right? But under the sea, the islands are connected to the earth – and the earth is connected to all the islands. Dr. Jung says that our minds are connected to each other even if we can't see the connection. And that connection is called the collective unconscious – or the Internet of our minds."

"Dad," I said, "I want to see the Hundred Islands of Pangasinan."

"You will," he promised. "If you get good grades, we will go next summer."

"Dad," I smiled, "I always get good grades."

Just then, Mommy entered the living room. "Toti," she said, "it's time for bed."

"Mom, that's synchronicity!"

"What is?"

"Well," I said, "I was thinking that you will send me to bed at this time, and then you came." I kissed Daddy. "Good night, Dad," I told him. I got up from Daddy's lap and went to Mommy and kissed her. "Good night, Mom."

"Good night, sweetheart," she said.

I went to brush my teeth, thinking about family archetypes and the funny synchronicities of life.

Johnnybee

The thing about being a psychic is you can't play the lotto because you will win. Now what kind of reasoning is that? It sounds like Sun Tzu getting high.. I even know all the answers in _Deal Or No Deal_ but I'm forbidden to join. Of course I can take my salary in VideoCity and compound it at 10% per annum but how can I pay the rent? Or buy cell prepaid load? Or even more important: how can I afford to spend Good Friday on the beach?

At any rate, I also noticed that I'm getting younger and healthier physically, and my stunningly gorgeous looks and animalistic charisma increased ten-fold and tough luck if you think I'm exaggerating because this is my story and I'm the one telling. I also learned the value of humility and I can look anyone in the eye and drill into their thick skulls that I'm more down-to-earth than anyone else in this steadily-melting planet. You know who I look? Cogie Domingo in _Deathrow_. Go!

It was the best of times. I was 16 when it happened. It just happened. Click, just like that! All of a sudden I see dead people, even people who don't know they're dead. Three of them actually signed up for the People's Initiative. An added bonus is my new-found self-healing powers – more convenient than drinking virgin coconut oil. It's sort of like Constantine meets Wolverine. It changed my life in a moment. Thank God I was already circumcised.

But it was also the end of innocence. Perfect timing too. During that time I was the star dancer in a gaybar in Retiro. To be honest with you, I just got fired for having erectile dysfunction. Apparently being a customer service rep every night for three straight years can do that to you. Even before I got the job, I spent a year in Singalong as a sex slave but let's not complicate things.

I never felt so free in my life, even compared to my arrest for vagrancy in Luneta Park when I was 12. The bad news was that I didn't have an IC (Identity Card) and the good news is that the precinct commander had an IC (Identity Crisis). I called him Sgt. Pedo (as in pedophile) Penduko.

It's as is I've been living in black and white and now everything blossomed in vibrant living colors. From _Schindler's List_ I went to Yahoo! screensavers. We're talking about full high-definition 2 million pixel images using 1080 effective scanning lines in a flat panel screen with a 16:9 aspect ratio. It's kinds like getting de-virginized but not in a double-feature movie house and certainly not with someone with an Adam's apple.

So what are my powers aside from scrambling eggs? To get an idea, combine a Spirit Warrior and a Jedi Knight without a lightsaber: that's me, and I can do it even while doing Sudoku puzzles and figuring out why on earth would anyone dip their fried chicken in mayonnaise.

But like everything else in life, there's a catch: I can't use my powers for personal gain or to take advantage of other people. Sadly, this includes hypnotizing _ukay-ukay_ second-hand clothes sellers to give me discounts.

There's this guy who appeared in my dreams once. He told me the rules. He said that I'll be different, that sometimes I will feel like an outcast. I think he's repeating a dialogue from Superman Returns. And he warned, "You cannot enter politics!" Then I asked, "What about showbiz?" Then he answered, "What about it?"

Then I said that, well, showbiz is different from politics, and he said, "That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard since Rizal was the daddy of Hitler!" So I just asked, "Why me?" Then he replied, "Why not?" He asked if I want the gift. I said yes. Then he asked, "Why?" Then I said, "Why not?"

And so it went. But hey, I was just a kid. I became his prodigal son – which is strange for an orphan who ran away from Boys' Town in Marikina – then I auditioned for Pinoy Big Brother and got hit by a bulldozer.

So that's why I ended up two years later in Lerma, living in a boardinghouse with a landlady who sells ice for two pesos. I call her the Ice Queen. I'm working in a video shop while studying at STI. A former customer helped me get the job and I'm only taking short courses. That's because I don't have any personal documents. Legally I don't exist. I have nothing to show for myself except nightmares.

But I'm starting all over again. A new beginning. I guess I wanted something new in my life but darn if I know what. Don't worry, I'll think of something.

Did I tell you about the time I battled the forces of Darkness? No, silly, not the police. It started on April 12, 2007. I was 18. Midnight came. Then I became 19. How time flies. Happy birthday to me! It was the 13th.

A Friday.

It was already 12:05 AM but I still can't sleep. Midnight has no significance for me, not anymore. I've outgrown the superstitious tradition of _Shake, Rattle and Roll_ films of my youth. Besides, I've already knocked at my wooden desk so I know I'm protected.

I was dressed in a white towel wrapped around my waist, eating a bowl a canton, looking out the window and counting the España-bound jeeps emerging from the Quezon Boulevard underpass. The radio was playing _You'll Be Safe Here_ by Rivermaya. Home Radio 97 dot 9. I was thinking of the time when I rushed a former benefactor to the PGH emergency room and my adventures with the security guards and the interns. For some strange reason all my room mates are out. But it's just coincidence of course. I believe in coincidence. I also believe in Santa Claus, The Tooth Fairy and that the moon is made of cheese.

My sense tingled. There was someone in the room! I whirled around.

There were two young men. One was wearing a white shirt with collar, and the other was dressed in a long-sleeved blue polo. I accidentally dropped my noodles, the white bowl shattering in the floral-cream linoleum. They remained silent. Their eyes were pools of void, witnesses to millennia of murder.

I backed away, my nerves shot to pieces. Happens all the time.

The Guy in White said, "You have to stop running away, Johnnybee. Sometimes you have to take a stand, to fight your own fear, to conquer your own hate, before they consume you."

I get unnerved when other people read my thoughts and I can't read theirs. "W-Who – what are you." I managed to croak. So much for the Spirit Warrior.

"Well, for one thing we're not Electrolux salesmen," the Guy in Blue deadpanned. "Don't worry, we're the good guys. But the real evil is on its way."

My skin prickled.

There was a knock on the door.

I was stunned. I immediately visualized a white light from God entering my top-most chakra and enveloping my entire body.

The knocking became louder, and then I heard my landlady call out, "Hey Johnnybee, what's going on in here?"

I got even more scared but I went to the door and opened it. The Ice Queen peered in suspiciously.

"What's that noise?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Romas," I said, "it just slipped."

"What did?" Then she saw the broken pieces and her hair-rollers bobbed menacingly "Are you waiting for me to slurp it up?" she asked sarcastically, her eyes straying to my briefs.

"Oh, that's okay, I'll do it myself," I said, flustered. "Bitch." I added under my breath.

"What did you say?"

"He said Bitch," clarified Blue. "It means female Cerberus."

I glared at him.

"Did you say something?" the Ice Queen asked me again. She started to growl.

I looked back at her. And again, eyes were straying below my belly-button.

"Yes he did!" said Blue cheerfully. "He said 'Bitch.' That's Bee, Eye –"

I looked at him – as if looks could kill.

"I'm talking to you!" the Ice Queen boomed, showering me with saliva.

I looked back at her.

"You deaf or something?" she roared.

"Ah, yeah, look who's talking, yo!"said Blue, gesturing hiphop like Andrew E.

I looked – glared – at him again.

"Heyyou!" the Ice Queen was jabbing her finger at my left nipple.

I looked back at her. I don't get it: she was practically being insulted by my visitor yet she acted like the psycho didn't exist.

"The lady from Sampaloc can't see us, Johnnybee," the Guy in White said. "Nor hear us. My honorable colleague cannot interpelate her filibuster."

I looked at him in wonder.

" _STOP SPINNING YOUR HEAD LIKE A FREAKING ROOSTER!_ " screamed the Ice Queen.

"I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Romas," I stammered. "I really am," I added, crossing my fingers. "I'll clean up now."

"You'd better or I'll – incidentally, you're a month late in the rent," said the Ice Queen. "Again." She looked down meaningfully.

Oh no you don't,I thought. Aloud I said, "Gee, Mrs. Romas, I'll give you the money tomor–"

"The gentleman from Marikina should not lie," said White. "It's conduct unbecoming."

"Next week?" I finished weakly, looking at him.

"There you go again," said the Ice Queen, amazed. "Freaking cock."

My mind touched her mind.

Push.

She looked at me coyly. "If you money problem, Johnnybee," she said, pinching my right nipple, "you talk to me, okay?" She winked.

That's not exactly what I had in mind.

"No, you talk to me," said Blue. "I'm his talent manager. I get ten percent. Union scale. I'll also take the VAT."

White and I looked at him and rolled our eyes.

The Ice Queen looked at me and also rolled her eyes. She turned away, shaking head, her hair-rollers jiggling alarmingly.

I closed the door and leaned on it. "Son of \--" I started to whisper, and then I looked at my visitors and stopped.

White said, "May I express my apologies, my honorable colleague and I haven't introduced ourselves properly. That's unparliamentary. I'm Marlon."

"Marlon," I repeated dumbly.

He extended his forefingers and thumbs like guns and put them under his chin like child star Tolits.

"Hah!" Blue said triumphantly. "Finally, I caughtyou lying while not under oath!"

"I did not," said Marlon, unperturbed. "That was real name." He sighed. "Used to be, anyway." He shrugged.

"I'll tell the Itiks Committee," Blue told the ceiling.

"Where's the camera?" rasped Marlon. "Go ahead. Do it."

"Itiks?" I asked, mystified.

"It means 'duck,' from in Taguig-Pateros," said Blue. "Anyway, bro, just call me Brando."

"Brando."

"He positively beamed and gave me a high-five. "Appear!"

My hand passed through his.

_Fast Forward_. I was walking up the path towards the haunted house. The gate was open and was creaking like a dying banshee. The whole place was cold, dark and forbidding. Even elementals are nowhere in sight. I was dressed in a black jacket, black jeans, black boots and a cowboy hat like what action hero Jun Aristorenas wore in Harabas.I was trying to peer through the gloom when I sensed, rather than saw, the door open. A young man in a tuxedo was standing there. I stopped.

It was him.

"Little boy, if you've come to play Warcraft, I'm afraid your server will crash," said the tech wizard, cool as you please. "Not to mention getting a virus that will delete all you puny little files." He smiled..

"I'm not here to play games," I warned, clearing my throat. "I came here to stop you!" I felt like an idiot. "You know, thwart you plans?" Geez.

"Are you ready for a revelation?" he challenged, his bright eyes burning like fire.

Dramatically, I took a White Rabbit from my pocket, took out the candy, popped it in my mouth and put the wrapper back in my pocket. I chewed defiantly.

"I," declared the wizard, "just put a kettle on the stove!" There was thunder.

What can anyone say to that?

"I'm preparing hot chocolate," he explained.

Ha! I got him on the defensive!

"And there's also cheese crackers," he continued. "Perfect combination.

"I am the man they all fear!" I shouted, giving him his chance to surrender. "I am the one they call Van Helsing!"

He replied, "Would you care to have some snack, Johnnybee?"

Did I detect a hint of pleading in his voice? Then suddenly the wind started acting up like a thousand Furies. The temperature dropped into the abyss, and I could see my frosted breath. I shivered violently. I felt goosebumps marching over my skin like a platoon of dead soldiers.

"Would you like to come in?"

"No!" I said breathlessly. "No way!"

"As you wish," he said graciously, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

I went in. At that moment, a bolt of lightning sent down an avocado tree to where I've been standing.

The wizard closed the door.

_Rewind_. I immediately got dressed in jeans and a black sweatshirt I bought at Zurbaran and cleaned up the mess. No use crying over spoilt canton, I consoled myself. I got up and faced Marlon and Brando. "All right," I demanded. "What do you want? If it's money then wrong number."

"May I assure the gentleman from Marikina that allocations are not calendared for this session?" said Marlon. "My honorable colleague and I are facing a gridlock so we need to restorecheck and balance--"

"Why does he speak like that?" I asked Brando, who was peering at the corridor by pushing his head through the wall.

"He's a congressman," replied Brando. "Was" he added."Actually he filed a bill to remove the pork barrel so he was impeached--"

"Do you mind?" Marlon said dryly. Turning to me again, he said, "Johnnybee, we got a problem."

"Let me," offered Brando. "Hey, I was in covert operations so this is my specialty." He turned to me and said, "We received intelligencereports that the Anti-Christ will be born in the Philippines this--"

"The Anti-Christ will be a caregiver?" I asked, puzzled. "That's an oxymoron."

"Yes, like Military Intelligence," said Marlon, giving Brando a baleful look.

"Listen," said Brando. "Our mole has confirmed that Satan has possessed a telepath to serve as a conduit--"

"A spy?"

"A stud"

"The gentleman from Hell," said Marlon. "is manipulating a computer hacker in Balete Drive. His psi powers are stronger than yours, Johnnybee. He might defeat you."

"You'd be surprised," I murmured. "The Ultimate Survivor, gentleman, is in this room, and his name is not Mark Herras."

"The gentleman from Balete Drive," said Marlon, " who now calls himself Prime Evil because he's the Devil's lethal weapon, by the way, has already accessed all the porno sites in the Web so he's ready."

"We're still waiting for the RAND report," said Brando. "But our analysts predict that he'll make his move today."

"Ah, you want me to change the course of history!" I said. "Sure, "I'm a superhero. You know the song _Mang Jose_ by Parokya? It's all in a day's work if the price is right." Then a thought struck me. "Wait, what's your stake here?"

"The law states," said Marlon, "that if you get good grades – like for saving the world or something – you'll move up to a higher section next school year. You study and study until you gradate."

"You're still undergrads?" I asked. "I thought you guys were sent from above."

"Above the ceiling," shrugged Brando. "There are no dogs there so it ain't heaven. There's no beer either. But hey, it's more accommodating than Kintanar Asteroid."

"Alright Johnnybee, said Marlon. "Let's have an executive session to discuss your TF."

"What's TF?"

"Talent Fee."

"Ah, okay."

Jukebox

Yes, I remember her. After all, she was my friend. Was, for the years have separated us. But the memories now intrude, like the melody of a song long after the radio has been turned off. I could tell about her radiant smile, her certain aura, her charisma that drew people to her. But the mind in recollection can sometimes play tricks, and you can't separate fact from fiction, from objective to subjective. Probably the worst thing I can do is to proclaim her as something beyond the pale of ordinary humans. She is flawed, like all mortals. I want to write this as a sort of eulogy – a tribute to a life however brief. I want to tell it as it is. Yes, she would have liked that.

It was a Sunday. I got up early to jog around the park and afterwards, I prepared breakfast. I was already having some hot chocolate when I opened the papers. There was a war in one country, a famine in another, and a local politician was convicted. It was on the metro page where I saw her. She was in the Middle East. She had always wanted to travel outside the country, and she has done it. She told me then, that she'll be famous someday, and now, she's in the news. But life gave her fate a cruel twist. For she never achieved her dreams, didn't turn out to be the victor but the victim. She went abroad to work for her son. She had dreams of pulling them out of poverty and for her to regain her lost pride. She was a single parent, and I can only imagine her sense of alienation in a foreign land just to earn the money that in the end, all amounts to nothing.

Truth can sometimes belie the facts, however contradictory it sounds. Apparently she fell from a five-storey balcony, an accident. An accident, just a random occurrence, negating the laws of cause and effect. A twenty-six year old Filipina babysitter sprawled on a Middle Eastern sidewalk at nearly three in the morning. Dead, her broken body drenched in a pool of her own blood.

But she had bruises. Her broken mouth and swollen eyes were not caused by the fatal impact. The welts in her arms are the brunt of human hands. Her body is a testament to man's cruelty to a fellow human being. I sat silently, offering to heaven a prayer, my heart, aching with melancholy and an inexplicable sense of loss.

I met her five years ago. I was then eighteen, and working as a service crew in a pizza restaurant. She was three years my senior, and was already a mother to a two-year old boy. She had a stillborn baby when she was fifteen, and she had suffered intense feelings of guilt and remorse because of that. She vowed never to do it again. It was not so much as some abstract noble respect for the sanctity of human life, but rather, for her own peace of mind. That's her, that's Jo, always looking out for number one. Her name was Josefina, but everybody calls her Jo. Strangely, it made her more feminine and unique. But the people close to her are quick to point out her tough side. We met in Santa Ana.

The birthday celebration was in full swing. _Yugyugan_ by Karl Roy and POT was pounding the sound system. I had just arrived, working my way through the crowd.

"Russell!" I greeted my friend.

"I thought you'll never come, bro!" said Russell, shaking hands.

"I was assigned to the closing shift," I explained. "Kitchen detail!"

"Well, the important thing is that you're here," Russell patted my shoulder, leading me to Terri, his sister. "Sister!" he said. "You know Wally, right?"

"Of course!" Terri laughed. "How are you, Wally?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thanks!" I replied, flustered. "Happy birthday!" I greeted her.

"Thank you!"

"Uh, this is for you!" I said, handing her an envelope with a pizza restaurant logo.

"Bro, if it's money, you should have given it to me! Russell joked.

"Oh, they're just gift certificates!" I said bashfully.

"Why, thank you, Wally!" smiled Terri. "You didn't have to bother," she assured me. "But I appreciate it!"

"Come on, bro, let's eat!" invited Russell.

"Just feel at home, Wally!" Terry told him. "You boys have fun!"

On our way to the buffet table, I froze. "Bro, who's that?" pointing to a girl.

"Never seen her before," Russell shrugged. "But she's pretty," he smiled. His mobile phone rang just then. "Wait, bro," he told me, answering it. "Hello? Where are you now? What? I can't hear you, it's too loud here!"

I was looking at the girl, feeling a strange sensation, wondering why the heck I was feeling that way.

"Wait, give me a minute!" Russell told the other person on the line. "Bro," he said, turning to me. "You go ahead, I'll join you later, okay?"

"Uh, sure, bro!" I said anxiously, afraid of being alone in a party.

"Hello?" Russell on the phone as he made his way outside.

I turned to look at the girl again. She was approaching the buffet table. "What is this, love at first sight?" I asked myself, amused and terrified. I took a deep breath. "What the hell," I whispered. "Here goes!" I went up to her, my face blushing overtime. "Hi, I'm Wally," I said hesitantly, feeling electrified. "I'm a friend of Russell, you know, Terri's brother?"

"I'm Jo!" she smiled. She has an aura of self-sufficiency that I found intimidating and compelling at the same time.

"Jo," I repeated, relishing her name while trying to look cute. "Jo as in ...Wait, let me guess! Josephine?"

"Josefina, actually," she smiled again, getting some juice from the punch bowl. "But just call me Jo!" She took a sip. "Where's your friend?"

"He's outside," I replied, gesturing. "I'm sorry to barge in on you like this," I said apologetically. "Truth is, this is the first time I introduced myself to anybody!"

"It's not a crime to be nice," said Jo, picking up a paper plate and going around the buffet table.

"I work as a service crew," I said, following her like a puppy. "Russell and I used to be classmates but I had to stop school."

"I hope you can continue your studies someday," said Jo, forking spaghetti on her plate. "It's hard to find work if you're not a graduate."

"That's really my plan, but I need to save some money first," I said, slicing the roasted pig. "How about you? Where do you work?"

"In a beerhouse."

"Hey, you're a joker!"

"A G.R.O."

"Seriously!"

"I am serious."

I stopped laughing. "Really?"

Jo nodded, taking a small slice of _maja blanca_. "Why? You find me immoral?"

"Where's the club?"

"Ronquillo, in Santa Cruz."

"I don't believe it!" said Wally, admiring her even more for her utter lack of pretentiousness.

"Most people don't want to believe the truth," Jo smiled, walking away.

"Wait!" I ran after her, balancing my plate with both hands.

We stopped in front of the French windows opening to the balcony.

"Look," I said, breathless. "I'm a bedspacer near Morayta, I work in Legarda, I can walk to your club! I hope you don't mind if I visit you?"

"Why?"

"Oh, don't worry, it won't be until the end of the month," he laughed. "I need to wait for the next salary!"

A few days later, I visited her in her. She was working as a waitress in a club called Sarungbanggi or something. The music was being provided by folk singers on stage. A young man was crooning Ariel Rivera's Photograph. I asked the first waitress who approached for Jo. Shortly, she appeared. She was radiant, like sunshine after a rainfall. I must admit I was more than flattered by her greeting, not just because I had a crush, but something in her makes you feel you're important, or at the very least, interesting.

"Wally!" she exclaimed. Her joie de vivre, as the romantic French call it, was contagious. "What a surprise!"

Howdy do. Either she had an excellent memory or she had probably read Dale Carnegie. Probably both. I stood, giving her my suave Agent X44 imitation, "Waldo Rivera Jr. at your service Madame!"

She laughed. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

Well, see, there's this guy I read about in a magazine, how he met his wife at a party and right then he knew it's her, as in, like soul mates, you know? He was the Most Unforgettable Person in October. Aloud I said, "I've come to see you." I must have blushed, for she laughed a little louder. There was nothing crude in her laughter, it was very gay, very warm. I went ahead, "Could I invite you for a drink?" Not bad for a guy who got stood up for junior prom.

She brushed some hair from her eyes. For a horrified moment I thought she'd turn me down. "What'll you have?" she asked.

"Uh, beer. Is that a yes?"

"I'd love to. Wait here, I'll just get our drinks," she said with a smile. Her walk was graceful, no, not like a beauty contestant, but a woman with purpose, with substance, of confidence borne out of knowing what you want and how to get it. The music was familiar. I turned to the stage. The young singer was playing _Constant Change_ by Jose Mari Chan. I can't see a vacant table, but I have a feeling this place gets awfully crowded during weekends. I took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from my pocket. Smoking menthol is dangerous to your health, I thought, heartily agreeing. I lit up my red filters. I lifted a finger, catching a waitress's eye. As she came near I made three smoke circles.

I said, "Miss, can I have an – "

Just then an ashtray suddenly appeared on my table. Magic, I marveled. The second waitress winked, the floated away.

" — ashtray," I finished, looking at the spooky thing. The first waitress smiled, and went to another table where a miserable looking foreigner was signaling for his bill. I looked at the singer again. He had a great voice, one of the best I've ever heard. His talent, potential and drive are all evident. But somehow I feel an undercurrent of isolation and loneliness, a sense of knowing you'll spend your life climbing higher and higher just to escape the torments and agonies of the past. And then, upon reaching the peak, finding yourself more alone than ever. But surely, there's more to life than this? Maybe someday, someone would come along and point us to the right way. And the song itself, it likens life to an ever shifting, formless cloud, sailing across an indifferent sky, here one moment, and gone forever the next. I shuddered.

At last Jo returned with two bottles and two glasses and a tray of ice. A positive sign. I cheered inside. She sat down and began to pour.

"Let me do that," I offered, my hand shaking. So much for gallantry.

She took out a pack of cigarettes. Menthol! I finished pouring the beer and gave her a light. I was nervous. To borrow the words of a song, 'I feel like a kid with a teenage crush on a school day.'

"You doin' anythin' tonight?" I asked, forgetting about grammar.

She smiled, shaking her head. "You know," she said, "you surprise me."

I raised my mental eyebrows. Is she changing the topic or what? "Why is that?" I asked, sipping my beer. I was, heaven forbid, totally intrigued.

"Well, for a minute, you seem like an adolescent on his first date, and the next minute you seem like a very sophisticated gentlemen," she said.

Date. Did she say date? Like an adolescent? A sophisticated gentleman? What the blazes does that mean? Whatever, I was red in the face.

"Well," I said, leaning back on my chair. "I surprise people that way."

"You're a humdinger, "she grinned. Whatever that means.

The young singer was now playing _Gotta Look For It._ "Oh hey, I love that song," I said. Trivia, for crying out loud!

"Martin Nievera," she said, puffing.

That's it! I thought. This girl is mine! Aloud I said, "I hope your boyfriend..." I let the sentence hang, waiting for her to deny having one. She did, and my head was filled with roses and sunshine.

The club management doesn't allow their female employees to have escorts. I had to wait near the corner under the gaze of a suspicious traffic policeman. Probably thinks I'm a mugger, I thought, slipping into the shadows. I lit a cigarette but my lighter wouldn't work. I had to burn my freaking stick from a startled vendor whom I tapped on the shoulder like a summoned demon. The sight and sounds of the city after dark evoke secrets, broken dreams and quiet desperation. Manila by night is fully alive, like a vampire before breaking dawn. I was waiting at the corner of Ronquillo, politely turning down the come-ons from the whores of Rizal Avenue.

Soon Jo appeared, surprised to find me waiting for her. "You really meant it!" she exclaimed, amused and a bit pleased.

I was intrigued more than ever. "You act as if everybody are liars," I said conversationally, keeping it light, as we started to walk.

"Aren't they?"

"Not everybody!"

"Oh, Wally," she sighed, running her hands through her hair. "You're so young!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I replied in mock indignation. But at the back of my mind, I felt that Jo's past had somehow left a scar that even time can never heal. I said, "So, where do you want to go?" I half expected her to say 'anywhere', implying a double meaning, but she told me about this twenty-four hour mami house, and I said fine, wishing hopefully for a score. No, I don't think she was that kind of woman but during that time I was still a virg – never mind.

We got a booth.. The jukebox was playing _Naaalala Ka_ by Rey Valera:

"Can I take your order?" asked the young waiter. His nameplate says "Benjie."

"I'll have beef _pares_ ," I said Wally. "Then soft drinks and extra rice!"

Benjie nodded, scribbling on his pad. "What about you, ma'am?"

"Just _mami_ noodles and iced tea," said Jo.

"You won't eat?" I asked anxiously.

"I'm not really hungry," Jo assured me. "I just want to have some hot soup."

"Anything else?" asked Benjie.

"That's all for now," I said. "Maybe later." Benjie nodded and went off to the kitchen. I smiled. "That's one of my favorite songs!" Out of the jukebox came the song's refrain: " _Sa tuwina'y naalala ka, sa pangarap laging kasama ka_..."

"I didn't know you also like music," said Jo wistfully. Her smile had an evanescent trace of sadness.

"Jo." I was serious. "Do you believe in destiny?"

Jo was stunned.

"Joke!" I laughed, relieved to have shattered that brief tension. "So tell me about you," I smiled.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Jo looked at me.

"Joke!" I laughed again, wanting to know her yet afraid she might get offended.

Jo smiled, again brushing her hand through her hair. "You first."

"Well," I said, "I was raised was by my grandmother. I was a real lola's boy. But she died when I was thirteen."

"Where's your parents?" asked Jo.

"Never knew them," I answered. "My parents died when I was a baby."

"It's hard to be alone," Jo said in a far-away voice.

"You get used to it," I shrugged, smiling.

"So hard," Jo repeated softly, almost whispering.

Suddenly, from outside, there was a terrifying crash.

I saw that Jo didn't flinch, not even a little. A driftwood would have reacted more. The atmosphere was electric; a woman was getting hysterical. Benjie appeared with our orders. "What happened?" I asked.

"It was taxi, sir!" said Benjie. "Rammed into a jeepney!" He shook his head. "Red light, but it just kept on going!"

"The taxi?"

"No, sir, the jeep!" said Benjie. "I think the driver is drunk!"

"The jeepney driver?"

"No, sir, the taxi driver!"

"Oh!" I said, totally confused.

"Well, if you need anything, just call me," Benjie told us before going outside.

"Gosh, Jo!" I said admiringly. "You didn't panic!"

"Why should I?" replied Jo, finding the idea amusing. "I don't know," she continued, laughing self deprecatingly. "Nothing surprises me anymore, I guess!"

"Hey, it's your turn!" I said brightly. "What's your province?"

"Samar," said Jo.

"Are you single?"

"Yes."

"Me too!"

"Better keep it that way!" Jo said, a bit grimly. "Don't complicate your life!"

"Why do you say that, Jo?" I was so intrigued I was about to burst.

"It's a long story!"

"I'm willing to listen," I said earnestly.

Jo seemed to be considering it. "The only way you'll understand is if I start from the beginning," she said thoughtfully. "But are you prepared to hear it?"

"Trust me, Jo!" I said. Whatever may have happened in the past, I knew, I would still love her forever.

Jo sighed, conflicting emotions raging within her. She began to tell her story.

They said that acceptance comes not without courage, courage to be able to accept your life, yourself, who you really are and not be ashamed of it. In that context, Jo was a courageous woman. She had a certain way of lifting her chin and looking at you when she talked, like a challenge for you to either take her as she is, or leave. She grew up in a small village. Her father, Juanito, like most of the menfolk, was a fisherman. They weren't rich, but enough for her father to have his own boat and for the children to go to school. His father had two assistants when he goes to sea at the crack of dawn – her elder brother, Juancho, and a village lad, Leandro. Her mother, Rosal, had an eatery in the market. Jo, or Pinay as everybody called here then, had another brother, Jaime, who, after a quarrel with their father, packed his belongings and went to the city to look for his fortune. She was twelve then. Three years later Jaime came back – like Jo would return to the country eleven years later – in a coffin. Jaime, having tasted the bitterness of defeat, fell with a group of bank robbers. By an unfathomable twist of fate, he was involved in a kidnapping and was killed in a running gun battle with the police. Among her brothers, it was Jaime whom she was close. Their eldest, Juancho, was nearly twenty during that time, young still, but distant nevertheless.

Juancho's best friend was Leandro. They were about the same age but Leandro was more solicitous to Jo. He was there every night in Jaime's funeral wake, and even after the burial has remained her closest confidante. Leandro proposed to her, when, at fifteen, she blossomed into beautiful young woman. Her school was a short distance from their village. Leandro would accompany her when he could, walking through a path in the fields. It was there where he proposed his undying love. It was there where Jo first tasted the sweetness of a kiss, the first time she felt the stirrings of love.

She helps her mother in their eatery in the market. They start preparing before dawn, as her father, gets ready for work. "Pinay, it's almost four in the morning," said Rosal, wrapping her hair in a bandana. "I have to go to the market. You cook the champorado and macaroni," she added, getting a large mat-like bag hanging from a nail. "You fry lots of eggs, yesterday we ran out early."

"I'll take care of it, Mother," Jo replied, bringing a mug of steaming coffee to the table. "Here's your coffee, Father!"

"Where's your brother?" he asked grumpily. "It's already late!"

"I already woke him earlier," said Jo, crossing the kitchen.

The curtain separating the bedrooms parted and out came Juancho.

"There's Kuya now," Jo said.

"What's the matter with you?" their father demanded as the young man groggily went to the table. "You've been drinking every night!"

"Father, it was only last night!" Juancho protested. "Besides, it was Leandro's birthday!"

"And where's that friend of yours?" nagged Juanito. "He's also late!"

Just then, they heard footsteps and Leandro entered. "Good morning, Mang Juanito!" he greeted.

"You two," said Juanito, pointing to the boys and standing up, "you hurry up or we won't catch any fish!" He went out, saying, "I'll go prepare the net!"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Father."

"Leandro, here's your coffee," said Jo, serving him.

"Thanks, Pinay!"

"Hey, wait a second!" said Juancho. "How come he has coffee and I don't?"

"Alright, Kuya!" smiled Jo, rolling her eyes. "I'll make you coffee too!"

Juancho put his hand on Leandro's shoulder. "Leandro, I love you like a brother, you know that!" he said affectionately with a trace of menace. "But I don't want you and my sister--"

"Kuya!" exclaimed Jo, outraged.

"Tol, what are you talking about?" protested Leandro.

Juancho nodded, accepting his coffee, looking at Jo then Leandro. "Just so we understand each other!" he said.

Later that afternoon, Jo and Rosal were rushing to serve the customers on their eatery. "Here's the extra rice," Rosal told a customer devouring a bowl of _menudo._ Turning to another customer standing next to her, she asked, "Yours is caldereta, right?" Jo was handing some change to another customer who standing up and unhitching his belt. "Pinay," said Rosal, "you go to the market now."

Jo looked around unobtrusively while wiping her hands in a rag. "Uh, Mother," she replied hesitantly, "can I go later?"

"What's wrong with going now?" Rosal asked, pumping the small kerosene stove to ignite the flame.

"Well..."

Juancho and Leandro arrived, carrying a large metal basin full of fish. "Where shall we put this, Mother?" asked Juancho.

"Here," said Rosal, motioning to a table, taking away the frying pan over it.

"Mother," said Jo, quickly taking off her apron. "I'll go to the market now!"

"Now you're the one rushing," said Rosal, shaking her head and digging into her apron. "Here's the list and the money!"

"By the way, Mother," said Jo, taking a paperback from a drawer, "I'll have to drop by Isay's house to return this pocketbook and borrow another one!"

As they heaved the metal basin on the table, Leandro told Juancho, "Tol, I think I'll go home early, I feel a little dizzy!"

"Are you okay, tol?" asked Juancho, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright," assured Leandro. "Just need a little rest, that's all!"

"Mother," said Jo, "I have to go now!" She walked away, pretending not to rush.

"I'll go ahead, Aling Rosal!" Leandro told her. Turning to Juancho, he said, "See you tomorrow, tol!" Then he walked away in another direction.

Birds were singing in the large mango tree, its leaves filtering the sunlight like a kaleidoscope. Jo and Leandro embraced and kissed passionately as they reached their secret meeting place under the mango tree in the middle of the forest.

"Oh, my God, Leandro!" said Jo. "I'm afraid that Kuya is getting suspicious!"

"I told you, Pinay!" said Leandro, breathless. "Let's run away!"

"Leandro, I'm afraid!"

"Think of us being together!" he said. "Free at last!"

"Oh, Leandro," moaned Jo, feeling a strange kind of heat but liking it.

"Come on!" said Leandro, taking her hand and almost dragging her. "There's no one in our house now!"

"Leandro!" Jo was shocked.

"Pinay, I can't fight this feeling anymore!" Leandro, said, panting, seeming to be in agony.

"But...?"

"You love me, right?" the young man demanded.

Jo was on the verge of tears. "Leandro, you know I do...!"

He cupped her face in his hands, looking at her straight in the eyes. "Then prove it!" he challenged. "Prove to me that you really love me!"

The weeks swept by like thieves in the night. Life went on. Then came a day when nothing would ever be the same again. "It's torta and one and a half rice, right?" Rosal confirmed from a customer. "Only twenty!" Another customer was gesturing for water. "Pinay, give Sir a glass!"

"Yes, Mother," Jo answered weakly, turning from the stove.

Rosal was clearing the plates when she heard the glass shatter. "OH-A-GIANT-HORSE-DICK!!!" she exclaimed. "Pinay! What happened?!"

"I'm sorry, Mother, I dropped the glass," said Jo miserably. "I'll sweep it up."

"Oh, Lord, Pinay, you're so pale!" said Rosal, frightened, coming to her. "Here, sit down, never mind that!"

Jo sat down, almost falling on the chair. She was swaying, her eyes glazed.

"Pinay, what's the matter?" Rosal was taking the broom and the dustpan from Jo while machine-gunning prayers to heaven.

In a flash, Jo was throwing up, seized by violent spasms. From somewhere far away, she could hear her mother's hysterical screams as the world slowly went down into a dark abyss.

The municipal hospital was a mile away. Rosal was in the waiting room, trying to remember the prayers from her stack of novenas back home. With her was Etang, a neighbor, whispering about how God works in mysterious ways. Hearing approaching footsteps, they looked up to see Juanito and the boys.

"What happened to Pinay, Rosal?" Juanito demanded.

"Juanito, thank God you came!" she nearly shouted. "She was throwing up, then she fainted," Rosal explained, stammering.

"How is she, Aling Rosal?" asked Leandro, sick with fear.

"There's the doctor!" said Juancho, pointing to a female doctor.

"How is my daughter, doctor?" Rosal asked, almost pleading.

"She's fine, ma'am," said the doctor. "You have nothing to worry about!"

"What happened, doctor?" asked Juanito. "It isn't food poisoning, is it?"

The doctor slowly shook her head. "No," she said hesitantly. "It wasn't anything she ate."

Rosal was looking at the doctor, confirming her worst fears. "Doctor," she said quietly. "I am also a woman."

The doctor hesitated. "Yes, ma'am," she said finally. "You're daughter is pregnant."

The revelation stunned them. Juancho was seathing with fury. He started to go to Jo's room. "Stop it, Juancho!" Rosal commanded. "Let your sister rest!"

"But Mother...!"

"Calm down, son," said Juanito in a voice of thundering steel. "We'll find out who did this." His eyes flashed with revenge. "We're going make him wish he's never been born!"

Juancho stood still. "Where's Leandro?" he asked no one in particular. "He was just here." A growing realization possessed him like a demon. "I knew it," he whispered. Suddenly, he was running out of the hospital, out for blood.

"Juanito, go after our son!" screamed Rosal, crying. "For the love of God, stop him!"

Dominga has singlehandedly raised Leandro since her husband and the boy's parents died on the same year. The interisland ferry they were riding in capsized during a freak storm when Leandro was fourteen. So Dominga was nearly out of her mind with worry as her beloved grandson hurriedly stuffed some clothes into a bag. "Leandro!" she wailed. "Why do you have to go away? If you're the father, then you have to face your obligation to the child!"

"Grandma, I love Pinay!" Leandro said, his thoughts scattering into hundreds of directions. "As God is my witness, I want to marry her! But I'm afraid of what Juancho might do!"

"But he's like a brother to you!" Dominga reasoned. "You two have been inseparable since you were both children."

Leandro was almost crying. "I don't know what to do, Grandma!" They heard screams from outside. Dominga went to the large windows to see people parting to give way to Juancho--who was carrying a sharp bolo.

"Leandro, you snake!" Juancho was shouting. "Come out here!" An agitated crowd had formed, all buzzing like worker bees, keeping a safe distance from the menacing blade.

Dominga quicky turned to her grandson, who stood rooted in the middle of the room. "Go now, Leandro!" she told him. "Go out the back! Hurry!"

The young man was crying. "But what about you, Grandma?"

"Don't worry about me!" cried Dominga, almost pushing him away. "Save yourself, Leandro!"

There was no time for embraces, no time to say goodbyes. Only regrets and the pain of separation. "I love you, Grandma!" said Leandro, tears running down his face as he picked the bag and slung it on his shoulders.

"I love you too, Grandson!" the old woman cried. "Go now! Quickly!"

Jo was devastated when she heard that Leandro had left. She lay in bed, inconsolable. The whole village rocked with the scandal. "Stop crying, Pinay," said a distraught Rosal, feeling her daughter's anguish but unable to reach out. "Forget about him!"

"But, Mother!" Jo cried. "I love Leandro!"

"He's worthless!" Rosal said vehemently even as she tenderly held Jo. "He's not for you! He was a coward to have run away!"

The door banged open and Juanito entered, enveloped in wrath. "You slut!" he spat the words out.

"Juanito!" Rosal said indignantly, holding Jo to protect her.

Juanito jabbed his finger at her. "Don't you try defending that whore daughter yours, Rosal!"

"Father..." Jo tried to plead, but all she can do is cry.

"Do you know much shame you have brought into this family?!" Juanito shouted accusingly.

Jo kept crying, defeated, flinching at her father's every word.

"Tomorrow," declared Juanito. "you will marry Andong!"

The women were stunned. "Andong, the son of Bebang?" said Rosal incredulously. "He's a no-good lazy drunk!"

"No, Father!" Jo was getting hysterical. "Please!"

"I will not let a bastard into my house!" Juanito shouted.

"Father, no--!"

"Shut up!" Juanito shouted. "I've already decided!"

A lizard was crawling across the ceiling. The silence was broken by the sounds of struggling outside. The lizard scurried away as the door burst open. "I told you to come inside!" Juanito shouted as he dragged Juancho into the house.

"Don't push me, Father!" the young man protested.

"Why, are you going to fight back?!" Juanito shouted, holding his son by the collar, nearly choking him. "Have you lost respect even for me?!"

"Let go of me, Father!" Juancho was crying. "I won't fight you!"

Rosal entered, panicking. "Stop it, Juanito!" she cried.

"I did not raise you just to go brawling on the street!" Juanito shouted as he pushed Juancho. The young man fell on the floor, crying, furious but unable to fight back.

Rosal fell on her knees beside her son, cradling him. "Juanito," she pleaded, looking up at her husband.

"Do you know what that son of yours has been doing??" Juanito shouted at her. "Out there, brawling like a common street thug!"

"But they're the ones who started it, Father!" protested Juancho, crying."They're saying a lot of things about Pinay!"

Juanito let out a stream of profanity, kicking the table and the chairs. "I knew this would happen!" he shouted, picking up one of the rattan chairs and smashing it againts the wall. "Curse this wretched life!" His wife and son can only cower in fear.

Night has fallen. Rosal was alone in the house, kneeling in front of the altar. An antique iron cross with an intricate figure of the crucified Christ stood beside a figure of a Santo Niño inside a large conch shell. Sampaguita garlands are draped on both of them, with improvised kerosene lamps from mayonnaise jars on both sides. A framed image of the Mother of Perpetual Help hangs on the wall above. The only sound was the madrigal of crickets. Rosal stood up quicky as she heard footsteps, making the sign of the cross mechanically. She hurried to the door. Juanito entered. Exhaustion has creased his face and drained his strength.

"Juanito!" Rosal demanded urgently. "Have you found Pinay?"

"We've searched the woods, the fields," Juanito sighed, sinking into a chair. "We've been to all her friends' houses." He shook his head, heavy with fatigue. "She's nowhere to be found!"

Rosal slowly sank to her knees, hugging her husband. "Oh, Juanito, where's our baby...?" she cried, her entire body shaking with anguish.

The door was nearly torn apart by Juancho as he came in. "Father, Mother!" he shouted, breathless. "We found Pinay!" Suddenly he was crying. "I think she jumped off the cliff!"

Juanito was alone in the hospital waiting room, head on his hands. The silence was deafening. He cannot remember the last time he prayed. Juanito looked up as Rosal approached. "How is she?" he asked, wanting, yet afraid, to know.

"Still under observation, the doctor said," she replied as she sat beside him. "Where's Juancho?"

"I told him to go home and get some rest," said Juanito, putting his arm around her, giving comfort while drawing strength.

Rosal put her head on his chest. "Juanito," she sighed. "What is happening to our family?"

"I don't know, Rosal," he said heavily, shaking his head slowly. "I don't understand it myself..."

Rosal snuggled closer. "It seems only yesterday," she said wistfully, "Pinay was still playing with her dolls."

"I was always carrying her then," Juanito chuckled. "She would laugh when I'd toss her in the air then catch her." The tears came now, uncontrollably. "Rosal," he said, crying. "Have I been a bad father?"

"Don't say that, Juanito!" said Rosal.

"I only want what's good for our children," cried Juanito. "If I had been strict with them, it's because I don't want to tarnish our family's honor. God knows I have nothing else to leave them..."

"Juanito, you mustn't blame yourself," Rosal told him. "You only did what you think is right."

A nurse came. "Nanay?" she said. "Your daughter is awake now!"

Jo's tear-streaked face looked up as her mother entered and rushed to embrace her.

"Mother...?"

"Pinay!" cried Rosal. "Thank God you're all right!"

Jo held on desperately. "Is it a sin to love, Mother?" she sobbed. "Why does it hurt like this?"

"Oh, Pinay..."

"Why did he left?" Jo cried. "He said he wants us to be together..."

Rosal doesn't know what to say to take away the pain.

"Pinay," she groped for words. "You must rest."

Jo continued to cry. "He won't even see his child..." She sat up suddenly, frightened. "Mother? Mother?"

Rosal never felt this kind of pain. "I've talked to the doctor..."

"Mother?! Where's my baby?!" Jo screamed hysterically. "What happened to my baby?!!!"

"They did everything they can!" wailed Rosal. "But they couldn't save the child!"

A few days later, Jo was fit enough to leave the hospital. But the Jo that went home was only the husk of what she used to be. She refused to eat, didn't leave her room; she just sat there, staring blankly, alive but already dead. Meanwhile, Rosal opened their eatery again, warding off the gossipers like flies. One day, a customer inquired how much is the _dinuguan_. "Fifteen, ma'am," replied Rosal, turning from her unfinished stack of dirty dishes, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Can I buy a half-order?" the customer asked, the lifting the covers of the pots and pans one by one like an inspector.

"Oh, yes, ma'am!"

"How much?"

"Half is ten pesos!"

"Wait a minute!" said the customer. "An order is fifteen, so half should only be seven-fifty!"

"Oh, but we only make a small profit," explained Rosal.

"What about the fried porkchop?" the customer asked. "How much?"

"Twenty."

The customer braced herself for a debate. "So how much is one half?"

"Ma'am," she replied, not believing this, "we can't cut the pork chop in half!"

"Oh never mind!" the woman sniffed. "This place is so expensive? What are you serving? Gold?" With that, she huffed away.

Another woman came. "Aunty?"

"Oh my God, Yolanda!" exclaimed Rosal in relief. "Thank God you're here!"

"I took the first ship as soon as I got your telegram!" said Yolly. "Aunty, I have good news for you and Pinay!"

Jo was sitting beside the window, staring at the distant sea, where her father and brother are, where her lover used to be. In slow motion, she turned to her cousin sitting at her bed. "Me?" she asked, skeptical but thrilled. "A saleslady in Manila?"

"Why not?" said Yolly. "You're pretty, you've been to high school. It's okay if you don't have experience. I'm sure you will charm the customers!"

Jo rubbed her arms. "I'm afraid, Cousin," she said, but seeing a ray of hope for the first time since she tried to commit suicide in the cliff. Her mother had told her everything that had happened; and in one of the rare times she had gone to the market since then, she saw Dominga and finally learned the truth. Perhaps she will find Leandro someday. She couldn't stand it any longer, wanting to be where few people knew her, hoping to find peace and redemption, wanting to be like Leandro, who went off to the city, fleeing from the mark of shame.

"Well, of course you would be!" laughed Yolly. "When I first went to the city, my heart was pounding louder than that rickety old bus!"

"What shall I sell?" asked Jo, smoothing her skirt.

"RTW," Yolly told her. "Ready To War. T-shirts, pants, stuff like that. Besides, you don't have to make sales-talk. You won't be on commission basis, you'll have a regular salary, though not much. You just stand there, assist, answer questions. It's just a small stall in Avenida. And you can stay-in! I know the manager, already told him about you."

"What did he say?" asked Jo, not really caring, but knowing she'll be leaving this place and its painful memories behind.

"He said it's perfect timing!" laughed Yolly. "One of the employees has just resigned because she's getting married and will be living in Mindoro!"

"We'll be working together, Cousin?" asked Jo, getting excited, not realizing that she was smiling for the first time since Leandro had disappeared. It would be years before she would him again and know the real story.

"No, I still enjoy being a baby-sitter," Yolly told her, getting a pillow and hugging it. "The kid is adorable, my employer is the best in the world! I would tuck the child in for siesta, then I'd watch TV the rest of the day! The salary is good, too! I also stay-in."

Jo nodded, taking it all in, realizing that the world is bigger than she thought.

"But wait, there's more!" said Yolly, waving her finger teasingly. "I talked to a landlady in Quiapo! We can live there, share the rent! Anyhow, I don't want you to be alone in Manila!"

"Oh, Cousin, I like that!" said Jo, new hope rising, not noticing that she was crying. "I can't wait to get out of here!"

"Remember, Cousin," said Yolly, walking over and taking Jo's hands, "no matter what has happened in the past, no one can take away your right to get up again and start a new life!"

The following year, two weeks after she had signed her second six-month contract, Jo, wearing a blue uniform, was directing a customer to the fitting room, and assuring another customer that the shirt she was buying was unisex.

"Uh, excuse me, miss?" The newest customer was a cute teenager. "There's no price tag," he said, holding up a black and white striped polo shirt.

"Here, sir." showing him the small sticker at the back. "It's one-fifty!"

"Ah!" laughed the young man.

"It's on sale, sir," Jo smiled. "It used to be two hundred!"

"Does it look good on me?" asked the young man, laying the shirt over his uniform while looking at the large mirror.

"It looks really nice on you, sir," Jo said to his reflection. "You look younger!"

"Really?" he said, amused. "By the way, I'm Rico!"

"I'm Jo!"

"You have a pretty name, Jo!" smiled Rico. "Jo as in Jocelyn?"

"Just Jo!"

"Okay, just Jo!" said Rico, laughing. "How old are you, Jo?"

"I'll be turning twenty."

"So you're only nineteen?" Rico winked. "We're just the same age! I'm almost nineteen too! By the way, can I invite you for a snack?"

"Why?"

"I like us to be friends," said Rico earnestly. "If it's okay with you!"

"Well..." said Jo hesitantly. Who on earth is this guy? "Sure!"

"I hope your boyfriend wouldn't mind," Rico said.

Jo laughed. What a crazy idea! "I don't have a boyfriend!"

"Oh, that's great!" smiled Rico. "What time do you get out?"

"Seven."

"Great, it's already past six!," Rico said, looking at his watch. "I'll fetch you later and we'll eat, okay?"

Jo was nodding. "Okay!" she said casually, shrugging, like it's no big deal. But she was smiling.

The merry waters of Manila Bay are reflecting the moonlight like swimming fireflies. The lights on the distant ships seem to twinkle like the starry sky. The waves splashed on the giant rocks below Jo and Rico as they sat on the concrete promenade stretched along the length of Roxas Boulevard, eating peanuts and grilled corn on the cob. "This is my favorite place in the world," Rico confided. "In our province in Pampanga, there's nothing but rice fields."

"Our province is like this, beside the sea," said Jo. Quickly, she changed the subject. "How about you?" she teased. "Won't your girlfriend be mad you're with me?"

"I, ah," Rico stammered. "I don't have a girlfriend..."

"But I'm sure you've brought a lot of women here!" said Jo. For some reason, she doesn't want this to be true.

"Would you believe you're the only one?" said Rico. He took an lungfull of sea wind. "I go here when I want to think, when I want to hear my own thoughts." He laughed self consciously, knowing how silly he sounded.

Jo smiled. "I know what you mean," she told him, looking at the waters. "The city is so noisy, but here..." She shook her head. "Here," she continued, almost whispering, "you feel like you're so far away from your problems..."

Rico was looking at her intently. "You are so beautiful, Jo!" he said softly.

"Let's talk about something else," she laughed. "Where do you work?"

Rico gave an embarrassed laugh. "My, uh, uncle, doesn't want me to," he said with wounded pride.

"Why not?" That's most unusual, Jo thought. Still, she imagined, it would be fun to have an uncle like that.

"He doesn't even want me to leave the house when I have no class," Rico shrugged in frustration. "But he's sending me to school," he added, trying to be fair. "I'm taking a two-year course as a computer technician. By the way, where do you live?" he segued.

"I dorm in Quiapo, in Hidalgo," Jo said. "Bedspace. I used to share a room with my cousin. She's the one who brought me to Manila. But her employer has moved to Davao, taking her with them. So there!"

"So we're both alone in the city!" he marveled.

"I thought you said you live with your uncle!" asked Jo.

"Oh, ah, well, that's different," replied Rico, more confused than her. "What I mean is..." He couldn't find the words but he got an idea. "Tell you what!" he said brightly, gathering their leftovers in a plastic bag. "Let's take a stroll and find something to eat!"

Jo laughed. "You're just evading the topic!" she said, taking his hand to get up. "Yeah, good idea," she agreed. "I miss the fresh air!"

"You know, Jo?" Rico said bashfully, as they started to walk. "I'm really happy now, here, being with you." He shook his head. "Most people," he went on, "they're so plastic and superficial!"

Jo looked at him. "I enjoy your company, Rico," she said. "I can't explain it," she continued, shrugging, "but I feel like I've known you for years!"

"You feel the same way, too?" he asked happily. "Oh, look!" he said excitedly, pointing. "Grilled squid!"

Jo laughed. "Yeah, come on, I haven't tasted that! Mmm! Smells wonderful!" Then she stopped, thunderstruck. "Oh, my God, Rico!"

"What is it, Jo?" asked Rico, alarmed.

"Don't tell me," she said, amazed, "you're hungry again?!"

They burst out laughing. A vendor standing beside them, holding dozens of colored balloons, smiled, finding them so cute, so full of life, and recalling his own wonderful teenage years.

Jo and Rico went out again a couple of days later. It happened again, and became frequent. Soon, they became inseparable. Because of Rico, Jo once again found happiness. One fine cloudy afternoon, on Jo's day-off, she spent the entire day with Rico who has cut classes again. "You're different today," Jo remarked as they walked in the bayside, caressed by the breeze.

"Why?" laughed Rico. "Have I grown gills?" The seagulls were laughing, probably finding it funny.

"Rico," Jo rolled her eyes, "we've been together almost every day for over a month! I know you, right? There's something bothering you!"

"Oh, it's nothing!" Rico stopped to pick a pebble and threw it out the sea.

"What do you mean, nothing?" asked Jo, standing beside him. "I can see it in your eyes!"

"You see...," Rico groped for words. "I had an argument with my uncle..."

"What happened?" asked Jo, worried.

"It's...complicated," Rico sighed. "Why is like that, Jo? If you don't like something in a person, you can say it in a decent way, can't you?" He shook his head. "And he's supposed to be an educated professional!" he went on cryptically, but the hurt was palpable. "You know what I can't understand? Why does he have to always bring back everything he has everything he has ever done for me?!"

"He's like that?" exclaimed Jo, outraged.

"I know I owe him a lot!" Rico continued, on the verge of crying. "But I feel so trapped, Jo! It's like, for the rest of my life, I'll be forced to be grateful for a debt I can never, ever, repay!" A tear fell, and wiped it away quickly, ashamed.

"Rico," said Jo hesitantly, "there are a lot of thing you haven't told me about, have you?"

Rico nodded miserably. "I need time, Jo," he said softly. "Someday, I'll tell you everything. I'm just...not ready yet..."

Jo put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it, trying to give some comfort.

"I don't know what I'll do without you, Jo!" He stopped and faced her, holding back the tears. "The only time I'm happy is when I'm with you!"

"Rico," she said, looking up at him. "Remember, I'm always here! If you a need a friend..."

Rico stopped and faced her. "Jo," he said, brushing her hair from her eyes. "I want you to be more than that..."

The Spanish ancestral house stood in eighteenth century majesty in Paco. "Wow, they made it into a restaurant!" exclaimed Jo, impressed, as the waitress brought their kare kare, sinigang tuna, rice and drinks.

"That's why I brought you here," smiled Rico. "I knew you'd like it." Jo was admiring the grand piano, antique furnishings, framed oil paintings of people long dead. "Houses like these are becoming rare," said Rico, serving food into her plate. "Mostly, they're being torn down to create vacant lots. Anyway, as I was telling you, the owners inherited it from their grandfather's dad, who was a Catalan. They made it into a restaurant because it's such a shame to just leave it empty and let it deteriorate. They don't want to live here because there's a ghost!"

"Don't tell me you believe in ghosts?" said Jo, laughing.

"I don't want to see one!" laughed Rico. "There's actually another reason why I brought you here," he continued, forking a piece of string beans. "But it belongs to another era!"

"Let me guess," said Jo. "The jukebox?"

"Yeah, weird isn't it?" laughed Rico as he stood up. "Wait," he said, digging into his pocket for a coin. "I want to play you something!" He went up to the jukebox, framed by the open capiz windows overlooking the cobbled courtyard, where a black 1957 Plymouth Fury was parked. The jukebox began to play the opening strains of _Sa Mata Makikita_. Rico hurried to kneel beside her. "I don't know you to tell you, Jo," he said nervously. "So I have to say I love in a song!" From the jukebox, Roel Cortez began to sing: "Kailangan pa bang ako ay tanungin..."

"Oh, Ricardo!" Jo was laughing, not realizing she was also crying. "You should know by now! I love you too!"

The elevated LRT train roared past the large grilled window of the motel. The room boy has finished changing the bed sheet, and nodding at Rico without looking at him, went out and gently closed the door. Rico locked it and turned down the lights. He went up to Jo, who was standing in the middle of the room, rubbing her arms.

"Rico," she said hesitantly. "I'm afraid..."

"There's nothing to be scared of, Jo," Rico assured her, cupping her face in his hands. "We love each other, don't we?"

"Yes, but..." Jo was shaking.

Rico kissed her, drowning out her protests, as another LRT train rumbled across the window.

They were sitting at the bayside again, this time at the strip at the back of the Folk Arts Theater. A psychedelic ice cream cart passed them, pushed by a vendor ringing his bell. "I have something to give you, babe!" Rico smiled shyly, handing her a small folded piece of yellow pad paper.

"What is it?" asked Jo, delighted, fingering it lovingly.

"Open it," he smiled, a bit anxiously.

She carefully removed the scotch tape. "Oh my God, babe!" she gasped, taking out a thin gold necklace. "This is so beautiful!"

"Here, let me put it on you!" Rico unclasped the necklace.

Jo lifted her hair as he slipped it around her neck.

"There!" said Rico, pleased. "Perfect!"

"But," asked Jo, overwhelmed, looking down at the necklace, "isn't this expensive?"

"It belonged to Mama," Rico told her. "That's my only memory from her. I had it with me when I ran away to Manila."

"You ran away from home?" Jo said, not missing the parallels in their lives.

"Papa died when I was a baby," said Rico. "Then, when I was fourteen, Mama died too. I was the only child; there was nothing to keep me there, so I left!"

"Who did you go to in Manila?" Jo asked, looking at Rico as if seeing him for the first time.

"I didn't know a single soul!" laughed Rico. "I was sleeping in Luneta!" He looked at the necklace, brilliant in the sunlight. "I can't remember how many times I've taken that to pawnshops," he told her, smiling at the colorful memories of his boyhood adventures.

"Babe," said Jo, appalled. "I didn't realize you went through such..." Jo looked away. "Pain..."

"Change subject!" he said cheerfully. "I have good news, babe!" Rico told her excitedly.

"Me, too, babe!" she replied happily.

"Okay, you first!"

"No, you first!"

"Guess what?" smiled Rico. "I found a job in a restaurant! Orientation is next week!" he proudly declared. "Tomorrow, I'll look for a room! We'll finally be together, babe!"

"Oh, babe, I'm so happy!" cried Jo. "Now it's my turn! I went to the health center yesterday..." She smiled, embarrassed. "You see, I missed my period..."

Rico was beside himself with exhilaration. "Babe!" he said, exultant, "You mean..."

Jo nodded with tears of joy. "I'm pregnant, babe!"

"Oh, babe!" he said, bursting with joy. "This is the best day of my life!"

Jo started to cry.

"Hey, babe, what's wrong?" Rico exclaimed, frightened out of his wits. "It might upset our baby!"

"I'm so happy, babe!" Jo sobbed. "I was afraid you'd leave me if--"

"Babe, babe!" smiled Rico, his eyes glistening with tears, cupping her face in his hands, their faces nearly touching, looking straight in her eyes. "You are my life! I swear to God, no matter what happens, I will never leave you! Only death take me away!"

"I love you, babe," Jo said quietly, caressing his face. "As long as I live..."

He stood on the rocks. "Hey!" he shouted at the top of voice. "I'm going to be a daddy!" The crowd burst into applause. "Yes!" Rico shouted triumphantly--then he fell on the water. More people are clapping and whistling, gathering around, as Rico swam around in circles. "Babe!" he was shouting. "Will you marry me?" Everybody in the bayside was now standing in the promenade around them, cheering and going wild with excitement.

Jo was standing on a rock, crying, never in her dreams had she thought she would be happy like this. "Yes, babe!" she cried as the crowd behind her thundered with cheers and applause. "I will marry you!"

Rico closed the door as the room boy left. He turned to Jo who was sitting on the bed. Behind her, framed by the large grilled windows, an LRT train roared as it swept past. "First thing tomorrow," Rico said as he hunkered down in front of her, "I'm going to look for our own place."

"It doesn't matter where, babe," she told him, putting her arms around his neck, their foreheads touching. "As long as we're together!"

There was loud knock. Rico frowned as he opened the door. Standing outside was a well-dressed man. "Daniel!" Rico was shocked, blood draining away from his face. "What are you doing here!"

"I've following you," Daniel said, with leashed menace, entering the room. "So this is why you're always out of the house!"

Rico stepped back, his face ghastly pale.

"Babe, is this your uncle?" asked Jo, frightened, coming up behind him.

"Is that what he told you?" Daniel asked her, his voice rising.

"Leave her out of this, Daniel!" said Rico, covering Jo. "Please!"

"Why? Are you afraid to be embarrassed in front of your girlfriend?" shouted Daniel. "You're afraid she'll know the truth?"

"Babe, what's he talking about?" cried Jo, nearly hysterical.

"Babe, I'm sorry I lied to you!" said Rico miserably, turning to face her, beginning to cry. "I wanted to tell you but I was afraid..."

"We're going home now!" Daniel commanded, heading towards the door.

"Daniel," Rico turned back to him, afraid but defiant. "I love Jo!"

"You're going to choose that woman over me?!" Daniel exploded in rage. "Don't you forget, if not for me, you'd still be in the living in the streets!" he shouted. "It's only because of me that you've eaten without scavenging from garbage!"

"I've had enough of you!" Rico shouted, getting angry.

"How dare you!" shouted Daniel, drawing out a gun and aiming it at Rico.

Jo screamed.

Rico stood his ground, covered with sweat. "Daniel, please," he gestured, trying to calm him. "Put the gun down!"

"Go with him, babe!" sobbed Jo. "I don't want you to get hurt!"

"I won't leave you, babe!" Rico told her, looking defiantly at Daniel.

Daniel was livid. "After all I did to you, this is how you repay me?" he screamed. "You ungrateful son of a bitch!"

The gun exploded. Rico fell back with a cry of pain, blood gushing from his chest.

Jo screamed. "Babe, no!" she cried hysterically.

"Babe, take my wallet!" said Rico as he lay dying. "I want our baby to see me, even if it's just a picture..."

"Babe..."

Rico shivered. "Don't forget me, babe!" he cried, clutching at her desperately. "Light a candle for me during my birthday, okay?"

"Hang on, babe!" Jo sobbed. "I'm going to get help!"

"Promise me, babe!" Rico cried, not letting her go. "A candle on my birthday!"

"I promise, babe!" Jo cried. "I promise!"

Rico died.

Daniel stood there, crying. "Oh, God, what have I done?" he moaned. He looked down on the gun on his hand. Slowly, like in a dream, he aimed it to his head. Out the window, another LRT train thundered past as Daniel pulled the trigger.

Jo was looking at me with a strange smile.

"Well?" she asked, her gaze intent. She was looking for a reaction, even braced for a self righteous condemnation of her life. I was bit uneasy, thinking about the worst things I did but left out, and her she was, baring her soul. I reached for another cigarette. "Speechless," mused Jo. "Don't worry, that's their normal reaction before they start moralizing. And you know what? I couldn't care less. At least I showed them the real me. If they won't accept that, that's it. They're not worth it anyway, smiling at you but stabbing you when your back is turned."

No," I said, "that's not true. I mean, I'm not like that. I don't care who you are – I'm sorry, I like sound like a lousy movie dialogue."

She smiled and excused herself. Women, I thought, watching her go to the ladies' room. I saw a group of men at the next table gaze at her passage. When she came back, after a couple of minutes, she was surprised to find two mugs of steaming coffee at our table. She smiled again.

"They'll boot us out of here if we don't order again," I said jokingly.

She took the bowl of sugar and prepared our drinks. "You like it sweet?" she asked me.

"Very sweet," I said. "I love you!"" I suddenly blurted out.

Without missing a beat, she asked, "You also love cream?"

I shook my head. "Listen," I said, "I really love you. I –"

"How about milk?" she asked with an amused smile.

"Jo, please, I'm serious. I – hey don't!" I said, when she was about to pour the milk.

"Look, I've never been so serious in my life. I'm really, truly, madly, deeply in love with you."

"Now you sound like a pop song," she said, smiling.

"The first time I saw you I knew. You don't ignore your heart Jo," I told her. "Sometimes, its' the only true thing in our lives."

"Wally, you don't even know me," she said, shaking her head.

"I already know what I need to know. I'm sorry, there I go again, sounding like a cliché," I said.

"Wally," she said, "it's just crush okay? It's normal, I'm a girl, you're a boy. I went with you tonight because you seem such a nice guy. I like you but –"

"There!" I said, cutting her off. "You said you like me. That's a good start," I added, overwhelming her with my charming and magnetic smile – I think.

She shook her head again. "Let me finish will you? I like you, yes, but as a friend. I wasn't thinking of anything more than that. Look, I'm sorry if I'm hurting your feelings but it's just a crush. It will pass, just give it time It may not even be that, maybe it's just curiosity, maybe you were just intrigued. What ever it is, you'll get over it. And I can assure you, by that time, you'll be thankful your life wasn't complicated.

I toyed with my spoon before answering. "Well," I sighed, "if that wasn't a big 'No' I don't know what is. And believe me I've had lots of those. Talk about being consistent," I said glumly.

"Wally," she said, taking my hand, "I'm really sorry. It's just that I don't think I'm ready yet to get involved again with anyone. It's not you. I mean, you're really, really nice. Please don't get mad."

"No, no," I said, "Jesus, no, please I'm not mad. I admit I'm a little hurt but I understand. I'm sorry I got very fresh but for what it's worth, I really love you. I'm willing to wait."

"Friends?" she asked.

"Friends," I agreed miserably.

I was hurt of course. But we managed somehow to change the topic. By the time I took her home, we were laughing again, enjoying each other's company. We never even kissed when we reached her boardinghouse. I even smiled and waved as I walked away. But deep inside I was devastated, I felt this thorn in my heart – there I go again another cliché. But you know what I man. It took two weeks before I can bear to visit her again. But by the time I returned, she had already left the club. I stormed in there, demanding where she was. Some of the waitresses claimed that Jo was always with an old Chinese customer. The man was rich they said, but they don't know where he's from. They said that Jo probably moved in with him, having grown tired of the life of a GRO, and left with someone who could guarantee her future. Probably they said – nobody really knew anything.

That night I returned to the restaurant where Jo and I had our first and last date. No, it wasn't even a date, just a conversation. As if sympathizing like an old friend, the radio was playing _I'll Face Tomorrow_ by Marco Sison. I sat there, staring at my coffee, thinking; thinking about Jo, about us, about what might have been.

And now, five years later, looking out the window, I could still see her face, her smile, her grace. I sat silently, offering to heaven a prayer, my heart, aching with melancholy and an inexplicable sense of loss. I don't know what happened to her that night we talked, the night she turned down my love. A lot of things happened to me though. But this isn't about me, it's about her. And the only way to really know her is to hear her story. And she told me that, when I told her I love her, the last time I saw her alive.

Fisherboy (Imaginarily Directed By Ishmael Bernal)

The sun was playing hide-and-seek in the gliding clouds above Divisoria market. The sprawling market was bustling with people like a town celebrating the fiesta. A vegetable vendor in one of stalls near the sidewalk was calling out to customers.

"Hey, suki, you can be sure, vegetables are always fresh!" said Maxima, who looks like Gina Pareño in _Kubrador_.

A young Indian guy was in his daily round to collect debts. "You're really one of a kind, Aling Maxima," he said admiringly as he parked his scooter. "You sound like a drugstore!"

"Patel," said Maxima maternally, "if you just eat more vegetables, then you won't need medicines!"

"You look happy today!" said Patel, who looks like Sam YG in those _Boys Night Out_ commercials.

"And since when did you see me look like a witch, aber?" replied Maxima gaily. "Besides, today's my last payment to you! Here, it's three hundred, right?"

"Thank you," said Patel, accepting the money. "Another loan?"

"I've just paid my debt and you want me to get another one?"

"Nothing wrong with borrowing money," said Patel with conviction. "As long as you pay it, of course!"

"Marketing guru!"

"Want a DVD player?" asked the young businessman. "Only 500!"

"It's only 500 but that's 500 everyday!" replied Maxima. "Hello!"

"It's called installment!"

"Can you make it consignment?" kidded Maxima. "I'll return it after my movie marathon!"

"I really like talking to you, Aling Maxima," said Patel, laughing.

"Like?" said Maxima. "What am I, Facebook?"

Later that day, a young boy who looks like Jake Vargas in _Tween Academy_ approached the stall.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," he said politely. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for a job. My name is Jay. Uh, I noticed that you don't have any helpers, so I would like to apply."

"Gee, son, but my niece is coming next week," said Maxima, feeling sorry for the boy.

"Oh," said Jay, crestfallen. "I see." Then a thought struck him. "Well, she won't be here until next week. Maybe I could work for you for even just a couple of days."

And before she could reply, he added, "Please?"

"Have you tried others?"

"I've been around the entire market," said Jay matter-of-factly. "All the canteens, hardwares, even the ice factory and the slaughterhouse!"

"Where do you live?"

"Uh, Marikina."

"So what are you doing in Manila?"

"Oh, I went to somebody I know in Juan Luna," the boy explained. "But he gave me a wrong address."

"Then why not go home?"

"Well, the truth is, I came to Manila to find work."

"How old are you, anyhow?"

"Fifteen."

"My golly, you're so young!"

"I'll be sixteen in January!"

"It's only March so that's next year!"

"But I really need a job, ma'am," the boy implored. "Please, even for just a couple of days!"

"Hmmm." Maxima liked the boy. But for all she knew about him, he could have come from outer space. "Do you have an NBI Clearance?" she asked. "Biodata?"

"Uh, no."

"Now what?"

"Don't worry, ma'am," Jay assured her. "You will hold the cashbox--"

"I like the sound of that!" Maxima said merrily. "Some people call this a portable plastic toilet!"

"I'll do everything!" promised Jay. "I'll carry the deliveries, I'll call the customers, clean the store, everything! You won't have to do anything except sit down and take the payments!"

"I'm now the Doña!" Maxima beamed. "It's me!"

She turned to Jay. "Alright, I'll take you - but! Only for one week, okay?"

"Gosh, thank you Aling Max!" the boy whooped happily.

_I'm very lucky to be working for Aling Max_ , wrote Jay in his diary three days later. " _She is super kind. She doesn't snoop about my personal life. But she always give me advice. She treats like a son than a houseboy_.

"Jay," said Maxima the next night. "It's nearly 9 o'clock. We can close the store now."

"Shall I get more carrots tomorrow, Aling Max?" said Jay, starting to put up the plywood boards. "There's still a lot left."

"Not yet," replied Maxima. "My _kumpare_ delivers to me every Sunday. He's from Bukidnon, goes to Manila once a week.

"I don't have to get vegetables tomorrow?"

"We still have enough," said Maxima.

"Wait, Baguio beans, onions, yup! We'll just get them from my kumpare."

"Okay," said the boy. "Oh, by the way, Aling Max? I heard you talking with your niece on the phone earlier."

"Ah, yeah," said Maxima. "Iya will be arriving this Tuesday. She was asking what I want her to bring. I told her she doesn't have to bring me anything, just as long as she doesn't give me aggravation! Hehehe!

Jay laughed but still felt anxious. "Uh..."

"Oh, son, I know what you're thinking," consoled Maxima. "Actually, I've been asking around if anybody knows somebody who needs a houseboy or a stay-in helper. Don't worry," she promised. "I won't let you go back to the streets!"

That Sunday, Maxima was pleasantly surprised when one of her regular customers dropped by. "Oy, Mang Prudy!" she exclaimed."Long time no see!"

"Hello, Maxima!" smiled Prudy, who looks like Dolphy in _Tataynic_. "Well, you know my work, always back and forth from Manila to Bicol. Trip can be tiring!"

"Not only that!" declared Maxima. "I bet you're growing gills from all that fish you're delivering!"

"True, true!"

"Perfect timing!" said Maxima proudly. "All the vegetables in front of you are all fresh! They just arrived today! What are you planning to eat? Pork _sinigang_? Beef _nilaga_? Chicken _afritada_?"

"Oh, dear, my doctor has ordered me to cut down on meat," said Prudy in a wistful tone. "Just give me all I need to make chopsuey! By the way," he added, "looks like you have a new assistant!"

"Oh, this is Jay!" smiled Maxima. "He's helping me until my niece arrives day after tomorrow!"

"From where?"

"From our province, Aparri."

"No, I meant Jay!"

"Ah! Well, Marikina! You don't happen to need an assistant delivery boy, do you, Mang Prudy?" Maxima asked hopefully.

"Well," said Prudy. "Matter of fact, I do!"

_That's when I met Mang Prudy_ ," Jay wrote in his diary that night. _He's like Aling Max, fun to be with and not pretentious, even if they are already successful in life. They are very different from most people I've met._

Tuesday came along with Maxima's niece, Iya. It was time for Jay to leave, and Prudy was there to take him away to a new life.

"Jay, you be good, okay?" said a sniffling Maxima. "Don't let me down!"

"Promise, I won't!"

"You won't be good?!"

"Oh, Aling Max!"

"First time I saw Jay," Prudy told Maxima, "I already knew he's a good person. I'm very sharp in discerning character."

"You know, Mang Prudy," said Maxima, "I do believe that this boy will go a long way!"

"Farther than Bicol," Prudy deadpanned. "Well, Jay, ready to go?"

"I'm ready, Mang Prudy," he replied. He turned to the woman. "Aling Max..."

"Oy, oy, oy, don't you dare cry!" she warned jokingly. "I might cry too, and that will ruin my make-up!"

"Thank you," said Jay softly, laughing while holding back the tears. "Thank you..."

"Don't worry, Jay," Prudy assured him. "We'll always drop by here when we deliver fish."

"Oh, look, you made me cry!" wailed Maxima.

"Can't blame you, Maxima," said Pruding. "I feel it's very easy to love Jay."

"I don't understand it, Mang Pruding," said the crying Maxima. "Jay has been with me for only a few days but I've grown to love this little rascal! Come here boy, give me a hug! Okay, that's enough, I hate melodramas! Next time you visit, bring me some talakitok, okay? We'll cook it in coconut milk!"

Jay and Prudy rode a jeepney and got down in another part of the city.

"Let's eat at my friend's restaurant," said Pruding.

"What's this place, Mang Prudy," asked Jay, looking up at the elevated railway.

"This is Santa Cruz," replied Pruding, settling down at a table in one of the open air restaurants. "Those stairs lead up to LRT, Carriedo station."

"I've never rode the LRT," said the boy.

"I'll take you around the city one of these days."

"Really, sir?"

"Just do everything I say."

"Yes, sir."

"Everything!"

"Everything, sir!" the boy promised. "Just say the word!"

"I'll remember that," Prudy said cryptically.

Sunlight was pouring through the grills behind the open capiz windows. The sounds of jeepneys and tricycles outside filled the room. Jay, was standing in the kitchen, wearing black shorts and a basketball jersey. He was staring at the kettle like a victim of a carnival hypnotist. He shook his head, regaining his senses, as he heard footsteps.

"Good morning, Jay!" Prudy said cheerfully, coming down the stairs in a latte-colored bathrobe.

"Good morning, sir," the boy mumbled. At the moment, the kettle whistled.

"Oh, you made breakfast!" Prudy exclaimed, pleased. "Wow! But where did you get the bread?"

"I found it in the fridge," said Jake, strangely inanimate, pouring hot water into a mug. "Half a loaf of Tasty." He suddenly stopped. "I hope you don't mind," he said, alarmed.

"No, no, this is perfect!" said Prudy! "I like my eggs scrambled!" He sat down. "Oh, yeah, I remember! I made tuna sandwiches yesterday! Come on, let's eat!"

"I'm not hungry, sir," said Jay, bringing him the steaming brown coffee. He seemed fascinated by the light-blue patterns on the linoleum floor.

"Why? Are you ill?" Prudy asked, concerned. Then it dawned on him, an epiphany like a thunderbolt. "Oh, my God! Jake, come here!"

The boy approached, reluctant but submissive.

Prudy put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Jake, look at me," he said. Serious. "Is it because of what happened last night?"

"Uh...

"It's your first time, right?"

"Sir?"The boy was startled.

"Look, Jay," said the old bachelor. "I'm really sorry."

The boy fidgeted. "It's just that..."

"Are you mad at me?" Prudy asked anxiously.

Jay seemed to be actually thinking about it. Slowly, he shook his head.

"You're too young to understand," Prudy said with an air of sorrow. "But I can promise this! You live with me now! You don't have to live in the streets anymore!

A sparrow flew over South Cemetery. Prudy and Jay were surrounded by the dead as they navigate their way around the tombs. The sun was pale, as if a reminder that its light will, someday, die too.

"Here we are, Jay," said Prudy, stopping before a solitary tomb. He sighed. "This is Arman."

Jay put the flowers on the tomb reverently. He began to light the large candle he was carrying. A tiny flame came alive. "He was only fifteen," Jay said softly, looking at the tombstone. "Just like me..."

"Would you like to see his picture?" Prudy asked hesitantly. Jay nodded. Slowly, Prudy took out his wallet and opened it. He handed it to Jay. The boy looked at the photo. He shivered as he gave the wallet back. He sighed, looking at Arman's tomb. "He looked just like me."

"The first time I saw you..." Prudy can't find the words.

Jay was contemplating the marble tombstone. "What happened to him?"

Prudy shook his head. "There was a street rumble," he said, painful memories etched on his face. Jay would look at him, then at the tomb, then him again. "He fell with a street fraternity," Prudy continued. Suddenly, he felt very weak. He sat on a grave marker.

Jay waited, his fingers running lightly on the smooth surface of Arman's tomb.

"I told him many times to stay away from them," Prudy continued, looking at the statue of an angel standing over a grave, weeds growing around it. "I learned too late that he hasn't been going to school for months. He got kicked out. Then he began to spend most of his time at the gang's hangout in Baseco. Arman...he...got into drugs." Prudy began to cry.

Jay went over and put his hand on the old man's shoulder, looking down with growing understanding.

"Arman was a good boy," said Prudy, voice chocking with tears. "An affectionate, thoughtful, intelligent boy! He loved to read. Those pocketbooks in the house? They're all his..." Jay sat on his ankle and put his arm around the old man. "It's been three years!" cried Prudy. "Oh, God, Jay, I miss him so much!"

"Don't worry," said Jay, "I'm here and I won't leave you!"

"Thank you, Jay!" said Prudy, hugging him. "Thank you!" He wiped his tears and sniffed. Jay smiled as the old man ruffled his hair fondly. "You know," said Prudy, "Arman used to call me Tsong." He chuckled. "I found it really corny," he continued, smiling at the memory. "But I would be really be happy if you call me that, Jay!"

The boy laughed. "Okay, Tsong!" he said, returning the old man's embrace for the first time.

Jay was looking out the minicab's window, fascinated by the sight of the open highway at breaking dawn. He craned his neck to watch the glimmering lights of an airplane make a beeline to the dark horizon. Prudy was driving, smiling at the boy's sense of wonder. Ah, to be young again, he thought.

"It's a long way to Bicol," he said, patting the boy's leg affectionately. "We're just entering the expressway."

"It's the first time I've been here, Tsong!" said Jay happily.

"I can tell," Prudy laughed. "I've always loved traveling. I used to be an insurance supervisor, going around Luzon to check up on our branches. I have distant relatives in Bicol, that's where we're going, by the way. So when I retired, I thought it would be fun to deliver fish. Besides, I have nothing to do anyway. It's not really about the money, you see. I can live on my pension, and I have enough in the bank." He shrugged. "I guess I just don't want to spend the rest of my life cooped up alone in the house."

"Uh, Tsong," said Jay tentatively, "can I ask you something without you getting mad?"

"Why should I get mad?" replied Prudy, amused. "You can ask me anything, Jay!"

"It's about Arman," said the boy, looking out the window. He then looked at Prudy. "How did you meet him?"

The old man sighed. "I just retired then," he said, deep in thought. "He used to live with a friend of mine, Francisco."

Jay felt the van going slower.

"Then Francisco was petitioned by his son in America," continued Prudy. "So he left Arman with me. The boy had nowhere to go. He left home because his father used to beat him. At first, he was happy to go back to school. I took care of his papers. But, as time went by..."

Jay was looking at him intently.

Prudy sighed again. "But I've grown to love him," he went on. "He wasn't the most obedient person in the world, I can tell you that! But there were times when he was so caring, so affectionate..."

Jay nodded, looking straight ahead, lost in his own thoughts.

Prudy looked at him. "Now," he said brightly, "what about you?"

"What do you mean, Tsong?

"Well, for starters," said the old man, "where's your parents?"

"I...," the boy began, embarrassed. "I don't have parents."

"Yes, you have, Jay," said Prudy tenderly. "You probably just hate them now."

"I don't, Tsong!" the boy replied, looking at him. "I never even met them!"

"They died?"

"I don't know," said Jay, shaking his head. "I've lived in Boys' Town as far as I can remember. I studied there, I finished second year high school. I even brought my Form 137, it's in my bag in your house."

"It's our house now, Jay," Pruding said, squeezing the boy's knee.

"Thank you, Tsong," Jay said, holding the old man's hand on his knee.

"I'm sure you're curious about your parents," said the older man.

"No."

"Oh, come on," smiled Prudy. "Of course you are!"

"No."

Prudy turned to him. "Not even a little?"

Jay shook his head. "No, Tsong, I'm not," he said firmly. "Well," he shrugged, "maybe when I was a kid, but not anymore!"

"Why not?"

The boy looked out the window. "They told me, I mean, the people in Boy's Town told me, they found me at the gate when I was a baby." He looked at Prudy. "Tsong, there's only one reason why they left me there! They don't want me!"

"Jay," said Prudy, "there may be another reason."

"Like what, Tsong?"

"Well..." said Prudy, groping for words.

"Don't worry, Tsong!" smiled Jay. "I don't hate my parents! Not anymore. Besides, they probably won't even remember me!"

"Your parents miss you, I'm sure," consoled Prudy.

"Then why didn't they come back for me?" Jay asked matter-of-factly, with inviolable logic.

"Ah..." Prudy has no reply to that.

It was late afternoon when they arrived. The dirt road with centenarian trees on both sides was idyllic, like traveling back in time. "Here we are, Jay!" announced Prudy. "This is Camarines Sur!"

"It's beautiful, Tsong!" the boy marveled.

They turned to a large backyard sheltered with towering trees. Chickens and ducks scampered out of the way. An elderly woman who looked like Anita Linda in Lola was sweeping the fallen leaves. She looked up and smiled at them.

"That's Miling," Prudy told Jay. "She's my second-cousin. Her brother Temyong used to be the village captain here. He's now a fisherman." The minivan stopped as the old woman went over to welcome them.

"Hello Prudy!" she greeted warmly. "I'm glad you arrived safe!"

"Thank you, Miling!" smiled Prudy as he got out of the minicab. "I want you to meet Jay," he told her, motioning to the boy who was getting off the other side of the vehicle. "Good afternoon, ma'am!" Jay said, smiling.

"Good afternoon to you too," replied Miling cheerfully, already liking the pleasant and well-mannered boy. "Come," she told them, holding the boy's arm. "I'm going to prepare some maruya!"

"Perfect!" laughed Prudy. "We're hungry!"

"Aling Miling," said Jay, "I can see the ocean behind those trees!"

"Would you like to go there?" asked the old lady. The boy looked at Prudy, an unspoken plea.

"Go ahead, Jay!" laughed Prudy.

Jay smiled at them and went to the beach, almost running, exhilarated by the intoxicating sweetness of freedom. Prudy watched him tenderly. Jay turned before he disappeared behind the trees. He smiled, the wind ruffling his hair. The old bachelor knew then that he would love the boy forever.

The waves splashed playfully at the shore. Jay saw the ocean spread before him all the way to the horizon. It was his first time to witness such grandeur, to feel that indefinable, overwhelming sense of peace. Time stopped, and the outside world has been swept away by the breeze.

"Kuya Jay?"

His reverie broken, Jay came out of trance. He turned around.

A young boy who looked like Zaijan Jaranilla in _May Bukas Pa_. was standing behind, smiling shyly. "I'm Bugoy," he said. "TiyaMiling asked me to keep you company!"

"Thanks!" smiled Jay. He turned again to the ocean. "It's really beautiful here, Bugoy," he said softly."

"That's what everybody says," said Bugoy proudly, walking up beside Jay on the right. "They call it paradise."

"It is," agreed Jay. He looked at the little boy. "Do you live with Aling Miling?"

"I live in the next house," replied Angelo, gesturing to the trees beyond the shore. "You can walk there in five minutes."

"How old are you?" "I'll be thirteen next month!" declared Bugoy. "And I'll be graduating from elemantary on my birthday!"

"Really? Congratulations!" said Jay, sharing the young boy's excitement. "Advanced Happy Birthday too!"

"Thank you, Kuya Jay!" Bugoy smiled bashfully. "My father said we'll roast a small pig if we get enough money! I hope you and Tiyong Prudy will come!"

"Of course! I'll tell him!" said Jay, patting Bugoy's shoulder. "I want to come back here!"

The two boys stood on the shore, watching the seagulls cavorting over the endless, deep blue ocean.

That night, after dinner, Jay's feet took him to the shore again. He sat on the coarse sand, never having seen the stars so brilliant.

"I knew you'd be here!" chuckled Pruding as he walked up and sat beside the boy on the left. He put his arm around Jay.

"I really love it here, Tsong!" said Jay, laying his head on Prudy's shoulder.

"I can see that!" laughed Prudy. "But, you know, the people who grew up here, they tend to take it for granted. That's why they love visitors. It reminds them how lucky they are to be here instead of the city."

"Have you ever thought about living here, Tsong?"

"I thought about it," said Prudy, rocking them both softly. "But I've gotten used to living in Manila. My friends there, well, there's just a few of them still alive!"

"Tsong, don't speak that way!"

"Besides, I have a Senior Citizen card!" chuckled Prudy. "I get a twenty percent discount! But I won't be able to use it here!"

Jay looked up at him. "Or maybe there's another reason?" he smiled mischievously. Prudy laughed out loud.

"Now what do you mean by that?" mock-strangling Jay and mussing the boy's hair. They were laughing, almost sprawling in the sand. "And besides," Prudy continued, "I'd miss our house. I don't want to rent it, no way! And it's good to have a place to stay in Manila." He looked behind them. "Oh, look, Temyong is making a bonfire!"

"Oh, wow!" Jay said, impressed. He's never seen a real-life bonfire before. They got up, brushing the sand from their shorts.

"Jay, if I had stayed here," Prudy said seriously, "I would have never met you."

Jay put his hands on Prudy's shoulders. "Tsong," he said, looking straight at the old man's eyes, "you're the best thing that happened in my life!"

The ocean was serenely glistening with the noonday sun. Jay and Prudy were sitting on the _papag_ wooden bed beside the window overlooking the ocean, eating pili nuts and drinking _buco_ juice. Prudy wanted Jay to continue his studies when they return to Manila. But the boy refused.

"I'd rather work so I can help you, Tsong," Jay said."Truth is," he added, gulping fresh buco juice, "I already thought of a way! Well," said Jay, not knowing how to begin, "I hope we can stay longer here. Uh, maybe a week more? By the way, Tsong, Bugoy told me about that municipal councilor, who used to be a fisherman? Then there's this guy who lives in the next barrio? He's also a fisherman, and he was able to build a concrete house!"

"I think I know where you're going," said Prudy, keeping it light and looking out the window.

"Tsong, I want to be a fisherman!" There, he said it! "I want us to live here!"

"You don't want to go school?"

"Tsong, I...no..."

"Let's do it this way," said Prudy. "You can stay here and be a fisherman. If you think this is the life you want, then...well," he shrugged. "But if not," he added with a smile, you go back to school! At least finish high school, Jay! Fair enough?"

"That's fair, Tsong, but," Jay nodded and shook his head at the same time. "I want us to be together!"

"I need to take care of our house in Manila," explained Prudy, "but I'll always come here, of course!"

"That's it?" asked Jay, incredulous and a bit indignant. "We'll be separated and it's nothing to you?"

"Someday you'll understand," said Prudy with a sad smile.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I'm giving you my blessing," said Prudy. "You can stay here and be a fisherman!"

Prudy left the next day, taking fish to Manila. Somehow, he and Jay said their goodbyes without any suspicious show of emotions. Sensing his sadness, Bugoy took Jay to watch the fishermen return to shore. The aplaya was full of people, mostly waiting to take the catch to market. A couple of make-shift stalls had been built to sell the fresh aquatic harvest.

"It's like a street party!" Jay exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear, as they walked slowly.

"You know, Kuya Jay, you're very lucky!" Bugoy told him. "Tiyong Prudy allowed you to fish. My father doesn't want me to!"

"Why not?" Jay asked. "There's nothing wrong with being a fisherman!"

"Of course there isn't," replied Bugoy, stopping. "My father wants me to finish school and find a steady job in Manila when I grow up."

"What do you want to be, Bugoy?" Jay asked.

The young boy was embarrassed. "I want to be the manager of an office," he admitted shyly. "Wearing rich clothes in an office with air-conditioning. I have a cousin like that in Naga."

"Why do you have to work in the city when you can live here and fish?" asked Jay, wondering why anyone would leave a place like this.

Bugoy shrugged bashfully. "There's my father!" he said exultantly, pointing to a fisherman who was dragging the wide, half-submerged net to the shore. He looked like Robert Arevalo in Gulong.

"Let's help them drag the net, Bugoy!" Jay said excitedly. The two boys raced down the aplaya.

That night, they found Orlando, the young assistant of Bugoy's father, in front of the boy's nipa house. Orlando, who looks like Sid Lucero in Tambolista, was sewing their net under a gas lamp.

"Kuya Orlando, it's dark already!" said Bugoy, concerned.

"I need to fix this rip before it gets bigger, Bugoy," he replied.

The gas lamp was hanging from the lowest branch of a kamachile tree, where Orlando was leaning, sitting on a driftwood. Jay sat down on a log in front of him. Bugoy carried a rock and set it on Orlando's right and Jay's left. The young boy sat on it, and they can see the black ocean on Orlando's left. Cicadas were singing along to the chorus of the waves.

"By the way," Orlando looked at Jay, "thank you for helping us with the net." Jay smiled. "I enjoyed it!" Even from the weak light, he can tell that Orlando is a good person but his eyes seemed...haunted.

"Kuya Orlando helps my father, "Kuya Jay," Bugoy said, overjoyed at the meeting of the two people he wishes were his true brothers. "He lives in the next barrio," he added. "But," he continued in jest, "once he buys his own boat..."

"Don't worry, Bugoy," smiled Orlando. "I have no plans!" He turned to Jay. "You're with Mang Prudy, right?"

"Yes," Jay nodded. "But kuya," he asked, "isn't that the dream of all fishermen? To have his own boat?"

"That's for those who are contented with their lives," Orlando said softly, nearly a whisper. "You know, being a fisherman is decent work. But," he sighed. "The truth is, I don't want to be like this forever."

"But why?" asked Jay, confused. "I even asked Tsong to let me stay here so I could be a fisherman!"

"You can say that now because you haven't experienced it yet," Orlando told him kindly.

"But it looks fun," said Jay weakly. "This afternoon, in the aplaya, it seemed like a fiesta..." "Everything in life is both happy and sad, Jay," said Orlando. "You'll understand that when you get older. Besides, I think it's only human to try to find where we'll be happy. Me..." Orlando shook his head. "This is not what I want. That's why, you two, the best you can do is to finish school! Don't be like me!I'm nearly thirty and I've never even finished elementary! So there, I can't find work! You're both too young to understand, but nothing is more painful than looking back and seeing that you have wasted your life..."

At dawn the next day, Temyong, who looks like Eddie Garcia in Deathrow, was waking Jay.

"What's the matter, TatayTemyong?" the boy moaned sleepily.

The old fisherman laughed. "I thought you said you'll come fishing!"

"Oh!" Jay exclaimed, sitting up.

"Okay," chuckledTemyong. "Breakfast is ready!"

Jay followed him to the kitchen groggily.

"Here, Jay," said Miling, fussing about the kitchen. "There's tinapa and fried rice!"

"Thank you, NanayMiling," said Jay, using a dipper to get water from a large clay jar. He gargled over the sink made of criss-crossed bamboo slices. Water sluced through it to the ground below the house. All the while, the roosters in the backyard were crowing.

"Here's your coffee, Jay," Miling hovered over him maternally as he sat down.

"Let's eat together, Nanay Miling!" said the boy. "Oh, you go ahead, don't mind me!" said the spinster, packing some food in banana leaves.

"Still sleepy, Jay?" asked Temyong, amused. He was eating with his hand, one leg up the stool. "Want to go back to bed?"

"No, no, TatayTemyong!" the boy protested, laughing. "I'm wide awake!" he declared, suppressing a yawn.

The sun was mercilessly hot, like a malignant, ancient fire god. Jay and Temyong were in the middle of the sea, the boats of other fishermen within sight like specks around them. The far-away shore seemed to be a mirage in the shimmering air. "Time for lunch, Jay!" said Temyong, opening the wrapped banana leaves. "How nice!" he exclaimed, pleased. "You'll love Miling'sgalunggongpaksiw!" He looked up at the sun directly over them. "With this weather," he joked, the soup should still be hot!"

"Oh, look, Tata Temyong!" said the boy, happy because he's secretly ravenous. "NanayMiling even wrapped us some salted eggs and tomatoes!" Jay was quick to learn to eat without spoon or fork. He washed his hand in the ocean and began peeling the violet-purple salted egg. "TatayTemyong," he asked, "I heard that the catch is getting fewer lately." He took a bite of tomato like an apple.

"Yeah," nodded Temyong, expertly separating the galunggongflesh from the fishbone. "Not like before. That's why sometimes, we're forced to raise our price by a peso, or even two." He took a handful of rice, egg and fish, shaking his head as he chewed. "I remember when I was your age," he continued as he swallowed. "Our boat would almost sink because of the heavy catch!"

Jay would eat a piece of egg and a bite of tomato, like a tequila ritual. "How did you become a fisherman, Tatay Temyong?" he asked.

"How did I-?" Temyong seemed amused by the question. "My father was a fisherman, so was my grandfather and his father before him." He chuckled. "How did I became a fisherman?" he repeated. "I didn't know any other life!"

Their catch took over half the boat. It was little, Temyong said, regaling Jay with stories of the post-War golden age of fishing as they paddled to shore later. "Are you tired, Jay?" Temyong asked. "Want to rest?"

"I'm fine, Tatay Temyong," Jay said, exhausted but trying not to show it.

"What's going on?" murmured the fisherman, squinting in the late afternoon sun at the shore. Jay, almost slumped at squiggling mass of netted fish, looked up and saw the other fishermen at the shore forming a circle around something they couldn't see. Their voices, not sounding friendly, drifted in the wind.

"I hope it's not trouble," Jay said nervously.

Temyong looked at him. "You're with me, Jay," he assured the boy. "Nobody here would dare lay a hand on you!" The fishermen saw them and waded to meet their boat and help pull it towards the sand.

"We've all been waiting for you, kapitan!" said Sendong, a fisherman who looks like Ketchup Eusebio in _Ploning_. "You know Lucio, right?" gesturing towards a prosperous-looking man on the shore who looks like Christopher De Leon in _When Love Begins_.

Temyong got down the boat and waded to shore like Douglas McArthur during the Leyte Landing. He looked back.

"Stay in the boat, Jay!" he commanded.

The boy nodded anxiously, gripping the paddle as if his life depended on it.

"Lucio's the son of the owner of the cockpit arena in town," said Sendong.

"Yeah, I remember him," said Temyong as he reached solid ground.

"Good afternoon, kapitan!" greeted Lucio. He was holding a shoebox.

"Good afternoon to you, as well," nodded Temyong. He surveyed the assembled men. "I didn't know there was a rally!" he quipped. "Elections are still far away. I don't see any fighting cocks so I guess there's no tupada!"

"I bring you good news, kapitan!" declared Lucio. "Good news for all of you!" His smile took them all in. "Kapitan," he said, turning to Temyong, "do you know what's inside this box?"

"Shoes?"

Lucio smiled as some of the men chuckled nervously. "This," he said, taking off the lid, "is the answer to your prayers!"

Inside the box were sticks of dynamite.

Temyong's face darkened as the air crackled with tension. "Don't tell me you are serious, Lucio," he said with quiet venom.

"Lucio's right, kapitan!" said Berto, Bugoy's father, coming forward. "If we use dynamite, we'll catch more fish!"

Orlando struggled to the front. "That's dangerous, MangBerto!" he warned. He turned to Temyong. "Kapitan, I've been trying to tell them that if we use dynamite--"

"Then you will catch more fish!" Lucio cut in. "MangBerto is right!"

"While our lives are in danger?!" challenged Orlando.

"You're too superstitious, boy!" Lucio said dismissively.

"What's superstitious about being blown away anytime?!" Orlando was relentless.

"Why would you set it off on the boat?!" asked Lucio. "Light the wick and then you throw it overboard!"

"It's still dangerous!" Orlando insisted.

Lucio was shaking his head condescendingly. "You know, that's the kind of mentality that keeping you poor!" he said. "Here is your chance to make your life easier!" A murmur of approval came from the crowd. "Not only that!" said Lucio, playing the gallery. "You can double, even triple, your earnings!" The crowd was becoming excited. Orlando and Temyong exchange glances. Lucio was on a roll. "Am I right, my friends?!" A chorus of acclaim.

"Look, fellows," said Orlando looking around, "let's not put our lives in danger! Think about what could happen!"

"He's right!" said Lucio.Orlando whirled towards him, stunned. "Think about what could happen!" Lucio told the crowd, nodding. Pause. "You'll all gonna be rich!" The crowd exploded with cheers for Lucio.

Bugoy broke through the crowd. "Father, Kuya Orlando is right!" he pleaded, crying, clinging to Berto's arm. "That's dangerous!"

"Shut up, Bugoy!" scolded Berto. "Don't meddle with adults!"

Orlando went to Temyong as the crowd was growing wild. "Kapitan," he said, his eyes pleading. "Talk to them!"

"Kapitan," said Berto.

The crowd parted so Temyong and Berto came face to face.

"I respect you, kapitan," said Berto quietly. "You know how I've always valued your counsel. You're the godfather of my son." He sighed. "But this time, the future of my family comes first!"

Temyong was silent. Finally, he said, "I agree with Orlando, Berto. No dynamite will ever come to my boat." He took a step and placed a hand on Berto's shoulder. "Old friend," he said softly, "will you change your mind?"

"I've decided,kapitan." Berto turned to his young helper. "Orlando, we'll be using dynamite starting tomorrow, do you understand?!"

The next day, the fishermen already on the shore applauded as Berto's boat landed. They all rushed to pull the heavy net. It was bursting with fish. Sendong came over, and helping pull the net, he said, laughing, "Oh, MangBerto!" replied Sendong giddily. "It feels like hitting the Sweepstakes!" Orlando had been grimly silent. Bertohe said strolled towards Temyong who'd just reached shore. "Well, kapitan?" he asked, not without a hint of gloating as he eyed the puny catch on the boat.

"Yeah, I know it looks pathetic compared to yours," Temyong told him, as he and Jay rested from dragging the boat. He looked at the boy at the other side. "But it's enough for us," he said. Jay smiled. Temyong smiled back and turned to Berto. "And I sleep better at night!"

The water was calm and unbelievably blue. "It's your fourth day as a fisherman, Jay," smiled Temyong. "What can you say so far?"

"It's good," said the boy, "but hard. But I'm getting used to it, TatayTemyong!" He paused, not knowing how to say it. "Uh, Tatay Temyong? Can I ask you something?"

There was an explosion. On the far distance, the water was churning beside a boat with three laughing men.

"Our friends are celebrating the New Year," Temyong said wryly. "Go on, Jay, what is it?"

"Well," the boy said hesitantly, "I notice that you can really catch a lot more if..." He trailed off, embarassed.

Another explosion.

"You know, Jay," explained the fisherman, "when you use dynamite, you also blow away their hatchings. Pretty soon, there be anything left to catch."

Explosion.

"Oh," was all Jay could say.

Another explosion.Then screams of alarm.

Jay looked behind. Blood drained from face as he saw the burning wreckage of what used to be a boat.

"Hurry, Jay!" shouted Temyong, paddling furiously towards the floating pyre. "Faster!"

"Kapitan!" screamed Sendong who was nearest them. "That was MangBerto's boat!"

Temyong was stunned, momentarily paralyzed. "Mother of God," he whispered.

"TatayTemyong!" said Jay, crying shamelessly, "Kuya Orlando is there!"

The funeral was on the street in front of the wooden village council hall. The entire town was there, scattered on tables stretching across the dirt road. Most of the menfolk were drinking lambanog, and everybody else seems to be playing cards. There were two sealed coffins. Jay and Bugoy were seated on the borrowed monoblock bench.

"Kuya Jay," cried the young boy, "my father is gone!" Jay had his arm around Bugoy. There was nothing he can say to take away the pain. "He didn't listen to mother! To Kuya Orlando!"Bugoy cried bitterly. "If only..."

Jay was looking at the crowd. "Where are Kuya Orlando's relatives?" "He didn't have any," answered Bugoy, sniffing, wiping his nose with his sando. "He came back from Manila, I don't know, maybe two years ago. His father had a stroke, so he took care of him. Then he died. Kuya Orlando didn't want to go back to Manila, didn't even want to talk about it. So he stayed and went to work for my father."

"I still remember what he told us," said Jay, eyes misting."

"I won't forget them!" Bugoy almost shouted. "I'm going to finish school! When I get rich, I'm going to take my mother away from here!"

Prudy arrived then, breathless. "Tsong!" cried Jay, rushing to embrace him. "Oh Jay, thank God you're not hurt!" he said, holding the boy tight. Jay was crying. "Jay, what's wrong?" the old bachelor asked, alarmed.

"Tsong!" the boy cried, holding on to him like a drowning soul. "I want to go home!"

The years quickly passed. Prudy had put up a mini-grocery and became a softdrinks dealer. Jay was now freshman at FEU. One day, Prudy fetched Jay from school so the young man could accompany him to the bus station. Prudy was going to his hometown in Ilocos to sell his share of the riceland he had inherited. "You've grown up so handsomely, son!" Prudy beamed, as they strolled around the station, happy in each other's company.

"Tsong, I don't think I ever told you..." Jay said,embracing the man who had become the father he never had. "Thank you..." Jay was crying. "Thank you for...everything...If not for you, I don't what would have happened to me..."

"I should be the one thanking you, son!" Prudy. "You brought so much happiness to my life!"

"I know now why you let me become a fisherman," Jay told him, looking into the old man's eyes. "You want me to experience that life, you want me to learn from it, to realize...Tsong, if I had known then what I knew now, Kuya Orlando would still be alive, and Bugoy would still have a father!"

Prudy lovingly held the young man's face in hands. "Remember, son," he said, "whatever happens, I'll always be proud of you!"

Jay didn't leave the station until the bus did. It was disappearing in the distance when the city lights came to life. The sun had set when Jay turned and began walking home.

Rain

Iwi Laurel's _A Special Memory_ was playing softly in the radio. It was already one in the morning but I was still cramming for our finals tomorrow. I heard a soft knock and I looked up. Rain, my eight-year old sister, was standing in the doorway in her yellow pajamas clutching the Snoopy stuffed toy I gave her last Christmas.

I put my book down. "What is it honey?" I asked softly.

She came in with hesitant steps. She looked so forlorn I felt my heart breaking. I held my hands open to her and she came into my lap like she always used to as a child. I gave her a hug, trying to give comfort.

"Nico," she asked, her head buried in my chest. "Why did Mommy leave us?"

Sorrow overcame speech, It took some time before I answered. "Honey, people die sometimes. It happens to everybody. It doesn't mean she didn't love us anymore. She's still there somewhere, watching over us. She's with God now," I said, groping for words.

"Then why didn't she take us with her?" Her innocence was shining in her eyes as she looked at me. I hugged her closer, more for my comfort than her's, at a loss as to what to say. "She wouldn't like you missing school I guess," I said lamely.

She looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Remember the time you drew this picture with six smiling people?" I asked.

She nodded. "Teacher asked us to draw our family," she said.

"Mom was very proud of you. She even showed to her friends during the exhibit," I stopped. That was her last one-woman show before the accident.

"Nico," she asked, "When I die, will I see her again?" I was struggling to hold back the tears.

"Yes honey," I said softly. "We'll be together again someday."

"Will I see God too?" she asked, a child looking for answers from the riddles of life."

"Yes, we'll see Him too. But not yet though," I said. "We still have so many things to do."

"Like what?"

"Well," I said, trying to act like an adult. "You have to finish school for one thing. Remember when you were six, you brought home this little stray kitten? How you nursed back to health? You even named him Chester."

She nodded. "There was this boy in school, he's Chester too. He was really cute but I don't think he liked me. He never even talked to me in the school bus. Nico," she asked, looking at me earnestly, "am I pretty?"

"Of course honey," I said, hugging her again, amused about impending puberty. "You have mommy's eyes, nose, lips, ears," I said, poking her face.

She gave a little giggle and snuggled closer.

"Anyway," I continued, "When Chester grew stronger, you said you wanted to be like Aunt Celia." She was our father's sister, a pediatrician at Cardinal Santos.

"Mommy always said I'll be a doctor when I grow up," Rain said. "She said doctors always help everybody."

I smiled sadly at the recollection. "Yes, she's right. She would have wanted that."

"I miss her," her voice was barely a whisper. I cried then, I couldn't help it. All my life I've tried to be brave, to not show any weakness. But there I was, on the brink of manhood, reduced to tears like a child.

"I know, honey," I said through tears. "I miss her too."

We were like that for a while.

The End

