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What We Left Unsaid
(Were We Ever Meant to Be – Part 2)
“Do you really need to ask me that?”
“You can refuse to answer.”
“Why are you asking?”
Why was I? What difference would the answer make now? What if she admitted that she had loved me—or that she still did?
“Because there are things we never clarified,” I said. “Every time we met after you resigned, we avoided them. Maybe we were afraid. Maybe we knew nothing good could come from talking about them.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Perhaps I was wrong,” I added. “Perhaps I only imagined that something important had happened between us.”
“What was your question again?”
“Did you really love me?”
“Of course I do—I mean, I did. Did.”
I could not suppress a smile.
“What are you grinning at?”
“So it’s did, not do.”
“You heard me.”
“Meaning you don’t love me anymore?”
“You are unbelievable, Marco. Some questions are better left unanswered.”
I let the silence answer for her.
“I’m happy when I see photographs of you and Anna,” she said. “You look happy together.”
“So you check my Facebook page.”
“Don’t you check mine?”
I admitted that I did. Then I asked what she had wanted to ask me.
“You already know,” she said. “But I want an honest answer.”
“Which question—did I love you then, or do I still love you now?”
She smiled. “Both.”
“Do you really need to ask me that?”
She laughed at hearing her own words returned to her.
“I loved you then, Kath.”
“And now?”
“Some questions are better left unanswered.”
“I can read between the lines, Marco.”
“So can I.”
When she left briefly to use the bathroom, memories crowded into the silence. We had once spent nearly every working day together. At first, while she was my intern, we had been strictly professional. Then our conversations became personal. I told her about my difficulties with Anna; she told me about Jay, who was then still courting her.
One night, while we were working overtime, I held her hand and kissed her. The kiss lasted longer than either of us could excuse. After that, affection became part of our secret routine. Sometimes a kiss welcomed one of us into the office. Sometimes I whispered that I missed her or loved her. At night, behind a closed door, we kissed until restraint was the only thing keeping us from going further.
Kath never allowed us to cross that final boundary. She never once said she loved me. And because Anna worked in the next office, we made certain no colleague noticed anything unusual.
Kath returned to the call and settled on a sofa. She wore shorts and a thin shirt, and when she reclined I had to remind myself not to stare.
The years had altered her less than I expected. There were faint lines around her eyes now, but they made her beauty feel lived in rather than diminished. She had become a mother, a wife, and a woman who spoke with greater certainty than the young intern I remembered. Yet when she smiled at something foolish I said, I could still see the twenty-something woman who used to enter my office carrying two cups of coffee and pretend not to notice that I had been waiting for her.
The memory pleased me, but it also carried a fact I preferred not to examine: back then I had been her supervisor. My recommendation had helped determine whether she would be hired. I had told myself that her affection was freely given—and perhaps it was—but I had never asked what my authority might have meant to a young woman beginning her career. It was easier to remember the kisses than the imbalance surrounding them.
“Careful, Marco. Your eyes might fall out.”
“You’ve attracted me for a long time.”
“There goes the charmer again.”
“You’re still very attractive.”
“I know.”
We laughed, but the ease did not last.
“I have another question,” she said. “Do you know someone named Mayette?”
PART 3 – THE TRUTH ABOUT THEM
Were We Ever Meant to Be?
Were We Ever Meant to Be? is a provocative love story told as a novelette—a story of unfinished love, renewed desire, marital commitment, and the difficult choice between what the heart wants and what one believes is right.
Story Preview
Living alone in South Korea during the COVID-19 pandemic, Marco sends a simple birthday greeting to Katherine, a woman he has not seen in eight years. What begins as a friendly exchange soon reopens a past they had carefully buried—and feelings neither of them has completely forgotten. But Marco and Kath are no longer the people they once were: both are married, both have children, and both have lives that could unravel if they allow an unfinished love to begin again. As distance disappears through their screens and old questions demand new answers, they must confront a dangerous possibility: perhaps some loves survive because they are meant to be—or perhaps surviving is precisely what makes them hardest to resist.
Part One – A Message After Eight Years
After finishing my third movie of the day, I finally switched off my desktop computer. I would open my laptop later when I felt like browsing the internet.
That was how my days usually passed whenever I had no work—Netflix, the internet, and, when inspiration visited, writing a story, poem, or essay for my website. When I did not feel like watching, browsing, or writing, I read. Whatever I chose, I remained inside my apartment.
I had no desire to go out. COVID was still spreading, and because it was the weekend, I knew the streets and public places would be crowded. Koreans loved going out whenever they were free. Besides, winter was not quite over, and the evening was cold.
I had promised myself I wouldn’t touch anything work-related all weekend. I needed a break from the stress. The report my boss had requested could wait until I returned to the office.
I stepped onto the terrace of my two-bedroom apartment to stretch and breathe some fresh air. It was already past eight, and darkness had settled over the neighborhood.
The terrace was small, with just enough room for a chair and a little table. I sat there whenever I wanted some air, some morning sunlight, or a quiet place to read. Sometimes I drank coffee there. Sometimes beer.
I did not stay long that evening. Hunger drove me back into the kitchen. I had started watching movies after lunch and had not eaten since. I reheated the leftover chicken and pizza in the microwave and cooked a packet of ramen so I would have something warm to sip in the cold weather.
Carrying my food, I returned to the second bedroom, which I had converted into a study and miniature theater. It had also served as my workplace when the rising number of COVID cases forced our company to send its employees home. We had only recently been required to return to the office.
I opened my laptop while I ate. As always, Facebook was my first stop. I messaged Anna, my wife, to ask if she was feeling better. We hadn’t chatted all day because she had told me that morning that she was unwell.
She appeared to be offline. The green dot beside her name was gone.
I tried video-calling our son, Kenneth, but he did not answer. He was probably asleep—or too absorbed in Mobile Legends to notice my call.
I scrolled through my feed instead, then checked the profiles of several close friends and relatives. From thousands of kilometers away, Facebook was the easiest way to know what was happening in their lives back in the Philippines. If I saw something that made me miss someone, I messaged them.
That evening, one of them was celebrating her birthday.
Katherine.
I opened Kath’s profile, found an attractive birthday image on Google, and sent it to her through Messenger, along with a brief greeting and a question about how she had been.
Then I moved on to ESPN to check the day’s NBA results and watched the game highlights on YouTube. By the time I finished, it was already eleven. My food was gone, and I was tired of browsing.
I decided to watch another movie, but first I made myself a cup of coffee.
Before closing the laptop, I checked Facebook one last time. Kath’s profile was still open. I looked at the message I had sent her.
Not yet seen.
She was probably asleep. She would see it in the morning.
For no particular reason—or perhaps for one I did not want to admit—I opened our conversation history and began scrolling upward.
We had not had a real conversation since I moved to South Korea. Every year, I greeted her on her birthday. She thanked me, we exchanged a few questions about how life was treating us, and then we said goodbye. I often wanted to keep talking, but I could never tell whether she wanted the same.
I scrolled down again.
The year before, when I had been preparing to visit the Philippines, we had talked about meeting. Friends often promised to have coffee with me whenever I came home, but most of those plans remained exactly that—plans. Perhaps Kath and I would have met if COVID hadn’t disrupted everything.
I knew I would not have wasted the opportunity to see her.
I simply did not know whether she felt the same way.
I was about to close Facebook when the status beneath my message suddenly changed.
Seen.
Kath was online.
A moment later, the three moving dots appeared. She was typing.
“Sirrr!!!”
I smiled.
Even after all these years, she still called me Sir. She had once been an intern at the travel and recruitment agency owned by my uncle, where Anna and I had both worked before I was assigned to Korea. I had headed the human resources office, and my uncle had placed Kath directly under my supervision.
She had been a fresh graduate then. The arrangement was that she would complete a one-month paid internship, after which my recommendation would determine whether she would be hired as a regular employee.
“How are you, sir?” she added.
“What is this, Kath? First you call me Sir, and now you’re being formal with me. Just call me Marco.”
“All right. Let me try again. How are you, Marco?”
“Still beautiful.”
“Wow. Same here—and I’m more beautiful than you.”
We exchanged laughing emojis.
“Thank you for remembering my birthday,” she wrote.
“How could I forget? You’re on my annual list of people I’m required to greet.”
“Oh, really? Well, thank you for including me on your precious list.”
She reacted to my message with a heart.
“What have you been doing lately?” I asked.
That simple question began the longest conversation we had shared since I left the Philippines. Before that night, we rarely exchanged more than three or four messages before one of us found a reason to leave.
I asked about her family.
“Jay and I are happy together,” she replied. “We’ve been blessed as a couple.”
I had meant her whole family. To be honest, her husband had not even entered my mind when I asked. But since she had brought him into the conversation, I asked whether he was home.
I knew Jay was a seafarer. Kath said he was currently aboard a ship operating in South America.
“How about you and Anna?” she asked.
My fingers remained above the keyboard for a long time.
How were Anna and I?
“We’re okay,” I finally typed.
Kath replied almost immediately.
“Wow. It took you that long to answer, and all you can say is that you’re okay?”
I had intended to add more. I had pressed Enter too soon.
“Things became more peaceful between us when I stopped expecting her to meet my standards.”
“Has she changed?”
Again, I hesitated.
“Anna is Anna,” I wrote. “She is who she is. I’ve learned to accept that.”
Kath sent a thumbs-up.
Her question stirred memories I had kept untouched for years. Whenever Anna and I fought back then, Kath had been the person who listened to me. If she entered my office and found me unusually quiet, she immediately knew that something had happened between my wife and me. She would make me coffee, sit nearby, and tell me I did not have to keep everything to myself.
I thought the thumbs-up would end our conversation. Instead, she sent a sad emoji.
“I’m all right, Kath,” I assured her.
She reacted with a heart.
I turned the question toward her.
“How are things between you and Jay? Have you completely repaired your relationship? Are you back to the way you used to be?”
“Yes. We worked through our problems. We both realized that perhaps we needed to experience what happened—just as you and Anna needed to go through your own difficulties. You know we’re both Christians. We chose to remain together and allowed God to guide us through the healing process.”
I sent her a thumbs-up.
“I think we’re more mature now in the way we handle our problems,” she added.
Shortly before I moved to Korea, Kath and I had met because she and Jay were going through a serious marital crisis. She had needed someone to talk to, and I had listened. At the time, she believed their problems might end their marriage. I asked what caused the conflict, but she was reluctant to tell me.
Her problems had seemed so heavy that I never found the opportunity to tell her about mine. I had been going through a crisis severe enough for a doctor to prescribe antidepressants. I had not even told her that I would soon be leaving for South Korea.
“You suddenly went quiet,” she wrote. “Are you busy?”
“No. I was just remembering the last time we saw each other. We watched a movie that day, didn’t we?”
“Which part are you remembering—the movie, or the way you pretended to comfort me so you could steal a kiss on my cheek?”
“That isn’t true,” I protested. “I was genuinely trying to comfort you. If I had wanted anything else, then I would have—”
“Stop it, Marco.”
“All right. But I really didn’t have any hidden intention that day.”
“If you say so.”
I sent her smiling emojis.
She sent back three hearts.
“I miss you, Kath,” I typed. “I really do.”
The words had escaped before I could decide whether they were appropriate. Something familiar had risen inside me—a feeling I knew too well whenever it concerned her.
The message had already been delivered when I realized she might take it the wrong way.
“Oh, Marco,” she replied. “It’s getting late. I should say good night.”
Perhaps I had offended her.
“I’m sorry, Kath.”
“Sorry? What are you sorry for?”
I stared at the screen, unable to type a single word.
“Marco, I asked what you’re apologizing for.”
I do not know how long I sat there. Memories I had spent years avoiding began returning one after another.
Finally, I typed, “It’s nothing. You said it’s time to sleep, so good night. Thank you for talking to me.”
A series of angry emojis appeared.
“Fine, Marco. Leave me hanging again. I should be used to that by now.”
I pressed my palm against my forehead.
This was why I kept my distance even when I wanted to speak to her. Perhaps it was also why she kept hers. Neither of us wanted to uncover what we had spent years burying.
Instead of replying, I tried to video-call her.
She rejected the call.
I tried again.
Rejected.
“Please answer,” I wrote. “My hands are tired from typing.”
I called a third time.
At last, she answered—but her camera was off.
“Please turn on your camera,” I typed.
“Why?”
“I want to see you.”
It took her a while, but eventually the screen flickered and her face appeared.
I looked at Kath. She seemed to be studying me in the same way. Almost eight years had passed since we last saw each other, yet she looked scarcely changed.
“Have you been crying?” I asked.
“You’re infuriating, Marco. Why did we have to make this a video call?”
“My fingers were beginning to hurt from typing. And besides…”
I stopped.
“Besides what?”
I drew a breath. “I miss you, Kath.”
“I can never tell whether you’re telling the truth or merely charming me.”
“Is that really what you think of me?”
“Yes. It has been—for a long time. Since the day you failed to show up.”
I had no answer.
Whenever our conversations came dangerously close to what had once existed between us, she returned to that day—the meeting I had missed and the explanation I had never given.
“Marco, I want to ask you something,” she said. “And for once in your life, please answer me honestly. Just this once.”
Her words hurt. They made me sound like a man who had lied about everything.
“All right. I promise I’ll be honest. What do you want to know?”
She stared at me through the screen.
I tried to guess what she was about to ask.
Was it why I had not shown up that day when we were supposed to visit my mother in the hospital? Was it why my uncle had transferred her to another branch after she had worked in my office for six months? She had resigned two months after the transfer. Perhaps she wanted to know why I had not tried to stop her.
Or why I had seemed unaffected when she told me that she and Jay were getting married.
Perhaps she wanted to know why I had left for Korea without telling her—or why I had made so little effort to remain part of her life afterward.
Which of those questions had she carried all these years?
She took so long to speak that I wondered whether she had changed her mind.
“Never mind,” she finally said. “It’s embarrassing.”
“What are you—a teenager?”
“That’s enough, Marco.”
“All right. Ask me.”
“I said forget it.”
I sighed.
Perhaps I already knew what she had wanted to ask.
“Fine,” I said. “Then I’ll ask the question.”
“Go ahead. Just don’t ask me anything about mathematics. You know that’s my weakness.”
I smiled. Her humor had not changed.
“Kath…”
“Yes?”
“Did you really love me back then?”
She closed her eyes and released a long, unsteady breath.
Part 2 – What We Left Unsaid
Gertrude (2)
(SHORT STORY – 2nd of 2 parts)
I insisted.
Softly at first.
Then just enough for her to give in.
“Can you lend me ten thousand?”
She did not meet my eyes when she said it.
“It’s for the house… we’re behind on the payments.”
For a moment, everything I had been told—
everything I had chosen to ignore—
surfaced.
Not clearly.
But enough.
Like something rising from beneath still water.
__________
Then I reached for my wallet.
I handed her my ATM card.
Told her to withdraw everything.
Eleven thousand.
I said I was closing the account anyway.
She smiled.
And just like that—
whatever had surfaced…
sank again.
__________
Trust does not always come from certainty.
Sometimes, it comes from need.
I went to work the next day, exhausted.
But strangely… light.
I moved through the day with an energy I could not explain.
As if giving something away
had made room for something else.
Gertrude did not come to the office.
I told myself she was attending to her problems.
I did not question it.
__________
The following day, she returned.
Wearing less than she usually did.
I noticed the way the men looked at her.
Not discreetly.
Not politely.
I had seen it before.
But that day—
it felt different.
Something in me tightened.
__________
She passed by my table.
Touched my cheek—
lightly, almost playfully.
Then walked straight into the boss’s office.
I watched the door close.
I told myself it was nothing.
That I had no right to feel what I was beginning to feel.
__________
I thought of speaking to her.
About the way she dressed.
About the way the others looked at her.
But she did not come out.
Not for a break.
Not for lunch.
__________
Time passed slowly.
Too slowly.
__________
Then I saw it.
A delivery boy.
Carrying a box of pizza.
Bottles of drinks.
The cashier took it.
And brought it inside the boss’s office.
__________
Something moved inside me again.
Not yet anger.
Not fully.
But… close.
Gertrude came out only minutes before closing time.
As she stepped out of the boss’s office,
I noticed something in her hand.
A cellphone.
She held it casually—familiar, practiced—
her thumb moving across the screen
as if it belonged there.
I watched her for a moment longer than I should have.
I remembered the night at my apartment.
“I don’t have one.”
I said nothing.
And like the other things—
I let it pass.
I asked if I could take her home.
She did not answer.
Instead, she handed me a note.
“Saturday. Your place.”
Then she left.
Quickly.
__________
She did not come to the office the next day.
Nor the day after.
I asked.
Casually.
As if it did not matter.
Someone said she had gone to Cebu.
With the Boss.
For a conference.
The word lingered longer than it should have.
Cebu.
__________
I tried not to think about it.
But thoughts have a way of returning
when they are not settled.
I imagined things.
Scenes I had no proof of—
but could not stop forming.
I dismissed them.
Called them foolish.
Told myself I was better than that.
Then, sometime in the middle of the day,
a message appeared on my computer.
No name.
No number.
Just a single line.
“You should get some rest. You look tired.”
I stared at the screen.
For a moment, it was there.
Then it wasn’t.
I leaned closer.
Nothing.
I sat back slowly.
Had there really been something there?
Or had I only imagined it?
Ah… I was a mess.
__________
Slowly, I looked up.
Across the room—
Gertrude was not there.
__________
Anyway… Saturday was coming.
That was enough.
I held on to that.
__________
And somewhere between doubt and anticipation…
I made a decision.
I would ask her to marry me.
Foolish?
Yes.
But by then, I was no longer trying to be right—
only certain.
I thought…
I could make her agree.
__________
Saturday came.
I bought a ring.
The diamond caught the light with quiet precision.
It did not flicker.
It did not hesitate.
It simply… remained what it was.
I thought that meant something.
At the cinema, I sat alone.
The movie played.
Unnoticed.
What drew my attention was the couple seated below.
Too close.
Too absorbed.
Too unaware of the world around them.
There was something excessive in the way they touched.
Something… familiar.
I looked away.
Then back.
I couldn’t help it.
When the lights came on, the man stood.
I recognized him immediately.
Our boss.
Something inside me shifted.
Not yet breaking.
Just… moving.
I leaned forward.
The woman turned.
And everything stopped.
It was Gertrude.
For a moment, I believed I was mistaken.
Memory can deceive.
Desire can distort.
So I called her name.
She looked at me.
__________
No surprise.
No denial.
Only recognition.
She even smiled.
Not warmly.
Not the way I remembered.
There was something in it—
something I could not place,
yet understood immediately.
And in that moment…
I realized
I had never really known her.
She said—
“See you tonight… darling.”
__________
That was when it happened.
Not loudly.
Not violently.
But completely.
Something inside me ended.
__________
I stood up.
Walked away.
Not because I was strong—
but because I knew that if I stayed,
I might become something else.
__________
The ring was still in my hand.
The diamond caught the light again.
Unchanged.
Certain.
Unaffected.
I closed my fingers around it.
Some things remain what they are.
Others only appear real…
until they are seen clearly.
Before going home, I bought several cans of beer.
Not to forget.
Not to escape.
Just…
to sit with what remained.
Gertrude (1)
(SHORT STORY – 1st of 2 Parts)
Gertrude had already been with the company long before I arrived.
I did not notice her immediately. Not because she was easy to miss—but because she did not need to be seen to be felt.
There are people who enter a room and demand attention. Gertrude did something else.
She let the room rearrange itself around her.
Conversations would slow. Voices softened. Even laughter seemed… measured, as if it needed her permission to exist fully.
And when she moved, you did not look at her right away.
You felt that you should.
She was the executive secretary—efficient, precise, and quietly authoritative.
She did not raise her voice. She did not need to.
When she spoke, people listened.
I did.
__________
Our interactions began with something simple.
Work.
Or at least, something that looked like work.
She would come to my cubicle carrying folders that were, technically, hers to handle.
“Can you help me with this?” she would ask.
The first time, I said yes without thinking.
The softness of her palm lingered—
just enough to make refusal feel unlikely the next time.
The second time, I noticed how close she stood.
I felt her breath—warm, near—
close enough to unsettle,
and the quiet trace of her scent
that lingered longer than it should have.
For a moment, her body brushed against mine—
light, unintentional… or so I told myself.
Just enough to linger in a way I could not ignore.
The third time, I realized she always came when I was alone.
Not deliberately.
Just… consistently.
__________
There are details the mind chooses to keep.
The faint scent of her perfume—light, almost forgettable, yet impossible to ignore once noticed.
The way she paused before speaking, as if selecting not just words, but their effect.
The way her eyes lingered—not long enough to accuse, but long enough to stay.
And then, the smallest gestures.
A hand resting briefly on my desk.
A brush against my shoulder.
A smile that arrived slowly, as if it had been waiting its turn.
__________
There was nothing inappropriate.
Nothing I could point to and say this was where it began.
And yet… something had already begun.
__________
I started noticing the absences.
The days she did not come to my cubicle stretched longer than they should have.
Work felt heavier. The air—still.
I would find myself listening for her voice.
Not consciously.
But persistently.
__________
It was around that time that I noticed something else.
The other men in the office kept their distance.
Not openly. Not dramatically.
Just enough.
They spoke to her when necessary, but never lingered. Never laughed too long. Never stood too close.
Some avoided her entirely.
At first, I thought it was envy.
Later, I wondered if it was something else.
But by then, I had already chosen not to wonder too deeply.
Because whenever she stood beside me…
everything made sense.
__________
I invited her to dinner.
I expected hesitation. A polite refusal.
I was wrong.
She said yes.
Immediately.
I let myself believe she liked me.
That should have been a warning.
I did not stop to wonder
how easily she might say yes to someone else.
__________
In my apartment, she moved with quiet familiarity.
Opening cabinets. Touching objects as if she were memorizing them—or claiming them.
“I’ll cook,” she said.
I protested, lightly. Out of courtesy, not conviction.
She smiled—just enough—and guided me to the sofa.
“Sit.”
It wasn’t a request.
And strangely… I obeyed.
__________
From the living room, I listened to her in the kitchen.
The rhythm of movement. The soft clatter of utensils. The occasional pause—as if she were thinking of something else entirely.
Once, I thought she had stopped moving altogether.
I almost stood up to check.
Then the sound returned.
It felt intimate.
Too intimate for something that had only just begun.
And yet, I did not question it.
__________
We talked over dinner.
About her family. Her past. Her disappointments.
She spoke freely.
But not deeply.
There were spaces in her stories—small gaps where something should have been.
I noticed them.
I chose not to ask.
At one point, I reached for my phone—out of habit more than intention.
“Do you want to exchange numbers?” I asked.
She paused.
Not long. Just enough to be noticed.
“I don’t have one,” she said.
I looked at her, waiting for the rest of the sentence.
It didn’t come.
“No cellphone?”
She shook her head lightly, as if the question itself did not deserve much thought.
“I don’t like being… reachable all the time.”
There was something in the way she said it—
not defensive, not apologetic—
just… final.
I let it pass.
Like the other things I had already chosen not to question.
__________
Later, she opened a bottle of brandy.
“I don’t drink much,” I said.
“Then I will,” she replied.
And she did.
Effortlessly.
The more she drank, the more she seemed… not intoxicated—but unguarded.
Her eyes softened—but never lost their sharpness.
At some point, I moved closer.
Or maybe she allowed me to think I did.
I reached for her hand.
It was warm.
Real.
Before I could speak, she turned and kissed me.
Not gently.
Not hesitantly.
But with certainty.
The kiss lingered—
longer than it should have.
And when it deepened,
neither of us tried to stop it.
__________
What followed was no longer hesitation—
but desire,
finally given permission.
She did not pull away.
And neither did I.
And I saw no reason to.
The space between us disappeared—
slowly at first,
then all at once.
Her warmth,
her breath—
the quiet urgency in the way she held on—
all of it unfolded without resistance.
And whatever distance had existed before that moment…
was gone.
There are moments in life that feel like decisions.
And others that feel like surrender.
That was surrender.
Morning came.
She was gone.
No note. No message. No explanation.
Just absence.
At the office, I waited—more than I should have, more than I admitted.
Every sound from the door pulled my attention away from my work. Every passing shadow felt like it might become her.
When she finally appeared, she smiled.
And said nothing.
I did not ask.
The warnings came later.
Two officemates. Hesitant at first. Then certain.
They spoke of her as if she were something to be avoided.
Something already understood.
Their words were sharp. Accusatory.
Ugly.
I dismissed them.
Not because they lacked truth.
But because I was not ready for it.
That night, she came back to my apartment.
Unannounced.
“I missed you… I need you.”
She said it softly—almost like a confession.
I felt something in me give in too easily.
And whatever doubt had tried to take root… disappeared again.
She was there when I woke up.
Seated beside me.
Quiet.
I reached for her hand and held it gently.
She looked at me.
Something in her eyes had changed.
The warmth I had grown used to… was not there.
I felt it immediately—though I could not name it.
She hesitated, as if holding back something she had already decided to say.
I waited.
ANG KAPALIT NG LIHIM – Part 3
(Maikling Kuwento)
“Teka, teka misis. Hinahon lang po nang kaunti. Nandito tayo para pag-usapan ito nang maayos.” “Paano kami hihinahon kapitan eh kapag hindi nila inilabas ang relong iyon ay kami ang malilintikan kay mayora. Nakakahiya kami.”
“Naiintindihan ko, Sir Nestor, kaya lang hindi natin mareresolba ito kung magsisigawan at mag-aaway kayo dito. Pakiusap, igalang n’yo ang opisina ko.”
Hinila ng nanay si Junior. Hinawakan sa magkabilaang balikat. “Bunso, please lang, sabihin mo na kung ano ang napulot mo.”
Umiling-iling si Junior. “Hi…hindi k…ko sa…sabihin…se…secret.” “Ang galing! Parang scripted ah,” ang patutyada ni Aling Cora.
“Anak, please. Good boy ka ‘di ba? Ano ang napulot mo? Nasaan iyon? Nakita kong medyo humihigpit ang pisil ng nanay sa mga balikat ni Junior. Kinabahan ako sa susunod na mangyayari.
“A..aray… na…nanay. Ma…masakit…
“Junior!!! Parang awa mo na, anak, sabihin mo na.” Se…secret na..namin n..ni Gir…Girlie i…iyon.
“Aba, at pati nananahimik kong anak eh idinadamay ng abnormal na ‘yan!” Binitawan ng nanay si Junior. Lumapit kay aling Cora. Sinampal niya ito.
“Sobra ka na!!! Matagal na akong nagtitimpi sa lahat ng ginagawa mong panglalait sa akin at sa pamilya ko.”
Mabilis ang pangyayari. Napasalampak si Aling Cora sa sahig sa sobrang lakas ng pagkakasampal ng nanay. Mabilis na pumagitna sina kapitan at mga tanod. Akmang susugurin pa ng nanay si Aling Cora, ngunit naitulak itong palayo ni Mang Nestor. Parang nagdilim ang paningin ko. Hinawakan ko ang isang monoblock. Talagang ihahampas ko na ito kay Mang Nestor ngunit inilabas niya ang kanyang baril mula sa clutch bag at itinutok sa akin.
“Sige!!! Sige!!! Subukan mo nang malintikan ka na.” Nakita ni Junior ang hawak na baril ni Mang Nestor. “Ba…baril…ba…baril…ba…ril!!!”
Kitang-kita kong takot na takot si Junior. Tumakbong palabas ng barangay hall. Mabilis.
Hinabol ko s’ya. Patawid siya sa kalsada.
“Junior, Junior. Wala na ang baril. Huwag ka nang tumakbo. Juniorrrr! Junniiioorrr!
Huli na ako.
Nabundol ng paparating na kotse si Junior. Kitang-kita kong tumilapon siya at pagkatapos ay bumagsak sa mismong harapan ko. Duguan si Junior. Nagkikikisay.
Natulala ako. Hindi ako kaagad nakakakilos. Maya-maya pa’y dumating si Nanay at si Jeng. “Anak ko, JUNNIOOORR. Diyos ko po! JUNNIORRRRR!” Diyos ko po! Tulungan n’yo
kami. Parang awa n’yo na!!!!
Pinangko ng nanay si Junior. Hysterical na silang pareho ni Jeng. Nandoon na rin sina Kapitan, Aling Cora at Mang Nestor. Walang makapagsalita. Lahat ay nabigla.
Bumaba ang driver ng kotse. Si mang Caloy, kasama si Girlie. Kotse nina Aling Cora ang nakabundol sa kapatid ko.
“Best friend, best friend…huhuhu. Salbahe ka mang Caloy. Bakit binundol mo ang best friend ko?” Duguan man, niyakap ni Girlie si Junior na pangko ng nanay. Hindi nakuhang pigilan ni Aling Cora ang kanyang anak.
“Hindi ko sinasadya. Bigla na lang siyang tumawid. Dalhin natin sa hospital ang kapatid mo, dali.”
Nagmulat ng mata si Junior. Buhay s’ya. Si Girlie ang unang napansin nito. “Gi…Girlie…Se…secret na…natin. Hi…hindi k…ko si…sinabi.”
“Anak, Junior! Buhay ang anak ko! Tumawag ka ng tricycle, Sean. Dali. Dalhin natin sa hospital si Junior.”
“Nanay, dadalhin daw ni Mang Caloy si Junior sa hospital.”
“Sige na, Tessie. Sumakay na kayo sa kotse namin,” ang alok ni Mang Nestor.
“Hindi namin kailangan ng tulong n’yo! Ano ba Sean!!! Tumawag ka, kako ng tricycle!!!” “H’wag na Sean. Heto na ang patrol ng barangay. Sumakay na kayo. Dalian n’yo,” wika ni kapitan.
Ang nanay na ang bumuhat kay Junior papasok sa patrol ng barangay.
**********
Habang tumatakbo ang patrol papuntang hospital, ay iyak nang iyak sina Nanay at Jeng.
Maraming lumalabas na dugo mula sa mga sugat ni Junior. “Na…nanay…love mo a…ako?”
“Oo anak. Mahal na mahal kita. Mahal ka ng kuya at ate mo.”
Matapos sabihin ng nanay ‘yon ay ipinikit ni Junior ang mga mata niya.
Hindi na umabot nang buhay sa ospital si Junior. Matindi ang head injuries na natamo nito.
**********
Bago sumapit ang gabi’y naibalik na sa bahay ang bangkay ni Junior. Nakalagay na ito sa ataol. Sa tulong ni kapitan at ng mga kamag-anak at mga kaibigan namin ay naiayos na sa aming bakuran ang mga tolda na s’yang sisilungan ng mga makikiramay. Pinahiram kami ni kapitan ng mga lamesa at mga upuan.
Nakatayo sina Nanay at Jeng sa tabi ng ataol ni Junior. Pinagmamasdan nila ang namayapa kong kapatid. Hindi na sila umiiyak. Naubos na marahil ang luha o kaya’y natanggap na nila ang naging kapalaran ng bunso namin.
Isa-isang nagdadatingan ang aming mga kamag-anak, mga kaklase namin ni Jeng, at mga kasamahan ni Nanay sa palengke.
Maya-maya pa’y dumating din sina Mang Nestor at Aling Cora. Natuon sa kanila ang atensyon ng mga nakikaramay na malamang ay nabalitaan na kung ano ang nangyari. Pakiwari ko’y nag-aabang sila kung ano ang mangyari sa pagdating ng mag-asawa.
“Anong ginagawa n’yo dito ha!” ang pasigaw na salubong sa kanila ni Jeng.
“Anak, kumalma ka lang.”
“Kayo ang pumatay sa kapatid ko!!!”
“Sabing tumahimki ka Jeng! Ano ba!!!” ang sigaw ng nanay.
“Tessie, nakikiramay kami.” Iniabot ni Mang Nestor sa nanay ang kanyang kamay. “Salamat!” ang malamig na tugon ng nanay. Hindi nito inabot ang kamay ni Mang Nestor. “Ah, Tessie, puwede ba kitang makausap sandali sa labas.”
“Kung kakakausapin mo ako upang piliting paaminin kung nasaan ang lintek na iPhone na ‘yan ay huwag na. Sobra ngang mahal ng cellphone na ‘yon. Ang buhay ng bunso ko ang naging kapalit. Siguro naman ay sapat ng kabayaran ang pagkamatay ng anak ko sa inaalala ninyong kahihiyang tatanggapin n’yo kapag hindi n’yo nahanap ang cellphone ni mayora.”
Halatang nagtitimpi ang nanay. Kita kong umaagos ang luha sa pisngi niya. Kung ako ang nasa kalagayan niya ay baka masaktan ko’t palayasin ang mag-asawa.
“Tessie, hindi kita pipigain tungkol doon. Sa katunayan, gusto kong magpaliwanag at humingi ng tawad.”
“Oh, si Ma’am Cora ang magpapaliwanag sa isang walang pinag-aralang katulad ko. Baka naman masayang lang ang panahon mo sa akin. Sino ba naman ako para pagpaliwanagan mo pa.”
“Please, lang Tessie. Pagbigyan mo naman ako.”
“Kita mo nga naman, ang isang Ma’am Cora pala’y marunong ding magsalita ng please. O, sige puwede tayong mag-usap, pero gusto ko dito tayo sa harap ni Junior, ni Jeng, at ni Sean. Gusto kong marinig ng mga anak ko ang ano man ang sasabihin mo sa akin.”
“Salamat, Tessie. Ah…kinausap ko kanina si Girlie kung ano ang secret nila ni Junior. Totoo nga, may napulot ang anak mo sa bakuran namin. Pero hindi iyong cellphone. Iyong nalaglag kong isang kahong Choc Nut ang napulot niya.”
Nagulat kaming lahat nang narinig namin ang sinabi ni Aling Cora. “CHOC NUT! HINDI IPHONE!” ang sigaw ng nanay.
“Oo, Tessie. Sorry. Ibinigay daw ni Junior kay Girlie iyong Choc Nut na napulot niya nang maglaro sila kahapon. Kaya sinabi ni Girlie kay Junior na secret dahil nga pinagbawalan kong kumain ng chocolates ang anak ko dahil overweight na siya. Nangako daw sa kanya si Junior na hindi sasabihin kahit kanino ang tungkol sa Choc Nut.”
Napasalampak sa upuan si Nanay. Impit ang pag-iyak. “Diyos ko, nang dahil sa Choc Nut nawala si Junior ko.”
Tahimik lamang kami ni Jeng. Hinagod-hagod niya ang likuran ng nanay. Ang hirap tanggapin ng mga pangyayari.
“Patawarin n’yo kami, Tessie, Jeng, Sean…” ang samo ni Mang Nestor.
“Ganun na lang ba ‘yon, Sir Nestor? Sa lahat ng nangyari, gusto n’yong patawarin namin kayo. Ganun ba kasimple iyon? Ang kapal ng mga pagmumukha n’yo!!! Matapos n’yo kaming insultuhin, pagbintangan. Matapos na mabunggo ng driver n’yo si Junior dahil natakot sa baril mo…matapos mamatay ang kapatid ko eh hihingin n’yo ang patawad namin,” ang gigil na gigil na sabi ni Jeng.
“Alam kong mahirap sa ngayon na hingin ang patawad ninyo. Pero sana in due time ay mapatawad n’yo kami. Sasagutin naming lahat ang gastusin sa pagpapalibing kay Junior. Pati pag-aaral n’yo ni Sean ay kami na ang bahala.”
“Ano ‘yan, Mang Nestor? Suhol? Sinusuhulan n’yo kami!!! Hindi maibabalik ng kahit ilang milyong meron kayo ang buhay ng anak ko. Hindi mabubura ng kahit magkano ang lahat ng mga pang-iinsultong ginawa ng asawa mo sa akin at sa mga anak ko mula pa noon. Isaksak mo sa baga mo ang pera mong alam naman nating lahat kung saan nanggagaling. Hindi namin kailangan ang tulong n’yo. Kahit isang kusing ay wala kaming tatanggapin mula sa inyo.”
Natahimik ang lahat. Natitiyak kong dinig hanggang sa labas ang sinabi ng nanay.
Hindi na kumibo at nagsalita pa sina Mang Nestor at Aling Cora.
Lumabas ng bakuran namin si Mang Nestor. Nakayuko. Marahil ay hindi nakayanan ang mga mapang-usig na titig ng mga taong nandoon.
Nanatili sa harapan ng kabaong ni Junior si Aling Cora. Nakayuko.
Mula sa tarangkahan ng bahay namin ay nakita kong paparating si Kapitan, kasama si mayora. Sinalubong ni Nanay ang mga paparating.
Tila biglang nabuhayan ng dugo si Aling Cora. Halos makipagunahan sa pagsalubong kina kapitan at mayora
“Magangdang gabi aling Tessie. Condolences ha. Aba’y ngayon ko lang nalaman na namatay pala ang bunso mo. Ipapadala ko na lang mamaya sa driver namin ang mga bulaklak ha. O heto, pagdamutan mo ang kaunting tulong namin.” Isinilid ni mayora sa bulsa ng pantalon ni
nanay ang isang kumpol ng pera. “Papunta kasi ako kina Cora, eh sabi ng mga katulong niya na nandito nga daw sila’t maglalamay nga.”
“Maraming salamat po, mayora.” Ang wika ni Nanay.
“Ano bang nangyari sa anak mo? May sakit ba? Kakarating ko lang kasi. Galing ako ng airport at dumiretso na ako kina Cora. Nagulat na lang ako na may lamay pala dito.”
Bago pa man makasagot si Nanay ay may mga taong lumapit kay Mayora upang batiin siya.
“Maupo po muna kayo mayora. Jeng, anak, ikuha mo ng kape si mayora at si kapitan.”
Marahil ay minabuti ng nanay na huwag na lamang sagutin ang tanong ni mayora. Tingin ko naman ay malalaman at malalaman din nito kalaunan kung ano ang nangyari.
“Ay salamat, Tessie. O Cora. Nasaan ang ipinatago kong iPhone sa iyo.”
Nakita kong namutlang bigla si Aling Cora nang mabanggit ni mayora ang cellphone. Dali-dali itong naupo sa tabi ni mayora.
“Naku mayora, ganito po kasi…”
Hindi pa man natatapos ni Aling Cora ang sinasabi’y humahangos na dumating ang isang katulong nila.
“Ma’am Cora, heto na po ang cellphone. Nakita ko po na nasingit sa gilid ng upuan n’yo sa kwarto.”
Napatayo si Aling Cora. Tuwang-tuwa. Halos magtatalon. Nakalimutan yatang nasa lamay s’ya.
“Ha, hay salamat, Manang. Inihagis ko nga pala doon kahapon ang bag ko bago ako pumasok sa CR. Doon pala nalaglag. Sige na, Manang, balik ka na sa bahay.”
Nang makaalis ang katulong nila’y saka pa lamang napansin ni Aling Cora na lahat kami’y nakatingin sa kanya at sa hawak n’yang iPhone. Ang cellphone na naging sanhi ng matinding pangiinsulto sa pamilya ko. Ang cellphone na naging mitsa ng buhay ng kapatid kong si Junior. Ang cellphone pala’y nasa bahay lamang nila. Abswelto na sina Aling Cora at Mang Nestor sa problema nila at ang kapatid ko nama’y tahimik nang nakahimlay sa kanyang ataol.
Nang napatingin sa akin si Aling Cora, napailing na lamang ako. “Ahh…mayora. Heto na po ang iPhone n’yo.”
“So, namisplace mo ang cellphone na ito ha, Cora?”
“Yes, ma’am, mabuti na lang po at nahanap ng katulong ko.”
At dinig na dinig ko ang halos pabulong na sinabi ni mayora ka Aling Cora, “Hay naku, kung nawala mo man ito ay okay lang. Ano ka ba! Hindi ito orig. Isang libo lang ang bili ko nito sa suki kong Muslim. Akala ko naman marunong kang kumilatis ng mga ganito. Si mayor hindi. Hoy, ’wag mong sasabihin sa kanya ito ha. Se…se…secret natin ito. Wa… walang clue.”
ANG KAPALIT NG LIHIM – Part 2
(Maikling Kuwento)
Bago kami nagsimulang kumain ay lumapit sa akin si Junior. Kalmado na s’ya. Niyakap niya ako’t sinabing, “So..sssorri ku…kuya ha. Gu…good boy na ako…pa…promise.”
Nilapitan din ni Junior ang nanay at nag-sorry.
“Gu…good boy na ako na..nanay! L…love m…mo n…na u…ulit a…ako?”
Tumango lamang ang nanay. Buong higpit na niyakap si Junior at hinalikan sa pisngi. Nakita kong nangilid ang luha niya. Nakaramdam ako ng awa sa aming ina. Hindi ko siya puwedeng husgahan sa biglaang pag-init ng ulo niya nang komprontahin ang bunso namin kanina. Paminsan-minsan na ang tao’y panandaliang nawawala sa katwiran dala ng pagod, inis o galit. Pressured lang din siguro ang nanay dahil nga nililigalig nanaman kami ni Aling Cora.
**********
Nadatnan na namin sa barangay hall sina Aling Cora at ang asawa niyang pulis na si Mang Nestor. Na-late kami dahil pinilit pa naming kumbinsihin si Junior na sumama sa amin. Ayaw nitong lumabas ng bahay dahil madalas lamang siyang tuksuhin ng mga bata sa lugar namin. Tanging kay Girlie lamang siya nakaramdam ng pagtanggap mula sa isang kababata.
“Nakakahiya naman sa inyo, pa-VIP ba? Aba’y halos kalahating oras na kaming naghihintay dito ah,” bungad sa amin ni Aling Cora.
Yumuko lamang ang nanay. Ako ang sumagot.
“Pasensya na po, ma’am, ayaw kasing sumama kanina si Junior, hinintay pa naming mawala ang tantrums niya.”
“Ay! Ganun? May tantrums. OMG!!! Ang pangtutuya ni Aling Cora.
“Ay s’ya, simulan na natin ang pag-uusap para maaga tayong makatapos,” ang mungkahi ni Mr. De Villa, ang aming punong barangay. “Magsiupo kayong lahat.”
Nagsi-upo nga kami. Si Junior ay kumandong kay Nanay. Tumabi sa kanila si Jeng at ako nama’y tumayo na lamang sa kanilang likuran. Pinagmasdan ko sina Aling Cora at Mang Nestor na nakaupo sa katapat namin. Namumutiktik sa alahas ang mag-asawa at sa magkabilang kamay nila’y puro smartphones ang hawak. May nakasingit na clutch bag sa kili-kili ni Mang Nestor. T’yak kong baril ‘yun.
Pumwesto na rin si kapitan sa lamesa niya. Katabi niya ang secretary ng barangay na may hawak na logbook. May dalawang tanod sa bandang likuran nila at isa sa may pintuan.
“Eh, Kapitan, ano po ba ang dahilan kung bakit ipinatawag n’yo kami? Ano po ba ang problema kay Junior?” ang tanong ni Nanay.
“Ganun! Nagmamaang-maangan ka! As in hindi mo talaga alam kung ano ang ginawa ng anak mo,” ang pasarkastikong sabi ni Aling Cora.
“Eh, hindi nga talaga namin alam, eh. Sa palagay mo, magtatanong ba ang nanay kung alam na niya ang dahilan?”
Nabigla ako sa sagot ni Jeng. Natingin sa kanya ang lahat ng taong nasa loob ng opisina ni kapitan. Parang ready for war ang kapatid ko.
“Jeng, cool ka lang ha!!!” ang bulong ko sa kanya.
“Hindi, kuya. Hindi ako papayag na babastusin ng gagang ‘yan si Nanay,” ang pabulong ding tugon ng kapatid ko.
“O sige, straight to the point na ako, Aling Tessie,” ang deklarasyon ng punong barangay namin. “Nawawala ang bagong cellphone ni Ma’am Cora. At may nakakita na pinulot ito ni Junior.”
“Bago ang cellphone. Nakalagay pa sa box. Nalaglag siguro ito ni misis nang bumaba ng kotse namin pag-uwi niya sa bahay kahapon,” ang dagdag ni Mang Nestor.
“Kapitan, tiningnan ko pa ito bago ako bumaba ng kotse. Akala ko siguro ay naibalik ko nang maayos sa aking bag. Ramdam kong may ilang bagay akong nalaglag. Hindi ko na pinansin kasi nagmadali akong pumasok. Ihing-ihi na kasi ako at that time. Nadaanan kong nasa sakop ng bakuran namin ‘yang si Junior.”
“Ah, mawalang-galang na po, Ma’am Cora,” ang sabi ko. “Sino po ba ang nakakita na pinulot ni Junior ang nawawala ninyong relo?”
“Si Josie!!! Maghintay ka lang at paparating na iyon. Akala mo ba nag-iimbento lang ako ng kuwento, ha, Sean?”
“Hindi po, ma’am, nagtatanong lang po ako.”
“Eh sana nga hindi ka lang nag-iimbento, Aling Cora.” ang buwelta sa kanya ni Jeng. “Binabastos mo ba ako, ha Jeng?” Tumayo si Aling Cora at balak niyang lapitan ang kapatid ko.
Pinigilan s’ya ni mang Nestor.
“Tumahimik ka ha! Kapag nagsalita ka pa ulit, eh papauwiin na kita,” ang pagbabanta ni Nanay kay Jeng.
“Bitter ka lang, Jeng, dahil ayaw namin sa iyo para kay Alfred. Bitter ka lang dahil hiniwalayan ka ng anak namin. Magaling ka kasing pumili ng BF. Siyempre, iyong gwapo na at marami pang laging allowance. O, di ba?”
Nanggigigil ang kapatid ko. Gustong-gustong niyang sumagot, pero pinisil ko ang braso niya upang pigilan ito.
“Kahit kailan ay hindi ka namin magugustuhan para kay Alfred. Tandaan mo ‘yan. Wala kang breeding.”
“Ba…bad ka, ba…bad ka…ba bad ka!” pasigaw na sabi ni Junior habang nakaturo kay Aling Cora. Sa ganun mang kalagayan ng kapatid ko ay ramdam niya na parang may masamang ginagawa sa amin si Aling Cora at gusto n’yang ipagtanggol ang mga mahal n’ya sa buhay.
“Ba…bad ka, ba..baadddd. Pa…pangit mo.!”
Napuwersa ang nanay na takpan ang bibig ni Junior. Kinagat ng kapatid ko ang kamay ni Nanay. Kitang-kita kong nasaktan ang aming ina ngunit hindi niya inalis ang kamay dahil agitated na ang kapatid ko. Magsisigaw siyang tiyak kapag nawala ang kamay sa bibig nito.
Umalalay ako sa nanay. Tinanggal ko ang kamay niya sa bibig ni Junior at ipinalit ko ang sa akin. Kinagat din ito ng kapatid ko. Gigili na gigil na siya. Ramdam ko ang diin ng ngipin nito sa aking palad. Tiniis ko ‘yon.
“Good boy ka, Junior, ‘di ba? Doon tayo sa likod ni Nanay. Kainin natin itong cupcake o.”
Pagkakita ng kapatid ko sa inilabas kong pagkain ay bumitaw ito sa pagkakakagat sa kamay ko at sumama papunta sa likod ng nanay. Habang kinakain niya ang cupcake, nakatingin ito kay Aling Cora. Matalim.
“Ano ba ito? Freak show!” ang patudyada ni Aling Cora.
“Tumigil ka na, Cora! Nakakahiya kay Kapitan, ano ba!” Hinila paupo ni Mang Nestor si Aling Cora pagkasabi n’yon.
“Pasensya na po kayo, Ma’am Cora… Sir Nestor sa mga anak ko,” wika ni Nanay.
“Nanay, wala kang dapat ihingi ng pasen…” hindi natapos ni Jeng ang sasabihin, marahang tinampal ni Nanay ang kanyang bibig.
“Sinabi nang manahimik ka lang! Gusto mo bang mapauwi, ha? Hindi na umimik si Jeng. Yumuko na lamang ito.
Nakakita ako ng pagkakataon upang magtanong kay Junior.
“Ahh Junior. Masarap ba cupcake?” “Sa…sarap ku…kuya. Sa…sarap!”
“Mamaya, bili ulit tayo ha.”
“Si…sige ku…kuya…Bi…bili m…mo a…ako u…ulit ha.” “Promise! Pero sagutin mo muna ang tanong ko.”
Tumango si Junior.
“May napulot ka ba kahapon sa bakuran nila, Ma’am Cora?” Tumango ulit si Junior.
“O kitam kapitan. May napulot daw s’ya. Ilabas n’yo na,” ang bulalas ni Aling Cora.
“Teka po, misis, hayaan n’yo munang tapusin ni Sean ang pagtatanong sa kapatid n’ya,” ang sagot ni Mr. De Villa.
“Bunso, ano naman ang napulot mo?” ang pagpapatuloy ko sa pagtatanong kay Junior.
Tumingin sa akin si Junior at sinabing, “Se…secret. Se…secret. Wa… walang clue. Hi…hindi k… ko sa…sabihin.”
“Dali na bunso. Good boy ka ‘di ba? Ano napulot mo?
Hindi na sumagot si Junior. Tumalikod ito sa akin at ipinagpatuloy lang ang pagkain ng cupcake.
“Se…secret…se…secret! Wa… walang clue.”
Iyon ang paulit-ulit na sinasabi ni Junior. Ang nanay naman ang lumapit kay Junior.
“Bunso, sabi mo good boy ka ‘di ba? Sige na naman, oh, sabihin mo na sa amin kung ano ba ang napulot mo. Saan mo inilagay?”
“Sa…sabi ng se…secret eh! Se…secrettttt!!! Wa… wala ngang clue.
Alam ng nanay na hindi niya mapapaamin si Junior kahit ano pa ang gawin niya.
“O, paano kapitan ayaw sabihin ng bata. Baka naman naturuan na na huwag sasabihin para alam mo na. Puwede kasing ipagbili ang cellphone para magkapera.”
Hindi ko na napigilan ang sarili ko.
“Mam Cora, h’wag n’yo naman kaming insultuhin ng ganyan. Hindi po namin pag-iinteresan ang cellphone n’yo. Kung iyon ay napulot ni Junior at dinala sa bahay ay titiyakin ko sa inyo na hahanapin namin ang may-ari para isauli ito.”
“Hoy!!! Huwag kang magtaas ng boses. Kilalanin mo kung sino ang mga kausap mo.” “Opo, Mang Nestor, kilala ko si Aling Cora!!! Kilala kita. Kilalang-kilala!!! Alam kong…” Hindi ko natapos ang sasabihin ko. Ang bibig ko naman ang tinampal nang marahan ni Nanay. “Naku, Sir Nestor, pasensya na talaga, pasensya na po. Ganito na lang po kapitan, kung
papayag po si mam Cora ay bibili na lamang ako ng bagong cellphone katulad nang nawala n’ya. “Ha, ha, ha. Talaga lang ha!!!” ang parang nang-iinsultong sabi ni Aling Cora. “Sigurado
ka ‘ba dyan sa sinasabi mo?”
“Opo mam Cora. May naitabi naman akong pera. Pang-tuition sana ng mga anak ko sa pasukan. Para lang po matapos na ang usapan. Baka nga kasi napulot ni Junior ang relo n’yo at naitapon na kung saan.”
“iPhone 17 Pro ang cellphone na iyon. Halos isang daang libong piso ang halaga. Hindi kasya ang naitabi mong tuition fee ng mga anak mo,” ang bulalas ni Mang Nestor.
Natahimik si Nanay. Nagkatinginan kami. Kitang-kita ko ang pamumutla niya. Marahil ay napahiya siya. Akala niya siguro, ako man, na isang mumurahing cellphone lamang ang nawawala.
Ganun kabigat ang napasukan naming problema. Niyakap ni Jeng si Nanay. Nilapitan ko naman si Junior. Bumulong ito sa akin,“Ku…kuya, pa…pahingi p…pang c…cup c…cake.”
“O natahimik kayong mag-anak. Akala n’yo ba tig-isa o dalawang libong pisong cellphone lang ang nawawala?” ang pangangatyaw ni Aling Cora. “At hindi sa amin ang cellphone na nawawala. Ipinatago lang sa akin ni Mayora matapos niyang bilhin ito kahapon. Ireregalo n’ya kay mayor bukas sa birthday n’ya. Siguro naman alam n’yo na kung ano ang mangyayari kapag nakarating pa kay mayor ang usaping ito.”
“Anong gusto mong gawin ko mam Cora. ‘Di ba sinabi ko naman sa inyo na walang iniuwing cellphone si Junior sa bahay. Walang ibinigay sa akin, o kay Jeng o kay Sean na cellphone ang batang ‘yan.”
“Pero nadinig n’yo naman na umamin ang Junior na ‘yan na may napulot s’ya.” Ang dagdag ni Aling Cora.
“Ilabas n’yo na kasi. Pinagiinit n’yo ulo ko ah. Hindi ako papayag na mapahiya kay mayor dahil sa kagagawan n’yo.” Tumayo na si Mang Nestor sabay akmang bubuksan ang clutch bag na dala nito.
“Mawalang galang na po mam Cora…sir Nestor.” ang sabat ni kapitan. “Ako’y walang kakampihan sa isyung ito, ano. Pareho ko kayong kababaryo. Ang sa akin lang ay kailangang mapatunayan beyond reasonable doubt na napulot nga ni Junior ang nawawala ninyong relo.”
“Okay, okay. Paparating na si Josie. S’ya ang magpapatunay na napulot ni Junior ang cellphone.” Pagkasabi n’yo ay matalim kaming tinitigan ni Aling Cora.
Mula sa labas ay may narinig kaming wang-wang. Nakita ko mula sa bintana ng barangay hall na bumaba si Josie mula sa isang police patrol.
“O kapitan ayan na si Josie, ang witness namin.” ani mang Nestor.
Pumasok si Josie. Isang matandang dalaga na nakatira malapit sa amin. May dala pang plastic bag na malaki. Mukhang nag-shopping bago pumunta sa barangay. Binigyan siya ng tanod ng mauupuan. Nang makita ni Josie si Nanay ay umismid ito. Minsan kasi ay ipinabarangay siya ng nanay dahil sa pagkakalat ng tsismis na kabit daw ng kung sino-sino ang aming ina.
“Aling Josie! Alam mo na siguro kung bakit ka ipinatawag dito,” ang tanong ni Mr. De Villa.
“Opo kapitan.” ang tugon ni aling Tessie “Kahapon po kasi ay nagkataong nagawi ako sa lugar nila aling Cora. Nakita ko ‘yang si Junior na nasa loob ng bakuran nina Aling Cora. Kitang-kita ko na may pinulot s’yang parang ano ba…iyong parang rectangle ang hugis…pahaba s’ya. Nang mapansin niyang nakatingin ako ay bigla niyang itinago sa likuran ang napulot niya.”
Tumingin si Josie kay Junior. “Junior, ‘di ba nakita mo ako kahapon?”
Pinagmasdang mabuti ni Junior si Josie. Lahat kami’y nag-abang sa isasagot ng kapatid ko.
Tumango ito.
“Junior, ‘di ba may napulot ka kahapon sa bakuran nina Ma’am Cora?” Tumangong muli si Junior.
“Ano ba napulot mo. Cellphone ba iyon?”
“Se…secret nga eh. Se…secret!. Wa… walang clue.”
“Kita ko eh, relo napulot mo.”
“SE…SECRET NGAA! KU…KULIT N…N’YO…
“Tama na aling Josie, nagagalit na kapatid ko, baka po mag-tantrums ito dito.” Ang pakiusap ko.
“Anong tantrums tantrums. Pilitin mong magsalita ang kapatid mo. Ilabas n’yo ang iPhone ni mayora. Ilabas n’yo!!!” Galit na sabi ni Aling Cora.
“Ilang beses ba naming sasabihin sa inyo na wala sa amin ang cellphone? Walang iniuwing cellphone si Junior sa amin. At nakakasigurado ba kayo na iyon nga ang napulot ng kapatid ko? Sobra na kayo, Aling Cora,” ang bwelta ni Jeng na halatang hindi na kayang magtimpi.
“Bastos ka talagang bata ka! Manang-mana ka sa nanay mong walang pinag-aralan.”
Pasugod na si Aling Cora kung hindi nakapagitna ang isang tanod. Nakita kong tumayo na ang nanay. Medyo nangigigil na rin. Hindi siya papayag na masaktan ang aking kapatid.
ANG KAPALIT NG LIHIM – Part 1
(Maikling Kuwento)
Pinapapunta kami ni Mr. De Villa, ang aming punong barangay, sa kanyang opisina. May reklamo daw kay Junior. Ang kapitbahay naming si Aling Cora ang nag-file ng complaint. Pinilit kong alamin sa nagdala ng notice kung bakit, pero ayaw nitong sabihin. Basta pumunta na lamang daw kami doon bandang ala-una ng hapon.
Inisip ko kung ano nanaman ang isyu ni aling Cora sa pamilya namin. Kinarir na yata ang pamimwisit sa amin. Sa dinami-dami naman kasi ng puwedeng maging kapitbahay, bakit siya pa at bakit nagkataon pa na magkatapatan ang aming bakuran na ang nakapagitan ay isang lamang makipot na eskinita.
Walang mapagsidlan ng kayabangan si Aling Cora at lalo pang naging mapagmataas nang maging personal assistant ng asawa ng mayor sa bayan namin.
Dati’y inaway nito si Nanay. Sumunod ang kapatid kong si Jeng. Ngayon naman ang puntirya niya ay ang bunso namin. Marahil ako na ang susunod.
Kung ano man sana ang problema tungkol kay Junior ay puwede naman sigurong pag-usapan na lang namin bilang magkapitbahay. Bakit kailangang dalhin pa niya sa barangay. Hindi makakatulong sa kalagayan ng kapatid ko ang ginawa niyang iyon.
Nagpasya akong tanungin si Junior kung ano ba ang ginawa niya, kaya’t pinapatawag kami ng aming kapitan sa barangay. Hindi siya sumagot. Umiling-iling lamang siya.
“Sige na, Junior! Good boy ka naman, ‘di ba? Sabihin mo naman sa akin, o. Ano ba ang nangyari? Bakit inirereklamo ka ni Aling Cora?” Ang hiling ko sa aking bunsong kapatid. “Kapag sinabi mo sa akin ay ibibili kita mamaya ng paborito mong cheese cupcake.”
Tiningnan lamang ako ni Junior, ngunit hindi pa rin ito nagsalita. Sinimangutan pa ako. Halatang wala nanaman s’ya sa mood. Gusto kong mainis ngunit pilit ko na lamang siyang
inunawa. Hindi ko na siya pinilit at baka umiyak siya at magwala. Ganun siya kapag naiinis o nasasaktan. Iiyak, magsisigaw at minsa’y naninira ng mga gamit na mahawakan.
Special child ang kapatid ko. Meron siyang Down syndrome. May pagka-moody. Dapat ay Grade 4 na siya, pero dahil nga sa kanyang kalagayan ay mabagal ang kanyang mental development. Parang sa isang 3-taong bata pa lamang ang kanyang pag-iisip. Maliit kumpara sa normal ang kanyang ulo. Maging ang kanyang mga tenga at labi man ay may kaliitan din. Hindi proporsyonal ang sukat ng kanyang mga paa’t kamay sa kanyang katawan. Utal din siyang magsalita. Laging inuulit ang unang pantig ng bawat salitang bibigkasin.
Hindi siya makapag-aral dahil sa kanyang kalagayan. Walang provision for special education sa mga public schools sa lugar namin. Sinubukan noong i-integrate siya sa regular classes, pero hindi naging maganda ang resulta. Natakot ang ibang classmates niya sa kanya at ang iba nama’y madalas siyang pagtawanan dahil sa kanyang kakaibang anyo. Hindi naman siya mabigyan ng sapat na atensyon ng teacher noon dahil mahigit limampu ang bilang ng mga estudyante sa klase. Tumigil na sa pagpasok si Junior nang minsan ay may classmate na nanakit sa kanya. Lumaban siya, nagwala sa klase at ipinagbabato ang kahit anong mahawakan. Maraming nasaktan sa mga kaklase niya noon at natural na magreklamo ang mga magulang ng mga ito.
Hindi na nga pumasok si Junior mula noon. Wala naman kaming sapat na pera para pag-aralin siya sa isang school for children with special needs. Ganun pa man, kapag may pagkakataon, ay tinuturuan ko ang aking kapatid ng basic reading, writing at math.
Hindi rin namin kayang ipagamot si Junior. Patay na ang aming ama, limang taon na, at tanging ang nanay ko lamang ang nagtataguyod sa aming magkakapatid. Nagtitinda siya ng damit sa isang maliit na puwesto sa palengke. Kapag walang pasok ay halinhinan kami ni Jeng na tumutulong sa pagtitinda. Iyong lamang ang source of income ng aming pamilya. Ganun pa man
ay pilit na iginagapang ni Nanay ang pag-aaral namin. Si Jeng ay nasa high school at ako nama’y nasa kolehiyo. Education ang kurso ko at dahil kay Junior ay magme-major ako sa Special Education. First year pa lamang ako pero nagbabasa na ako ng literature tungkol sa mga batang may special needs, lalo na ang may Down syndrome. Nanonood din ako sa YouTube ng mga documentaries tungkol sa kalagayan ng aming bunso. Gusto kong kahit papaano ay matulungan ko ang nanay sa pag-aalaga kay Junior.
Bagama’t bata pa’t maganda ang nanay at maraming nanliligaw, ay hindi na ito muling nag-asawa. Inilaan na ng aking ina ang buhay niya para kay Junior at sa amin ni Jeng. Madalas na nababalita sa amin na kabit daw ang nanay ng kung sino-sino. Tinatawanan lamang niya ang mga ganoong tsismis. Hindi ko pinaniniwalaan iyon. Kilala ko ang aking ina. Hindi siya kailanman gagawa ng bagay na ikasisira niya at ng aming pamilya. Hindi niya dudungisan ang pangalan ng pumanaw kong ama.
Napabalita rin noon na niligawan si nanay ni Mang Nestor, ang asawang pulis ni Aling Cora. Kilalang babaero si Mang Nestor at sinubukan niyang makascore sa aking ina. Nire-regaluhan ng kung anu-ano ang nanay. Pero hindi siya pinatulan nito. Alam ni Aling Cora iyon. Kaya nga’t mainit ang dugo nito sa nanay at sa amin. Minsan ay tinapatan niya ang bahay namin at sinabihan ang nanay na tigilan ang kanyang asawa. Hindi pumatol sa pang-aaway na iyon ang aking ina.
Nagkagustuhan din ang anak niyang si Alfred at ang kapatid ko. Magkakalase sila at madalas magkasama. Galit na galit si Aling Cora nang malaman niya ang tungkol doon. Tumapat nanaman naman siya sa bahay namin at nagtatalak. Napilitang i-break ni Alfred ang kapatid ko at pagkatapos ay inilipat siya sa isang school sa Maynila upang tuluyan nang makaiwas kay Jeng.
Ayaw na ayaw din niyang nakikipaglaro ang limang taong anak niyang si Girlie kay Junior.
Madalas na itinataboy ni Aling Cora ang kapatid ko kapag ito’y nagpupunta sa kanilang bahay.
Sinubukan ding bilhin ni Aling Cora ang lupa’t bahay na ipinundar para sa amin ni Tatay. Hindi pumayag ang aking ina. Iyon daw ay alaala ng aking yumaong ama at walang halagang puwedeng itumbas doon.
**********
Halos tanghali na nang dumating sa bahay ang nanay at si Jeng mula sa palengke. “Nasaan si Junior!” ang nanggagalaiting tanong ni Nanay. Nakakunot ang noo ng aking ina at hindi mangiti.
Nilapitan ng nanay si Junior na nakaupo sa sahig habang nanonod ng TV sa salas. “Ano bang kabalbalan ang nagawa mo at ipinapatawag tayo sa barangay ha?” ang tanong ni Nanay habang hawak ang magkabilang balikat ni Junior. “Junior naman, hirap na hirap na kami sa pag-aalaga sa’yo tapos problema pa ang idudulot mo.”
Mahigpit ang pagkakahawak ng nanay sa mga balikat ni Junior kaya’t halatang namimilipit ito sa sakit habang nakapikit. “Magsalita ka, ano ba ang nangyari at inirereklamo ka ni Aling Cora ha…ano?”
Sa halip na sumagot ay bumunghalit ng malakas na iyak ang aking kapatid. Tinabig ang mga kamay ni Nanay at nagpagulong-gulong ito sa sahig. Umiyak nang umiyak si Junior, malakas, nakakabingi. Nang tumigil ito sa paggulong ay sinimulang pagsisipain ang mga upuan sa salas habang ito’y nakahiga.
Natigilan ang nanay. Nahimasmasan. Nakita kong nangilid ang luha. Marahil ay nagsisisi sa pamamaraang ginamit sa pagtatanong kay Junior.
Lumapit si Jeng kay Junior. Nais sigurong pigilan ang huli sa ginagawa. Ngunit siya manay nasipa.
Nang tumayo na ang bunso naming kapatid ay nilapitan ko na ito. Ang susunod na gagawin niya ay maghahanap ng alinmang bagay na ibabalibag. Niyakap ko siya.
“Tama na bunso. Good boy ka ‘di ba.”
Pilit na kumakawala si Junior mula sa pagkakayakap ko. “Bb…bad ka…kayo! Bb…bad!!!” Pautal na sabi ni Junior habang umiyak pa rin siya at isinusuntok sa likod ko ang kanyang mga kamay. Paulit-ulit ang suntok niyang iyon sa aking likod. Hinayaan ko lamang. Masakit, pero pilit kong tiniis.
“Sorry na bunso! Sorry na! Tama na!”
Habang nagtatagal ay naramdaman kong humihina na ang suntok ni Junior sa likod ko.
Tumigil na rin siya sa pag-iyak.
Ganun ang role ko kapag may tantrums si Junior. Kapag umiyak at nagwala ang bunso namin at akma nang maghahanap ng ibabalibag ay kailangang yakapin ko na siya upang huwag makapanira at makapanakit. Titiisin ko ang sakit ng suntok o sipa niya hanggang siya ay kumalma.
Nang maayos na si Junior ay nilapitan kami ng nanay.
“Junior, anak. Sorry ha. Nabigla lang ang nanay. Pagod lang kasi ako.”
“Bbb…badd kk…ka na…nanay. Hi…hindi mm…mo n…na a…ako ll…love” ang sagot ni Junior. Humulagpos sa pagkakayakap ko si Junor. Nahiga ito sa ilalim ng upuan. Hinayaan na lang namin s’ya doon.
Iyon ang laging huling stage ng tantrums ni Junior. Pupunta ito sa ilalim ng upuan, mahihiga doon nang ilang minuto at kapag okay na siya ay kusang aalis doon. Paminsan-minsan naman na kapag gusto kong umayos kaagad si Junior ay sinasabi kong may dumarating na pulis at may dalang baril. Kaagad na tatakbo sa akin ito at yayakap. Takot na takot sa baril si Junior. Kapag bukas ang TV at may nakitang baril sa pinapanood, ay tatakbo ito sa akin. May mga pagkakataon na lalampasan niya ako’t sa labas ng bahay tatakbo. Kapag ganoon ay kailangan ko siyang sundan. Minsan kasi ay muntik na siyang mabundol ng traysikel nang tumakbo siya
Palabas ng bahay.
“Nanay, alam n’yo na pala ang tungkol sa complaint ni Aling Cora.” Tumango lamang si
nanay.
“May nagbulong sa kanya kanina sa palengke, kapatid nung secretary sa barangay. Sinabi ngang inirereklamo ng mahaderang kapitbahay natin si Junior,” ani Jeng.
“Ganun ba?” sagot ko kay Jeng. “Teka, nakita ko nga pala naglalaro kahapon sina Girlie at Junior sa harap ng bahay nila.”
“Hindi ba kabilin-bilinan ko kasi sa inyong dalawa na huwag ninyong hahayaang makipaglaro si Junior sa anak na iyon ni Aling Cora!!!”
“Nanay, tanging si Girlie lang ang batang gustong makipaglaro kay Junior. Best friends sila. Kaya hayaan lang natin s’ya. Masaya si bunso kapag magkasama sila ni Girlie. At kapag pinipigilan kong pumunta doon ay nag-iiyak at gumulong sa sahig,” sagot ko sa nanay.
“Nandoon na ako pero laging itinataboy ni Aling Cora na parang aso ang kapatid n’yo kapag nakikita s’ya d’yan sa kabila. At kaya takot sa baril ‘yan eh minsang tinutukan na siya ng baril ni Mang Nestor para umalis sa bakuran nila.”
“Mas madalas namang wala doon sina Aling Cora at Mang Nestor.” tugon ni Jeng. “Hay naku, nakahanap na naman ng dahilan ang Aling Cora na iyan para idikdik tayo. Si Nanay kasi. Sana pumayag ka na lang na bilhin nila ang lupa’t bahay na ito, magpakalayo-layo tayo sa kanila para tahimik na buhay natin.”
“Jeng, alam mo na ang isasagot diyan ng nanay.” Tinignan lang kami ni nanay. Wala itong sinabi.
“Oo na. Oo na!!! Kuya… hindi kaya nasaktan ni Junior si Girlie kaya ganun?”
“Hindi gagawin ni Junior iyon. Napakaamo’t napakabait niya kay Girlie. Minsan nga tinatawag pa natin iyong bata para siya ang magpatigil sa tantrums ni Junior.”
“Malalaman natin mamaya. Hala, Jeng, Sean…maghain na kayo nang tayo’y makakain na.
Bago mag ala-una kaylangang nasa barangay tayo.
