This was a short story I wrote back when I was fifteen. Actually, I already revised most of it because I thought my writing then was horrible and I didn't want to waste a beautiful story. Here it is. For your amusement.
January 7, 1906
“Nadia,” Ate Imelda, my older sister, called from the terrace, her hand
beckoning me to go over. Her eyes were playful tonight, as if she knew a secret
I didn’t. The same look she had when she told us she was finally pregnant. She
scooped her belly with her left hand as she peeked through our nipa window. I wonder if Kuya Kanor gave her anything new today.
A new hair clip, perhaps. I heard the Indian merchants are back in town for the
week. The harvest is good this year, they say, and ever since Kuya Kanor knew they were expecting a
baby, he has been pampering her even more. He must’ve gotten my sister
something.
A sigh escaped my lips. Sometimes
I wonder how I’d look like pregnant, or holding somebody else’s hand. I smiled,
realizing how my mind was going these days. I was only eighteen. Nanay said she was only sixteen when Tatay asked for her hand in marriage,
but I didn’t feel any older. Perhaps just a little more ambitious.
“It’s Baldo,” Ate Imelda whispered, “He’s come to
serenade you.” She was grinning from ear to ear, apparently pleased.
I drew back. “Who? Baldo?”
Baldo has always been visiting every
summer, helping Tatay build our pig
pens and our chicken coop. But, I’ve heard, he’d gone to Manila for college.
That was all I knew. I didn’t know he had liked me.
Ate Imelda lifted the nipa window for me to see for myself. That
was when I saw, along with a few other men from the neighborhood, Baldo,
smiling and holding a bundle of red roses, his face illuminated by the only
lamp post on the street. I smiled back, holding back a cringe, wishing they’d
disappear and I could get back to my room.
He was saying something. Then he
grinned before tapping the guitar player’s shoulder. The singing began, to
which I tried to suppress my giggles – not because I liked him, but because he
was out of tune and I didn’t want to tell my sister. I looked behind my
shoulder and noticed Nanay glaring at
me. She was still thinking Baldo’s
serenade was romantic and I should be grateful. I wasn’t. Instead, I panned my
eyes to the left to inspect the people Baldo has cleverly managed to drag along
with him. I recognized them as the boys who Baldo used to play in the river
with. Some, my friends. A few, my cousins.
And that was the moment I saw
Anton, playing the guitar strapped around his torso. He was one of Baldo’s
friends, now a fisherman at Sapang Dalaga,
the barrio next to ours. I still remember him as the boy who used to drag me to
the star apple tree so he could climb up and have me catch the fruits he’d sell
in the market. In the end, he’d let me have half the fruits and say I deserved
it anyway. Then he’d walk away, but not before he winks at me, to which I’d
turn beet red.
He was a lot taller now, and more
handsome than I remembered, with his milk chocolate skin turning a little golden
under the moonlight. The song was over, and he looked up from his guitar and
our eyes met. He grinned crazily like he was excited to see me. Like it was he
who was serenading me, not Baldo. I retreated back to the house, but not before
I saw him wink.
“Come inside, Baldo,” I heard my
mother call from the other window.
“Nay,” I started to complain in a low voice, “I don’t want you to
invite him in.”
“Nonesense, child,” she said
sweetly before she went to the door to escort Baldo inside.
He was already sitting on our bamboo
bench when I got to the living room, his shiny black shoes digging between the
crack on our wooden floor, and his cheeks flushing as he handed me the roses.
He said I looked beautiful as usual. For somebody who used to throw rocks at me
as a child, he has become pretty civil now.
The night ended quickly, after I
told them I had a headache. Nanay and
Tatay wanted Baldo to stay, but Baldo
said that my health was more important. And then, he left.
I hauled two basins of laundry to
the river to start my chores a lot earlier for the day. I was alone this time,
I realized, and the river was much more peaceful than usual. No children diving
from the cliff across the bank, and no women gossiping over their own washing.
I had the river to myself today, at least, and nobody to pester me with
Baldo-related questions. Sometimes people get too nosy for your own comfort.
I wasn’t even finished washing
the first batch of clothes when I heard someone play the guitar behind me.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he
said.
It was Anton.
My heart stopped for a while, I
forgot it was ill-mannered to stare with your mouth open.
“I was supposed to serenade you
last night,” Anton started, giving his guitar a faint tap, “but Baldo beat me
to it.”
He was smiling again, as if it
was perfectly ordinary to go down the river and talk to a lady washing clothes
alone. I bowed my head and continued scrubbing the clothes, fully aware of the
pattern of my breathing.
“Do you mind if I serenade you in
broad daylight with no companions to sing along with?” he continued, offering
me a wild flower of some sort. Purple, with hints of pink and blue on the
petal’s rim. I took it before slowly nodding my head, having nothing else to
say.
He started singing – softly at
first. I thought I was going to sleep but he was only inches away from me and
my chest was drumming wildly. It sounds like a lullaby I could never fall
asleep to. Not as long as he was near me.
He strummed his guitar one last
time, then stopped.
“Mahal kita, Nadia,” he whispered. “I love you. Always had,
actually.”
I let him stroke my hair. That
was the most I could offer him. It seemed like I was in a trance I was
struggling to get out of. I stood up, hoisted the basins of washed clothes on
my hips, and told him that I had to go.
“Nadia,” I heard Nanay exclaim from the kitchen, “What
took you so long? It’s almost noon.”
“I – uh – the soap. It fell in
the water,” I Iied, “and I had to wade in the water to find it.”
I was bad at lying but I was
hoping she wouldn’t notice. She paused, looked at me, and continued packing Tatay’s lunch of rice, dried fish and
tomato, with a banana leaf. She handed it to me. “Here,” she said. “Take this
to your father. He must be hungry.”
Days passed and Baldo’s visits
became as frequent as my secret meetings with Anton. These were the meetings
that I looked forward to everyday. I got up extra early for laundry, making
sure I was at the far side of the river. At times, I washed the clean clothes
all over again so I had a reason to stay longer. No one suspected. And we went
on like this for a while. He always brought something with him with each
meeting. Wild flowers, coconut meat, or oyster shells he’d find on his net, and
we’d lie on the grass, pretending we were Americans ourselves, exploring the
countryside. Those were the things I’d lived for – my secret meetings with
Anton.
But, perhaps it was better if he
didn’t sing, or if I should have not gone early for laundry that day. I went
home one afternoon, wondering if I had been wrong all along.
“Nadia, come,” Tatay said, his voice with a tinge of
pride, “Baldo has come for his pamanhikan.”
My hand immediately sprung to my
mouth in disbelief. “Marriage proposal? Why, we aren’t even lovers yet!”
Quickly, Nanay pulled me from the crowd and scowled at me, her lips
muttering something about me being ungrateful. Her eyes fluttered from me, then
to Baldo and his parents, before shifting to an overjoyed expression. “Excuse
my daughter,” she said, pretending to put an arm around me and tried to mask
the embarrassment, “but do go on. She just couldn’t hide her extreme
happiness.”
Extreme happiness? My stomach lurched when I saw Baldo coming
forward to kneel in front of me.
“N-Nadia,” he said in a shaky voice,
“will you m-marry me?”
My mouth, dried and hesitating,
started to open. I looked around for a glass of water only to find everybody –
my parents, Ate Imelda and Kuya Kanor, Baldo’s parents and our
cousins – looking at me, expecting my answer. My gaze fell on Baldo again and
realized he was dabbing on the sweat starting to roll down his temples. I
managed to squeak out a faint yes before retreating to the corner of the room.
Everybody seemed to be in high
spirits that night, passing over the table, the lechon and the platters of pansit
and rice cakes Baldo’s family had prepared for the visit. It was
unnecessary, but they could afford the celebration. Sometimes I wondered if
that was the reason why my parents were so happy with Baldo. I told them I was
sick and that I just wanted to rest. Baldo started to say something but I
turned my back and proceeded to my room.
It was too much. All I wanted was
to be happy, like Ate Imelda. I
pretended to sleep with my back against the door, my pillow getting soaked with
my tears. Even my sobs were starting to suffocate me.
I woke up to the sound of pebbles
hitting my nipa window.
“Anton?” I called out, opening my
window. I saw a silhouette of a man below my window. “Is that you?”
“I heard you accepted his
proposal,” Anton whispered as soon as he got in my room through the window. His
voice was unsure, as if a part of him wished he had misheard. “Juan told me.”
“I’m sorry, Anton. I – I just
didn’t know what to do.”
“You could’ve said no.”
“You know I couldn’t say that.”
He nodded. He knew. He knew that
I couldn’t say no to my parents. To my family.
“Let’s run away – together,” he
said with a glint of hope in his gorgeous brown eyes.
I want to. I want to go with you.
Wherever. I… Even my thoughts
faltered.
“Anton, I – “
“Don’t worry,” he went on, trying
not to notice the doubt in my voice. “I’ll pamper you. We’ll get rich. I’ll
work hard for you. Let’s raise a dozen children if you want to.”
I didn’t answer. I felt my own
tears prick my eyes as his did. I only gave him a faint smile, as if he were a
silly child. He knew. He knew all along and he allowed his tears to roll down
his cheeks. My hands trembled but I tried to lift them to cup his face. “I am
so sorry.”
He kissed me, gently. It was our
first, and probably our last.
The next morning was just as
busy, with people from the neighborhood coming over to congratulate me on my
engagement. I plastered on a smile until everybody left.
“Nay,” I said when I finally had the chance to be alone with her, “ why
Baldo?”
She stopped chopping the carrots
and gave me an incredulous look. “What are you asking that for? Baldo is
decent. Educated. The Suezas have rice farms enough to raise ten families. And,
they have a good relationship with the Americans. He is a sweet man, and he
will cherish you.”
I started to say something but Nanay already rushed to the front door
to greet a few more visitors for the day. I knew I could never ask her that
question again.
Every day, I went to the river in
hopes of finding Anton, sitting on a boulder, waiting for me to run away with
him. I would, if he asked me again. But he never did. And I never found him by
the river. My days wasted away while I sat by the river waiting for him. He
never came.
I heard the bells chime again when
we made our last stop at the far end of the table. Baldo and I were finally
wedded, my eyes a little bloodshot from crying. His hand, rested on my waist,
stayed there for the rest of the afternoon. Baldo was never that bad. He still
looked at me with his boyish grin, showing a gap between his two front teeth.
He asked if I was okay. I said I think I need a little walk around our house
before we left for Manila. A look of concern passed through his face, but he
nodded anyway, after pressing my hand against his for a moment. I started to
walk at the back of the house, feeling my tears about to give in.
“Anton!” I exclaimed in an
excited whisper, after seeing the nearby mansanitas
tree rustle.
Anton smiled, waved, and turned
away.
Maybe it was an illusion, but I
was almost sure it was him. I only allowed my tears to roll down my cheeks,
drowning me, until I no longer saw his back.
Anton. Wait…
It was only a few minutes before
I went back to the celebration, finding Baldo waving his hand from the table where
I left him, asking me to come over. I gave a pained smile – not for Baldo, but
for Anton. For me.
For what could have been, I reminded myself. Hesitantly, I raised
my white dress a little higher and went back to Baldo, a hollow feeling
building up in my chest.