Isang Pagpatay sa Taong Imburnal

RATED PG. 

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It was never my intention to create a negative impact on your lowly life, Jan Lloyd, after that 15-minute conversation, but then, I realized I should have done otherwise.

“All men are evil.” – Machiavelli

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I met up with a good friend to help her transact her brother’s cheque. Since she’s not quite familiar with the university, I agreed to accompany her in the shopping center to print out the necessary documents to claim the cheque. A few minutes later, we drove to the institution to talk to the “right man of the job”: Sir Jan Lloyd.  

Just like any other day, I greeted the guard with a smile. Then, I asked for Mr. Lloyd’s whereabouts and was told that he was at the Admin Office. My friend and I exchanged a short chat while walking along the corridor towards the office.

We arrived at the pink office door where the “ADMIN OFFICE” sign was fixed at the top. I knocked once and gently pushed the door. One staff approached us to entertain our query. I told her that we were waiting for Sir Jan Lloyd. She smiled and advised us to just enter through his mini office.

Sir Jan Lloyd was sitting in his soft cushioned arm chair, high enough to make him comfortable. I took a few steps inside hesitating to sit in any of the (guest) chairs in front of him. My friend was one pace behind me.

“O, ano un?”, he greeted us at the doorway.

“Sir, siya po (pointing at my friend) yung kapatid ni Samuel Milby. Ipa-followup…”, I replied.

“Eh, hindi ko na hawak un, kasi sabi sakin huwag ko na daw pakialaman”, he interjected while adjusting himself on his chair arrogantly.

I was a bit confused about his statements, interpreting the words as mine, so I defensively exclaimed, “Sir, siguro po nagkaroon lang ng miscommunication, pero hindi po ganon ang sinabi ko…”

“Ha! Dalawa ang tenga ko (pointing to his ears), iyon ang narinig kong sinabi sakin. ‘Pwede po bang ‘wag niyo na lakarin? Yung kapatid na lang po niya ang mag-aasikaso.’ Ako naman, eh sige. Pero para bang nabastos ako.”

“Sir, hindi naman po yun ang intensiyon ko noong nakausap ko kayo.”

“Hindi e. Ganon nga ang sinabi. Sa isip ko, ‘Aba, itong mga taong ito, tinutulungan na nga e sasabihan pa ako ng ganon. Para bang may porsiyento ako sa cheque na iyon’.”

“Sige po Sir. Kung iyon nga ang nangyari, eh sorry po…”, I was about to extend my apologies but he kept on talking.

“Madami na akong natulungan, pero parang pinalalabas ay may kukunin akong pera doon kaya ako sinabihan na huwag nang makialaman. Matagal ko nang nilakad iyan, andito pa nga ang mga records. Ang akala ko nga nakuha niyo na,e.”  

From confusion, my feelings shifted to uneasiness. I was sure I didn’t say anything about “huwag nang lakarin” but this person was so adamant about it. I focused on what he was saying looking for an opportunity to just say an apology again about what happened to appease him.

My friend might had felt the tension inside the room, so she interrupted, “Hindi ko naman po kasi alam dito. Tsaka actually po, mga once or twice ko lang po nasabi sa kanya (looking at me). Nahihiya nga po ako dito kaya ang nasabi ko nga po ay hingin ko na lang ang number niyo para direkta ko kayong makausap…”

“Oo, iyon pwede pa. Noong una nga, ang ganda ng pasok. Maayos ang usapan namin. Sabi ko ‘Sige, i-followup mo sa akin sa Friday’. Pero after mga 10 minutes ata, bumalik sakin at ang sinabi nga ay ‘Mang Floyd, pwede po bang huwag niyo nalang lakarin, at iyong kapatid nalang daw ang mag-aasikaso’. Iyon ang sinabi sakin.” He went on with, “Grabe, ang tagal kong iniisip ang mga sinabi sakin. Pero siyempre, sa akin lang iyon, ha. Ako naman ay tumutulong lang naman…”

“Sir, Sir!” , calling his attention about his incessant clamor, “Kung iyon man ho ang nasabi ko, hindi ko naman po intention iyon. Sir, I apologize po sa nangyari,” my voice moving more than a decibel higher than before. I also added that I didn’t get his number since he referred one person to look for at the Cashier’s Office.

“Okay na iyon, tapos na. Pero kasi…*blah, blah, blah*”

I just couldn’t understand how he was reacting to my apologies. My heart started to pound fast. I felt my blood rushing to my temples then to my eyes. My lips were more pursed. I changed my stance to defocus myself from making any further comments. I noticed my hands started to shake so I clutched on my back pack straps with both hands. I tried to calm myself lest I just shout, “TO H*LL WITH YOU! TAMA NA NGA, PARA KAYONG SIRANG PLAKA E! HETO NA NGA’T NAGSO-SORRY, EH AYAW NIYO PA RIN TUMIGIL! T*NG**A NAMAN O!”. I succeeded.

My friend was trying to ease the tension again, but without luck. Towards the end, I was on the verge of tears because of rage, that I blurted in a voice enough to be heard in the entire admin office, “GALIT PA HO BA KAYO SA AKIN?!”

“Hindi na, hindi na…*blah, blah*”

“Eh parang galit pa ho kayo e. So okay na po tayo?” He acknowledged half-heartedly.

“Iyon naman pala.” I turned to my friend, “tara na,” and automatically exclaimed, “thank you Sir!”. We left and walked back towards the exit of the building.

Nearing the guard's area where we first entered the building, I asked my friend to accompany me to the lab room to place the bottles of water and pastries I bought earlier. Putting my keys inside the keyhole, I noticed I was shaking again. As I went inside the room, I placed the groceries on top of the table, put my bag down on one chair, took my glasses off, slumped on another chair, and shouted, “T**G*NA NIYA!”. Worried that other people might hear us, she closed the door and sat on an empty chair.

I started to cry. It has been years since the last time I felt this type of anger. Almost every word was followed by “T**G*NA”, “G*G*”, “P*N**TA”, “P*T**G*S” among others. I vented out with foul language coming out of my mouth like wild fireworks. My friend told me to calm down (in case the dev*l was behind the door), directing me to drink water. I answered her that I don’t give an inch of a care if it was the case.

It was the first time I transacted business with him and didn’t expect him to act that way. In the first place, he was talking to clients. We were not his own kids deserving to be spanked because of petty exclamations. In his point of view I was a bit bossy but in my own point of view, he was apparently, evidently, clearly immature and UNprofessional.

Why put in emotions in business? Why never listen to someone and just blabber about OWN’s feelings about what happened ages ago? Why never direct all grievances to the person IN FRONT believed to have created the chaos within (i.e. instead of using “niya” why not use “ikaw”)?

TO MANONG JAN LLOYD (SINCE YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE ADDRESSED AS “SIR” ANY MORE):

ALAM MO SAYANG, KASI RELATIVELY MATAAS ANG PAGGALANG KO SAYO KAHIT NA EMPLEYADO KA NG ISANG UNIBERSIDAD NA MAY LANTARANG BUDGET CUT. PERO P*T****NA NAMAN, GANON KA PALA UMASTA? HUWAG MO SANA MAMASAMAIN, PERO SA TOTOO LANG, ANG B*B* NG MGA PINAGSASABI MO. BUSINESS LANG MANONG. ALAM KO NAMAN NA MARUNONG KANG GUMAMIT NG TENGA PARA SUMAGAP NG SAMU’T SARING TUNOG PERO HINDI KA MARUNONG MAKINIG AT MAKAINTINDI. ANG SABI MO PA ANG GALING MO  SA PAGTANDA NG MGA BAGAY BAGAY, E BAKIT HINDI MO MAN LANG MATANDAAN ANG PAGPAPASALAMAT KO SA IYO? BINIGYAN KA NA NG PAGKAKATAON PARA MAILAGAY ANG SARILI MO SA DEHADO AT NAABALA, AT I-ANGAT ANG SARILI MO SA LUGAR NG TAMA, PERO KAILAN MAN AY HINDI KA LUMUNOK NG LAWAY PARA PAKINGGAN ANG PAGHINGI NG TAWAD MO AT MAGPALIWANAG MAN LANG. TSAKA PLEASE LANG MANONG HA, HUWAG NA HUWAG MONG BABANGGITIN ANG SERBISYONG GINUGOL MO SA UNIBERSIDAD KASI WALANG TAONG MAY INTERES PARA PANSININ ANG SERBISYONG MAY BAHID NG PANLILINLANG. HIGIT SA LAHAT, KUNG TALAGANG IPINAGMAMAYABANG MO NA ISA KANG MATAPAT NA NAGLILINGKOD, SANA LANG TAPAT KA DIN SA MGA SALITANG BINITAWAN MO- QUITS NA TAYO!

SIYA NGA PALA, GUSTO KO LANG IPAALAM SAYO NA SA SUSUNOD NATIN PAGKIKITA, MAAARING ITURIN NA KITANG ISANG PADER NA MAKAKASALUBONG KO. INGAT MANONG, NAPANSIN KO LANG NA PARANG MARUPOK ANG PAGKAKAGAWA SAYO NG UTAK KO.

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“All men are evil.” – Machiavelli

Cliche as it may sound but really, I have my own set of flaws. I am in the process of nerve-wracking personality repair. I admit I still have my side of darkness, and today, I realized I am a half-blood b*tch. 

P.S. names were changed for intentional purposes.

Froggy Afternoon

My youngest sister, Athena, texted me in her usual, demanding tone:

Athena: Ate Abick, paano tanggalin ang muscles ng frog? Textback asap.

Me: Anjan ba ung globe number? [she used smart]

Athena: Thanks...[tas text na di ko naintindihan...]

Me: Ano? Yung pagkuha ng muscles ng frog, actual? [Kasi di ko alam. Nagmamagaling lang!]

Athena: Oo. Kasi para sa school at kelangan ko magdissect pagdating sa bahay.

Me: Hala! Natry mo na ba magdissect? Sa paghawak palang ng frog, kelangan ng practice!

Athena: Nahawakan na namin ung frog sa school. Kelangan ko kasi nung bones ng frog. Manghuhuli na lang kami ng frog dito sa bahay.

Me: Magdidissect ka ng real frog? Hindi yan pwede sa bahay! Alam mo ba magparalyze ng frog?

**di na nagreply! nasa bahay na...**

Athena: Ate Abick, hindi pala ako globe. Tapos hindi kami nakahanap ng frog dito sa bahay. Walang lumalabas na frog ngayon.

Me: Paano na ang project mo? Tawag ako. 

*******

Call convo. I asked her about what will happen to her project. She told me some details and what her teacher requirements were and she needs to dissect the frog and come up with frog bones! I told her that it will be messy and bone acquisition will be bloody [literally], and the frog will be pitiful. She answered me that boiling will be the solution. Onga naman, parang nilagang manok lang!

I finally asked her, what's their next activity in school...and she answered...

PITHING. [which i know! ahem, bio 11]

AND...

SMASHING! [may ganon pala?! kawawa naman ung froggy!]

We both laughed. I miss you! :)

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photo courtesy of quepid.org

Colored Stains

Thursday
Somewhere within the campus
1700 hours

“I wanna be where you are…where loneliness is far”, my phone rang with its new tune. I saw my good friend, Gerald's * name flashing at its scree and I answered with the usual, "Hello budz, what's up?" Before I could even hear his voice, I already know the immediate answer. He and his girlfriend fought again and he needed a confidante: ME.

"Bick, are you within the area? Could we have some coffee?”
“I know you, Gerald. Would you want me to meet you up somewhere?”
“No. I’m in my car now, so just tell me where you are and I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Okay, I'm taking a break from thesis work.”
“All right, boss. On my way now...”

Fifteen minutes later, I saw a blue BMW came towards the direction where I was sitting. Two signature beeps and I know it was him. I gathered my "self-help" books and walked towards the car.

“Nice one you got here. What’s the assessment of BMW's latest model?"

“So, so…”

“So… look straight to me in the eye and tell me it’s NOT your fault, dear.”

"Ask me that same question again when I get our Java frappe, okay? I think I’m going to burst.”

Gerald and I have been good friends. Since the very first day we were introduced to one another in an event, we were kind of inseparable [that is, if his girlfriend was not around]. People wondered for several years why we never became an "official item". We both dig cars, cartoon, comic books (or graphic novels), coffee, cheese pizza, computer games; I'd say almost all, except chem (he prefers sheer numbers)! 

Somewhere outside the campus

1745 hours

We got a nice place at our favorite coffee shop and upon arrival of what we ordered, Gerald began his qualms.

“I was a total idiot.”

He began his story with the days of "bother-me-not-this-time" and I just sat across him listening that I noticed he was angry but was trying to hold back some tears. For thirty minutes, I didn't utter a single word to distract his pace. I just listened to him intently until I heard myself saying the summary of what happened. Deceit. 

from free stock image

My friend has been cheated by the girl he has been dating for five years. The very first day she told him not to bother her (after their latest misunderstanding), it was the day she entertained her high school classmate's "long time admiration of her". Their love story started that same day. [That b--ch!].

As Gerald continued telling me what happened, I could see pain in his eyes that I felt like hugging him. However, to my own surprise, I felt two hot tears  ruining my lightly painted face. 

“Bick, are you okay?”

“Uhh, yes, I am. I think I caught dirt in my eyes. Thanks.” I lied through my teeth though the truth just struck me right then and there. As I removed my glasses and wiped my cheeks dry with my fingers, I wished my phone ring and hear the same tune I heard when Gerald called earlier that day. 

Inside my bedroom
2200 hours

“I wanna be where you are…where loneliness is far. We’re a million miles apart, but I know in my heart” Registered: one missed call.

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Note: *fictional character and place

Dedicated to Someone I call “F”

Funny, of all the letters in the alphabet, I chose the letter F. Maybe because, one, your real name doesn’t have one on it, and two, maybe, because I am lucky; we’re Friends.

It was never my intention to write this dedication but I felt I just have to. It has been months since bits and pieces keep on whirling around my head. Nonetheless, I am very certain that you will never read this.

I am Sorry.

I didn’t expect a simple favor and planned information dissemination would lead to an extended getting-to-know-you-better conversation.  To tell you honestly, that event was not, and never, for you. I think I just let my side of being courteous entertain childlike tête-à-tête. On the contrary, I seemed to enjoy it. Thank you.

I am Sorry.

Accepting a simple invitation was indeed an agreeable mistake. It led to an opportunity to get to know the naïveté beneath your sometimes-somber personality. I admit it would never be easy to face the fact that time comes to pass and there was a need for goodbye’s for the earlier hello’s. The good nights and the good mornings that were something to look forward everyday had to come to an end. I hesitated because you did too.

I am Sorry.

I pity you for the times you said that you were happier and being “yourself” whenever you splurge time with people outside your clique. You mentioned that there was no pressure (the type I don’t comprehend much) at all.  I could still remember, one late night evening, you send me a note that you were inspired that I got curious about it. A short dialogue was entertained but it did not lead to a conclusion as to where does motivation come from. In the end, there were a dozen of what I call, effortful flowers I didn’t expect to receive.

I am Sorry.

The queries that seem to be unusual during knowledge assessment were honey to my bee. You are so affable that I could not brush off the idea of hidden agenda. One incident led to another and before I knew it, I tripped off to an edge of sanity. You’re nonchalant, gallant, and I fell into the trap of admiration.

I am Sorry.

It has been XX months. The last time I heard about you was about The Club. From then on, everyday, literally, I would see your face from everywhere. The moment I wake up, I would check my phone, hoping you sent me an inquiry or just a simple greeting. As I get myself dress to work, I would reminisce the moments I was excited in walking under the morning sun. And, lastly, as I let the wind kiss my cheek, I see you among the people I meet. I see your smile, and it just makes the day worth calling it one. Call it insanity and I would respond, maybe.

I am Sorry.

It hurts the most that by a string of words, everything went down to scratch. I wouldn’t even assure myself that you can keep secrets. I am sorry; you were just too good for me. I did a familiar feat and am proud to found a friend I will always keep even if I change my name.

I am Sorry.

I know there must be something behind those actions. I may be haughty and conceited but I am not dim-witted. It just hurts to know that the feeling may be mutual but you are not hu(man) enough to stand up for what you want. And I say it again, I am Sorry; for now, you’re just worth the tears. 

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11/30/2009

A Story

This is a story. No, this is not a love story nor a story of happy ending. Nonetheless, it was written to save not heart but someone’s pride.

Up in the northern part of the village, there were five friends:  Anton, James, Drew, Phil and Andre.  All five grew up together that second to their families, they feel home just by mere laughing at silly and shallow gags or competing with each other by throwing colored candies in the air for no reason. For years, they experienced lots of emotions that shaped their brotherhood. 

If there’s one thing that could identify the five of them, it could be one word: sauce. Indeed, all of them loved to eat, sauced food a lot! Other people in the village wondered if the sauce made them so identifiable that they bore the name “Throbbers”. It may sound so bizarre, but a lot believed it’s their traits that made girls smile at an extended time frame and made babies chuckle. For one, Anton had slightly oval face which narrows towards the chin. James had a strong, firm nose which gave his face a strong sense of solidity and character. Drew had a well-defined jaw line gives a certain chiseled face making him look incredibly sophisticated. Phil had a pair of dark brown eyes that were so expressive without any doubt. Lastly, Andre had a distinct, well-maintained facial hair that made him look more, hygienic than without it. They were beautiful than handsome, making more throbbing of a lady’s heart, more or less, significant. Two were in a relationship: Anton, for 3 years now, and Drew for 5 years. James was single so is Andre. Phil was in the process of his healing mantra.

On the other end, there’s Alex, a lady with thick-rimmed pair of eyeglasses and with fine, wavy hair resting on her shoulders. She was always out of the house with a book and a pen, if not with her hand; it’s in her back pack. She was not weird either; she’s just independent coming home from another town at around 11 o’clock in the evening. She might not be stunning but she just brushed the idea that a lot of guys find her charming with her shirt-sneakers-jeans clothing type.

She had her own set of beliefs that sometimes, no one understands. In a world full of strangers, she believed that there’s a thin thread that connects everyone and it is the responsibility of every person to expose that thread lest chaos will happen. She rarely smiled, almost always in deep thought about a lot of mundane agenda. She loathed people who say that happiness could not be found in having a good life and that money is like a despot in one’s life. Though these people can’t be blamed, for her, they were just, evil as it may sound, broke.

Two sets of lives, one story. 

Itatago Nalang Kita sa Pangalang...

Galing ako sa Maynila ngayong hapon.

Alas-nuwebe na pala pero buti nalang mayroon pang LRT2 papuntang Katipunan. Tulad nang dati, kelangan sumakay ng jeep papuntang estasyon, magpapahipo nang legal sa mga guwardiya, bibili ng tiket, at sasakay ng tren.

Nilakad ko hanggang sakayan papuntang rotonda. Nang hindi inaasahan, naisip kita. Gusto ko sana na itext kita ng “Uy, kamusta? Ano gimik mo bukas? Kape naman tayo :)”, kaya lang nailipat ko na sa loob ng bag ang telepono ko.

“Manong, bayad po.”

Narating ko rin ang estasyon.

Dating gawi.

Sakay. Siksikan.

Halos lahat ng tao ay galing sa kung san mang imbitasyon sa kalakhang Maynila sa dami ng naririnig kong kwento at tawa, at sa mga nakikita kong mga bitbit at hubog ng mga mata. Halu-halong emosyon. Ang ganda.  May magandang babae sa harap ko at may magandang lalaki naman sa tabi ko. Wow! Ibang klase ang biyaheng ito. Napaisip tuloy ako, nagparamdam ka ba bigla?

Pagdating sa Cubao, ay nakaupo din ako nang hindi nilalagay ang bag ko sa harap ko. Napatingin ako sa may bandang harap. Ang cute…

Ang kyut ng matabang batang lalaki habang nagta-tantrums: isang batang paslit na hinihila ang nanay na lumabas na daw ng tren sa Cubao na estasyon. Pinapatahan na siya ng Dadi at Mami niya dahil hindi pa daw pwede at malayo pa.

Hindi pa…tayo. Hanggang kelan na naman ba tong nararamdaman ko? Malayo pa ang biyahe at wala akong karapatan mag-tantrums.

Naglakad na naman ang isip ko.

Pwede nga ba tayo?

Ewan ko ba naman sa dinami dami ng nakilala ko ay ikaw pa itong dumaan sa isip ko na yayain bukas mag-kape. Kaya lang, hindi pa naman tayo talagang magkaibigan. Magkakilala, pwede pa.

Ang galing mo rin, e no? Pero sa totoo lang, magaling ka naman talaga. Sa dami mong alam at napapansin sa mundo ay minsan, hindi ko na makilatis kung gaano kalalim ang pinaghuhugutan mo. Isang kahangalan ang hindi marunong magpuri sa isang artistang tulad mo.

Nabaling na naman ang tingin ko sa batang nagpupumilit na lumabas na ng tren. Pasigaw na ang iyak ng bata kaya kahit mas malaki siya sa Mami niya at binuhat siya nito at niyakap.

Isang akap na minsa’y naglaro sa isip ko kung maaari nga bang mangyari. Ano kaya ang pakiramdam na mayakap mo at masabihan na “tahan na…”? Ano nga ba ang kahulugan ng paghawak ng aking kamay sabay tingin na parang “narito ako… ”nang walang pagaalinglangan?

“Arriving at Katipunan Station. Paparating na sa Katipunan Station.”

Tumahan na rin ang bata habang hinahaplos ng kanyang ina. Napagod yata.

Naramdaman ko na rin ang pagod ko; para bang gusto ko na putulin ang oras ng paglalakad palabas sa estasyon pauwi. 


Ang dami ko namang iniisip. Ano kaya ang ginagawa mo sa mga oras na naisip kita? 

Siya nga, pwede nga ba tayo? Ano kaya ang nasa isip mo sa mga panahong ito na napaisip ako…

Hindi kaya sayang lang ang genes nating dalawa kung maging tayo?

Huwag ka sana magtampo kung sinusulat kita dito. Naisip lang kita ngayong araw. May number ako sa telepono mo, sana magtext ka.

Good night, Clarence.

photo courtesy of  urbanrail.net

[itutuloy…]