Whenever Rosie slept, it always managed to be both blessing
and curse, for it came in fitful spurts. She arose out of bed on Tuesday
morning at the last minute after she’d completely ignored the first three
buzzers on her alarm clock. Her head pounded as she headed for the shower. She
turned on the tiny heating unit connected to the shower faucet before grabbing
her battery-operated toothbrush to clean her teeth. The constant buzz, like a
happy little bee, soothed her headache. Still, there wasn’t a moment to lose.
She was late.
By the time she hopped into the shower, the water was
lukewarm. This would have to do.
She turned the faucet and placed both hands against the
tiled wall. She leaned back beneath the showerhead, letting the water run into
her eyes and mouth. She finally grabbed the shampoo and lathered up.
That was about the time the heater’s water reservoir
emptied. The shower temperature quickly changed from mildly hot to completely
cold. She was still unaccustomed to her very short Filipino showers. Hot
running water was reserved for only a few brand name hotels or condos in the
metro areas. To have an in-shower water heater was a true luxury.
Today, however, she was lucky. She had five or six minutes
of hot water. The goose bumps across her body quickly disappeared as she opened
the bathroom door. The bathroom air was never air-conditioned, only hot and
sticky.
She donned the light
nylon uniform she wore to the Academy and checked it in the mirror. It hung
limp and wet over her frame. She tried to adjust it, but it was no use. Water
stains dotted the fabric wherever it touched Rosie’s body.
“That’s nothing new,” she muttered.
Rosie donned a pair of galoshes and grabbed her backpack
before she ventured downstairs. Mr. Gutierrez was busy tending to the map room.
The sump pump had managed to clear most of the water away. Only dirt and debris
remained. Mr. G swept it onto a piece of cardboard and pitched it into the
trash.
“You need help?”
Mr. Gutierrez shook his head.
“Alright, I’m running late, but I have to eat breakfast.”
“I bought some fruits this morning. It’s in the kitchen.”
Rosie returned upstairs and picked through the fruit. She
cut a jackfruit in half and scooped pieces out with a spoon.
“One bite for me and one bite for the lunch bowl,” she sang
as she alternated between portions for now and later. She stuffed the bowl into
her backpack, grabbed a small container of milk and headed off to school.
“I can take you,” said Mr. G.
“I’ll take a Jeepney.”
When she arrived at the Academy, the older kids were inside
on the playground. The younger kids were outside, gathered around a street
vendor cart.
Rosie immediately knew what it was by the cacophony of
chitters and chirps. The vendor was selling Easter peeps. The baby chicks had
been injected with different food coloring during incubation. When they
hatched, their feathers were dyed in bright colors: fuchsia, lavender, violet,
gold, and blue. The street vendor came by whenever the adults weren’t around,
peddling these multi-colored peeps year round, Easter or not. Mr. Gutierrez had
warned the vendor time and again to stay away from his Academy.
“I want this cute little pink one!” said a voice. It was
Jose’s youngest sister Joy, begging Jose to buy her a chick. He dug into his
pocket and pulled out a five-peso coin.
“Jose! What are you doing?”
“It’s for Joy.”
Joy flashed the biggest smile she could manage. It stretched
from ear-to-ear. Rosie heaved a sigh.
“Alright, children. Who wants a chick?”
Everyone raised his or her hands. Rosie dug out her wallet
and handed a fifty-peso note to the street vendor. The children descended on
the cages, pulling out the chick of their choice.
“You know Mr. G. doesn’t like it when you come around here.”
The old man simply nodded and headed up the road. The Easter
peeps that remained in his street cart chirped happily in their cages. Children
chased after him like some kids chase after ice cream trucks.
“Children, you really shouldn’t waste your money on these
sorts of things.”
“But they’re so cute and huggable!” exclaimed Joy as she
pressed the tiny pink chick against her cheek. His still-wet feathers left a
kiss of pink dye on her face. Rosie licked her thumb and gave Joy a quick spit
bath.
“Come on…all of you.”
With chicks-in-hand, the children filtered onto the patio
and into the classroom. Rosie fetched a couple of cardboard boxes from the
storage closet and fashioned cardboard chicken coops. She placed the box at the
end of her desk and began her lesson. The chicks chirped noisily as Rosie tried
instructing the children on basic arithmetic.
“This will simply not do!”
Rosie quickly moved the box out onto one of the picnic
tables and returned to class. However, the chicks continued to distract the
children. Everyone’s attention was turned to the playground. Rosie closed the
door and that seemed to help – at least for now.
“Okay, kiddoes, buddy system! Let’s pair off into groups of
two: one older child and one younger child. The older children will tutor the
younger children as I work through the problems on the board.”
It was a smaller class today. Of the 27 children enrolled at
the Academy, only 14 were present. In addition to Juvie Velasco’s normal
absence, the Diaz twins were gone. So, too, were Dalisay and her sisters. That,
however, was unexpected. Dalisay’s house was a short two-minute walk from the
Academy, just beyond the house with the four high walls at the end of the
street.
“I don’t get it,” announced Joy.
“What part don’t you get?”
“All of it.”
Rosie stopped her work and circled around to the desk where
Joy was sitting. Joy had paired up with the oldest of the Sandipo kids, Maria.
Although Maria was barely ten, she was one of the class leaders, excelling at
most every subject. She was quiet and studious. Joy was quite the opposite.
Still, it was a great pairing; the girls’ differences complemented each other.
As Rosie looked over Maria’s shoulder, Joy scrunched her
entire face.
“Who made up the rules for math?”
“Huh?”
“Why do I have to multiply first? What if I just want to go
left to right?”
“You can’t. It’s just the way it is.”
“It’s not that way on a calculator.”
“What?”
“Watch me.”
Joy proceeded to punch the equation into her calculator.
“4 + 4 x 4 = 32. If you do it your way, it’s only 20. That
seems like the wrong way to me, even the calculator thinks so.”
“Well, I…”
Maria waved Rosie off and scribbled in her notebook.
“Both are correct,” said Maria, “but only in certain
circumstances. The most correct way is called programmer operation. That’s like
order of operations. The casual way is left to right. It’s how noon-scientific
calculators calculate. Both ways are right, but for math, it’s the scientific
way.”
Joy stuck her pencil between lip and nose and curled her
face. The pencil hung there like an old man’s mustache.
“It’s too complicated. There can’t be two solutions.”
“…But there are,” said Maria.
The morning had escaped with only one subject complete.
Still, it was time for lunch. Rosie dismissed the class and everyone met on the
playground. Mr. G. arrived just after lunch began.
“How is everything at the house?”
“It’s getting better. The water level is slowly going down.”
Jonny winced as he sat on the bench next to Rosie.
“What’s wrong?”
He carefully rolled the cuff of his slacks to reveal a
homemade bandage. A large circle of dried blood marked the middle.
“Oh my goodness! What happened?”
“I cut it on the edge of the culvert yesterday when I was
trying to fix the floods.”
“And you didn’t tell me? We should go to the hospital.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Let me be the judge.”
“Rosie, I’m fine.”
Rosie pushed his hands away as she carefully unfastened the
bandage on Jonny’s leg. It revealed a wide U-shaped gash across his shin.
“Ooooh!” said the children. Still, others turned their heads
away. It was quite gruesome. Even Mr. G had not realized it was this bad.
“Maybe you’re right. We’ll go after class.”
Rosie nodded. After school, she took Mr. Gutierrez to the
hospital in General Santos City. While they sat in the waiting area, they
watched MindaNews.
“Hey-lo again, Mindanao! It’s Jeanie Abordo of MindaNews
with today’s weather watch. The mudslides continue through Malaysia as aftershocks
continue to rock the islands. High tide along the Malay coast is expected to
reach six meters along the coast tonight. Luckily, we’re not expecting any rain
in Davao, but up the coast, near Gensan and Cotabato, we could get up to five
centimeters of rain by nightfall.”
Rosie placed her head on Jonny’s shoulder.
“You think you got the flooding under control at the house?”
“One can only hope, but I’m considering another flight of
bricks on the stoop.”
“I don’t know if my toes can take it.”
“We’ll see, but remember what we talked about yesterday?
Anything to stem the tide…”
Rosie nodded. Many of the families who lived along the coast
would look to Mr. Gutierrez first if they needed refuge. He was their only
refuge. He’d been doing the works of a saint as he lent a hand to anyone who
simply asked for help.
“A messiah’s work is never done.”
Mr. G. scoffed.
“I think I’ll go visit Mr. Lee today. What do you think?”
“It’s worth a try…anything can happen.”
Mr. Gutierrez had dealt with Mr. Lee many times before. Mr.
Lee was an ex-councilman for the larger city of General Santos. Mr. Lee was
also a member of several local committees and a prominent business owner in
Gensan. He owned a beachside hotel in the resort area of Glan, just on the
other side of Baluntay.
When Mr. Gutierrez tried to get building permits to expand
the Academy, Mr. Lee contacted several local contractors who turned Mr. G.
away. He also tied Mr. G’s application with red tape: incorrect filing
procedures, incorrect number of copies, lapsed deadlines, and the list went on.
However, Mr. Lee had also been the one who originally sold the dilapidated
Academy to Mr. G.
“You can take the car if you’d like,” offered Jonny.
“How will you get home?”
“Don’t worry about me, I can catch a Jeepney. The Lee Estate
is several kilo away.”
“You know I can’t drive in city traffic. I’ll take a Jeep
instead.”
Jonny sighed as he pocketed his keys. Rosie squeezed his
hand reassuringly. Jonny nodded.
“Don’t worry, I’ll see you later tonight at home.”
She walked outside and immediately caught one of the
Jeepneys driving by the hospital. Like all Jeepneys, it made circular routes
within city limits. She rode it to the airport, where she found a taxi-trike
stand.
“I need a ride to Matutum.”
“Matatum? I don’t drive there.”
“I’ll pay you for your time,” she said, digging into her
pocketbook. When he saw the brightly colored peso notes, he saddled up on his
bike.
“Okey, ma’am, one-hundred pesos.”
Rosie’s jaw dropped in shock. She reluctantly handed him the
money and got into the cab.
He sped out of the airport and onto the road leading to
Mount Matutum. The flatness of the national road quickly gave way to the uneven
slope of the mountain road on the ancient volcano. Huts dotting the roadside
overlooked the city below as their lots stretched across the mountainside.
The trike’s engine whined on the final ascent to the Lee
Estate. A high stone fence walled off the property from nosy passers-by. A
large grapevine trellis offered a narrow access point. It was unwelcoming and
Rosie felt a sense of trespass as she passed through the gate. Still, she’d
managed to come this far; there was no reason for turning back.
Rosie hesitated for a brief moment before depressing the
buzzer beside the door.
“Hello?”
“Hello, I’m here to see Mr. Lee.”
“He is not here.”
“Do you know where I can find him?”
“He’s working.”
“Would it be possible to leave a message for him?”
Clearly, Rosie had not even considered the simple fact that
Mr. Lee, a businessman, would not be home. In fact, she had not really planned
the encounter at all. For some romantic reason, she just imagined him welcoming
the children and their families into his estate with open arms.
“Who are you?’ interrupted another voice.
“My name is Rosalia Sasfy. I’m working as a missionary for
Our Lady Lupita Academy.”
“Wait there.”
Rosie adjusted the pocketbook across her chest, grasping it
in both hands as she stood alone in the doorway.
A tall slender woman finally opened the door. Her dress and
heels were cocoa brown, which perfectly accented her barely tanned skin. Her
hair was slicked back into a ponytail, fastened with a gold barrette. Thick
gold rope chain hung about her neck. Two large diamond earrings glimmered
proudly. Her makeup and nails were flawless; pure glamour.
“I am Eiselle Lee. I am Mr. Lee’s wife. What do you want?”
“I’m Rosalia Sasfy. I work at Our Lady Lupita Academy in
Baluntay.”
“Baluntay? What are you doing up here?”
“Mr. Lee owns some hotels near the Academy. I was wondering
if we could use them as a safe harbor for our students when it floods.”
“Where are you proh-mmm?”
“What?”
“Your aksent. It is not Pilipino.”
“I am an American missionary.”
“Oh, of course. You want a handout.”
“It’s not that. It’s…”
“All those Pilipino cockroach scurry about. So dirty. So
needy.”
“You have all this unused land…”
“It is not unused. Mr. Lee is an entrepreneur. He does not
have time for hanger-onners.”
“I…”
“That is enough. You take care. You have good day. Bai-bye.”
Mrs. Lee promptly shut the door in Rosie’s face, leaving her
alone again. Rosie bowed her head and returned to the road. She flagged down
the first passing taxi-trike that came along. As it sped her home, gas fumes
rolled into the sidecar. Rain shot upward from the tires and sprayed Rosie in
the face.
“Just perfect,” she muttered.
She really wasn’t fond of facing Mr. Gutierrez as she
returned to the house. The sump pump rattled as it continued to evacuate water
from the map room. Mr. Gutierrez had constructed an impromptu dam over the
doorway stoop. It had partially collapsed, leaving the sump pump to do the
heavy work.
Jonny stood at the top of the stairs. His left leg was
completely bandaged.
“Good eeb-ning,” he said.
“Hey.”
“I cooked some feesh.”
Rosie cracked a tiny smile.
“Don’t worry. Mr. Lee is doing what is best for him. You
cannot fault him for that.”
“I didn’t even get to meet Mr. Lee.”
“You didn’t make it to the estate?”
“Oh, I made it to the estate, but I ran into his wife.”
“Ah. Eiselle Lee. She is a ball of scorpions wrapped in
diamonds and lace.”
Mr. Gutierrez patted Rosie on the back as he led her
upstairs to the dining room. She took her seat. The electricity was still out.
Rosie finally noticed the generator humming downstairs. Maybe that was just
because of the long trike ride home.
Even though the house was only lit by candlelight, Mr. G had
hooked the aircon to the generator. The cool air relaxed Rosie’s frazzled
nerves.
She cut into the baked fish, eyes, fins, and scales intact.
Rosie had quickly grown accustomed to the rawness of Pinoy meats. Most were
farm-fresh. Her father was both fisherman and hunter, so she’d eaten just about
everything that roamed the plains of Oklahoma. For her, eating wasn’t much
different here in the Philippines.
“We’ll come up with another battle plan. There are always
more fish in the sea.”
Jonny poked his fried fish with a fork, snapping off the
crispy tail and tossing it into his mouth. She mimicked Mr. G., snapping the
crispy tail of her plate. He had cooked it in salt and vinegar. The crispy tail
crunched in her mouth just like a potato chip. In fact, it tasted like a salt
and vinegar chip, too.
After dinner, Jonny fed a rope out of Rosie’s bedroom window
and tied the rope to the end of the extension cord. Then, he fed the extension
cord up the wall to the aircon unit in Rosie’s room.
“You really don’t have to do this,” she said.
“It’s no problem,” he said as he fixed the aircon unit in
the window and turned it on. It fed a weak breeze into the room.
“That should take the edge off,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. G.”
“Like I said, no problem, my princess.”
Jonny went to his still-cluttered room and slept on an air
mattress beside the bed. Still, he slept better than he had in days. Rosie,
too, managed a good night’s sleep.
That was a good thing, because the rest of the week was
filled more of the same for Rosie and Mr. G. He battled the weather while she
tended to the students.
By the time Friday rolled around, Rosie’s class size had
dwindled to a handful. She’d been like a mother hen looking after a wayward
brood. She dismissed the class after lunch and decided to make rounds in the
barrio.
As she consulted the map and jotted down addresses, she
heard scuffling feet outside the Academy.
Outside, a child stood in the herb garden posting a handbill
to the outside wall.
“What are you doing?”
The boy scurried away before Rosie could catch him. The
handbill announced “The First Annual Grand Cotillion at the Lee Estate – hosted
by Ms. Eiselle Lee, admission 2000 PHP.”
“If that doesn’t beat all,” Rosie muttered.
She ripped the handbill from the wall and crumpled it into a
tight little ball. As she walked down the hill, she collected every visible
handbill attached to telephone poles and vendor stalls. By the time she reached
Dalisay’s house, she’d already had a dozen pieces of paper in her hand.
“Hello, Miss Sasfy.”
“Hello, Mrs. Rana. Is Dalisay here?”
“She’s at the mosque with her sisters.”
Rosie nodded, “that’s right, it’s a holy week.”
“It is indeed.”
“I was just checking in. With all the bad weather and
flooding, there have been plenty of absences.”
“It’s hard, you know. There is no work for me and the
children have to help out at home.”
“I know, but the value of an education…”
“We don’t have time for an education. Mr. Rana runs a
furniture store down on the highway. He need’s Dalisay to help with the
bookkeeping. The younger girls work as salespeople. It takes every one of us
just to stay alive.”
Rosie sighed. She figured this would be the way of things
for the remainder of her evening. For the most part, she was right. When she
arrived at in the barrio, the response was something new and unexpected.
“Hello, Miss Saspy!”
“Ah, hello…you’re Juvie’s Aunt…”
“Yes, I’m Aunt Mariella. Just call me Marie.”
“Good to finally meet you...Marie.”
“Juvie’s in the back doing laundry.”
They headed to the back yard where Juvie and her mother were
hard at work.
“Miss Sasfy! What are you doing here?”
“I’m just checking up on my students.”
“As you can see, I’m hard at work.”
“Would you like some help?”
“We could always use an extra pair of hands. Grab a
washboard and a stool.”
Rosie dumped her things on the ground and squatted beside
Juvie. Mrs. Velasco could not help but noticing the pile of handbills poking
out beneath the backpack.
“Miss Saspy, are you going to the cotillion?”
“Oh, heavens no.”
“Why not? I am very interested in attending.”
“It’s two thousand pesos!”
“Yes, but all the important people will be there.”
“Important people…”
“Yes, very important people.”
Mrs. Velasco’s consonants spat out like an old two-stroke
engine, hissing on the S and popping on each V and P. It instantly reminded
Rosie of her conversation with Mrs. Eiselle Lee: Pilipino cockroach scurry
about.
“Well, I wouldn’t be caught dead there.”
“Me neither,” said Marie. Rosie shot her a smile.
“It’s too bad because I think there would be much to gain
from rubbing elbows in high society. These are the people to know.”
Rosie looked Mrs. Velasco over. Her hands and face were
pocked with the marks of a hard life. Her knuckles were knobby and wrinkled.
Callouses had hardened her palms. In this instance, Rosie felt it was
unfortunate that something had not hardened her ever-hopeful heart.
Mrs. Velasco had been working at the fire while Rosie washed
clothes.
“It’s getting late. I’d better head home.”
“Why don’t you stay? I’m making Pork Adobo.”
“I really can’t…”
“I’ll make you a box for take home.”
Rosie refused, but Mrs. Velasco insisted. She wrapped a
healthy portion of pork shanks and sticky rice in a plastic grocery bag. She
unzipped Rosie’s backpack and stuffed the Adobo inside.
“Now you’re good to go. Tell Mr. G. we said hi and we hope
his calf is healing well.”
“I will.”
Rosie caught a motorcycle and it zoomed her home. When she
arrived at the house, the smell of the campfire lingered in her hair. The
beautiful odor of pork adobo waited until Rosie unzipped her pack and unleashed
it at the kitchen table.
“Mmmmm,” said Mr. G., “What do you have there?”
“It’s pork adobo from Mrs. Velasco.”
“Oh, no!”
“What’s wrong?”
“She makes the best pork adobo.”
“And?”
“When the electric came back on this afternoon, I threw some
ham hocks into the deep fryer and made some crispy patas for dinner.”
“We can have both. She made sticky rice, too.”
So, it was some feast, especially for two people who ate
like birds. Still, they must’ve been hungry birds. They ate everything in
sight.
Rosie cleared the dishes, leaving her backpack and the
handbills on the table.
“Are you handing these out for Mrs. Eiselle?”
“No, I’ll probably use them to line a chicken coop or
something.”
“Where did you get them?”
“Some boy was tacking one up next to the statue of Mary
Magdalene. Ever since I went to the Lee Estate, all I hear is people talking
about the cotillion.”
“Who was talking about it?”
“Juvie Velasco’s mom, for one.”
“She couldn’t possibly afford this.”
“I know, but she wants to go to see all the important
people.”
Mr. G. scoffed.
“That’s exactly what I thought!”
Rosie imitated Mrs. Eiselle as she flounced about through
the kitchen.
“I don’t like dees Mizz Belasco. She a cockroach.”
“That’s so mean,” Mr. G. snickered.
“But it’s true.”
“I guess so, but it’s still mean.”
“You know she deserves it anyway.”
Mr. Gutierrez did not argue with that. Eiselle Lee had been
like a bull in a china shop since the day he met her.
He decided not to dwell on it.
“Well,” he said, “it’s getting late and I’m getting tired.”
“The days are shorter without electricity,” said Rosie. She
carried a candle to her bedroom and sat it next to the bed. As it flickered in
the breeze, went to the window. Lights etched a silhouette along the hill where
the estate sat.
“I wonder what it’s like inside there.”
She imagined it just so: a long spiral staircase sat behind
the door, just out of view. It led upwards to a large master bed with a
four-poster bed opening to a Jacuzzi master bath. The living room was dressed
in white with Roman accents. Maybe there was a bust of Plato sitting on a
Corinthian column – or maybe a painting by one of the Italian masters.
She really didn’t ‘go for that sort of thing’, she told herself,
but it was fun to imagine.
Rosie’s stomach grumbled in delight as she stared into the
distance. The lights flickered in the highlands. People were thriving while
others starved. Rosie couldn’t lose her focus, not now, not ever.
.
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