Ginabuksan Ko Ang Gawang

Poetry by | February 19, 2023

kang imo hulot sa mga panahon
nga ang katinong nagapang-agda
kanakun nga magpanglubaybay
sa anang kasudlan, sa anang utok.
Sa akon pagsulod sa hulot nga dya,
ginahapulas ko ang imo radyo
nga nakapatong sa latok nga may bulak
nga sa buhay run nga panahon nagabuskad
pa dyang anang plastikada nga dagway.
Kuon ko, ayhan nagaparamungol sa pamuyayaw
kang mga komentarista nga wara ti bungog
ang radyo mo nga daw trumpa sa plasa
ang bolyum hay bukut kaw makadungog
sa panahon nga nagapangligis kaw ka sirilhigon
sa aton naalimunaw nga ugsadan kada aga.
May mga papel man ikaw nga tinago sa kahon.
Rugya, may aritos nga ginbulagan ka anang bana.
Kuon ko, andut wara tana ginkasal liwan sa isara
pa ka aritos ukon bisan singsing run lang man?
Mangusisa tani ako kanimo andut wara mo tana
ginapangitaan ka bag-o nga kahagugma.
Pay wara run ti makasabat kanakun ka dya.
Gin-uyatan ko nga may pagkabalaan
ang mga papel: may kontrata, tinay-an sa last two,
petsa kag adlaw kang gin-ihaw ang imo ayam,
bisan ang adlaw ka pagtaliwan ka imo
suud nga abyan nga mananggiti nga si Puti.
Ginasulung ko ti mayad. Ginalawayan ko dyang
akun tudlo agud to makadiretso takun
sa ginsang-an nga hiwag-os mo nga sinulatan.
Saksi ang mga papel nga ria sa imo katigulangon.
Nagapabilin ang kahumut kang mansiniliya
sa kalag kang mga papel. Rugya, may panalgan
ang mga siririmhuton: daan nga bisti, kingki,
yab-ukon nga sapatos, gasgas nga antipara,
tuba, kag delargo mo nga daw hinuluman sa balok.
Rugya sa imo hulot kon sa diin buhi ang katimgas,
akun ginatipon ang mga tinaga kang imo paghalin.
Ang imo ngaran daw sangka dinag-on
nga baratyagun kang kapung-aw nga nagabuta
sa mga basiyo kang Tanduay nga nakahal-id
sa idalum kang imo baratangan, ginapiyestahan
ka maduro nga tigulang man nga mga damang.

 


Mula sa Banga, South Cotabato si Adrian Medina Pregonir. Ang kaniyang mga akda ay lumitaw sa Liwayway Magazine, Dx Machina 4 ng UP Likhaan, TLDTD, Ani 41 ng CCP at iba pa. Ang kaniyang mga sanaysay ay nagwagi sa Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature at Gawad Rene O. Villanueva. Ang kaniyang koleksiyon ng mga Binalaybay sa Kinaray-a ay nagwagi sa Bantugan Panulatan Kinaray-a at Gawad Bienvenido Lumbera.

Ang Paghimaya sa Lawas

Poetry by | February 19, 2023

Sa kangitngit nako una nailhan ang himaya sa lawas.
Wala sulod sa simbahan, apan sa sulod
sa imong gamayng kwarto kon asa gikompisal
nato ang gipangitang kaluwasan.

Mingluhod ko una,
sama sa debotong andam na mangalawat.
Mingpiyong ko
ug gidawat ka sa akong baba.

Kita ang simbahan karong gabhiona
ug ikaw ang akong simbahon.

Saksi ang mga bungbong sa atong pagdayeg.
Saksi ang kama sa pagsalmo natong duha.
Ang mga kamot hu-ot ang pagkupot
sa usag-usa nga murag walay ugma.
Ang mga baba nato gasampit
og paghimaya.
Ug ang pagpangalawat sa atong mga halok
sama sa paghalok sa dagat sa balas—
walay pu-as, walay kataposan.

Mingtindog ko ug mingluhod ka,
ako ang pari ug ikaw na pod ang mingsimba.
Sa kaluwasan nga gipangita sa atong lawas
kita nahimong usa.


John Gilford A. Doquila is a graduate of the BA English (Creative Writing) program of UP Mindanao. Presently, he teaches creative writing and literature subjects to high school students in a Montessori school in Quezon City.

What Happened in El Mañana (Part 2)

Fiction by | February 12, 2023

Not an ounce of hesitation was heard from Bri. Lyn was taken aback. I could tell by how her eye twitched for a split second. By now, I had mastered reading the most subtle cues in Lyn’s body language to avoid misunderstandings.

“You didn’t tell me Joey was a girl.”

“My bad.” Bri rested her head on Joey’s shoulder’s. “But does it really matter, ma?”

“W-well…” Lyn stuttered. It was astonishing to witness; I thought nothing could faze her. “I’m just shocked, that’s all.”

In all honesty, I was, too. But Bri looked happy. Personally, I think I was happier because they looked cute together.

“That’s exactly why I brought her here,” Bri said. “So you could finally meet her.”

“Mano po, tita,” Joey said.

“Kuya, are you lost? This isn’t your kubo,” Bri said, only looking at me after saying so and for a moment. I choked on my embarrassment. I was at a loss for words so I looked at Lyn for rescue and she saw the perfect segue. Lyn, this could be the perfect time to tell her.

“Yang, ay, Bri diay. Remember Buddy? He’s the–” Bri interrupted with the most time-killing “-Hmm”- I have ever heard, along with her continuous nod while looking at me from head to toe. She took some time looking at my toes before letting out a smirk after a quick sigh. Thankfully, I had trimmed my toenails before going to the resort.

“Makes sense,” she said when she finally stopped piercing me with her dead stare to reach for the tray full of lumpia. What the heck did she mean by that?

 She took a bite of the lumpia and double-dipped to offer Joey a bite. “I never would have pegged you for a jesus flops kind of guy.”

I did not like Bri very much. Not because of what she said about my flops but because of her double-dipping. But I had to earn her trust so I was willing to postpone my disgust.

Bri proceeded to stand directly in front of me. “What are you? Like a 5’6?”

Wow. It had just become apparent to me that crushing egos run in their family. Sure, I was not the tallest, but I was not that short either. Bri was just unfortunately taller than me. I could not get over how Bri went for my height but I felt like I had to say something.

So I said, “Grilled bangus.”

Could I have been any dumber? Lyn went to save the dying conversation by offering the girls with paper plates.

“I bet you skipped lunch. You must be starving!” Lyn opened each Tupperware container to reveal all the food she had prepared earlier that morning. I could see Joey’s delight in her eyes. She must be a foodie like me. I wish I could say the same about Bri.

There were lumpiang shanghai, adobong manok, pancit, coffee jelly, mangoes,  chicken lollipops, cassava cake, basically everything Bri used to love was set at our table. Lyn has excellent taste. That was why I recommended her to be our office cook. And that was also why I was her guy. She had been begging Bri for weeks to come home to her but Bri would always decline with a string of excuses.

“Maybe later, ma. Your lumpia went soggy na,” Bri said as she scanned the array of food prepared for her. She must be kidding me. “And this is just too much. I feel bad.”

Lyn looked down at the sand before answering. “Oh, I just wanted to prepare your favorites. You must have missed them for sure.”

“You really didn’t have to,” Bri said. “ But I don’t want to eat just because I feel bad.”

“No prob,” Lyn had to swallow a lump on her throat. “It’s not like I made these, we, we, I only got it from a paluwagan. Yep. Just a food bundle.”

I know for a fact that was not true. Lyn had been saving all a month’s worth of salary just so Bri could feast. She would stick to isaw and pastil to save when she could not eat a portion from what she cooks in our office. She had to go to the merkado at dawn so we prepared everything on time. I was only her personal lifter and kitchen assistant but even I was tired. I could only imagine how defeated Lyn was feeling. Extending my patience and trying to understand Bri’s cold shoulder was becoming a challenge to me. I was jealous that Lyn did not get me anything for my birthday last week because she was saving up for this. I did not understand what Lyn could have possibly done to deserve that treatment. And whatever it must be, Lyn’s still her mother after all. A sufficient amount of pleasantries would have just made her mother happy. I would be happy if she cooked me just any one of those meals.

“We’re going to roam around, ma, take pictures,” Bri said walking away, avoiding  Lyn’s eyes. Joey took out a polaroid camera out of her bag. Before heading out, she grabbed herself a cup of coffee jelly.

“Tita, I’d have some of this, if you don’t mind. I’ve been craving for this po kasi,” Joey said to my Lyn, who could not look away from the sand she was kicking as she swung her legs to and fro. Her breaths grow sharper. A few seconds later, Bri called out for Joey so she left the kubo without waiting for Lyn’s reply. When we were left alone, I moved closer to her seat.

“Uy,” I said, trying to lighten up her mood.

I recalled why Bri became distant toward Lyn. Something about Lyn being a one-day millionaire and almost using up all of Bri’s college fund on Lyn’s 4Oth birthday. I met Lyn there so if you’d ask me, I’d say it was money well spent. It must have been a different case to Bri that she was that aloof.

“She really is your daughter ha.” I poked the side of her belly trying to imitate Bri. “Feisty. Hmmm!”

Lyn burst out laughing. She was quite loud, she hit me a few times. I did not expect I’d be that funny but I ended up imitating Bri more- dragging the vowels as she did. “I’m Bri now. BRI.”

Times like that hit me with a brick. Shit. I was so head-over-heels with the woman in front of me. Not even when she had those vacuum laughs. Lyn’s birthday was the 31st of December which made it easy for me to have a free meal that night. I was helping myself with Lyn’s mango graham when I noticed she was killing it on Celine Dion’s “I Love You Goodbye” in the videoke. Her every note was tickling my eardrums and I was not even a Celine Dion fan. That caught my attention. But what drew her to me more was how she let out her vacuum laugh when her voice cracked at the very last note. I thought, if I could make her laugh like that all the time, I’d be happy too.

“Earth to Buddy, Earth to Buddy.” Lyn joked as she pinched my nose. My perfect, slightly disappointed nose. “If you could stop daydreaming about me for a second, I have a teen daughter bringing her girlfriend situation here.”

“How could I if every day I’m dream girl?” I could see her blush.

“Bud, I’m serious,” she said. “I don’t know how to talk to her.”

“But you are,” I said, “talking to her.”

She leaned on the chair. “No, but really talk to her, you know?” she asked. “Like I used to.”

“What’s stopping you?” I asked.

“Well, for one, I don’t want to offend her,” she said. “Girlfriend, boyfriend, I don’t really care about it. We’re–”

“Just on different vibrations.” I helped her find the words.

“Exactly.” She started stress-eating the chicken lollipops. I got stressed looking at her maneuvering those with a plastic sfork.

“Give me that.” I snatched it from her plate and started feeding it to her. I knew she hated having greasy hands.

To be continued…

 

***

Princess “Preng” Arguelles is a twenty-something Creative Writing major at the University of the Philippines Mindanao. She attempts to capture reality-based ordeals in her fiction.

What Happened in El Mañana (Part 1)

Fiction by | February 6, 2023

I could never understand why anyone would love feeling sand between their toes. That tickly sticky sensation stuck in the middle of the toes and those lingering stubborn bits forcing its way into my ingrown. This is why I’d never walk on beaches barefooted.

Don’t get me wrong, I am a strong believer of beach trips supremacy. Especially here in El Mañana. Think about it. No corkage fees. Crystal clear water. No algae build up, not a single random urchin to stab my feet, no yellow submarines creeping at you out of nowhere when you’re swimming about. It’s nothing short of a remote paradise.

 The first time I went here was for work. Back when almost all of their kubo was termite-infested. An El Mañana problem that would occasionally garnish their visitors’ precious handa with wood dust and feast on any unfortunate thigh that would sit on them. Good thing, your boy, Buddy, is a master termite-nator. Because of me, El Mañana became pest-free once again.

I should also tell you how El Mañana went viral for its breathtaking sunset view. I longed to watch it for quite some time now but I thought sunsets are too magnificent to be enjoyed alone. So I promised myself I’d come back here with someone I’d watch the sunset with. The one who won’t be gone by sunrise. I have to admit, I was pretty desperate in fulfilling that promise, I had been here with several women my age. But none of them to share the sunset with, really. It was always either raining, or the woman I was with just was not cut out for my Buddy romance, or the vibe was completely off. But I am not giving up on that quest yet. Which was why when Lyn asked for resort recommendations to treat her teenage daughter, Brianna, El Mañana easily came up to mind.

I had only been seeing Lyn for a couple of months and I must admit, our thing not being official yet was quite a sore spot. More than her ex-husband finding out, she was too worried any relationship she’d have would just be another reason for Brianna to pull farther away from her. So against my better judgment and pride, I settled with the title of a suitor. A single mom’s suitor, at that.

Initially, Lyn wanted her and Brianna’s reunion to be just the two of them but I insisted on going with. I told her I could help with the heavy lifting, earning discounts with the fees, and who wouldn’t want a macho gwapito like me as a beach chaperon, right? But if I were being honest, I wanted to meet Brianna in person. Perhaps, this way, I could charm her into giving her blessing and I could finally truly be someone’s person. Lyn’s, preferably. I was growing impatient with what Brianna called, “a whatevership.”

I was grilling the bangus Lyn marinated the night before while she was anxiously fanning our food from flies while waiting for Brianna’s arrival. I can tell she’s agitated. The signal in the resort was spotty and the unconscious lip biting gave it away. That, and the fact that she had not seen her daughter for almost a year because Brianna chose to study in a university miles away from her mother out of spite. But there was something about the way the seabreeze blew Lyn’s yellow summer dress, her wavy copper hair brushing against her face, and her tucking her hair over her ears as she sported those sunglasses bigger than her sun-kissed cheeks. She was stunning even at 42.

The sight of her distracted me from the distress knowing that I had no indicator whether or not this bangus was cooking as it should be. Lyn had told me peeking through the foil cover would make all the moisture from the bangus escape so I was trying my hardest not to do so. Brianna liked the bangus juicy filled with ripe tomatoes, diced onions, ginger, and a bundled tanglad. It took me quite a while to keep the charcoal burning, but I managed by fanning every now and then. That was the good thing about Brianna being almost an hour past merienda late; she would not see me struggle with grilling her favorite dish. When I thought the bangus was good to go, I hurriedly sprinted to our kubo while juggling the hot bangus when a woman dashed to the step, her elbow striking the bangus to the sand.

“Yang!” Ah, so this was Brianna.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t think to put that on a plate,” Bri said.

Was that even an apology? Wow! She was really Lyn’s kid. Lyn approached her with an embrace when she swerved to the side to put her bags down. Lyn’s attempt for a hug landed as mere shoulder strokes. Brianna asked to bless from Lyn’s hand instead. Although I only saw her in pictures, her hair used to be raven black, not blonde. And she did not have pin cushions for ears. Even so, it must be awkward for them to meet after such a long time.

“Don’t call me Yang now, ma,” she said as she sprung back up again, flipping her hair up, and finally tying it together. “I go by Bri now.”

I have to say, although I did expect the two’s physical resemblance, their sassiness was uncanny. While Yangyang, or shall I say, Bri took a good long while before sitting to complain about how long the drive was to enter the resort, I quietly picked the bangus. I placed it on the table first, peeling off the foil before putting the fish on a foil tray. Good thing it was sealed or else Bri would have wasted my effort grilling her favorite dish. I tried my best not to interrupt their conversation because I was quite curious whether Lyn would introduce me to Bri or not. And if she did, what would she introduce me as.

“You did not have to spend this much for a vacation, ma. We could have just stayed home. Could we afford it?” Bri asked as she applied sunscreen.

As far as I’m concerned, the entrance fee for the three of us was already included with the kubo, which I had already settled on when I booked the resort exclusively. I just knew Lyn would ask, “It was Buddy’s treat! Why did they ask you to pay? That guard rea–”

Before Lyn could full-on complain, another woman entered our kubo carrying a box full of Soju with a pink ribbon bow.

“You didn’t have to,” I said to the woman thinking she was El Manaña’s new manager. I did not know when El Manaña began welcoming their guests with complimentary drink, but I wouldn’t complain.

“Sorry what?” the woman said.

I repressed my urge to repeat what I said to her when I saw car keys hanging on her denim shorts just as Bri uttered, “Joey, come here.”

And Joey did. Unlike Bri, Joey had a nicer vibe, a bit demure. Humbler, even. It usually does not matter to me but I could tell Joey was well-off. She wore a hat without the cap, the ones similar to golfers. I would bet her top was just a scarf wrapped around her torso. She had braces even though her teeth seemed fine as it was. Fair skinned.  And if it was not a solid case, her nails were pointy, long, had gemstones, and held an iPhone with three eyes. How could I mistake her for a manager? She could easily be a resort owner, for all I know.

“Joey?” Lyn wondered. “I thought Joey was your uyab, Yan–” Bri’s nose scrunched so Lyn corrected herself, “I mean, Bri.”

I could tell Joey wanted to introduce herself but while she was just recalibrating her tongue, Bri already mouthed an answer– “Exactly, po.”

 

To be continued…

 

***

Princess “Preng” Arguelles is a twenty-something Creative Writing major at the University of the Philippines Mindanao. She attempts to capture reality-based ordeals in her fiction.

Lutaw

Poetry by | February 6, 2023

 

Niinging layag sa kinabuhi
Kung diin ang kalinaw
Igo na lamang na hanaw
Ug ang unos nitubaw

Nahisukamod sa mga gabnod
Gilokumos sa dagkong bawod
Daw sa kinabuhi kini hawod
Unsaon aron dili malunod

Kung ang bangka wala nay katig
Ug ang layag naguba nas hangin
Lisod magpadayon sa kapalaran
Kung ang direksyon dili na mahikaplagan

Moabot ang panahon ang tiil
Mohunong na sa pagpatid
Kung diin dili na kayang mosalom
Og maunlod na lamang sa ilawom

Kung sa bawod kita lunuron
Ug sa gapnod isi-isihon
Pasagdai kung asa kita dad-on
Sa hampak niining panghitabo karon

Kay tataw kaayo nga lisod sugaton
Ang dagmal sa kapalaran karon
Apan, kung ikaw magmaisogon

—Lutaw lang sa gihapon


Jean C. Cano hails from San Isidro, Davao Oriental. Currently studying at Davao Oriental State University-San Isidro Extension Campus, Jean is a sophomore taking Bachelor of Elementary Education.

Magpuli Ta Sa Uma

Poetry by | February 6, 2023

Magpuli ta sa uma kag magtanom sang kahoy
kag mga gulay nga aton kaunon
magpuli ta didto nga mabugnaw sa kagab-ihon
kag matinong sa imo paniyapon.
Simuti ang sungaw ka lupa nga imo gin-kali
para sa imo tanuman, simuti ang hangin
nga naga-palid sang burador nga anda ginapalupad.
Ta kag kita magpahuway sa payag, sid-inga
ang mga mapula nga bunga sang katumbal nga nagatudlo
sa kalangitan nga naga dayaw sa Ginoo
samtang nagasaot sa paghuyop sang hangin.
Magpuli kita sa uma kag mangabuhi
sang kinabuhi nga simple
nga ang aton pagkaon ara lang sa palibot
ang kape mo nga sara-sara sa sartin nga tasa
tupad sang takuri kag sang radyo nga nagasaysay
sang historya ni Gimo, nga isa ka teniente.

**

JD Arellano is an accountant presently splitting time between Davao City and Koronadal City. Some of his works were published in Cotabato Literary Journal, Dagmay, and in his zines “Hide and Seek” (2018) and KUN AKO MATAK-AN, AKO MANGIN ISA KA MAYA (2022), on which this poem first appeared.

The Flight Attendant

Nonfiction by | January 30, 2023

There was only the dim ambient lighting from the standing lamp as I was staring at my reflection on the wall mirror. I adjusted the wet towel that clung to my lower body, and I felt droplets of water descending through my legs and to the floor. The sound of muffled torrential downpour escaping from behind the bathroom door was the only thing I could hear while Michiel was taking a shower.

Staring at myself, I didn’t realize how much my body had drastically changed. Gone were my spindly limbs, replaced with a bulk that showed strength. My chest had filled in, my stomach had some faint ridges, and most of all my buttocks seemed fuller. I remembered my older sister telling me when we were shopping at a mall that she would buy me denim jeans as my college graduation gift. But since, as she had said, I had a flat behind, any jeans I would wear would appear awkward. But now that years of exercise had chiseled my body, perhaps my sister would no longer have any difficulty finding me new clothing. And also, since I was working in a foreign country, perhaps I could afford to buy clothes that would suit me better.

Truthfully, it was a bit strange, thinking why I was here. I had only met Michiel in person four hours ago, after some conversation on Grindr. But then again, as my friends had told me before, gay men were more physical, more visual, more primal, than their straight counterparts. It was not uncommon for two gay men to have some physical pleasure on the first date.

The bathroom door opened. Michiel came out, a towel around his waist, another towel he used to dry his blond hair. “What are you staring at?”

“Just myself,” I replied.

He sauntered behind me, appearing on the mirror, then hugged me from behind. His arms were like flaps of an envelope, completely covering me. He had to lean lower to put his chin on the nook of my neck. On the mirror, it appeared like Goliath had captured David, his tall and lithe Dutch frame awkward on my shorter Filipino figure.

“You’re gorgeous,” Michiel whispered.

I blinked, taken aback. No one had said that to me before. And no less from an “afam,” as my Filipino friends would surely call him.

Before Singapore, I had gone out on dates with Filipino guys, but they had all been a disaster. A recurring pattern was my date would ask for money after the first date. One said he wanted to buy a gift for his sister, another one said he needed to buy underwear, and the last one had to borrow money to pay some of his college tuition. After realizing I was only a walking ATM for these men, I came to the conclusion that dating wasn’t for me. But moving to Singapore and realizing I wasn’t getting any younger, I decided to give it another try. While Michiel wasn’t the first afam I met, he certainly didn’t ask for money from me. Instead, we went Dutch when we paid our restaurant bill—fitting, because of Michiel’s nationality.

“Thank you,” I replied after a brief pause.

I could see Michiel noticing my reaction, that I wasn’t totally convinced with what he had said. His response was just to hug me tighter.

Growing up in the Philippines, I had always been the invisible guy, lost in the background, like I was hiding behind the curtains in the classroom. When I was in high school, my classmates were worried about their puppy romances or saving enough baon to buy gifts for their teenage lovers. Meanwhile, I was worried about my acne. It was a source of constant grief for me, and a money drain for my mom. She would spend thousands for my dermatology visits and for my medicinal facial creams. And when my acne subsided after I graduated from college and found work, I went to the gym. But still, I wasn’t handsome enough.

“You’re a hipon!” a female work colleague had told me one time as she was a bit tipsy during a Friday night party.

“Hipon, why?” I replied.

“Nice body, ugly face,” she said, laughing.

That stung. That label turned into a scar I especially noticed whenever I glanced at my face on any reflective surface, like I was sizing another person in a duel.

I slowly loosened myself from Michiel’s grasp. “I should get going. It’s already past midnight.”

He nodded as he told me he would get me a glass of water. Putting on my clothes, I was looking at Michiel. He was a good-looking man, although when I told him that he was handsome during our date, he had seemed surprised. Aside from his noticeable height, he had a kindness to his baby-blue eyes that would match his smile. He also smelled like fresh sunflowers whenever I caught a whiff of him. He told me he didn’t wear any perfume, but it could be his aftershave. Later he mentioned that he was in his mid-forties, while I was only in my late twenties, so I could easily find a younger replacement for him.  I shook my head in disagreement. He also asked why I had decided to meet him that night, and I only replied: “Because you felt right.” Besides from the personable photos he sent me, our conversation was so much different from the dates I had had in my hometown. He was the quintessential older gentleman. It felt like I was treated as a person, an equal—so unlike the police interrogations I had experienced with the guys in Davao, where my date would ask about my height, weight, age, employment, my crushes and exes, and even the size of my manhood.

“It’s too bad you’re flying tomorrow. Where is your next flight?” I asked while drinking the glass of water.

Michiel replied he was going to Bangkok, then would stay there for a few days, then fly to South Korea, then back to Singapore, then fly back to Amsterdam. As a flight attendant for KLM Royal Dutch Airlines, he was everywhere. I, on the other hand, was grounded with my desk job in Singapore.

“You must have met a lot of guys through your job.”

He pondered for a bit, his eyes squinting, then faintly shook his head. “Not really.”

Fully dressed, I walked to the front door and put on my shoes. He followed me, towering over me like my office building when I arrived at work. “Will I see you when I get back to Singapore?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, smiling. I had to tiptoe to plant a kiss on his lips. “I’ll be right here.”

He opened the door as he smiled back. He gave me one more hug and kiss before I headed to the elevators then exited the hotel. I took one more glance behind me, then started to walk to the subway metro, passing by the flickering neon lights in Geylang. It was surprisingly chilly. I could hear the bustle of tourists. I took out my phone and briefly read my text conversation with Michiel.

Have a safe trip to Bangkok, I texted him.

After a few minutes, my phone vibrated. Michiel had replied to me: I will see you again. I’ll be staying in the same hotel when I arrive back.

A small smile was on my face. I really wasn’t in my hometown anymore, I thought, as I kept at my pace.

 

**

Glyd Jun Arañes works as professional linguist for a language technology company in Helsinki, Finland. He briefly worked at a big tech company in Singapore before migrating to Europe. He was a fellow at the 2010 ADDU Writers Workshop and the 2011 Davao Writers Workshop.

Monochrome Scales

Fiction by | January 23, 2023

Through and through, I am gray. An equal balance of good and evil, pure apathy to everything.

It’s common sense that murder is one of the most abominable sins to commit, but I find it hard to care even when my co-worker is breaking down in the middle of the office. Everyone rushes to comfort her, to soothe her with promises that her husband is now at peace, but I stand to the side. The most I can do is acknowledge her tears with a listless glance, and I’m back to typing away on the keyboard.

It makes me wonder if that makes me evil. The scales tip ever so slightly.

“Y’know,” Jose begins in his lazy drawl, taking in a large inhale of his cigarette and sighing. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to try and pretend you care.”

I know. I flick the ashes of my own cigarette at him, and he scowls back. With an uncommitted shrug, I exhale, and smoke puffs from my lips.

“I’ll try.”

The gray of the smoke ruins the clear blue sky above, but it fits perfectly with the ruined alleyway and me.

*

Another thing that should be normal is parents lighting up at the pitter-patter of footsteps scurrying to greet them at the door. When the doorknob turns and the little boy smiles at me, something twists and grips at my heart.

“Papa!” he cheerfully greets. “You’re home!”

Home feels like a bitter word on my tongue. It’s unrestrained anger, nail marks on my skin, and tears on my cheeks as I hide beneath the bed. This ruined apartment isn’t home, but just temporary solace from the rain and the sun, a place where I can stare endlessly at the paint-chipped walls. But I don’t bother correcting the little boy.

“I’m home,” I say half-heartedly. I lift my hand to his head, but something grips my arm, and it falls back to my side. I ignore the disappointed look on his face and let him take my coat and things. It somehow feels bad, watching such a tiny body struggle to take them. He guides me to the table where a meager meal awaits me.

“I tried my best!” The bandages on his fingers prove his words. “I—I hope you enjoy it!”

It’s too salty, but at least there is something to eat. I do not say anything to him, but he smiles as he continues to watch me eat.

*

I tell him to go back to his mother. There is no future for him with a deadbeat salaryman like me. One of these days, a corpse will return to him, and he will have nowhere to go.

He shakes his head, innocent face still smiling at me like I deserve it. “My home is with you, dad. Mama is too busy holding hands and eating at restaurants with the weird uncle.”

It feels like punishment to have something so deserving of everything I cannot offer him near me. I look at him, and the thought of leaving him alone within these apartment walls run rampant through my mind. I see his smile, and I wonder what will happen to it if I tell him of all the regrets I carry on my shoulder.

If I tell him that he was never meant to be, will he finally leave me be? The sick temptation grips me like a vice.

“I’m not a good person, boy.” My voice is raspy and the lingering hangover pounds at my head with every syllable. “You’re better off living with your mother. She can give you toys and food, and you won’t have to cook and cut your hands anymore.”

“Why aren’t you a good person?” Damn children and their curiosity. “You work hard every day to provide for us!”

Silence.

And then I begin to speak.

“I think of leaving you alone. Every day, I don’t know how someone like me can face you. All I can give you are cheap clothes and groceries, and I don’t know how to comfort sad children or angry children or children of any kind!”

I reach out for him—he doesn’t flinch, and somehow that makes me only cry harder.

“You don’t deserve the life I lived, son.” His hair is soft. “You deserve everything in the world and more.”

I wonder if he’ll break under my touch, like how I used to at my father’s hands back then. His tiny hands reach up to mine and squeeze.

“Pa isn’t a bad guy. He says he wants to leave me alone, but he hasn’t. You say that mama is better, but you give me more love than she does.” He nuzzles into my rough palm. “I don’t want toys if mama doesn’t play with me. But here, I can cook food and eat them together with you every day.”

I am at a loss for words.

“You’re not evil, pa.” He grins. “Because I know you’re always thinking what’s best for me.”

Right.

I tell myself I’ll leave him, but I can’t. His tiny body may shatter under my hug, but nothing can stop the onslaught of tears as I hold my dearest son close to my heart. His small arms hug me back, and it’s the first time in my life that I have family.

I am still gray, but for this little boy, I can be human again.

*

“Not joining me for a smoke break?” Jose asks. “Now that’s a surprise.”

“Cutting back,” I grunt to him as I continue to type on my keyboard.

“Well, at least join me for a drink after work.”

“Not happening, either. Gotta buy groceries and cook.”

Jose snorts and lightly slaps the back of my head. “God help you. Having a kid made you boring.”

He’s joking, I can tell, and I chuckle and shake my head.

“Then the least I can do is invite you over for dinner.”


Jireh Dacanay, 17, is a Grade 12 HUMSS student at Davao Christian High School V. Mapa Campus. Writing for over 10 years, they continue to seek new ways to improve their writing style so they can write a novel that will make Philippine literature known all over the globe.