"I was expecting you. I already had 'tinambiran' and tsokolate made for you."
"You did? But how did you know I was coming? How did you know I like
'tsokolate' and 'tinambiran'? The latter is a twisted roll of alternating white
and purple, sweet and salty semi-sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves. "I did
not think about coming over until this morning. How did you know I was coming?"
"I had a dream last night."
"You dreamed last night that I was going to come and visit with you today?"
"Yes. And I know you like 'kosilba', too." Geez! How could she have ever known?
The last time I remember having been in contact with Lillian was in 1956!
"How on earth did you know that?"
"I had a dream last night." She was repeating herself. She was 85 years old
and senility must be affecting her now.
"Why are you repeating your questions? Are you getting senile?" she asked me.
I can't remember what I said on the phone but I do remember I was stammering.
There was another incident before this that gave the creeps.
Before I wrote this short story, I tried to interview several people who had
direct and personal knowledge of the history on which I was basing my
'historical fiction.' I had a hard time locating Leonor Trillo. I finally found
him through his younger sister, Marianing, who took me to his house. I met him
and cousin Melody outside their living room, in a kind of open veranda.
He was an old man, cataracts obvious in both eyes. But one could still see how
good looking he must have been during his younger days. Automatically, I tried
to shake his hand in greeting, completely forgetting our gracious 'amen',
placing the dorsum of the older person's hand on one's forehead. I had been out
of the country for quite a while and had not practiced some of our unique
customs.
"Nor, si Dr. Garcia, apo ni Nanay Dia.." This is Dr. Garcia, grandson of Mama
Dia.
He accepted my extended hand but just held on to it, not shaking it. He looked
at me intently for at least thirty seconds. I was getting uncomfortable, being
gazed at like that for that long. Then his eyes started getting real moist and
he hugged me tight and kissed me on the cheek and on the side of the neck. He
whispered, "Pong, Popong." I was getting real embarrassed. Marianing saw my
discomfort and pulled Leonor back and had him sit on a chair.
He sat down but kept on looking at me. I gave my usual preliminary introduction
and pleasantries. But when I started asking direct questions I only got blank
looks. His answers consisted of "Huh?" and other short sentences like what and
who. Marianing told me he had been like that on and off for a while now.
Now, back to Lillian.
I did not ask Lillian about her dream anymore. I gobbled up the "tinambiran"
and the thick hot cocoa like I had not had anything to eat for a couple of
days. Lillian was pleased to see how much I enjoyed them. She did not say
anything, but I could tell from my peripheral vision that she was watching me
closely. After I ate my fourth "tinambiran" I asked the maid for water, a
declaration that I had had enough.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Ho-o ba (Of course). I have been asking all the questions so now it's your
turn."
"No, I mean, can I ask you a favor? Will you take me to Asinan? I have not been
there since.." She did not finish her sentence.
"Ho-o ba."
"He always said that."
"Who?"
"Your uncle. He always said that. He always said, ho-o ba, whenever I asked for
something."
Oh, no. Not again! I tried not pay any attention to this new comparison.
I left my driver at the house and drove the Fortuneer alone with Lillian. We
got to Asinan when the sun was barely sitting on the distant west edge of the
ocean. The sky was orange and the ocean was deep blue. There were a few fluffy
scattered clouds. There was no one there and it was far enough from the roads
that I could not hear anything except for the soft waves that splashed
soothingly against the rocks, the ocean so quiet at dawn and at twilight time,
I often wondered why.
I followed Lillian to the boulder. It seemed she wanted to be alone but I was
concerned she might fall over into the water, what with her age and all. I
stayed behind far enough for her to have some privacy but close enough for me
to be able to see her.
The sun was more than halfway below the horizon now and Lillian was just
standing there, looking out to the sea, the wind blowing at her cotton dress
and her hair. I must have been imagining things but I swear she looked young,
so much younger, like in one of her old pictures. I wiped my darkened
eyeglasses and blinked repeatedly to remove whatever I thought was causing this
illusion. It must have been the light bouncing off the water affecting my
vision. But then I have a problem with my vision anyway.
I could barely hear her. "I kept my promise." She was not talking to me. "How
much longer? I can't live forever." There was no answer. "I miss you so." No
one answered. Just the rustling of the coconut leaves and the rhythmic gentle
lapping of the water against the black sand, the muted sound of silence. I saw
her reach into her little handbag, pull out something, look at it, and hold it
against her chest. I could just make out her silhouette against the sky now as
the sun had completely sunk below the horizon. I did not see her throw anything
into the water but I did not see her put anything back into her bag either.
After a while, she turned around, looked at me as if she was seeing me for the
first time and said, "Coy, please take me home now." I searched her eyes but
she was not giving me anything anymore. We did not say anything to each other
on the way back to her house. She seemed to have been in deep thought and I did
not wish to intrude. We got to her house and I helped her down from the
vehicle.
She walked in front of me to the gate then turned around to face me. She held
my hand and just looked at me. Old people's eyes don't express their feelings
much. But the oldest ones all show a certain loneliness. That was in Lillian's
eyes. A lot of it. She left me at their gate and went inside the house without
saying goodbye.
The drive back to Butuan seemed to have taken forever.
I may have left Lillian for the last time.
The Author
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