Disordered Displacement

[a reading of MAGNIFICENCE by Estrella D. Alfon]

A 20 year-old girl is lying on a couch and is directed to say whatever comes to mind.

I.
It all began when I finished my first grade in primary education. It was mother’s decision to send me out of our house in Cebu. She made arrangements with my aunt Aimee so I could live with them in Malabon, Rizal. And, she also enrolled me into Malabon Normal School, an all girl school run by Maryknoll nuns.

I could hardly remember my feelings on my first days in Luzon. But, I do remember crying every night after a few days. I guess I got sick of that place. It wasn’t the environment, everyone there had been very kind to me, specially aunt Aimee. She was my mother there.

Come to think about it, I hated my mother in my first few weeks there. I remember asking aunt Aimee why mother sent me away, she always had the same reason - she always said that the Maryknoll nuns were one of the best teachers in the country. I never knew exactly how mother felt those days, sending her daughter away and keeping her son with them. And I never tried to find out, I might have never understood, anyway.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate my brother. On the contrary, he might have been the main reason why I cried in those nights. I missed him so much and I didn’t really know why. To date, he is the only man I trust. I kept contact with him through letters. We wrote to each other every month. and I still have those letters with me, all of them had the words “stay safe” written on the end. Just like how my letters to him ended with the words “don’t ever leave me…” I always finished my letters to him that way. It was more like a need for me to write them, otherwise, I’d get this uneasy feeling in my heart, like I was anxious over something.

I even remember imagining that he was beside me in my jeepney rides. Oh, how I hate jeepney rides. The air there is so disgusting. Every time I ride a jeepney, I’d feel like I’m being suffocated by the stench of fresh sweat from pores dried with pomade. I always imagined my brother beside me, there to carry me if I fainted with disgust.

I hated my school. Those damn nuns kept on changing the location of the school - every year, different location. Perhaps my dislike towards my school was amplified by the way I was towards my school mates.

I never really got close to my elementary school mates. You could say that I was a bit of a “shoe gazer.” I never bothered looking at my schoolmates faces. Most of them came from the city, so I considered all of them boastful. I never realized that they were thinking the same way towards me.

I was the only girl using a pen. Others labeled me an “elitist,” since most of them used pencils. I used to love pencils, I even remember bugging someone for it. But I guess things change.

To hell with what they thought, anyway. I always considered myself a big girl. I never needed friends.

Exodus I

“Gugma? Unsa na? Makaon na? Lami na siya? Medyo pait-pait ba, aslumon o tam-is? Krispi ba na siya o dyusi?” asked a young soul.

“Ambot, ug wala koy pake kung unsa man na siya.” an older soul replied.

They were floating through the cosmos along the winds of the Source.

“Maka curious man na, oi…”

“Nganung ma-curious man ka?”

“Kay daghan mga nabuang ana…”

“Human? Unsay pake nimo sa ila? Kani lang maingon nako sa imuha, live YOUR life, ayaw kayo paapekto sa uban. Pull your own strings, kumbaga.”

“Dili man sa ngapaapekto ko sa ila, na curious lang ko ba…”

“Kay ngano?”

“Ambot…”

“Wa man diay kay tubag.”

“… Gusto lang nako makatilaw ug gugma…”

Both came across a new star.

“Kalag sad na siya tung una.” said the ancient one.

“Ha? Nganung na ingana na siya?”

“Kay natangtang na man siya sa lawas niya tung una, tangaa nimog pangutana, oi.”

“dili ba, nganung dili ta ing-ana?”

“Sa tinuod lang, DUHA na sila ka kalag, mao na ana sila.”

“Abi nako usa ra na xa?”

“Nagkamali ko. Pakyu nimo oi.”

“Unya, ngano lagi naingana na sila?”

“Kay tung naa pa silay mga lawas, nabuhi sila para sa sarili. Gatabang sila sa uban, pero nabuhi sila sa sarili nila nga mga VIEWS.”

“Unsay connection?”

“Wala pa ko nahuman, ayaw sigeg sabat dira. Ani na siya, nafascinate tung usa sa other unya inila-ila niya tung usa. Daghan sad gihimo tung nafascinate para lang maila-ila gyud tung other half. Sa proseso na to, nahibal-an sa nafascinate na pirting lipaya diay niya pag kauban niya tung usa.”

“Human?”

“Mao to, nalipay tung usa. Mao tanan ng gihimo niya, para lang mapalipay sad tung usa. Pero nabuhi lang japon siya sa sarili niya nga mga prinsipyo.”

“Ah, warag, gabaktas sila nga sabay pero lahi ang ilahang pagbaktas?”

“UNSA?”

“Ay, kanang, they poured wine to each others glasses, but they never shared the glass…”

“O, warag ana. Kato. So, nalipay silang duha. Mao tung nangamatay ang ilahang mga lawas, ang una jud gipangita sa ilahang mga kalag kay ang each other. Para malipay japon silang duha.”

“Human? Unsay nahitabo?”

“Kanang star, na ing-ana sila. Mao na na cla in eternal jerjer mode.”

“Ah, mao ba?”

“Mao gyud. Nangutana ka kung unsa ang gugma diba?”

“O…”

“Mao na siya ang number ONE na mafeel nimo towards YOURSELF. Mao pull your own strings. Mangabot ra nang makatreasure sad sa imuha. Unya, kung matreasure sad nimo siya, poof, star na mong duha.”

“Nganung naingani man tang duha? Dili lagi ta nahimong star?”

“Kay kitang duha, mga martyr. Namatay ta, walay nangita sa atuha.”

“Forever na ni?”

“Dili oi, mao gani galakaw pa ta, mangita nasad ta ug usa ka lawas na masudlan. And obviously, kinahanglan kabalo na ta sa mali nato.”

“Martyr diay ko…”

They found a new world, and they decided to find a body there, a newly formed zygote.

“Una sa ka.” said the elder one.

“Hulat sa, mailhan ba kaha taka? Kung naa na tay mga lawas?”

“O.” was the elder’s answer, not telling the other that memories vanish everytime a soul is born into a world.

Only the cosmic winds spoke for the following moments.

“Sige, mauna na ko…” said the youth.

“Maayo.”

And the young soul went into the world.

“10000 cycles, I never had the strength to go through a world with you, afraid to lose the countless memories of moments like these with you. 10000 cycles of your birth and death, i have witnessed. You will never see how much i treasure you, because i am a martyr, and i ache to see that you are, too…”

Exodus II

He awoke in the middle of the night, the cool breeze from the probing electric fan touched his skin. Staring blankly at the shadows playing above his bed, he had grown to appreciate their existence. They were, to him, the sole indicators that he wasn’t inside his dreamless sleep. He tilted his head to the left, just enough to see the yellow light casting the same shadows from outside his window. The burning light shone as bright as a setting sun, yet he focused on it, never once trying to block the painful rays with his hands; It was not because he couldnt move them, rather he never wanted to. His body was wide awake, but it had settled itself too deep within sheets and shadows for comfort.

He had learned to live with these, in his own terms, “sudden awakenings,” having experienced them for months now. It had developed into a, not exactly daily, kind of habit. He had no intentions whatsoever to develop it, yet he, too, never had the intentions to end it. It just happens; and he had long accepted its, lack of a better word, “naturality.” And it had always, ALWAYS, been, more or less, the same. The only notable differences would be the world seen through his rectangular window: may it be with tapping raindrops slowly ascending the glass, making little yellow sparkles as they made their way down; or, much like that time, with the static glow of a semi-rural baranggay’s street lamp.

But, something shook the familiarity of that experience: the seamless humming of the fan was drowned by the noise outside. It was late in May, summer was giving way to the rainy season, crickets were singing its songs to the stars.

He lay there motionless, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest. In his mind, everything else, aside from the burning street light and the cricket sounds, disappeared. Slowly, without his own knowledge, he became engulfed in the concert of chirps. Like a progressive conversation of blending melodic beats, the song became his center. The crickets became so close to him: so close that they reminded him of himself.

And, without him wanting to, he remembered her face. And, he remembered all too well. In his mind, the smooth curves of her face took form; then, her tresses that kissed her cheeks; her almond-shaped eyes and her dark-brown iris; her lips and then her smile.

His eyes twitched, remembering her face wasn’t really what he wanted. In fact, he wanted NOT to. He wanted to forget her more than anything else.

Indeed, the crickets reminded him of himself: he thought of how he sang to her; how something like him could dream of having someone like her. Like a cricket singing to a star.

For the first time since his waking, the fingers on his right hand moved. His right arm moved to his head. He closed his eyes as the cupped his face with his hand, as if trying to stop tears from falling. His eyes, once focused on the light, ached. He could still see the yellow light even with his eyes closed and covered with his hand. He tightened his grip to his head as his eyelids sqeezed harder. He forced himself to sleep: the only way to escape from the light; the only way to escape from the crickets.

But then, as he was forcing himself to sleep, his phone rang. He suddenly pulled his hand away from his head, opened his eyes, and froze for a second. He shifted his weight to his left side, his back then faced the window as he reached for his phone on the right side of the bed.

The beeping from his phone echoed along the corners of his room: bouncing from one wall to the other; forming an invisible wall to block out the chirps from the outside. His eyes adjusted to the light from the screen of the phone. It took a bit longer than expected, but he saw the date and time on it, 28.05.2007 10:53. It was still quite early, he thought.

“Hello?”

In that moment, the image in his mind dissolved. Though, not as quickly as it appeared, as he was conscious of its fading. Gradually, as the conversation developed, his realized the thin line between the past and the present. And when it was time to say goodbye, he said it with a smile.

“Sweet dreams to you, too, Dianne…”

Agony

The sky was clear and the stars glimmered on their cerulean sea. The moon gazed over the quiet little town as it was sound asleep. The candle lights danced with the gentle breeze of the cool evening.

“Where did I go wrong?” the girl’s voice surfaced serenity. Her hand was pointing at the boy, with a gun trembling on it along with her eyes.

She had always liked him and did everything he told her to do. She had always obeyed him hoping that her efforts would make him see how important he was to her; hoping that she could turn him back the way he was a year ago. It seemed as though she only achieved in fulfiling the former.

“No… don’t…” his tone, like the way it has always been when they first met, was tame and his eyes grew watery. He felt a chill run down his knuckles as his heart thumped faster. Much like the gun pointing between his eyes, his knees trembled.

He moved back as she inched nearer to him, he toppled his chair over and he fell onto the crying grass. The dew drops felt cold as it pressed along his palms. She took more steps forward ’til the gun was a good five inches away from his forehead.

Sweat trickled down the barrel and reached the edge of the pistol. It dripped and left a mark on his shirt.

“You know,” her trembling voice shook the momentary silence, “there’s a big difference between loving someone and loving someone too much…”

His sanity slowly betrayed him as his eyes were blurry with tears and his mouth trembling, struggling to say her name. Never in his life, did this scenario cross his mind. Finally, he managed to blurt out a word; no, a curse; no, her name; or some part of it. “Ange…”

“NO!” her warning came as an explosion to his ears. “Hear me out…” Her teeth gritting, “Do you want to know who you really are to me?” her voice held months of wasted patience. “DO YOU!?”

There was silence as clouds gathered to block the view of the stars.

“Well, listen to me closely. You’re… the one… I… love…”

The voices of humanity were ended with a faint sound of a bullet freed from its chamber. It was followed up with the lonely sound of nothingness. Teardrops fell from the sky.

Blood gushed out of the wound. His eyes were filled with tears. Her cold lips whispered two last words: simple, shattering.

Another gunshot distorted the ambience of the peaceful night sky. And the warm gun fell from the boy’s cold hand.

Ecstasy

He stood alone behind the countless pews of the cathedral. By then, he had learned to stop crying, yet his eyes were still bloodshot.

Outside, grey clouds covered the afternoon sky as droplets fell from them. The hazy glow from the colored windows reflected on the faces of the marble statues standing by the walls. The damp air created a thin film upon their cheeks. They seemed to be mourning with the rest of the people seated near the altar.

He had been silent since he stepped inside, face down, his right hand clenching his left. As he watched the beads of water falling from his hair to his shoes. The rain got heavier and the scent of wet grass came to his senses. Images of that night took form before his eyes.

It was raining that night, and he remembered his confusion as he saw medical personnel rush around her house. He struggled to get inside, but policemen and their yellow tapes didnt allow him to. He remembered how he screamed at them telling them that he knew who lived there, that he had been with that family all his life. Tears filled his eyes as two officers dragged him back to the street. There, at the corner of his eye, he saw a stretcher. With all his might, he pushed the two away and rushed to it. He remembered how the medic pulled the white sheet off, slowly exposing the face of his best friend. He turned away with disgust and an array of shapeless emotions. He couldnt quite remember the next scenes, but he remembered when her parents approached him amidst the sea of bystanders, reporters, policemen, and medics.

They were crying as they led him to their dead daughter’s stretcher.

Standing infront of her, he felt nothing. He felt hollow as he looked at her face. Her hair flowed down from the edges of the stretcher, swaying with the breeze. Her eyes were closed and the blinking red lights cast the shadows of her lashes on her pale cheeks. From the edge of her eye, he saw a trace of tears that lead to the coagulated blood from her wound. He remembered her lips and how they formed a smile. She was, to him, still beautiful.

The image faded, he finally raised his head as the people started to move out of the church with her coffin leading them. As the people passed him, a friend of hers emerged from the crowd and handed him a letter.

He followed the people soon after. The cathedral was left lifeless, and among its rows of pews was a crumpled piece of paper.

“By you get to read this, I am no longer with you. I want to apologize for the nights when I called you up with my melodramatic thoughts. I also want you to know that when you read this, please don’t shed a tear for me. I did this because I wanted to. I always wished for someone who would treasure me. If I’m lucky, I’ll be flying with him in the sea of dreams. Take care always. Sept. 16, 2006”

Genesis I

He just arrived at the park. Heaving from a long run from is house, he leaned on a lamp post and sighed. Above him, the orange sky slowly faded to blue and white clouds turned to grey. The warm setting sun burned a radiant yellow against his skin. The trees swayed and their leaves rustled as a cool breeze passed by, carrying the scent of newly cut grass. Shadows gradually covered the land ’til all he could see were their silhouettes: two figures seated upon a bench. He was behind them, watching patiently as they talked with each other.

He recognized the girl. He had known the girl since he was young. He spent his kindergarten days blowing up the girl’s dolls; elementary noons eating for free at the girl’s house; and high school nights listening on the phone as the girl ranted about her day. He heard the girl’s giggles as the sun’s rays traced the curves on her face. From where he was, he could see the girl staring into the eyes of the boy she liked.

The boy was, at that time, his best friend. He and the boy had drank enough bottles of beer to test their friendship. He often found himself listening to the boy’s stories about making girls cry. But, something inside him was saying that the boy would change this time. The boy placed his hand behind the girl and she lay her head on the boy’s shoulder.

Upon seeing that, he smiled, bent down and placed a rose on the foot of the lamp. He slowly walked away as the first star twinkled above the two silhouettes seated on a bench.

Genesis II

He had been talking to her for an hour now - an hour seemed to have passed by so slowly. She was conscious about the world around her. She noticed the chirping birds as their shadows passed by the corners of her eyes; the warm caress of the sun as it slowly retreated into the horizon; even the faint smell of the pine trees as they rustled and swayed. She was conscious about the fact that she was there, staring into the eyes of the boy she likes.

She had always admired the boy. Often, she found herself thinking about his smile while waiting for recess, lunch, and dismissal. He was a boy that every girl in her school knew. He was a good athlete, a talented musician, and a witty conversationalist.

She knows that he has a way with words, having had conversations with him that lasted for hours. It wasn’t like they dated and all, but she often found herself in the company of the boy and his best friend, which happened to be her closest friend. From her experiences with this boy, she could actually say that he DID say the right things at the right time. And she has, infact, proven that he WAS every girls dream-come-true.

Yes, she admired the boy a lot. But, deep inside her was a struggle. She could never imagine bringing herself to love this boy. Indeed, he was inside her head whenever her mind was idly waiting for something. But, he wasn’t inside her head when she prayed at night; he wasn’t the one she thought about calling up when she felt everything went wrong; he wasn’t the one who pops up when she needs someone to hold on to; he wasn’t the one she has known all her life; no, he wasn’t the one she thought she could love forever.

Indeed, he wasnt the one she thought she could ever love. He wasn’t the one who told her that there was a surprise waiting for her in this park. He wasn’t his best friend.

For a moment, while she was staring into his eyes, she thought that maybe this was what her closest friend wanted. He placed his arm behind her, and she lay her head on his shoulder. She knew he wouldn’t see her face. A tear fell from her eye as the first star twinkled above them.