Feelings
An exercise in futility
By Emmanuelle
If she did not switch off the lights and if she did not turn down the earphones, she would not have seen and she would not have heard the little girl crying. In the rain. At ten in the evening.
As it was, without the drums in her ear, May did hear other sounds. But only after she pushed the curtains aside to let in the smell of the rain, did she see. Across the fence, down to the neighbor’s yard.
The little girl was huddled unto herself, chin and cheeks tucked between her knees, arms wrapped tight around her legs. She crouched under the kaimito tree, and if the streetlight were not bright and did not reach far into the yard, she would have been lost among the shadows.
The child’s grandparents took turns haranguing the child, calling her back to the house, threatening all sorts of unimaginable punishment if she did not. She did not.
May sighed. How many times had she advised, had even warned the grandparents and their son who had fathered the child? She had lost count.
And now, not only the count did she lose. She loses control of herself.
Her room is at the front corner of the high second floor. She grasps the sill so as not to fall off the window. She stands tall as to be heard loud from across.
She screams: If you cannot take care of your grandchild, give her to someone who can! Give her over to here! That child is the saddest child I had ever seen! In this street, even in this town! At sa gitna pa ng ulan!
After which explosion, May clamps both hands to her mouth, her face. She falls back to the room. The old couple must have been shocked as well. The other neighbors, too. One after the other, volume knobs were being turned down the better to hear.
May blesses the darkness in her room. She is sure she must be blushing in rage and embarrassment for the scene she knew she just did. What scene? It was a spectacle! She is known as the friendliest and the most approachable person around. And what she just did was surely not very friendly and will definitely put a halt to all approaches. At least within the next two or ten years.
Through her fingers, she saw the grandfather rush out of his house. He grabs the child’s hand and drags her out of the yard, out of the gate.
May gathers her scattered wits. She picks up what is left of her dare. She rushes out of her room, fast down the stairs, out the front door and right smack to her gate. Alas, the gate was locked tight for the night!
May can not climb up the gate. It is taller than her, and sharp at the top. She grabs the bars. It is an exercise in futility. May can not possibly bend these to her will. Each bar is half as thick as her arm.
The grandfather rushes past, the grandchild stepping fast after him.
Where are you going, old man? Where do you bring the child at this time of the night? May screams after him.
The old man looks back. To her father. He plays mahjong at somebody’s wake.
She felt the old man would have preferred not to give her the pleasure of a reply. But he must have worried she would have screamed another explosion.
Since that night, the neighbors had been quiet. May is not sure if she should be thankful or be more bothered. Ikaw?
Share your Comments or Reactions
Powered by Facebook Comments
