By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

IN the middle of transporting pails of water to the front garden, a dear friend Fe Mangahas called on the phone. She wanted us to pay our respect to a mutual friend, Dick Malay who passed on last 05 February 2022. I told her I will be done with all my assigned tasks by 4:00 p.m., and she told me, that she already bought flowers and have the address. It is already February 9 and I thought it was late for a wake. In any case, I agreed to her suggestion to take a cab and fetch her at her condominium. Two empty cabs passed by but they did not stop when I asked them to turn around so I can take the shortcut to Victoria Tower 1.

A few minutes later, the second cab who did not want to stop turned around realizing that there is a long line of vehicles in the route he chose. He stopped and I got in. Fe was already at the lobby. She instructed the driver where to go.

“15 Gen de Jesus Heroes Hill Brgy Sta. Cruz Quezon City, take the street going to Shakey’s.”

“Why is the body in his house? Are you sure his body is not in a funeral parlor? Did you speak to anyone to find out?”

“I don’t know. I assumed his body was brought home. And nobody was answering in the phone of the Malays.”

The driver wants to know if we turn right or left. Fe makes a guess, to the left. But there were several streets on the street we took, so we had to ask the man sitting in what looks like a guard post. Finally, we were directed to the street, on the last house to the right. Fe instructed me to ring the doorbell.

“Dito po ba ang wake ni Dick Malay?” (Is this the house for the wake of Dick Malay?)

“Ay, hindo po, bahay po ito ni Congressman Satur Ocampo at ang maybahay niya, si Bobby Malay.” (No, this is the house of Congressman Satur Ocampo and his wife, Bobby Malay).

“Saan po ba ng wake?” (Where is the wake?)

“Nasa morgue pa po ang bangkay, sa Tondo. Bukas pa po ang cremation.” (His body is still in the morgue, in Tondo. He will be cremated tomorrow.)

Sino po pwede makausap, yung anak po ba niya nandiyan? (Who can we talk to, is his daughter home?)

Sa 15-C po bahay nila. Andun po anak niya, pero baka di rin ninyo makausap. (He lives at 15-C. His daughter is there, but you may not be able to talk to her.)

Nevertheless, I knocked. No one was answering the door, so I peeped. Not a soul. I went back to the cab. Fe handed over the flowers to me so we could leave them with the lady who talked to us.

“Sino po sila? Pwede pong pakisulat yung pangalan ninyo?” (May I know your name, please. Please write down your name.)

And she hands over a piece of paper for Fe to write down her name. The driver smiled, and Fe, feeling guilty with the run around, apologized to the driver and told him that she will pay on top of the metered price. We landed at Tsoko.Nut Batirol, beside Marina Seafood Restaurant where we shared a plateful of bam-i (mixed seafood noodles), tea and barako coffee. It is possible Dick joined us, but sipped his cup quietly. He would have preferred Annabel Lee Café where he could sing, or Red Roof QC, for the jazz and the blues, places he planned to take us before his voice was taken away from him.

I dropped Fe at her condo, and arrived home at 7:30 p.m., a good three hours of sharing the colorful life of a dear friend. Fe and I did not attend a wake, we celebrated the memories. We had a good laugh remembering his gentleness, and the unabashed eroticism of his name.

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