Back Home
We were walking out of the cinematheque when Dana took a pack of cigarettes from her bag and held one at me. I smiled and shook my head.
Dana dropped her hand and smiled back. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Dana shrugged and placed the stick between her lips. The pack disappeared in her purse as quickly as it appeared. A lighter materialized on her hand
“I thought Davao implemented a smoking ban some years back?”
“Yeah, so watch out for me, will you?”
Dana cocked her head and lit the cigarette. It was dusk, and the street was empty except for the few people who watched the movie with us. My eyes lingered on a young boy in a dirty white shirt and slippers as he made it to the other side of the street.
This was not the first time I noticed the boy. I cannot help myself.
“¡Hola!”
The boy stopped in the middle of the street and looked back, confused. I waved my hand at him and repeated my greeting. ¡Hola!
The boy looked around him and then at me. He raised his hand slowly and waved back. I let out a laugh. The boy quickly stuffed his hand to his pocket and ran out of sight
“What the hell was that?”
I looked back at Dana and shrugged. “I don’t think that boy understands Spanish.”
“And?”
“The movie was in Spanish.”
Dana let out a sigh. “There were subtitles. Was he even with us?”
“I noticed him lingering in the lobby before the movie started. You didn’t see him?”
“No. Why would I?”
I placed my hand on Dana’s shoulder and let out a chuckle as I ruffled her hair with my other hand. The cigarette smoke drifted with her perfume. “Never mind. Where are we going, anyway?”
“It’s nearby. You will like it.”
Dana and I were childhood friends but it never occurred to me how little I remember of being with her. I mean, I’m sure we spent some time together when we were kids, but my mind seems to keep drawing a blank when I try to remember any specific memory.
Except one.
It was November, and when we were six. Our families, neighbors only across the street, decided to have an outing on Samal to celebrate my father’s birthday. There was lechon manok and liempo. I don’t know why, but that specific point stuck on my head.
Dana and I were skipping rocks on the ocean when she scooped some shiny object from the white sand. Dana held it out to the sun. It was a small pearl earring.
“It’s beautiful!” Dana cried.
I looked at my companion and saw the reflection of the pearl on her eyes. It was an odd feeling, even now, but I remembered thinking about my mother. I looked back at the cottage that we rented and caught my brother, Ric, looking at us. Dana and I were not too far away from the cottage. He waved his hand. I waved back.
Dana held the earring at me.
“How much do you think these costs?” I asked.
I was about to take the earring when she suddenly pulled her hand away. “No!”
“Huh?”
“You don’t get to sell it! I’m giving it to you!”
I laughed. “But I’m a boy! I don’t get to wear earrings.”
Dana stomped on the sand. “It doesn’t matter! Promise me you wouldn’t sell it!”
“Why don’t you take it for yourself then?”
“I don’t like it,” she said.
“But I don’t get to sell it?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Dana handed me the earring and I placed it on my pocket. Dana and I walked back to the cottage a little while after. It was nearly dusk. I remembered Dana laughing as she hit Ric with a piece of chicken on his head.
“The park?”
Dana nodded as she played around with an unlit stick of cigarette on her hand. The last one had been discarded a few minutes back. “This wasn’t here when you left
I looked around. It was big, for a park outside Metro Manila. There were a lot of trees and the grass in and around the oval was neatly trimmed. There was a building in the middle of the park with what looked to be an enormous hemisphere of crisscrossing steel as roof. There were odd sculptures around the place. Christmas lights hang from every branch and shrubbery.
There were a lot of people. Families and lovers and kids, mostly.
I took my phone from my pocket and snapped a picture.
Dana placed her arms behind her. “You like it?”
“Absolutely. Thank you
Dana held one of my hands and led me to what appeared to be a small gazebo beside the oval, partially hidden from view by some trees, accessible only by a rocky and narrow footpath. We could hear a group of young girls singing in the distance.
“They’re practicing,” Dana said.
I turned my head at her, confused.
“The girls,” Dana clarified, “They’re singing Christmas carols.”
I nodded and listened closely to the song. “Beautiful voices.”
“Why did you leave?”
I looked at Dana again and saw that she was smoking again. She had her face away from me. I could barely see her from the darkness. The sun had left the horizon.
“I think you know.”
“Fuck. I just lost two of my best friends in a span of a year. Why were you so selfish?”
I looked down and said nothing.
“They got the fucking cop, you know?”
“I do.”
Dana let out a small laugh as she shook her head. “Did you ever know about it?”
“About what?” I asked.
“Ric. The drugs. The fucking market he has right on our street.”
“No,” I said. I tucked my arms in my pockets and stood up. “I don’t know about it.”
We were leaving the park when Dana held out a small box toward me. It was enclosed in red and white wrapping paper finished with a white ribbon on top.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
Dana shot me a smile. “Happy birthday.”
“It isn’t my birthday.”
“I know.”
I took the small box and gave it a shake. It did not let out a sound.
“You’re really weird, Dana."
“I know,” Dana replied.
“Say,” I said, pocketing the box in my jacket, “Do you still have that cigarette? I could really use a smoke right now.”