Marven’s First Novel, chapter05

     The next day, early in the morning, Aldo went to the kitchen to have breakfast. As he was sipping a smoking hot black coffee, he again saw through the open door his mother chatting with Greta. This time, the latter was just wearing house clothes and seemingly not off to work. Aldo kind of guessed what she was there for. When she saw him, she smiled and said, “There he is,” and entered the house.

     “Is this about that thing again?”

     “Yes. Get up and let’s go claim your prize.”

     “You’re just making a child of me.”

     “No. It’s not like that.”

     The coffee was still burning Aldo’s tongue everytime he sipped; but as soon as he could handle the heat, he finished it straight and got up.

     Greta grabbed Aldo’s wrist to make sure he’s going. She only let go after saying goodbye to his mother, her aunt. And thus, they walked towards her house. When they got there and entered the door, Aldo saw, seated at the kitchen table, having breakfast, and then looking up at them, Greta’s husband, father-in-law, and sister-in-law.

     “Oh, it’s you,” the former said, addressing Aldo. “Come eat.”

     Greta, holding Aldo’s wrist again, led him to a chair and made him sit.

     “This is totally unnecessary,” Aldo remarked, smiling exasperatingly.

     After a few introductions and pleasantries, Greta directed the conversation to last night’s incident.

     “I said that?” the oldest man said.

     “Yes. And everybody heard you,” his daughter seconded. “Don’t you remember?” 

     “Let’s see.” The man took out his wallet from his back pocket and rummaged it. Upon seeing its contents (or lack thereof), his face changed. “Oops... We have a problem,” he said quietly. Then he took his wallet back to his back pocket and took hold of the cutleries to prepare to take a bite.

     His son observed it. “What’s the matter? Out of cash?”

     The man didn’t answer and just chomped a spoonful.

     “Let me see if we have some here.” Greta’s husband stood up and was about to mount the stairs leading to their bedroom, but his father, still chewing, signalled him to halt and go back to his seat. The young man obeyed.

     “I’ll think of something,” the oldest man said before chomping another spoonful, appearing perturbed.

     Greta and her sister-in-law appeared disappointed.

     Aldo felt a need to talk. “Uh... Excuse me, sir. You don’t have to worry about it. I totally understand. It was just a silly game and nothing serious at all. I really don’t need to be here.”

     “What do you do, young man?” the man asked in response, gaining momentum from Aldo opening his mouth.

     “Oh. Uh... Right now, I just stay at home.”

     “Hmm. I heard Greta talk about you, that you’re currently actively looking for work. Is that correct?”

     “Uh... Yes, sir. That’s correct.” 

     “Hmm...” He paused for a second. “I think I have an idea.” He paused for another second. “Good thing I just remembered that I have a few friends who own nice businesses in Manila. I can take you to one of them, and they might take you in without question because of me. Is it okay if I just do that for you instead of giving you cash?”

     “That would be very nice, sir.”

     “Problem solved!” Greta’s husband exclaimed after clapping his hand once.

     “Is the location preferable to you? It’s a little bit far from here. But that’s all I can offer you.”

     “Anywhere is good, I guess.”

     “The people there are nice. At least, those that I know. Once you’ve become friends with them, the distance won’t matter to you anymore. I’m telling you.”

     “If that is true, then good for you, Aldo,” Greta said.

     “Yes. You’ll do well there. They just have a simple office set-up and no toxic people whatsoever. At least, as far as I can remember. So, what do you think?”

     “Uh... I guess I’ll give it a try. Thank you, sir.”

     “All right. Thank you. My daughter and I leave for home at noontime. Greta will fetch you before we leave. Bring a copy or copies of your resume.”

     After eating breakfast, Greta walked Aldo to the gate. “I told you,” she said.

     Come past twelve, she fetched him, took her back to her house, and then led him to an already-revving car. All of them went inside and got ready to go. Greta sat in the backseat beside Aldo and her sister-in-law. Her husband is behind the wheel. Her father-in-law is on the other seat.

     The husband drove the car, as directed by his father, westwards of the metropolis. Finally, it was seen basking in the afternoon sun plying the Muelle del Banco Nacional along the Pasig River.

     In this version of Manila that Aldo found himself returning to, the city is what it is supposed to be, especially around that area, from Quiapo to Del Pan: classical and classy, as what ancient architects envisioned it to be. The street where they were, as were the other main thoroughfares in the area, goes both ways and was plied by private cars, delivery trucks, tall jeepneys, bicycles, standard motorcycles, and kalesas. No other types vehicles are allowed, especially ugly improvised ones. The street was lined up with no other kinds of buildings but neoclassical and other similar types. They are either ancient ones that are now fully restored or replicas of the same constructed recently. Either way, theirs are the only style that are allowed, not the box types and skyscrapers. Because the topography of the area simply does not call for the latter. They are not suitable. There are better places for them. Not that Manila is better. It may not be the best city in the country. But it has its own character which calls for a distinct form of architecture. Besides, Manila has ceased to be the business district of the olden days ever since modern needs have arisen and has now become more of a showcase of refined Filipino culture than anything. Thus, the gorgeous edifices spread all over downtown Manila that house different businesses as feasible are never higher than its cathedrals. In the past century, cathedrals served as the center of the activity of the community and the latter gather around under the bell. So does present commerce converge around them. People eat, shop, and and explore after going through some moments of meditation, for example.

     Going back, this version of Manila where this story takes place also has classic-styled bridges over the Pasig River; for example, McArthur, Jones, and Del Pan bridges. It also has esplanades along its waterways: the Pasig River up to its extension, Napindan River, and esteros de Binondo, dela Reina, and de Magdalena, to name only a few. And such a one full of activity Aldo saw at his left as he sits in the car. The car passed through the Jones Bridge tunnel, ascended the Muelle dela Industria, and, upon reaching the corner quay of the esplanade at the intersection of the Pasig River and Estero de Binondo, turned right to a two-lane street. The esplanade also turned right at least up until the Dasmariñas street, incorporated itself into the arched Dasmariñas Bridge, and descended into the other two-lane street, up until reaching the other corner quay on the other side, thus forming a u-shaped interruption but a pleasant one. In this version of Manila, the Muelle dela Industria is severed in half. Electricity and water lines are therefore adjusted accordingly. Because the corners serve as quays for water transportation. More than that, they superimpose the aesthetic mouth of Estero de Binondo as it goes out into the larger Pasig River, enhanced even more by the esplanade's ornate concrete balustrade. People can see it from the other side of the river or from up the Jones Bridge and find it a natural form in its right place, if not something pleasant to look at. In this version of Manila, no concrete jungle obstructs its full view as well as the Plaza Mexico on the other side opposite where Aldo is at. Thus, he can distinctly make out the statue and the obelisk in it which are also lit at night. Also, in this version of Manila, no gloomy concrete posts are staked into the riverbed of Estero de Binondo carrying a concrete road over the waterway, as if that road is useful in easing the traffic in the area.

     Going back, the car plied the other half, the almost-infinite half, of Muelle dela Industria on the other side until, at the father's gesture, it finally stopped in front of one of those neoclassical buildings that I mentioned. This one has 19th-century-styled lamp posts and signs, one of which, said Ocean Santiago Shipping Services. Now where this company took its name is, at the surface, very easy to explain. It is obviously in the business of traversing the oceans to get to the farthest islands of the country. Also, its premises happen to face the Fort Santiago on the other side of the river. Simply put together, Ocean Santiago. Makes sense, right? However, there is a varying opinion which says that one of the men there is actually named Ocean Santiago. If you still find that strange, maybe Ocean Santiago is none other than me. Again, these are just conjectures. Now into this office is where the Greta’s father-in-law intended to go.

     “Wait for us here,” the father said to the couple. Then he asked his daughter to come along. As the three alighted, Greta’s husband went on with the car and looked for the nearest smart parking rack, which, in this version of Manila, abounds in the inside blocks of the area, so that he can park his car properly and not be obstruction in the area's narrow roads. Meanwhile, the three approached the building, inquired of the guard, exchanged their valid IDs into visitor ones, and was then directed upstairs on the second floor.

     The father entered an office of a friend whom he shook hands with as he entered. Then he stated his reason and handed in Aldo’s resume. As they sat, the friends chatted first. Then the man behind the desk turned to Aldo and interviewed him as he glanced at his resume.

     At the end of the interview, the man behind the desk shook Aldo’s hand. Aldo thanked him and stood up and aside. The two middle-aged men resumed their chat for a few more minutes. After that, the father thanked him and already bade farewell. Then the three stepped out of the office and of the building. They found the couple outside by the esplanade in front of the building, resting their arms on the railings, gazing towards the river, and talking. When their footsteps were heard, the couple looked back at them.

     “It’s so very nice in here,” Greta said, smiling jubilantly.

     “Yes. Your cousin will love it here,” her father-in-law answered.

     “So what happened?” 

     “He’s in.”

     “Great.”

     “Congratulations, man,” Greta’s husband said.

     “Thank you for doing this, sir,” Aldo said.

     The car then resumed plying the streets and then finally stopped at the father’s house. The father invited the three to have a few more drinks. They came in, and the five chatted a little bit more. Afterwards, the three finally bade farewell and then went home.

     After a few days, Aldo could now be seen clasping a brown envelope at the facade of a government building on a bright and windy afternoon at about 2 o’clock. He went down the steps. But instead of going back to the main avenue, he went the other way and took the streets that lead to a narrow provincial road in the middle of a vast ricefield. Earlier, he took a circuitous route, taking two rides along the main avenues of the city. Now he decided to go on foot through a straight line in the most-rural part of the town. He was feeling good, and the fair weather proved to be very-stimulating to his senses.

     After taking a thousand steps along the almost-endless farm road, he finally reached a brook whose streams flow into the lake. He crossed it by stepping on the stones. On the other side is another vast ricefield. It is parched and golden because summer was just about to be over. He traced the vague cleft of trampled scorched grain that ran diagonally across the square embankments of the field. Up above, he saw the brilliantly-blue sky, the cotton-like cumulous clouds, and birds that fly in v-formation; and from a distance, he saw a wall of tall grasses.

     When he neared the end of the field, he saw emerging from the grass three shirtless teenage boys who carried in their hands their upper garments. They went his way, tracing the path he was also tracing. From that distance, he could hear their voices talking loudly to each other which became more and louder as they came closer to him. When he came across them, he saw that they were wet all over, including their disheveled hairs, as if they dipped and bathed themselves in a river. He kept his eye on the spot the youths emerged from and marked it. When he reached this jungle of tall grasses, he entered the passageway the youths took which turned out to be some sort of maze because the path curved here and there. He hugged his envelope with one hand and brushed aside the blades of grass with another. When he came out, he saw, beyond, the gleaming surface of a river. He finally reached a river bank. Could this already be the body of water that terminates the land mass, in which, his community is situated? He is yet to find out. This river seems also to flow into the big lake to his left because he could see nothing there but an empty horizon. This must be the place those kids bathed in. If not exactly where he stood, maybe somewhere near the lake or in the lake itself.

     At the edge of the opposite bank stood an array of short trees. Beyond is a lush meadow of short compact grasses and purple blossoms. A few steps to his right is a bare wooden bridge that has no rails and whose surface consisted of intermittently-spread lumber bars. He approached and climbed this bridge, did a careful balancing act as he crossed, and, upon reaching its end, jumped into safety because it was really scary using that bridge. Then, impelled by adrenaline but for the most part just acting like a buffoon, he rolled his entire length on the bed of grass, taking care to not let his documents be creased, and finally stopped flat with outstretched arms, facing the sky and still holding his envelope. As he settled for about ten seconds, he became aware of the fatigue and cramps that his muscles were already experiencing, as he has already covered such a considerable distance. He decided to stay down and rest. He breathed hard and did inhale and exhale so obvious. He perspired and felt hot and sticky, but this was stunted a little bit by the fresh wind that blew gently and lullingly, inviting him into a golden slumber. He smelt the odor and felt the sharp blades of the grass that caused his dusty and salted skin to itch. He meditated on the vastness of the sky for a few minutes. Then looking left and right, he saw up close the flowers and the grass sway into each other by the force of the gentle swishing breeze and form wavy lines by the reflection of the sunlight. He took a considerable time observing this.

     Then he stood up, laid down his envelope, walked towards the river, and approached one of the short trees and climbed it, up to where the branches can maintain his balance and carry his weight. Once settled, he stood straight, spread his arms, closed his eyes, and breathed the fresh air. Then he opened his eyes and saw in front of him the wall of tall grasses that stood like reeds of the ancient Nile, the river below, the birds and the clouds above, and at a distance to his right the lake sitting at the feet of the mountains. The sun was shining on his back; and at this angle, the nature before him certainly evoked tranquility. When he thought he had had enough of meditating, he descended the tree, walked towards the envelope, picked it up, and continued walking.

     As he traversed the meadow, he continued to see the wavy lines created by the breeze and the sun. Eventually, the lush field slowly transitioned and gave way to a ground of cracked dry mud that still had a few outgrowths of grass then and there. Yonder stood a hut whose inhabitants——a father, a mother, a little boy, and a teenage girl——were loitering around in their yard near an improvised net made of straw made for crawling plants. They also had a garden around their house and a dug-out well as a water source, not for drinking. When he came near the house, he instinctively confidently greeted the family a good afternoon who surprisingly cordially greeted him back.

     “Just passing by, sir,” he added, addressing the father, feeling a need to explain. “I just came from town for this.” He lifted his envelope. “I just walked.”

     “Ah,” the father replied.

     Aldo continued walking and encountered a few more villagers who were spending leisure hours by their huts or tending their garden. He no longer greeted them because he thought he already fulfilled that part.

     As he continued, a dirt road formed from the field of clay, on which, he walked along until he reached its end that sloped towards the elevated soil. When he has ascended it and saw its familiar surrounding, he felt sure that he was already nearing home.

     At that point, he again became conscious of the fatigue, particularly of his legs. His throat is parched, and he is now in the condition wherein he might perhaps be able to consume gallons of cold water. He was perspiring, but it was dried a little bit by the fresh wind at the meadow.

tentatively titled, “Rolling on the Meadow”

from The Simple Adventures of a Simple Simpleton

by: Marven T. Baldo