Remembering

It was a good day, still. To Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag, it was still a good day. She was fired from her job for the nth time. And as she made her famous last look at the building she considered a mind jail, the sun was setting on her back. Thinking it was highly dramatic, she smiled to herself and secretly hoped that some Prince Charming would see her so beautifully backlighted and fall in love with her. That way, she would live happily ever after.

She packed her modest belongings into three bags, careful not to leave anything but dust in the humble, little room she rented for two months. She piled her books neatly in one big box, but after putting in the last one, she would feel that a book was missing and so she emptied the box again to double check. It took her two hours to secure the box again.

The taxi would be the last luxury she would give herself for the day. Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag knew that for the next few months or weeks, if she’s lucky, she would definitely live on a tight budget. But with all the things she was to carry home, she could imagine herself being ridiculed if she would ride a jeepney.

The weather bureau, PAGASA, announced that summer already ended. But the night was beautiful and warm; the silver new moon with its blank face was so bright that Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag thought it was right inside the taxi. The night sky was full of stars too, and though not a single one was falling, she made her wishes.

Earlier that day, their company announced that because of the Global economic crisis, it could not keep all of their employees. Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag shrugged at that because ever since the world began, or at least from the first day she joined the working force, there was never a year without crisis. She loved to think that her boss was just so dim-witted to blame the Global crisis instead of the gross mismanagement which made the company’s bankruptcy inevitable.

“We are here, miss. We are here,” the driver’s voice brought her back from her thoughts to the back seat of the taxi. Indeed, they had arrived at the Davao Overland Transport Terminal. Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag pulled a crisp 100-peso bill form her wallet and handed it to the driver.

“But Miss, you’ve paid already.”

Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag would have laughed if only she never saw the driver’s face. “What? When?”

“Earlier,” the man said. The old man’s voice was so certain but his face was actually confused. Ms. Gretchen would have loved to save a hundred pesos, but she knew she never paid yet, and that the amount would cost the old man 3 kilos of rice. She insisted on giving him the bill but the old man refused to take it.

“Just get off,” the old man sounded annoyed and yet something in his face bothered Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag. She thought the old man must be ill with some sort of a memory disorder. It took her time to unload her things, but she never felt muscle strain until the taxi went off.

At the same time, porters were rushing to pick her things and before they crowd her she found herself walking towards the entrance of the terminal, leaving four people arguing about her baggage.

The air conditioned bus to Tagum City was already starting to leave by the time Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag entered the terminal. It was already 8:45 in the evening and the next air conditioned bus would only leave thirty minutes after. It would only take two hours to travel home and 12 pm was never that late. However, Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag wanted to watch her favorite late night weekend soap opera around 11 pm. She was watching that program for a month now, and tonight was the last episode.

“Wait!” she was running after the bus and it did stop. Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag saw the porters rushing to her side with all her things. But it doesn’t look like those guys were so concerned about her leaving the things behind. They would not want boxes of God-knows-what. She thought, they were probably afraid she won’t be able to pay them.

Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag scrambled towards the bus but when the bus door opened, the bus attendant shook her head. “I’m sorry ma’am, we can’t take you in.” There was some sort of frown in the woman’s face.

“What? Is that a joke? The bus isn’t even full,” screeched Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag. Although she wasn’t sure that something weird was happening, she sensed the bad vibes. “Let me in.”

There was something so weird in the way the bus attendant turned her back. Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag didn’t have the wits to understand it at all but she definitely felt the creeps. Before she could even protest, the bus was off.

Even until the time that Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag was already seated in the next bus, she wasn’t able to think what exactly was wrong with everyone; the taxi driver won’t accept the fare, the bus attendant won’t let her in, and the porters, who were initially so concerned with money, helped her out with her things for free as they were so sorry about the first bus.

Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag actually asked herself when things suddenly seemed to be both working and not working for her at a time. It was always one or the other. It wasn’t both.

“Where to, miss?” the bus attendant asked her. Again, there was something creepy in the woman’s voice. She punched some holes on the ticket and handed it to Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag who was becoming more confused than ever. Why would the bus attendant know where exactly she’s headed? How come the woman cared to ask if she already knew?

“There is something in the night wind, don’t you think,” an old woman seated herself beside Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag.

The old woman smiled and there’s that creeps again in Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag’s spine. She was reminded of many fairytales and the many witches in those tales. Still, she tried to return the smile and finally for the first time in the entire evening, she felt the courage to oppose.

“There isn’t something. The night wind’s not even here,” she said wryly without looking at the old stranger beside her. There was only silence after that and Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag couldn’t think of anything but sleep. And so she slept but not for a very long time.

“We are here, miss. We are here,” the bus attendant was shaking her lightly and she can’t help but get irritated by it. “Get off, now.”

Although she did not realize it, Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag seemed to be under a spell. She stood without really waking, grabbed her bag and ordered the bus attendant to help her with her things. But when she finally stepped out of the bus, the bus attendant had the door closed immediately.

“Hey! My things!” Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag panicked. But the bus was already a long way off. She was now fully awake and aware that she was nowhere. She closed her eyes and started to knock her own head. “This is all stupid.”
She waited for anything, for anyone to come. From time to time, she grumbled to herself. What kind of highway this is? Why did they drop me here? Shouldn’t there be a ghost here to talk to?

“We are here, miss. We are here,” said a couple of voices from behind her. She jumped a bit. She heard that line three times now and she somehow expected that something weird was with it.

“Were you ghosts?” Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag snapped. She was surprised to see four men in tuxedos in a Philippine highway. If they were goons, they should’ve poked her side with something sharp right away. She really thought they were supernatural but she was way too irritated to be scared.

“Please come with us,” one of the tuxedo guys, the tallest of them, inched towards her. Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag backed off a bit although the guy seemed to be courteous in a very odd way. “We have orders.”

She couldn’t help her mouth from opening wide. All this time, she was really punked. Whoever was behind this prank, she swore to never forgive. “On whose orders? Were you guys some kind of intelligence or underground something?”

But the guys only looked at her as if she was some helpless victim willing to be dragged. Two of them pulled her by the arm to some distance and pushed her inside a black car. Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag realized that she never even noticed that there was a car somewhere near. Why do things and people came popping out of nowhere?

Everything in Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag’s life had been real. She was the sort of girl whose fantasies only revolved around TV soap operas. But, not a while ago, events seemed to have some twisted touch. As Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag sat sandwiched in between two thugs in tuxedos, she somehow felt that maybe, it was the start of some excitement in her life.

There was a ring. The tallest of the tuxedo guys picked up his phone. “Everything’s clear. We’re almost there.” Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag watched the guy slid his phone to his pocket and begin to realize something and laughed.

“What is that phone? Aren’t you guys supposed to use all those techy stuffs that CSIs use?”

The tallest of the guys sighed. He had a very serious face and immediately, Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag knew that he didn’t like the joke. “You watch too much TV, miss” said the guy.

No one seemed to talk for hours until they came to a house which was sort of grand in everyway except for the Christmas lights which hung on almost the entire structure. It was too Disneyland-ish. “What did they do to the house?”

Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag was so disappointed to see a beautiful house wrapped up in cheap yellow Christmas lights. Everything looked so bright against a very dark landscape. It was almost midnight.

“He’s waiting,” the tallest of the tuxedo thugs ushered Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag inside the house. She stepped into a circular hall, looked up and saw that the sky was the hall’s very own ceiling. For the first time that night, she liked something.

There was somebody somewhere. The tallest tuxedo thug immediately left when that presence was felt and Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag felt that creeps again.

“It’s been a long time.”
Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag turned her head and scanned the hall. At first she saw no one but, as the clouds moved and moonlight entered the hall, she saw at once a figure standing as if he’d conquered the world.

“Welcome back,” the figure said. At that, Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag’s brows arched. What did he say? What’s welcome back? Haven’t been here.

“You left, a very long time ago and there wasn’t a day I never waited for you,” the figure said it as if it explained any of the weird events that night.

Anyway, that was corny and Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag thought she’d die laughing. She dropped her bag on the floor and inched forward the stranger.

“Are you crazy or something?” She inched even closer. She never liked the idea of being wherever she is, and being with seemingly imaginary people and missing the last episode of her favorite soap. “This must make you come to your senses…you got the wrong girl,” she said and immediately after that prepared to launch a right hook on the figure.

The wind blew hard and clouds went away and moonlight streamed on the figure’s face. Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag’s right hook stopped in midair. She saw the face she couldn’t hurt. The figure was her first love.

Ten years ago, they’ve met in some college soccer field. They were classmates in some PE class. He introduced himself after kicking some ball and hitting Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag in the face. Months later, they were inseparable or at least, Ms. Gretchen thought so. But when Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag’s best bud Clarisse became interested in him, they’ve been worlds apart.

“This isn’t funny, Red.” Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag withdrew her hand and stood closely against him. The figure, which she called Red, seemed to have come from a distant world. He was staring at Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag without a hint of any emotion.

“Who is Red? Everyone was gone, duck-face. Your Red was gone.”

Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag looked up and saw that the figure who was once Red had now become somebody else. There seemed to be smoke coming into the hall which only blurs everything more. She tried to recall who first called her duck-face. When she figured it out, she looked at the figure once again and saw that it was he whom she remembered.

“What the…who are you? Why are you wearing faces? Is this your idea of a horror movie, huh?” Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag whimpered when she felt that the figure that was once Red and was now somebody else held her shoulders tightly. “Let go!”

“This is what you want in your heart. That somebody would come and sweep you off your feet.”

Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag brushed off the figure’s hand on her shoulders. She swore that if what was happening was some you-got-punked-show, then she wanted it all to be over now. She wanted the cameras revealed all at once.

“How could they run a show like this,” Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag’s nose was flaring. She wasn’t a pretty girl and she only got worse if she was angered. “You are trying so hard to be some Prince Charming.”

The figure walked across the room in dream-like manner. If only, its face doesn’t contort, then he would have made a nice Prince Charming. Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag wondered where some show got its concept and its pathetic actor. And why would it involve a jobless girl from some little city? Sometimes, she couldn’t help but think that maybe this was some prank in the internet that she took so seriously which eventually got her signed up to some dating stuff.

“You are right. I’m Prince Charming. Every girl’s romantic hope,” the figure said and now he was kneeling in front of Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag. From watching too much soap operas, she knew that the next thing would be this guy presenting her some ring from a box. She grew sick just thinking of it. Her tears were welling up on her eyes and the last thing she knew was that she tried to kick the figure but it was quick in evading.

“Stop being that kind of girl. Why would you do that to Prince Charming?” the figure smiled mischievously and every inch of his face hinted some sort of sarcasm. “You wished for me in every star. You called my name in the wind. Stop acting like you never want me. Years and years of your tears brought me here.”

Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag thought she’d die hearing those cheesy stuffs. The figure was circling, and circling around her; every minute the closer. “What do you want? White horse? Grand castle? Truth? Lies? I’ll show you everything. Just marry me,” said the figure. He said it as if all the skies would suddenly open. It was so creepy to hear.

“Why don’t you just show your fangs, Prince Charming? So that I won’t have to kick your face in its beautiful state.” Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag found it really awkward saying those words. She really thought that the whole event was televised and that viewers were now laughing at her corny statements.

The figure who was once Red, who was also somebody else and was now Prince Charming, laughed the kind of laugh you won’t like to hear in the dark. “Ah, people change!”

There was blue smoke in the hall again. It was so blue that it seemed like Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag was floating in some sky.

“Still, I don’t believe you have forgotten me,” remarked Prince Charming. At that moment, things happened. More blue smoke rose in the air and MS. Gretchen Q. Salag was coughing and suffocating. Her vision blurred and she felt dizzy and/or floating. “Say you do remember me…”

Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag knew that her eyes were closed. Yet, at the same moment she was wide awake in another time. Everything was so yellow and brown and old. She saw two kids on a wooden bridge; hand in hand and laughing gaily while watching sparrows dart across the yellow afternoon sky. The smell of rivers and Narra blooms hang in the air. Ms. Gretchen Q. Salag remembered now; in the beginning, there was only her and him and no one else.