by J. E. Park
It was getting late, so the jeepney stop was filling up quicker. At least this time, it was not all couples. A single Marine, drunk and happy, showed up with the crowd and took a seat across from me. Seeing I was by myself, he said, “I know a smart man when I see one. You doing a ‘short-time’ tour out here too?”
I shook my head. “Naw, I’m just out here visiting a friend.”
The Marine squinted. “Oh yeah! I saw you at the Pagoda! You were talking to Tala!”
I took another look at the leatherneck and recognized him. He was the guy that Tala told to wait a minute when she came out of the back to see me. I nodded to him that he was right.
“Man, is she good or what? You ever have her do that thing where…”
“No, I haven’t,” I interrupted. “I’ve never been with her that way.”
The Marine looked at me like that did not compute. “Oh. Then how do you know her?”
“We’re neigh…” It came out before I realized that Tala would probably not appreciate me telling one of her customers that I knew where she lived. “We’ve seen each other around.”
“You a squid?” the leatherneck asked next. “I’ve never seen you here. You come in on the Belleau Wood?”
I nodded, grateful to change the subject. “How about you?”
“I’m at the barracks here in Subic, attached to A Company. I’m on the security detachment. I’ll be leaving with you guys, though. You’re dropping us off in Okinawa.”
“Cool. You been here a while?”
“More than three years.” Leaning forward and sticking out his hand, the Marine introduced himself. “I’m Terry Mulvaney.”
“Ah, a fellow Mick,” I replied, shaking his hand. “I’m Doyle Murphy.”
Mulvaney grinned. “Man, you can’t get a more Irish name than that.”
Subic Bay Marines tended to be a severe lot by nature. Mulvaney was an exception. He was laid back and very talkative. As we waited for the next jeepney to arrive, the lance corporal gave me the rundown on Baloy Beach. He talked about its girls, its gangsters, its heroes, its villains, and all the little peculiarities that gave it its notoriety.
The Marine also told me many stories about an infamous member of the Armed Forces Police Department, a guy they called “Olongapo Earp.” To hear Mulvaney tell it, this guy was a cross between Dirty Harry and J Edgar Hoover. I kept the fact that he was talking about my boss to myself, hoping it would keep him from censoring what he said to me.
The leatherneck told me a story about how Olongapo Earp broke a Marine major’s jaw for resisting arrest in the 1970s. He recounted it with such detail that I would have suspected he had seen it himself. Considering both of us would have been in elementary school at the time, it was unlikely he would have been an eyewitness. Mulvaney also claimed Earp single-handedly brought down a ring of sailors smuggling heroin out of Vietnam toward the end of the war. He also said it was Earp’s contacts in the NPA who tracked down a group of militants that shot four airmen to death outside Clark Air Base in the mid-1980s. Word had it that he persuaded the communists to execute the killers and dump their bodies in front of the main gate as a show of contrition. When it came to my master chief, Terry Mulvaney seemed like a pretty big fan. I wondered if he knew his idol was back in Subic Bay for a few weeks.
Usually, non-stop talkers like Mulvaney drove me crazy, but at least this one never seemed to run out of interesting things to say. He did stop for breath once we reached Magsaysay, though. As we got out of the jeepney, he asked, “You going back to your ship now?”
“Nah, I have to catch the green line,” I said, naming the color of the jeepney that would take me home.
“Oh yeah? Me too,” the Marine said.
“Really? Where are you going?”
“All the way to the end of the line.”
“To the Balanga Bus Terminal?” I asked.
Mulvaney nodded. “Yeah, I got a place on the other side of the Santa Rita River, up in Gordon Heights. I have to catch a bus to get that far up.”
I had no idea where Gordon Heights was. I had never heard of it. “Sounds like a haul. Why you living so far north?”
“It's not that far. From here, it's no further than Baloy Beach. I live up there because it’s cheap. The further away from the base you go, the lower the rents. As a bonus, my old lady is far enough away that she doesn’t catch wind of my trips to the Pagoda.” The Marine laughed as if cavorting with prostitutes behind his girlfriend’s back was hilarious. He cut it short when he noticed that I was not laughing with him. Changing the subject, Mulvaney asked, “So, you’re on the Belleau Wood, huh? You know anything about that guy that got murdered?”
Even though it was a question that hit me like a slap across the face, I played it cool. “You heard about that?”
Mulvaney looked at me like my IQ had dropped 50 points. “It’s been all over the news.”
“No shit?” That surprised me. I had not heard a thing about it since it happened. But then again, I had not laid eyes on a television set since we had left Japan.
As we boarded our jeepney, I told my new friend how we interrupted the beating that claimed Miller’s life. While doing so, I was flirting with triggering another one of my episodes. As we arrived at my place, I felt myself starting to slip into my underwater world. I shouted at the driver to stop and let me off.
“This where you’re staying?” the Marine asked as I stood up to leave.
I nodded my head. “Yeah, this is my stop. I’ll catch you later. It was nice meeting you.” I was having a hard time concentrating.
“Yeah,” Mulvaney answered. “Likewise. I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I felt my sweat pores open up as I rushed to my building. My hands were trembling so much I could barely get the key in the gate to let myself in. I looked up at my apartment and saw that the lights were all off. I was relieved that I would be able to deal with my breakdown alone.
Had I not been so preoccupied with keeping myself together enough to get off of the street, I might have had more time to think about the conversation I had with Terry Mulvaney. I might have picked up that something was not quite right about the lance corporal.
Instead, I forgot the man immediately after stepping off of the jeepney. I spent that night writhing in bed, tortured by images of Miller’s open skull ripping through my mind. I was far too preoccupied with that for it to occur to me that I had just been followed home.
*****
CHAPTER 14
S ergeant Rico Tejada came through as only Rico Tejada could. Within forty-eight hours of meeting the officer in Barrio Barretto, Darrow came up to me after roll call and told me that TJ had found a dentist for Mari. My master chief also said that the policeman had gotten me an excellent deal. As an added bonus, both he and TJ would be picking us up to get the little girl’s teeth fixed as soon as Mari got home from school.
“Seriously?” I asked Darrow. “I just met the man. Why is he going through all this effort for me?”
Darrow shrugged. “He’s seen that you’re different than the rest of us. Instead of drinking and whoring, you’re out here immersing yourself in the culture and trying to help someone. He’s impressed. TJ talked to his superiors, and they agreed to split the cost of fixing Mari’s teeth as a community outreach initiative. Congratulations.”
Unable to believe my luck, I asked if there was anything I could do for Sergeant Tejada in return. After a moment’s thought, Darrow asked, “You used to work in a restaurant, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I worked in a barbecue joint in Wyandotte, Michigan.”
“Perfect,” Darrow said. “TJ’s a big fan of American-style ribs. I saw a grill in your courtyard. Have him over for some grub this weekend. Invite your neighbors, too. Make it a party.”
Grinning, I said, “That sounds like a good idea. I’ll do that on Saturday.”
Darrow shook his head. “Actually, TJ and I already made plans to scout out Pagsanjan on Saturday.
One of the Belleau Wood canoe trips is heading that way. I want to be there to make sure none of the guys end up where they’re not supposed to be. I was hoping that you were coming too.”
“Count me in,” I told him.
When I got home, I was disappointed to learn from Mahal that Tala would not be there to go with us to get Mari’s teeth fixed. “She working very hard,” the woman said, apologizing for her roommate. “When da Americans go, we all no have work. She try to make money so dat she and Mari can no be hungry when da base close.”
TJ and Darrow got to my place at about two in the afternoon. A half-hour later, Mari came home and was surprised to see us in the courtyard waiting for her. Despite the pain she was in, my little friend was not very excited about getting her teeth worked on. Like any other kid, Mari knew going to the dentist could hurt. Being eight-years-old, she was also fuzzy about the concept of short-term pain for long-term gain. TJ had to bribe her to get into his Jeep, promising to drive with the lights and siren on, something Mahal seemed to enjoy more than Mari did.
The dentist discovered that Mari needed a lot of work. He pulled a couple of her baby teeth and capped a couple of others. We ended up being there for hours. When we got back home, Mari was miserable. And hungry.
“Don’t you think it will hurt to eat?” I asked her, struggling through my Tagalog as she took a seat at the picnic table in the courtyard.
The little girl nodded. “But I think I can eat Jolly Spaghetti.”
I looked over at Darrow and TJ. “Jolly Spaghetti?”
My master chief laughed. “Yeah, it’s a kid’s dish from Jollibee.” Jollibee was a local Philippine fast-food chain. It was a cross between Kentucky Fried Chicken and McDonald’s. There was one on Magsaysay right across from the Shit River bridge.
“You ply, I buy?” Mari asked in English, remembering the phrase I taught her a couple of days before.
TJ erupted into laughter. “No! No! I buy! You ever try Jollibee, Doyle?” After I shook my head, the policeman said, “You gonna love dey’s chicken! I gonna bring us all back some.”
After TJ and my master chief left, Mahal excused herself and went to get some rest before work. Once she was gone, I looked down at Mari and asked, “Do you want to go inside and watch TV until our food gets here?”
The little girl shook her head. “No, there’s nothing on for kids until Saturday.”
“Oh.” I thought for a moment. “You want to draw with your chalk?”
“No. Could you sit here and talk with me?”
“Me?” I asked. “Not Mahal? She speaks Tagalog better than I do.”
“Mahal and my mother are always tired. They work very late. My mom works all the time and is never home. You are the only one who talks to me.”
In Tagalog, it only took eight words to say that last sentence, Ikaw lang ang talagang nakikipag-usap sa akin. They had a profound effect on me, though. Despite the nightmare that was my own childhood, at least I had never wondered about my mother’s love. She and I took the brunt of my old man’s abuse, so she made the effort to ensure that I never doubted how much she cared for me. I always had her attention, right up until the day my father murdered her. When Mari told me that I was the only one she had to talk to, it broke my heart to think she felt neglected.
I wondered about Mari’s father, but knowing the line of work her mother was in, I dared not ask. I was curious if Mari and her mother had any other family. I wondered if anyone thought about where they could be or what they were doing. Was there anyone out there who missed them? Could it really have only been the two of them? Mari was such a sweet kid, and she was loved. I saw that in how distressed Tala looked at the Pagoda when she heard something might be wrong with her daughter. I had heard that most of the women working Olongapo’s bars sent their children to live with relatives. Why had Tala not? Were they like me and had no family to go back to?
“I’m the only one who talks to you?” I asked Mari. “If that were true, you would be driven crazy with boredom by now.”
After correcting all the mistakes I made telling her that, she said, “Tell me about your family. Back in America.”
I sighed. “I don’t have one. They all died when I was thirteen.”
Mari gasped. “Your mom too?”
I nodded and saw Mari’s eyes well up. I could tell that she was picturing what her life would be like without her own mother. Mari did not see Tala much, but the thought of losing her was too much for her little head to process.
“Hey, Mari,” I said, trying to soothe her. “It’s okay. That happened a long time ago, and things got better. Things always get better as long as you never give up.” I then went on to tell her how, after I lost my family, I worked hard to get through school and made it into the Navy. Then, to answer the question on my mind, I asked Mari about her mother’s family.
“She doesn’t have anybody either,” the little girl told me.
“No parents? No grandparents?”
“I don’t know. She never talks about her life before me. Doyle, are you happy being alone?”
I let out another long sigh. “Not really.”
“Do you want to have a family someday?”
I nodded. “Someday. You know, a few months ago, I was engaged to be married.”
Mari’s eyes perked up. “Really? What happened?”
I sugar-coated my answer. I told her that we realized that the two of us had different views on certain things and knew that getting married would be a mistake. So, we decided to go our separate ways. Well, Hannah decided to, anyway. I would still marry her in a minute if she showed up and told me she changed her mind.
“Are you sad that you did not get married?” Mari asked.
“Yeah, I am,” I confided. “I kind of got my hopes up that I would finally have a family.”
“My mom is always sad, too,” Mari told me before I could change the topic. “She pretends to be happy when she’s around me, but she hides and cries a lot. Especially when she thinks I’m sleeping.”
Swallowing hard, I tried to think of something to say but came up short. Of course, eight-year-old girls rarely have a shortage of things to talk about, and Mari immediately came up with the perfect solution to all our problems. “Doyle, why don’t you be with my mom? If you don’t have anyone and she does not have anyone, we can all get together and have each other!”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Mari was sitting there staring at me with so much hope in her eyes that I could not bring myself to dash it. Fortunately, I was saved by the sound of someone pounding on our security gate. Relieved to get out of such an uncomfortable conversation, I excused myself, thinking Darrow and TJ needed to be let in with our food.
The person at my gate was not who I was expecting. Judging by the haircut, I guessed that he was a Marine, but not one as congenial as Mulvaney had been the other night. This guy was all business. He looked like he could bench-press a cow with far less effort than it would take for him to spell it. “Can I help you?” I asked.
“Yeah, you can let me in,” the Marine slurred, his breath already heavy with San Miguel beer.
“No, I’m afraid I can’t,” I told him. “You don’t live here.”
“I’m visiting someone,” he growled.
“Yeah? Who?”
“Tina. Or Tala. Whatever name you know the slut by. Open the fuckin’ gate.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” I mumbled to myself. The conversation I had with Mulvaney played through my head, and I put together all the warning signs.
“Oh yeah!” I remembered Mulvaney saying. “I saw you at the Pagoda! You’re Tala’s friend!” He had referred to her by her real name, not her bar name. He knew her.
I also remembered his answer when I asked him how far up the green jeepney route he was going. He told me, “All the way to the end of the line.” Of course, he was. He wanted to see where I got off.
I remembered Mari telling me that they moved so far from Magsaysay to avoid someone. I assum
ed that the man beating on the gate was that guy, and Mulvaney was the prick who told him where to find his former girlfriend. Mahal opened up her door to see what the racket was, and screamed when she saw who was at the gate. That confirmed my suspicions.
Mahal ran down the steps and grabbed Mari, picking her up and carrying her to their apartment. She then locked the door behind them. This agitated the leatherneck, who began beating on the gate with more urgency, yelling at Mari to come see him. When they were gone, he started screaming at me. “Let me in! Let me in, goddammit!”
“Fuck off.”
“You want me to kick this motherfucking gate in? Is that what you want me to do?”
With a shrug and a smile, I dared him to. “Go ahead and try.”
The Marine did, and I quickly discovered that the faith I put in our security fence was grossly misplaced. The gate gave way on the third kick, as did my cocksure grin. Not only did the lock disintegrate, but the bar it was latched to broke in half as well, allowing the intruder to march right in.
“Hey! You fucking stop right there, goddammit!” I yelled. “That’s an order!”
The jarhead sneered. “Who the fuck do you think you are to give me orders, squid?”
“I’m an E-5! Same as a Marine sergeant…” The Corps was full of lance corporals. A man had to have brains to get promoted in the Marines, so I was confident that the knuckle-dragging drooler breaking into our yard was at best an E-3.
The leatherneck threw his arm out and batted me out of his way. “So what? I don’t take orders from faggot sailors…”
I leapt up and jumped on the intruder’s back, throwing an arm across his throat. I was trying to put him in one of those chokeholds Master Chief Darrow used on me when I got out of control. It didn't work. The Marine bent himself over at the waist and threw me over his head, knocking the wind out of me as I landed on my back. After clocking me in the ribs for good measure, he continued to the stairway that led up to the girls’ apartment. “TALA!” he screamed.
“Jesus Christ,” I gasped, struggling for air. Oddly enough, I was not thinking about how to stop the Marine at that point. I was wondering how long I had been in the Philippines. It was less than a week at that point. During that time, I nearly got into a fight with Palazzo and was assaulted by the ex-wife of the shipmate I crippled the year before. Then I was almost robbed by a local street gang after passing out on Baloy Beach. Now I found myself in the middle of a domestic dispute between a prostitute and her insane ex-boyfriend. I doubted that I had the stamina to keep that tempo up until the end of the month.