My Fate According to the Butterfly

by Gail Villanueva

  “We’re already here.” Pepper looks at the security guard standing beside us. Ate Nadine promised the man fifty pesos to watch over us while we wait. “It’ll get better when we’re on the train.”

  My eyes narrow. How does she know? Just like me, Pepper’s never been on the MRT before. Ate Nadine asked us if we prefer to ride a taxi, but the train sounded more fun. After all, I only ever see it from the highway. Mom once said we are lucky we can afford to avoid taking the MRT—as if the train is a last-resort kind of thing.

  Well, if I’m dying, I might as well try something that’s different, right?

  Wrong.

  This MRT idea is a bad idea that’s becoming badder by the second. I can totally understand why Mom never considered it an option for me.

  “You look like Ate Nadine when you make that face. Chill out. It’s part of the experience. If you back out now, you’ll waste the time Ate Nadine spent lining up for our tickets,” Pepper says. She has a good point. My sister will be furious if I say I changed my mind. Pepper purses her lips. “Focus, Sab. We’re here to find out stuff about your sister and your papa.”

  Through the window, I see the EDSA freeway below. Cars and buses are moving at a snail’s pace. Some honk their horns, while idling jeepneys blast loud rap music. Above the noise, a conductor shouts their routes to passing pedestrians.

  I have to be honest. I worry what Romeo Gamelon will say. Part of me wants to let it be, to go back home and just enjoy my remaining days if I really am to die. But I don’t want to end up like that man in the Butterfly article, to die sad and desperate because of unfinished business.

  As I take a deep breath, I accidentally inhale a cloud of dust and end up in coughing fit.

  “Do you need your inhaler?” Pepper thumps my back, reaching for my bag. “I’ll get it.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Pepper brings out my inhaler from my backpack anyway, forcing it into my hand. “Take it.”

  I put the puffer in my mouth, inhaling the bitterness of asthma medicine. It relieves the tension in my chest but not the enormous worry building in my gut.

  “Are you okay, Sab?” Ate Nadine appears in front of us. There are so many people, we didn’t notice her coming. “Can you breathe?”

  All I can do is nod. I really don’t want to inhale smoke again.

  “It’s the pollution. I made her take it just in case. The dust is unbelievable,” Pepper says, wrinkling her nose. Pepper puts the inhaler back in my bag and studies Ate Nadine. “What happened to you?”

  My sister’s usually miraculous hair sticks out in odd places, like a web woven by a drunken spider. Sweat drenches the front of her shirt. She looks as though she’s been through a catfight, or wrestled a lion.

  “Don’t ask.” Ate Nadine winces as she gives the security guard fifty pesos. She glances over her shoulder and gives us a couple of plastic cards. “Your tickets. Don’t lose them. I went through Hell for those.”

  The MRT ticket reminds me of a credit card but more decorative. There’s fancy art on one side and a line map showing train stops. It says that from our location, we’ll have to go through five stops before reaching our destination, the Ayala station.

  I notice Ate Nadine is holding an extra card. “Who’s that for?”

  “Over here!” Ate Nadine calls, waving her hand at somebody among the cluster of people at the ticket booth. “I got your ticket.”

  A familiar, good-looking guy emerges from the crowd. “Hello.”

  Jepoy.

  Or rather, Kuya Jepoy. He’s really not my brother, but he’s older than I am. It’s only right to refer to him with respect—even if I did accuse him (without saying it aloud, of course) of being a thug out to hurt my sister.

  My worries dissolve. I raise an eyebrow. “Why is he here? Is he going to be our bodyguard again?”

  I’m not being rude. I’m curious. What is Kuya Jepoy doing here?

  Ate Nadine gives me a warning look. “I told you, he’s helping me with my article. He’s meeting a source for me, since I have to go to this silly museum with you. Now be quiet and be nice.”

  Before I can say anything else, Ate Nadine is already guiding us through the ticket terminal. She keeps her grip tight so we won’t be swept away by the throngs of people eager to board the train.

  “I don’t get it.” Pepper wipes sweat off her brow when we reach the platform. “Why do you have to pay the guard for something that he’s supposed to do? Papa says bribery like this can get you arrested.”

  “Not in the Philippines.” Ate Nadine pulls us closer to her, even though it’s pointless. Pepper and I aren’t going anywhere. There are so many people on the platform we can barely move an inch. “It’s not an excuse to perpetuate this culture of corruption, but sometimes, you do what you have to do.”

  The rails rattle loudly as the train arrives. There’s a sound like steam being released, which Ate Nadine says is the MRT’s brake system. The car doors open, and everyone hurries in.

  “Ate—”

  “Hold tight, Sab. Pepper, take my other hand! Jepoy—”

  The sealike current of human bodies carries us to the nearest car, separating us from Kuya Jepoy. Before we can enter, an attendant steers us to a different car. He says this one is reserved for women, children, senior citizens, people with disabilities, and “pretty girls” like Pepper. I doubt we’d get such special treatment if my friend hadn’t been white. Because, in a country of brown-skinned Filipinos, white people “deserve” only the best.

  Refusing this privilege would have been the right thing to do. It’s not fair to everyone else who is squeezing themselves into the more crowded cars. But like Ate Nadine said, you do what you have to do. I just want to get on the train and leave this horrible station.

  “Jepoy! Please text me when you get the medical research. The doctor said he’ll leave it with his secretary. Babayaran na lang kita.” Ate Nadine calls out that she’ll pay him back, as he’s ushered to another car.

  Kuya Jepoy doesn’t get to answer, because the doors finally close. I breathe a huge sigh of relief.

  “This isn’t so bad—” I turn to face Pepper as a woman’s elbow collides with my nose. “Ow!”

  “Are you okay?” Ate Nadine tries to examine my face, but she’s pinned between a lady and her friend.

  “I’m fine, Ate.” It’s not entirely true. My nose doesn’t hurt much, but I feel like I’m going to suffocate to death.

  I thought it’d be fun, riding the train like Harry Potter going to Hogwarts. But no. Riding the MRT is one of the worst ideas ever. I should have risked Ate Nadine’s ire and backed out when I had the chance.

  The train stops, opening its doors for more people to come in.

  Really?

  “We’re now at Ortigas station, Sab,” Ate Nadine says, pulling Pepper and me close. More people wedge themselves inside the car. “If you want to take a cab, we’ll have to get off at Shaw.”

  By “Shaw,” Ate Nadine means Shaw Boulevard, where the MRT station connects to a mall. According to the map on our ticket, it’s the next station coming up.

  “Up to you,” Pepper mumbles, trying to keep her face away from an old lady’s exposed armpit.

  Funny. Moments ago, she convinced me not to back out. I don’t mean to be petty, but I’m icky, I’m thirsty, and I’m stuck in a train that’s more crowded than a can of sardines.

  The MRT lurches forward, and I grab hold of the pole to keep my balance.

  Unfortunately for Pepper, the force of the train slams her face right into the old lady’s armpit. Pepper swings back as she holds the handrail tighter, her face twisted in disgust.

  I try to keep a straight face, but Ate Nadine bursts out laughing.

  Pepper scowls. The Armpit Lady stares at my sister like she’s dangerous and tries to move away from us. It’s useless, of course. There are too many people inside, and the most the woman can do is turn her body the other way.

  Well, at least now Pepper won’t
need to worry about armpits landing on her face.

  Pepper seems as though she’s about to cry—or throw up—any minute now. I don’t want her to cry. I definitely don’t want her to throw up. After all, she’s doing this for me, and getting barfed on is gross. I twist to my left to show her my bag. “I have wet wipes in there.”

  “I don’t want wet wipes. Let’s get off at the next station, please,” Pepper begs. “I can’t—”

  The train lurches again, harder this time, and Pepper finds herself squished under the woman’s armpit once more. Ate Nadine takes hold of me, keeping us both steady.

  EEEEEEEE!

  For a moment, I think somebody farted. But thankfully, it’s just the sound of the train’s brakes. “Are we there yet?”

  My sister blinks. “No. It’s not supposed to—”

  A loud chime from the public announcement system interrupts her.

  “The MRT is experiencing some technical difficulties,” a man’s voice explains after introducing himself as the MRT driver. “All passengers are advised to disembark from the train in an orderly fashion. Please present your tickets to the attendants on the platform for credit on your next trip. We apologize for the inconvenience. Magandang umaga po sa inyong lahat.”

  There’s another chime, signaling the end of the driver’s message. The doors slide open—right in the middle of the elevated railway.

  “GOOD MORNING, EVERYONE” IS THE worst way for the public announcement to end.

  For one, it’s noon. For another, they’ve just made us exit the train on an elevated railway under the searing heat of Manila summer. Worse, the station platform seems so far away that it’s like a desert mirage. I just can’t see anything good in that.

  No one seems to think abandoning the train in the middle of the railway is anything out of the ordinary. Ate Nadine says this happens often, and if I watched the news, I’d know. But I don’t really care if it’s a normal thing or not. We are so not going to make it to the museum in time to meet Romeo Gamelon. He’ll be gone by the time we get there, unless we somehow manage to teleport from this place.

  This isn’t a minor inconvenience. It’s a disaster.

  On our left side is the train, blue and white with a thin red stripe in the middle. The guardrail on our right is dusty and gray. One false move and you might find yourself splattered on the EDSA freeway below.

  Most of the passengers are probably thinking the same thing. We’re walking far from the sides, crowding in the middle like the starting line of a marathon.

  Well, most of us are anyway. There are a few daredevils near the edge, strolling as if they’re in a park and not on an elevated railway.

  I’m staying right here in the middle, where it’s safe.

  “Ate! Don’t go so near the edge,” I warn, keeping the fear in my voice to a minimum.

  My sister just throws me an angry look. She doesn’t stray far, but she continues to talk to Kuya Jepoy and ignores me.

  Seriously? I know I’m the one who wanted to go to Makati. Maybe I should have remembered Ate’s car can’t be used on Thursday, but it’s not my fault the MRT stalled.

  “Ahh-tehhhh!” I lick my dry lips. I’m whining like a brat, I know. But I can’t help myself. “I’m hungry.”

  Ate Nadine finally stops talking. She turns to look at me, her face in a scowl. “Be quiet, Sab. Your whining is grating on my ears worse than fingernails on a blackboard.”

  This is one of those moments when I don’t appreciate her talent for words. I cross my arms over my chest and say the first thing that comes to mind. “You’re so mean!”

  “Ohh-kay. You both need to chill.” Pepper steps in between us. “Who wants some taffy? I still have some—”

  “Oh, you be quiet too!”

  Ate Nadine marches on, staying as near the guardrail as possible. Away from me.

  “Talk about cranky.” Pepper snorts. “Somebody better feed the dragon before it burns us all.”

  Kuya Jepoy approaches Ate Nadine, but she shrugs his hand away. Then he says something, and the scowl on my sister’s face disappears. Whatever he said, it definitely calmed her down. They’re deep in conversation before long. My sister’s frown remains on her face, but it’s no longer angry. It’s the same frown she wears whenever she’s thinking, or something’s bothering her.

  I quicken my steps. “Let’s get closer. I want to hear what they’re saying.”

  “I don’t know, Sab,” says Pepper. She pops a taffy into her mouth and chews like it’s the most important candy in the world. “This whole spying-on-Ate-Nadine thing … It seems wrong.”

  My eyes narrow. Pepper is having guilty feelings now?

  “Hear me out,” she continues, holding up her hands. “I just think you’re getting too obsessed about your papa’s involvement in Ate Nadine’s assignment. Aren’t you worried about the trouble you’ll be in if she finds out you’ve been spying on her every chance you get?”

  “That’s not what you said last time.” I pout.

  “Yeah.” Pepper twirls a lock of brown hair around her finger. “I’m your best friend, Sab. I’ll support you all the way, but … I don’t know. Just think about it?”

  “I will.” But not today. Right now, I need to hear what Ate Nadine and Kuya Jepoy are saying. I take a puff of my inhaler and quicken my steps. “Can you hurry up a bit?”

  My friend lets out a long sigh. “All right.”

  “Is this source good?” Ate Nadine asks Kuya Jepoy.

  “Yeah.” He nods. “The boy’s a regular—I see him in the alley often. He’s willing to talk as long as you keep his identity secret.”

  “I can do that.”

  “And he wants it to be in a public place. No cameras.”

  “Of course.”

  Kuya Jepoy falls silent, staring straight ahead. “I’ve been meaning to ask …” He clears his throat. “Why are you doing this? I know it’s your dream to intern for a national paper, but this assignment … It seems different.”

  “Someone needs to do something about the drug problem in Pignatelli, Jepoy.” Ate Nadine’s lips form a grim line. “It ruins lives. Families. My report is going to help the police bring these sellers to justice.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s personal.” My sister huffs. “You of all people should understand.”

  A Goth-looking woman in a black shirt and black jeans bumps into an old man in front of me. “Watch it!” he protests.

  How rude.

  “I can respect that.” Kuya Jepoy nods. “I owe you a lot. I’ll help you any way I can, but be careful. I might not be around to protect you all the time.”

  Ate Nadine smiles. Her expression reminds me of the time when an ex-girlfriend sent her a huge bouquet of roses for her sixteenth birthday. My sister tucks her hair behind an ear like she’s embarrassed. “Anyway, is the source a student—”

  Hmm …

  “Your sister is the most un-romantic human being on the planet.” Pepper snorts, interrupting my thoughts. “I should know. I get forced to watch Mama’s teleserye drama all the time. Sab? Yo, Sab!”

  I ignore Pepper. There’s something not right about the woman in black. She’s walking strangely, zigzagging on the train tracks.

  My heart drops to my stomach, like something bad is about to happen.

  The woman is dangerously close to the edge now and looks like she’s about to puke.

  Going near the railing scares me, but I think she needs help. I take a deep breath. If today is the day, I might as well use some of my remaining time to help someone else not die.

  I quicken my step and stop by the woman’s side. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

  “What’s going on?” Pepper comes up behind me.

  The woman staggers, then her legs buckle. Luckily, I catch her just as she loses her balance, falling right on top of me. Pepper tries to grab the woman’s arm, but it’s too late. The woman and I stumble backward onto the railway.

  “Oh!” My head lands just a
n inch from the hard, metal train tracks. I feel sick at the thought that falling just one inch to the left would have been my end.

  “Saklolo! Tulungan nyo po kami,” I call on to the passing MRT passengers. “Help! Please help us.”

  “Sab!”

  Ate Nadine and Kuya Jepoy hurry to my side. My pulse is hammering so fast I can hardly speak. “She …”

  The woman in black throws up near the railing and slumps to the ground. She stops moving.

  “Oh no.” I gasp. “Is she dead?”

  Is this the death the Butterfly warned me about?

  My legs feel weak at the thought, and I reach out to the person beside me.

  “Take it easy,” says Ate Nadine, putting an arm around my shoulders. Her body spray of strawberries and cream is a refreshing smell compared to the pollution and stink of the MRT. “Let’s lay her down near the train where there’s shade. Jepoy—”

  Kuya Jepoy carries the woman as though she weighs nothing at all.

  “Is she okay?” I look over Ate Nadine’s shoulder. The woman’s face is pasty white, but it’s not like Pepper’s complexion. It’s more like the blood had been drained out of her face.

  “I’m a doctor.” A woman stops and kneels beside the Goth lady, feeling her pulse. “What happened?”

  “She was walking like she was drunk, then just collapsed,” I manage to croak.

  “Yeah,” Pepper says. “Then she threw up.”

  “Do you have water?” The doctor touches the Goth lady’s forehead. “Face towel?”

  “Water, yes.” Pepper looks at me, and I nod. She gives my water bottle to the woman, then waves her pink Hello Kitty hankie. “Will this do?”

  The doctor wets the cloth with water and places it on the woman’s forehead. The woman stirs. “Try to drink if you can, miss.”

  “What happened to her?” Ate Nadine asks.

  “Heat exhaustion. She’ll be okay.” She gives Pepper a smile. “Thanks to you.”

  Seriously? The green monster (not to be mistaken as Pepper’s ugly clay art) is screaming inside me.