When the Elephants Dance

by Tess Uriza Holthe

  He pleaded once again. “Tell me what to do.” I could hear tears in his voice. It stunned me. I did not understand how he could love her, after all that he had done. But there it was in his voice, raw and more sincere than any of his words.

  “Leave me, and never come back. Whenever you see me, look away. Never let me catch you watching. If someone mentions my name, tell them, ‘I do not know this woman you speak of.’ ”

  He walked to the front door with his head bowed. I ran to the front window so that I could watch him go. It had started to rain. Small spits at first, then a strong gale that shrieked at our windows. When I looked outside, I saw Tearso holding on to a tree. He gripped it, then crumpled onto it. He stayed there in the rain, for hours. I heard Esmeralda’s sobs throughout the night.

  When he left I breathed a great sigh. It is over, I thought. Good riddance. There will be no more distractions for Esmeralda and me. I was wrong. The disruption I had caused was a small upsurge before the tidal wave.

  The next evening I went to Father’s room to give him his medicine and to clean out his bedpan. He had grown ill again and had taken to his bed.

  “Sana anák, malakí ka na, para makabílí tayo nang malakíng bahay.” I wish you were big now, son, so that we could buy a bigger house.

  When I heard this, something came over me, I do not know what. It may have been the strain of the past few days. It may have been that at that precise moment, I could see my classmates laughing among themselves as they passed just outside our house. They no longer asked me to play. I was a stranger to their circle. A tree you pass but do not notice, one that at times you lean or spit on, without realizing that it is a living thing. I snapped at my father, “What, am I to take care of you for the rest of my life?”

  My father withered further before me. “No, I was only dreaming, son,” he said, then turned his back to me and went to sleep.

  I felt horrible, and angry, and sad. I left his side and hurried to my window. I was hoping to find some gladness from Esmeralda. I was excited at the thought of starting fresh, without Tearso to distract her. I waited for the sound of her coming into the room. Ten minutes passed before I looked up. I saw her sitting on the table with a picture of Tearso. She had been sitting there all along. She had no more customers. I was confused. I had expected gladness and relief on her face. She was sitting there staring quietly at a candle on the table. I grew sick at the small seed of thought that began to form. She still loved Tearso.

  She sat like that all night long. My cousin Eduardo did not play the guitar. Only the sound of Father’s harsh coughing broke the stillness of the night.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I walked through the markets in a daze. I knew that Father needed his medicine, but I could not bring myself to return home. There was nothing there but sickness and tears. I decided I must go find Tearso and confront him with what he had done. I must instruct him to do whatever he must, to make it right with her. I wanted her to have that look of enchantment in her eyes. I wanted her room to be filled with beauty and anticipation. I did not realize that I wanted those things for myself.

  I knew where Tearso lived. His large house stood precariously over a cliff, overlooking the village. When I arrived at his doorstep, I stood on my tiptoes and barely reached the black iron knocker. I accomplished two large thumps before the door opened. It was Tearso himself who answered. Before I could open my mouth, he clapped a thick hand on my shoulder and pulled me in. He shut the door with a swipe of his foot. We stood glaring at each other, he with his arms folded across his chest, and I with Father’s medicine bottle clutched in my hand like a club.

  “Do you know what you have done, Carlito?”

  “What I have done? What about you?” I shouted, my eyes immediately stinging with tears.

  “Come.” He directed me to sit. I looked uncertainly at the rich tan carpet and rattan sofa. The chairs were cushioned with thick ivory-and-tan-colored pillows in a palm leaf design. I sat slowly, at the edge. I glanced down at my dirty hands and feet and almost lost my balance on the little corner that I sat upon.

  Tearso sat across from me and stared. He bent forward and put his head in his hands. He clutched at his dark hair. “Why did you tell her of my involvement with Catalina? That was not your choice to make.”

  “Someone had to tell her.” My voice rose over his.

  “You hurt her.” He held out a hand to me. “The way you told her. She had not expected it. I know you do not believe me, but I had plans for the two of us. I was going to run away with Esmeralda, force my family to accept her or send us money on another island. In that way they could save face, tell their friends I had married an aristocrat from another town.

  “You pushed our relationship out into the open. You have made public what I was considering in private. Now I must make a public decision. The only recourse for me is to marry a girl of my status. I cannot embarrass my family by marrying below us. I could not shame them that way, after all they have done for me. I am bound by them. I cannot make them a laughingstock in their own community. That is not how a son repays his family. I would ruin the reputation of my brothers and sisters. There are ties, Carlito, invisible ties that one owes to one’s parents. We must honor our obligations, despite our true wishes. We must do this out of respect. You understand?”

  On this point, I understood him. “I understand,” I said quietly, thinking of my ties to my own father.

  He looked at me. “Forgive me, Carlito. Perhaps you know too well what I speak of.”

  I lifted my chin. “If it were up to me, if I had a choice between making Esmeralda happy and …” My voice lost its strength. Would I do the same? I pondered. If I had to tell my father, “I can no longer take care of you. I need to marry this woman whom I love,” could I do it? I could not do it even now.

  Tearso nodded as he watched me come to the same conclusion.

  We two spineless ones sat with our heads bowed.

  He stood and walked to the window. He put his hands in his pockets and searched the sky. “I was going to tell her myself. You cannot imagine how many days I agonized for the right way, the right moment. The moment you chose, and the way in which you told her, was wrong. It has killed me to break her heart this way.” His face was contorted. I could see he was crying. He wiped his eyes with rough fingers that pressed and shook at his skin. It was as if he wanted to hurt his face.

  “I want to go home,” I said, standing up.

  He continued to look out his window, at the clouds that were culminating in the distance. “I forgive you, Carlito. I know that you love her, too.”

  His words embarrassed me. I stood with my fists clenched.

  He looked at my hands, then my face, and smiled sadly. “Maybe someday you will be a stronger man than I. Take no offense, Carlito, but you have done enough damage. Do not come again, unless it is a matter of life.” He sighed, and I was surprised that I felt his sorrow. As I walked to the door he added softly, as if to himself, “Or death.”

  The evening before Esmeralda’s disappearance was the eve of Tearso’s wedding. It was also Good Friday. The engagement had been announced, and then the wedding date was rushed. This was at Catalina’s insistence. I think she was afraid, and rightfully so, that Tearso might give in to his heart. The entire town was invited to the wedding, and that night was the dress rehearsal for the ceremony.

  I watched Esmeralda from my bedroom window. All morning, the preparations for the wedding were visible. The wagons that carried the floral arrangements—orange and red orchids with streaming banners of gold congratulating the bride and groom—drove by our house. The equipment for the musicians, the tables and chairs for the banquet to be held outdoors, taunted us from the beds of the karetelas. In every house, the chatter of what to wear for the next day drifted in the warm breeze. Little girls sat giggling outside their houses, weaving together a large wreath of white sampaguita flowers to put on the church door.

  I suffered soundlessly with Esmeralda. She never left h
er room. She would stand, then sit, then stand again. She dropped her magic bottles. She wrote letters as if she had to mail an urgent message, and then she tore them. When she was finished, she fell to the floor, crying among the broken glass and scattered letters.

  My aunt, who had never wasted one glance toward Esmeralda’s room and rarely came to visit ours, did both. She came in the guise of visiting my father. Then she came to crouch beside me.

  “You do not even tend to your father. You waste precious moments watching that whore,” my aunt snorted. “Her time has come. I knew it would, entertaining such men. Why, even your uncle cannot keep his eyes off her. All this talk has only served to further excite the men, even you, a mere boy.”

  I did not answer her, for I knew that was what she wanted. Suddenly my aunt gasped. “O, itó na,” she said. Here it comes. “Get away from that window. What comes next is none of our business. Draw the shades, and do not repeat what you see. Dante,” she called to my father, “order your son to mind his business.” My aunt hurried downstairs to watch from her bedroom window.

  I almost choked at what I saw next. Catalina’s lapdog, Gabriel, was at Esmeralda’s door. I moved from side to side, unsure of what to do, of what would happen next. I had a bad feeling. It happened like lightning. Esmeralda opened the door. Gabriel shoved her aside and locked the door behind him. He leered at her. He told her who he was. Then he slapped her down and told her his mistress wanted to ensure there would be no interruptions for the wedding. Esmeralda fought back, but Gabriel pulled out a knife.

  My aunt came back up and pinched me. She whispered in my ear so that my father could not hear, “Stay away from the window, Carlito. I am warning you. If you bring shame to this family, I will throw both you and your father out. You will be the cause. Do you understand?”

  I jerked away.

  My aunt gasped, “Ay, ay.”

  I ran for my father’s bolo knife. It had a long curved blade, with a brass handle and short chain-linked tassles. It was sheathed in a bamboo case and hung from the doorknob. It was a gift long ago from my mother’s family to my father. I took that knife and stumbled down the stairs. The knife was heavy and reached my ankles. I had to be careful not to trip over it. Before my aunt could stop me, I ran outside to Esmeralda’s house. I kicked her thin door open with my good foot.

  My aunt was stuck to our window, watching me from our house. “Carlito,” I heard her say in alarm.

  Gabriel turned in surprise at my entrance. He glanced at my heaving chest, the large knife in my hand. “What will you do with that? Slice me a piece of roast pig?”

  “Carlito, run.” Esmeralda grabbed for Gabriel’s arm.

  “I will slice a pig tonight, but it is not for roasting,” I answered, my voice as deep as I could make it. Then I found my real voice, and I shouted at the top of my lungs for my father. I forced that entire section of town to open their shades and listen. “Father, he wants to kill her!” I screamed. “Father, help me.”

  And do you know, my father somehow found the strength to rush to our side?

  “Is that my son calling me?” Father asked, repeating the question, until he came to stand beside me. He took the bolo from my hands and waved it at Gabriel.

  “Tito …” My cousin Eduardo followed my father into Esmeralda’s house with an ax.

  “Eduardo, stay away from there,” my aunt called, following my cousin.

  As my father struggled to pull Gabriel from Esmeralda, Eduardo jumped on Gabriel from behind.

  People gathered outside of Esmeralda’s house. The men of the village hovered near her door. They came to help my father.

  I untangled myself from the colliding bodies, ducking out of their way. I glanced back once as Esmeralda fought to scratch Gabriel’s eyes out. “I shall bring back help,” I promised. Then I rushed to town.

  I went straight to the church. Tearso was rehearsing for his wedding. People stared when I entered. I did not need to say a word. Tearso saw my face and followed me out immediately. His future in-laws and his entire family called for him to stay. Catalina stomped her foot in a tantrum. She pulled at his arm, insisting that he stay. Tearso pried her fingers off gently but firmly.

  We rode his coach back to my house. His fists clenched and unclenched. I was afraid that I would come back and Father, Esmeralda, and the rest would be dead from Gabriel’s knife; but, amazingly, they had held the big man at bay. Father was wielding the bolo knife, and cousin Eduardo was holding a chair before him, the way a lion tamer would do. Other men had gathered and were blocking the doorway. These men would not lift a finger for Esmeralda, for fear of their wives, but helping my father was another matter. My father had helped many of them at different times, and they had what we call utang na loób, a “debt of the inner soul.”

  Tearso brushed past the men, and I followed behind.

  Gabriel sneered as we entered. “Ah, the Catalina’s pretty boy. She will not like that I must kill you, but it is in self-defense.” He laughed wickedly. “See what I have done to your whore?” He gestured to Esmeralda, unconscious on the ground.

  Nothing chilled me more than the smile that appeared on Tearso’s face. He stared at Gabriel with deadly intent. I was frightened for everyone. After all, Tearso was Golden Gloves boxing champion of Blanco Negros.

  Gabriel moved forward in wide steps, reminiscent of Japanese sumo wrestlers. Tearso leapt forward like a cat. Gabriel swung heavily with his right, Tearso ducked it and weaved to his left. Gabriel swung again, his body lurching forward, chin first. It was just in time to meet Tearso’s fist, on his jaw. Tearso threw three quick jabs with his right hand, lightning fast, pow, pow, pow, and then gave an incredible wallop with his left. There was a loud crack as Gabriel’s head snapped to the side. He landed on the floor with his eyes still open. It was such a hard hit, I knew immediately Gabriel was dead even before he hit the ground.

  It was in defense of innocent people. Everyone witnessed this. There was no argument. The policía came and took Gabriel’s body. Father embraced me and told me for the first time, “I am proud of you, my son.”

  In the end, I could remain silent no longer. I could not allow myself to be just like the others, like my aunt. I could not be that which I despised most.

  The crowd dispersed and I went to my window to watch Esmeralda and Tearso, but again my father surprised me. He said, “Step away from there. Give them their last moments of privacy. Come. We have much to speak of ourselves.”

  ~

  THE WEDDING OF Tearso Batongbukol to Catalina Marquez was still to continue the following morning, my aunt announced to us. I dressed in my best shirt and short pants, for those were all I had. I combed my hair down with Father’s pomade, but my curls fought back. I was the first to arrive at the church. I watched as people filtered in. The evening had a sense of gaiety and laughter in the air. I had never seen such clothing. Many of the guests, I later learned, wore imported clothes from France and Italy. Some were designed locally with silks from Thailand and Burma. Catalina’s gown was from Paris.

  The ceremony began with no sign of Esmeralda. I watched as Tearso, standing in the front of the altar, searched the pews for her. Everyone was seated. Padre Ramirez had just finished a long discourse on the merits of a good wife when the doors opened and Esmeralda walked in.

  She wore a sleeveless ivory dress made of stiff silk that fitted her body and fell just short of her ankles. The simple V neck of the gown emphasized her golden skin. It showcased the amber necklace I had seen Tearso give to her when he first made promises of marriage. She had no other adornments than her beauty, and that day she took our breath away. The guests looked from her to Tearso and back again. Even the padre stumbled over his words.

  Tearso said his vows just as he had promised. He looked over his bride’s shoulders at Esmeralda when he recited the words. The guests whispered viciously back and forth. Esmeralda’s face was calm and serene. At that moment the sun passed through the stained-glass windows and she was bathe
d in a halo of gold. She looked like an angel. She was at peace amid the accusing whispers.

  “Look at that gown. Only the bride should wear white.”

  “Look at how it fits her body. Indecent.”

  “How dare she come. Was she invited?”

  “Why, even the padre is upset by her presence.”

  “No shame. She has no shame.”

  Their words began like a small tremble, a minor disturbance, but as they grew, the chattering became so that the priest had to shout over the whispering. That was when the ground began to move.

  The vows were almost completed when the floor jolted and rolled. People began to scream, “An earthquake!”

  I fell over onto the pew before me, then slowly I felt the floor moving downward. It sank whole, without any of the walls collapsing. We were covered in darkness. Next came the loud splintering of the wooden support beams overhead and the sounds of screaming as the beams fell.

  When the rolling stopped, candles were lit. Everyone appeared miraculously to be in one piece. It was later, after everyone was pulled out, that the rumor began to circulate. Esmeralda was trapped below. Tearso himself went down to look for her. It was not until several hours later that they had to call an end to the search. In the morning they searched again, but the structure was unstable, more of the beams began to fall, and they pulled Tearso out. He struggled like a madman to stay below.

  In the daylight the church was an eerie sight. It had sunk completely into the ground. It was nothing more than a mound of rock. The crucifix set atop the church was the only part exposed. It looked like a big grave.

  I NEVER SAW Esmeralda again. It was concluded that she died in the disaster. One evening as I was sitting at my window reminiscing, her door opened and my heart leapt with joy, but it was only Tearso. His face was haunted. He touched her things, her silk scarves, her candles. He picked up pieces of her torn letters. He slept in her bed, his face swollen from crying. He had been true to his words. He had honored his obligations to his family, and he was miserable.