Birthplace

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Birthplace Page 12

by K. S. Villoso


  She got out of the stream to sit beside me. “Don’t worry about those two,” she said. “We can make them uncomfortable too, if you want.” She placed her hand on my arm.

  My cheeks reddened, and I really only knew that from the way her eyes lit up. “Anyway,” she continued, because clearly I had no response to what she just said, “what I meant was that Riko’s from Manila, too, and he’s always saying how much he hated it there.”

  “I don’t hate it,” I said. “What made you think I hate it?”

  “What you just said—”

  “It’s just the truth. You can’t love something and not be honest to yourself about everything there is to it. I actually miss it, now, if you want to know the truth. I kind of wish we were strolling through the malls right now, with all the Christmas lights around us and laughing at folks in their shopping frenzies.”

  I had said we without thinking. She mistook it to mean me and her. Her hand became firmer around my arm. “I’ve never left this farm,” she said. “I don’t think I ever will. This is all I know, Pablo. Those rocks and that skyline and these trees. Always and always.”

  Her eyes were so sad. I wanted her to smile again, but I didn’t know what to say. Unlike Enrique, I didn’t have the heart to lie to her about things I knew she wanted to hear.

  I stayed out walking with Becca all afternoon.

  In the back of my mind, I knew I shouldn’t even have gone out with her in the first place, particularly since Enrique had said that they were going to go and get a tricycle for us. It didn’t matter what they ultimately had planned to do—as soon as they got back to Ciskong’s hut and I wasn’t there, all blame was sure to spiral down on me. They might even make up a story that a tricycle was all ready and waiting for us but since I didn’t show up the guy decided to stop wasting his time. Didn’t matter that rain doesn’t exactly dry up in one day and the chances of finding a driver insane enough to brave it were as good as tracking down a flying carabao willing to do the same for half the fee. It was all gonna be Pablo’s fault, one way or another.

  So I wasn’t the slightest bit concerned when Becca pointed out that it would be dark soon, and did I want to join her and her family for dinner? “I’d love for you to meet my parents,” she said, smiling.

  “You don’t have any brothers or sisters?”

  “I have two sisters,” she admitted. “They got married a few years back. Now they live with their husbands and children in different towns.”

  “You must be very lonely here, then,” I said.

  She pressed her lips together. “You have no idea,” she murmured.

  Their house was larger than Ciskong’s, with a metal roof and concrete walls. That in my mind made it less alien a place, more inviting. Becca had me wait by the door while she called her mother. A woman who did not look like she could’ve been more than 40 years old came out and greeted me with a warm hug.

  They got me to sit in the living room with a glass of orange juice while they prepared dinner. The juice was made a little too weak, so I sipped at it politely and pretended I could watch TV when the sound was turned all the way down. It was while I was in this uncomfortable situation that Becca’s father arrived.

  Becca had more of his look than her mother’s, but that wasn’t what stood out. The man glowered at me. “Who’s this?” he snapped, and I thought he was going to advance towards me and break my bones then and there.

  “I’m—” I began, just as quickly as Becca stumbled into the living room and stammered, “He’s a friend, ‘tay. Ciskong’s nephew. You know Ciskong.”

  “Great. Nephew. Actually.” I tried to smile. It was very difficult with the man towering over me as he was. I noticed his hands were very, very dirty—his fingernails appeared almost black.

  “Hmph,” the man said. He made a clicking sound with his teeth. “Julio’s son.”

  “You know my father.” It was a stupid statement, but the man’s stare had turned my brain into mush.

  “Quite well,” he said.

  “Were you friends?” I asked, hopefully. By now Becca had retreated back into the kitchen to her mom.

  He seemed to think about that question for a good long minute. Finally he flung the sack he’d been carrying over his shoulder and said, “There was no way I could have been friends with a stubborn and wayward boy. He brought shame to his family. I didn’t want to do the same to mine.”

  “Raul...” Becca’s mother called out.

  Raul shifted his feet and gave me one last look before he obeyed her.

  When I was alone again, I pressed my hands into my knees and wondered about what he had just said. It felt strange hearing people talk about my father the way I was sure he talked about me. I was some sort of punishment he well and truly deserved. Maybe it’s a sign that I ought to have done more shameless things. I smiled inwardly at my joke, but deep inside I felt like crap.

  I sat there stewing in my own thoughts for the better part of an hour. And then Becca came, tiptoeing so softly I didn’t realize she was there until she was right by my elbow. “It’s time to eat,” she said, smiling shyly. “I made bistek.”

  Bistek is pieces of—usually beef—pan-fried with soy sauce and lemon and garnished with nearly-raw onions. It’s a meal I usually have no problems eating, but as soon as they sat me close to the window I took one whiff of it and felt like I wanted to pass out. I suppose Raul’s little sarcastic remark about my father affected me more than it should have. Becca placed a glass of cool water beside me and I started drinking that, hoping it would settle my stomach.

  “So Pablo, eh?” Raul asked, chewing on his food loud enough to wake the dead. “I’m guessing Julio went and married that crazy woman, after all. You have her look.”

  “You’ve met my mother, too?” My mouth really didn’t know when to stop.

  Raul snorted. “Yes, I’ve met her. Julio had the audacity to introduce her to me. I told him he was ruining his life if he married a woman like that.”

  “Raul!” Becca’s mother chided gently. “Your heart, dear.”

  I smiled, and the man frowned, which meant it didn’t look as sincere as I’d hoped it would be. I wondered how much he’d pissed off my mother that he would so brazenly say such a thing. Did she throw something sharp at him? Or something heavy? Or both? Clearly he would not want to meet Rachel Ann, who could outdo my crazy mother’s antics a mile a minute. I glanced at both Becca and her still-smiling mother and it occurred to me that I wasn’t as attracted to that quintessential shy and modest girl as I should be. If they could sit here and not care that their guest had just been insulted, what else would they be willing to turn a blind eye to? Would they refuse to react if their child was being abused because it would look bad if they did?

  “Manners,” Raul huffed. “That woman didn’t have the least bit of manners. I’m just saying.”

  “Better rude than pretentious,” I murmured, sticking a fork into the tiny piece of steak and attempting to nibble it.

  The man was pretentious, all right. He pretended he didn’t hear. As I struggled with the piece of meat, I imagined what Rachel Ann would do if she was here. She’d probably turn that whole, steaming wok over his head, and be branded the sort of madwoman who shouldn’t be allowed around normal people. I mean, you’d have to be an incredibly whiny fellow to comment on the kind of emotional outbursts women are capable of. I’m not being condescending to the opposite sex. I’m just saying men who make mountains out of molehills like these tend to be pricks.

  Becca must have noticed my silence. “Here, Pablo,” she said. “Your rice looks a little dry.” She pressed a ladle into the serving bowl and heaped the meat juices over my plate.

  Something heavy plonked against the china. I frowned, thinking it might be a piece of bone, and prodded it with my spoon. It slid across the plate and made a grating sound. “Say Becca,” I said. “Why is there a ring in my food?”

  The silence that followed was so thick you could’ve grabbed a chunk and
scraped it all over a piece of bread.

  I swallowed, noticing that despite the extraordinary amounts of water I’d downed my mouth was dry.

  Then Becca’s mom smiled—not that she hadn’t been smiling before, only her smile widened even more than I thought was humanly possible. “Why, I’ve been looking for that ring for days!” she said. “I’m so glad you found it, Pablo!”

  “More like it found me,” I said, spooning it over to her side of the table. My desire to eat all but went away. It was even worse than Ciskong’s raw-chicken tinola.

  They started on their meal again, and I returned to picking at my food. Becca was staring at me so intently that I felt like I had to have some, at least. I got some of the wet rice and chewed on it, hoping it would make me brave enough to eat some meat. It’s not that it would have been polite to do so—I’d abandoned all thoughts of that after Becca’s father’s tirade. I mean, I’m already pretty damned rude as it is, but manners are wasted on certain people, you know? Only I was sure that if I didn’t eat I’d get back home and Enrique and Rachel Ann would’ve already eaten, and then I’d be forced to spend the whole night listening to my stomach rumble on top of their sweet nothings to each other.

  While I was busy with this, Becca’s mom got up to refill the bowl. Something stood out from that new heap of meat. I smiled at Becca and asked if she would get me some more bistek, even though I’d barely touched what was on my plate. She was so intent on being a good host that she nodded and scrabbled over to do as I’d asked.

  That thing that curiously stood out had been on top of the pile and it landed on my plate. I thanked Becca as calmly as I could while I prodded the object deep into the rice. It wasn’t hard, like the ring. It was actually rather squishy, except the top part which was sort of hard.

  “What’s the matter, Pablo?” Becca asked. “Is it a bone?”

  “Yes.” I studied my plate carefully and added, “A finger, actually.” Then I grabbed the serving bowl and threw it across the table towards Raul.

  Everything after that happened so fast I’m still not sure if the events are exactly as I remember them. I know I heard a shrieking, coming from either Becca or her mother, and I know that the light bulb flickered when I tipped the table over. And I know, and will never forget, Raul’s guttural roar when I smashed the window open and flung myself into the night.

  “Kill him! Don’t let him get back to them alive!”

  I ran blindly.

  It wasn’t easy to run wearing rubber slippers meant for someone with bigger feet than yours. I don’t think I’d ever regretted borrowing Enrique’s clothes up until that moment.

  It’s strange the way your mind works when you’re in a situation like this. I was at the edge of panic, with everything that had just happened looming over me like the segment of a fuzzed-out dream, and all I could think of was getting back to Ciskong’s and finding my runners. I knew I could run much faster if I had them on. None of this waddling through the dark nonsense. Why had I been so scared of getting mud on them, anyway? It had been muddy enough when we got here—a little more wouldn’t have hurt.

  The ground smashing into my face and the feel of my own blood swirling inside my mouth brought me back to reality. I was alone in the darkness, my toes numb from the cold, and there was something flapping above me, like an enormous bat with long, flowing hair.

  I didn’t have time to process that information, either. It came at me, shrieking. I scrabbled to my feet, but the cold, sharp hands were suddenly digging into my shoulders and I tripped a second time.

  “Don’t be scared, Pablo.” I heard her voice up against my ear, just before a long, snake-like tongue came to drag itself across my neck. I felt her naked breasts pressing against me.

  I dragged my foot up, intending to trip her backwards. But as soon as I turned I realized she was still on me. She giggled and I dared to look behind. The moonlight was strong and showed me that the whole lower half of her body was gone. Below her torso was a line of ragged flesh and entrails.

  I screamed. She laughed. I grabbed a rock and smashed her face with it.

  I hardly felt the pain from her claws when she pushed me away. I just jumped forward again and clubbed her with the rock a second time. I kept attacking her while she shrieked and tried to claw my face off. I don’t know where my strength was coming from. I just knew—with a dead-dropping certainty—that I didn’t want to die.

  At some point she managed to fling me to the side and my courage left me and I started running again. My heart went up to my ears. Up ahead, the round moon lit up as if it hadn’t just been raining for the past couple of days, mocking my every step.

  Chapter Eleven

  * * *

  * * *

  Don’t ask me how I made it back to the hut. Blind luck, I suppose. Or instinct. And maybe a whole lot of sheer stupidity, because if you think about it, I didn’t exactly leave Becca dead and she knew where I was staying. But I got there in one piece, locked the door quickly, pressed my head against the wall and thought I was safe.

  I heard a rustling behind me and I froze, expecting the worst. But then I heard a sigh and it sounded like Rachel Ann. She sat alone at the end of the sofa, pretending to ignore me. Me and my shaking fingers and the specks of blood on my shoulders.

  “We have to get out of here,” I said, moving towards her. “Rachel Ann. Please listen to me. For once.”

  She looked out through the window. I strode past her as calmly as I could and pulled the shutters down. The last thing I needed was that hideous face poking itself through before I could fully gather my thoughts. The more barriers between me and this night, the better.

  Rachel Ann got up. I grabbed her wrist and forced her back to the sofa.

  She snapped her head towards me. “What the hell are you—”

  I kissed her, then.

  I hadn’t meant to do it. I thought I was going to slap her, or shake her, or hook my fingers up her nose until she promised to stop being a bitch and listen to what I had to say. And then for the five seconds it was happening I went from shock to thinking that it was a great plan to get her to shut up to realizing that I loved her all along.

  She pushed me away. My hands were still shaking, but for an entirely different reason now. I slumped back on the other end of the sofa, afraid to look her in the eye. I didn’t want her to see what I was thinking. I couldn’t shake the feel of her on my lips and it was messing up my mind.

  “I was having dinner with Rebecca and her parents,” I said, so I didn’t have to explain that other thing.

  “So I heard,” she replied, sarcastically.

  “There was a ring and a finger in the food they served me.”

  She started to laugh, until she realized I was serious. I cupped a hand over my mouth. “I think they’re monsters. Aswang. Manananggal, to be exact,” I mumbled. I glanced sideways. “We have to get out of here.”

  In any other time and place, what I had just said would have been hilarious, at best.

  But we were in a quiet hut surrounded by nothing but forests and fields, and we’d both grown up on enough stories of those flesh-eating monsters to feel the familiar pang of childhood fear returning. It wasn’t a question of belief anymore. She remained still, as if uncertain of what to do next, and I... I only wanted to wake up from this nightmare back in my bed in Manila, looking forward to a day with my best friend. Whom I had not just kissed and effectively ruined my friendship with.

  I felt her finally move behind me, her fingers pressing over the torn shirt across my back. “Start from the beginning,” she said, and I was thankful that despite how petty she would act sometimes, she was capable of straight thought when absolutely necessary. Perhaps even right now she was forgiving me for what I’d just done. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.

  The words poured out like beer from an upturned bottle. I told her everything, including Raul’s scathing remarks about my parents, and how I’d really just figured they were cannibals unti
l Becca actually attacked me. I told her about the rock and fighting, how I thought she’d practically torn the skin off my back.

  “That sounds strange,” Rachel Ann murmured to that. “Your wounds look like nothing more than scratches. Like a cat just jumped on you, or something.”

  “Look, I know it’s hard to believe—”

  “Oh, bite it. I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I’ve always distrusted that Rebecca girl. I’m not the least bit surprised that she’s a disembodied flesh-eating monster.” She forced a nervous chuckle. “So,” she said, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “What now?”

  I thought she was asking about that thing and didn’t know what to say. Then somebody was knocking at the door and I nearly pissed my pants, until I heard Enrique’s voice. Rachel Ann got up to unlock the door and he rushed in. “What just happened?” he asked, staring at me accusingly.

  Ciskong rushed past him to sit beside me. “I heard the screaming,” the old man said, placing a finger on my jaw and turning my head left and right. “I figured you got acquainted with the Pragedas all too soon. I’ve told Riko to watch you both!”

  “And I’ve told Bek-bek to keep away from them!” he snarled back. “How would I know Pablo would stupidly walk right into their den?”

  “Hold on.” I yanked myself up. “You’re telling me you both know?”

  Ciskong’s response was subdued. “We know. It’s part of living here, at least for someone as old as I am. Some of the others are simply suspicious, but I chose to be more active. I told Raul a long time ago that it is in his family’s best interests to leave the neighbours alone. You start picking your neighbours off, eventually you have a mob on your hands.”

  He looked so smug talking that I wanted to knock him to the ground and punch him right in the face. “And you’re okay with this? For God’s sake old man, they were eating someone!”

 

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