As I walk past the beach that took my life, every scene flashed before my eyes, like witnessing a tragic play for the hundredth time. Each time I watched, I desired to alter how it ends. But no matter how I try, it does in the same way; her lifeless body in my arms, salted by the sea and by my eyes.
Once again I cursed the sand, the waves and the sea. I blamed the sun who abandoned me on the dusk that she left. For in its eyes we were not lovers who depended on each other’s happiness. We were not children who laughed, cried and grew up together. We were not parents who raised two sons. In the eyes of the sun, sea, waves and sand, we were only specks of dust blown by the wind. Impurities that dared conquer the water. Each step we took did not matter, and the laughter and tears did not mean a thing. They just did what they were created for, nurture the beings of water and give warmth to those who are willing to live…
--------
I met her on my tenth birthday. All I wished for was to be able to ride a car, but I never imagined that one would hit me first before I can get inside and that I would meet the love of my life.
I was walking along the side street of San Ignacio to buy a loaf of bread, eggs and a liter of soda for my birthday. Old people believed it unwise to go out on one’s special day so Mother did not want me to. But my brother Joaquin was practically a baby and couldn’t cross the street, so I insisted. I was singing happily, for it was only on special occasions that Joaquin and I get to drink sodas. While swimming in a world of excitement, I didn’t notice a speeding car pass by. All of a sudden, I felt my little body hammered to something very hard, and it felt a lot more intense than my father’s strong hands. Everything swirled around so fast and the last scene my eyes witnessed was the scattering of the one-peso coins that my hands clenched a few moments ago. I woke up in the hospital with the sound of my father’s nagging and my mother’s sobs while they were talking to the new neighbors who accidentally hit me. After almost an hour of pointing fingers and learning that nothing serious happened, the car owners offered to pay the bill, buy the prescription and pay the follow-ups. While they were busy, however, I was staring at a girl my age who sat on the corner, wondering what the four adults were arguing about. She wore a white, lacy dress, a flowery hat and shiny shoes that made her look like one of those big dolls every girl dreams of having. She looked nothing like the girls in my league who have dirty fingernails, uncombed hair, scaly skin and un-brushed teeth. She looked prim and proper, one who cannot run fast or jump high and is not used to shouting or sticking her tongue out when losing a game. She’s like an angel sent from heaven, which I later learned to have another name: Canada. At that moment my eyes were purple and my lips were swollen but all I felt was my heart. I knew then that she was my betrothed.
Only in a rural area can someone who lives in a rat-hole be neighbors to someone who lives in a castle. But kids in the fourth grade did not understand the caste brought about by money, and so we became friends. She spoke English, which I barely speak. It was language being taught everywhere to everyone from four to forty; and one that almost no one ever masters. Living in an exocentric society, only those who can speak the language fluently were considered smart. But I had to teach her my native tongue, Filipino, so that my friends could welcome her. I took pride of being her interpreter for the other kids; though most of the time, even the two of us used hand signs to understand each other. But the girls envied her for her beauty and class and did not want to play house with her. She cried over this, saying she wanted to have friends. She even squawked about buying clothes to match ours, but her mother wouldn’t approve. The boys gave up on being her friends, tired of being shooed by her father. This did not stop me though, from being by her side. I may not have known then what love was, but I’ve always known that I belonged there. Her mother, maybe still guilty of the accident, said neither rude nor kind words whenever I come over to play. I was never allowed inside the house and I always got the disapproving, scrutinizing look from head to toe but it wasn’t a big deal. Nothing else mattered as long as we’re together.
She made me want to change. Once a filthy boy who feared a bath, I made sure I had one before going to her house. Somehow, I felt humiliated every time her mother covers her nose. I brushed my teeth everyday and had my nails cut. Mother was so happy that she didn’t have to drag me into doing those things so she didn’t bother to wonder and ask.
Apart from living in different worlds that were a hundred feet apart, everything else was pretty much smooth. Sooner she was speaking a little Filipino and I was speaking a little English and we understood each other. The ragged shirt and rubber slippers eventually matched the lacy dress and shiny shoes. My wooden soldier became her doll’s knight-in-shining-armor as I became hers. Her parents, unknowing that the bond between the two of us is getting stronger, began to dislike me lesser.
After a few years, her parents finally conceded and accepted the connection of our souls. They sponsored my school, which I initially refused. But I then realized that they love their daughter probably more than I do and that might be the reason they’re willing to give anything to make her happy. We then signed a contract not to get married before the both of us finished school and have stable jobs. Right after graduation, I worked for a decent company while she became an entrepreneur. We were young then so we took our time. I began helping my parents with their finances and sent my brother Joaquin to school. He was smarter than I was and finished with flying colors.
The day we said our vows was one of the happiest days of my life. Although I didn’t think that I deserved it, her love did not fade. Everything seemed to fall into place and our wedding day was the beginning of happy ever after. Each time we made love, our bond became stronger. The birth of our twin sons paved way to a much happier me. I saw how hard it was for her to bear the pain of pregnancy and giving birth, and I loved her more for that. We became pretty good parents and watched our kids grow up. I spent time with my kids, teaching them how to be like me: someone strong and will-powered. But I didn’t realize how consumed I was of being a father that I began drifting away from being a husband.
I tried my best to provide for my family, asked Her to close her business, oblivious of cutting her wings. I became occupied with my job and promotions became successive. Power was in my hands and I knew I can do everything. But a little power was not enough. I hungered for more. I smiled when I thought about the little boy whose happiness used to lie in drinking a bottle of soda and playing king with his queen. When success was finally mine, joy and satiation seemed to be elusive. Engulfed with success, I became distant to her and our sons. I never told her I loved her anymore. I never looked at her eyes when we made love. Each night became an obligation and each day a responsibility. I began hearing complaints and whining but all of them I ignored. Arguments became inevitable and sacrifices were forgotten. It did not occur to me that while I was losing my wife, I was also losing my best friend. With no one to talk to, I started consulting my peer and they began to take control of me. Every night became Saturday. The weekends were not spent with my family and I began getting home late. I even had one-night affairs which she was unconscious about, or so I thought. I figured as long as I put something on the table, I was a good husband and father.
Pride hindered me from going after her when she decided to leave, tagging our sons along. But the days went longer and the nights darker. It’s been a long time when I was last alone, and it was really scary. Again, like the stinky little boy, I began cleaning myself for her, escaping from the selfishness that was disguised as dirt. I planned of humbling myself and make amends, hoping she would take me back. For the longest time I was able to see her wings again in my mind; as I felt miserable for cutting them off. I imagined us being happier than before when the love that was kept under once again surfaced. But it did not happen.
It was her birthday and our tenth wedding anniversary, so I bought flowers and a ring. I will ask her to marry me again. It was a long drive from the city to San Ignacio, where they were staying for the meantime. I surmised I will be able to get there early afternoon but traffic did not allow me to. I was informed that they were by the beach, so I went there in hurry for the sun will set soon. I was so excited thinking I would see my family again; it did not compare to riding a car, or buying a loaf of bread and soda. So consumed in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the commotion going on. I circled round the beach huts in search for them but they were nowhere to be found. Finally, I decided to I approach a frantic crowd gathered by the shore. When I got nearer, I heard somebody say two boys were thrown from a boat by a huge wave and they were drowning. My heart pulsated like it never did before. I immediately jumped into the water, throwing away the flowers and the ring. There were more than five people trying to find my sons, including Her. A man found one of the twins and I found the other. We took them to the shore and I felt so relieved that they were alive and safe. I looked back to see their mother swim back when I saw another huge wave getting close. I run past the others to rescue her but it was too late. The wave gulped her down like the whale that swallowed Jonah. After the wave subsided, I leaped towards her, caught her arms, and took her back to shore. I tried to revive her, but again, it was too late. Her body rested in my arms, lifeless and cold. My boys and I were crying though we did not understand our loss. All I knew was I will never forgive myself. The three of us felt like lost sheep that lost our shepherd.
--------
Indeed it is unwise for one to go out on his special day. Though I met her on my birthday, I lost her on hers. My bad luck turned into good and hers turned into my sorrow. Since then, there was not a day that I did not torment myself for what have happened. I drowned myself in the what-ifs and if-I-had-only’s. I became a sheep trying to be a shepherd to my sons, but I know I have not succeeded. Now that my angel has real wings and there was no other name for heaven, I’ve never felt more scoured with soot. I was once again the filthy little boy who feared of taking a bath.
After five years of getting by, my boys are now fine young men. Still, I’m walking past this beach that took my life, and every scene flashed before my eyes, like a tragic play. Each time I watched, I desired to alter how it ends. But no matter how I try, it does in the same way; her lifeless body in my arms, salted by the sea and by my eyes.
I cursed myself for taking her life while she was still breathing. I cursed the sand for staying there and doing nothing. I cursed the waves for taking her life. I cursed the sea for blinding her eyes and not showing her the way. I blamed the sun who abandoned her. For in their eyes each step we took did not matter, and the laughter and tears did not mean a thing. They just did what they were created for, provide a home ONLY to the creatures of the water and give warmth ONLY to those who are willing to live…
