I decided to visit Mateo. There is something about a hospital's atmosphere that makes me dread even just passing through a laboratory. It was as if every corner of this place reminds me of the inevitable death that is to come. White is the color of purity and the color that of heaven, but right now, all I can think of white is death. Quite the irony, isn't it? Those janitors that mop along the hall wears black, and yet, I think of them as more alive than the men in white. If I could have the power to never be here at all, I would do it more than a thousand lifetimes. As I walk, all I could hear are the faint clatter of my heels, like the death reaper coming to take the ones who died.
I enter through the ICU doors. As I pass through rooms of different names, I cannot find a tag that says "Mateo Jonathan Macedo". I see rooms with several types of machinery inside. One is for the heart monitor. One is for life support. One is for the oxygen supply. One is for the IV fluid supply. One is for the brain activity monitor. Each machine connected to them is one step closer to their loss of humanity, like that of robots.
After a while of futile search, I cannot seem to find his room. One nurse, my lady nurse that is, walks in haste for her station. Her weary face says it all. She has been here for quite a while. Still, I need her. Does she still remember me? As she passes by me, she does not even acknowledge me. It was as if she never saw me at all.
"Miss!" I call out to the lady nurse. "Nurse!"
She then turned to face me. "Yes, ma'am?"
As I look into her eyes, it seems that my face triggers no memory within her. Does she not remember me? Her foot taps as if she is in a hurry.
"Have you any knowledge of the patients in the ICU?" I ask her.
"Yes."
I can tell from the looks of her face that she is in a rush. Well, she needs to be patient. I have a lot of questions to ask her.
"Do you know of a Mateo Jonathan Macedo? You told me that he is here. I cannot seem to find him."
The lady nurse, however, seems to be doubtful. I can tell that she knows who I am, and she knows who I am talking about. I look into her eyes, and it seems the truth would give way any minute from now. "Ma'am, he has been discharged for days now."
I look at her straight in the eyes as if I would squeeze the living truth out of her. "What? Where will he go? How could a man under coma instantly rise from his bed and be released?"
"I don't know, madam. I'm just a nurse and – "
"You know something!" Her eyes say everything. Even the way her hands fidget behind the clipboard she is holding. "Now, tell me, where did Mateo Macedo go?"
"I was told to tell no one," she says with her shaking voice. "Not even anyone who claims to be a friend or relative. No one must know what had happened."
"What did happen? You are forgetting that we are talking about a Macedo here. He is no ordinary man. He is an elite, son of the CEO and owner of AMC TV, and you would very well tell me now or the whole world will learn of what this hospital is doing next!"
"I'm sorry, madam. I cannot risk my life on it."
With that, she simply runs away out of the ICU. As I try to go after her, I see her fade away from my sight as if to stop me from asking more questions. This has Ysabel's name written all over it. Anyone who somehow gets involved just suddenly become afraid of death. This is what Ysabel can bring to anyone that gets in her way – death. As another janitor mops around me, I could almost kick his bucket that he carries around me.
*
In this mess, I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I needed to take a breath. I somehow find myself bringing myself to a coffee shop. An odd choice indeed, but I don't know what to do. Eloisa, whom I have not seen for quite a while, finally managed to join me for a morning drink. This is all too much for me to handle. Personally, I buy a hot espresso. Life's bitterness is worse than a cup of coffee. One cannot expect how bitter it goes, but it sure is beautiful once you learn how to appreciate it.
And, there is my priestly friend somehow sober today. I tell her of everything that had happened. Truly, I miss her. She, however, listens intently to me. Once I am done, I am left breathless. I cannot believe how much can happen within a month.
"And what about her wish?" Eloisa asks. "What will become of Emma's peace in her last days?"
In all of the things I told her, how could she ask me this? As I take a sip of my coffee, I think of a plausible answer. The root of all these troubles is to find a man that could be a tenth on his first, a fourth on his second, and the last is the same as his second. How can a simple man be entwined with deaths and lies?
I put the cup down and look at Eloisa in the eyes. "Oh, blimey, how are we supposed to find a man that is a tenth, a second, or whatever! I truly cannot understand!"
Calmly, she lets out a brief smile. "Maybe it could be the academic records? Emma has always been fond of intelligent men. Maybe he was tenth in elementary school, then he was fourth in high school. As for his college degree, he must have been a Magna Cum Laude."
I think all of that through. Maybe she is right. "It sounds like it rings a bell."
"What?"
As I take another sip from my coffee, I think and think. My suspicions may indeed be true. An intelligent man who could be tenth in his first time in school, fourth in rank at his second time in school, and maybe, just maybe, receive the second highest distinction in college. Only a man of the law could be that smart to be tenth, fourth, or second.
"I think I know a person that could be Emma's kindred spirit and could face enormous foes," I say triumphantly as I put the cup down. "Most of all, I think he has a Jonathan in his name."
*
It is time.
I go to his office to confirm my suspicions. With my partner gone, I will have to do all of these by myself. Eloisa has been good to accompany me through these days. As I go through his cramped office, I can see him reading different cases. I know he is a bit busy these days, but I need to see him. His office is a complete mess with towers of papers all about. Some papers lie on the floor. Some coffee stains are left on his desk. Cobwebs are forming in the ceilings and corners. Truly, he has hardly the time to clean up, let alone find a housekeeper or secretary to do the cleaning for him.
"Good afternoon," I say to break his focus from his work.
He looks up at me and I can see the courteous smile on his face. "Good afternoon, Miss Aguinaldo."
Somehow, Atty. Guevarra does not even bother to ask who my friend is. I suppose his wide knowledge of the elite families had led him to deduce who Eloisa is. The silence that follows us is tormenting.
I clear my throat and began speaking my words. "I will be frank, Atty. Guevarra."
"Of course," he says kindly.
I do not know whether I should be deceived by his courteous smile, but this lie has to stop. Many people have already died. How come his conscience has not yet been tormented? "Are you the lover of the current heir of the RSC or not?"
Somehow, he just laughs at the question. It was as if I told him the most ludicrous of all truths. With this, Eloisa suddenly hits the young lawyer's table with her fist to stop the laughter. "My friend asked you a question, Atty. Guevarra! Answer her! This is no laughing matter."
Now, I do not know if she took any drugs or alcohol, but certainly, her acts are working. Atty. Guevarra stopped laughing, but I could still feel Eloisa's temper raging.
"Quite sorry, Miss Acosta, but I cannot help but laugh at Rose's question."
"Oh, you must certainly admit it. Why did you suspiciously help Rose in times of need? Was it because you are my friend's lover?"
He must have thought we were kidding. As he looks into Eloisa's eyes of fury, his smile dies down. "I am not her lover. I cannot be her lover."
"Denial is always key. Behind that 'Nathan' name lies the full name of Jonathan."
"I do not know where you would get such an idea, but I hope you are in your mind to think it so. Miss Acosta, many have heard about your vices, but do not accuse me of such. You are right about my full name, Jonathan, but I am not her lover. I cannot be one."
Once more, Eloisa bangs the table to get his attention, but Atty. Guevarra does not even flinch. Even though his papers scattered all over his office, he does not even take his attention off us. It was as if we are fighting different truths altogether.
"You lie!" she exclaims.
Suddenly, Atty. Guevarra's patience dies out. He raises from his seat and begins taking his stand. "I am not her lover and I cannot be one! Can't you understand?"
"And, why is that? Certainly, you are lying your way out!"
"Why would I take my own sister as a lover? Think about that!"
Finally, that had shocked me. Emma has a brother? Atty. Nathan Guevarra is her brother? How? I don't understand. Out of shock, Eloisa turns to me to verify the truth, but I could not help but also stand agape. Her anger dies out when she heard the words, but her pondering does not stop. Did Raphael Concepcion also turn this young man away?
"Sister?" I stammer quietly. "How can she be your sister?"
Seeing our agape faces, he sighs quietly and sits. It was a truth he cannot have spoken. "I am the son of my father's mistress," he continues. "Jasmine Javier, my father's mistress who also happens to be the cousin of Emma's mother, Lerine, is my mother."
As I hear his confession, there was only one question I had in my mind and I had to ask it. "If you are a Javier through your mother's blood, what is your relation to Ysabel Javier?"
"She's the twin sister I never met. Father put us both in separate adoption centers to prevent us from ever knowing our heritage. This was designed to keep his wife from ever knowing his adultery. Unfortunately, this all failed. Mother wanted us out of the adoption center, but it took her a long time to find where we are. She thought that she would find us both in one center, but she only found me. When she learned the Ysabel is in another center, mother went to the center only to learn that another kindly couple adopted her. When she was married, I became a Guevarra through the goodwill of my stepfather. He treated me like his own child."
In our shock, Eloisa and I fall into the sofa set and ponder upon this. "And, you are more than willing to imprison her?"
"Rosanna, justice should be served through the paupers and the princes. There should be no bias. Even if we are blood relatives, she will have to face charges."
A thought comes to me. Many deaths occurred because Ysabel wants to stop anyone else from tearing her supposed fortunes into pieces.
"Then, you have a claim to the RSC," I say in realization.
"No, I don't. Father did not acknowledge me. Certainly, Ysabel would have no claim, but as the firstborn, she does. She is trapped in a limbo between being an heir and being ousted, but it will all have to rely on the will of my father."
I came here to find out whether Atty. Guevarra is that damned lover to get this over with, but he is not the one. "Atty. Guevarra, might I ask, how can one be a tenth on his first, a fourth on his second, and on his last be the same as his second? If you may, please answer it. It is for your dying half-sister."
I know it was a futile question, but as a lawyer, he must know at least a little bit on how I am to derive the answer.
Unexpectedly, I cannot believe he would try. "I do not know my sister that much. Our interactions go as far as inside the walls of Word Miracle Church. We knew of our father's infidelity, but we did not go far as to let him know that we know. I suggest that you look into the bible. She has always been religious."
Nothing is moving forward in this ordeal. Everything I do opens another can of worms. Just when I thought I know of everything, there it comes to destroy it. I know nothing about Ysabel. The people who do refuse to speak about her. How will I know what to do? The man in the riddle only leads to a dead end. Just when I thought I had everything figured out, everything comes crashing down. What do I do now?