The June afternoon inside the La Venera Hotel was unusually stifling as I sat on the couch near the window of my room overlooking the streets, enjoying a glass of sherry and puffing a thick stream of smoke. For a rural area such as Batangas, the accommodation available in this region is somewhat impressive. Mattresses and pillows are of high quality - European-made, by the looks of it. The richness of the white curtain cloths, the upholstery, even the woodwork, all of them European-made as well.
Well, there is no surprise there since this part of Batangas is a port town. And being so, products coming from foreign countries - especially those that come from Europe gets here first before anywhere else in the country.
I believe that explains why this place has lost it's Filipino touch.
Moments later, a knock sounded on my door, with a woman calling out my name. Her voice was soft, gentle and somewhat familiar. But despite this, I instinctively drew my revolver from my holster and pointed it towards the source of the sound. Seconds later, I called out.
"Who is it?" I asked in Spanish as I carefully and silently motioned towards the wall section of the door's knob side, with my revolver still at the ready.
"It's me, Isagani." answered a woman's voice in Tagalog, muffled. "Don't you remember me?"
By the time the woman said this, I managed to press my back against the wall, ready to throw her off in case she had any ideas of charging in and assaulting me. Oddly enough, her voice did sound familiar, like she's someone I've known a long time ago. As I slowly reached for the knob, I replied, this time in Tagalog. "I don't remember meeting you. What was your name again?"
"It's Paulita." said the woman, now with a clearer and more audible voice, as if she leaned in towards the door to reply.
This took me by surprise. That definitely sounded like Paulita.
Upon hearing this, I immediately holstered my weapon and turned the knob, slowly opening the door.
"I hope I'm not a bother to you at this time of hour." she exclaimed, curiously peeking through the small opening.
For some reason, I started to hesitate for a second before answering. I was somewhat at a loss for a moment, caught off-guard by this unexpected visit.
"Oh, not at all. Please. Come in." I welcomed her as I fully opened the door.
"Thank you." she replied as she started to walk in slowly inside the room - with a red fan covering half of her face.
It was at that moment that I stood there - stunned - at the sight of this heavenly creature. Ten years have passed, and yet she is still as beautiful as the day I left her. Her smooth black hair, her bright eyes, and her smooth milky skin are still exactly the same as I remember. It was as if the long years of motherhood hasn't dulled her appearance.
"I apologize for coming here unannounced." she continued as she lowered her fan and turned to face me.
"A matter of no consequence. But to be honest, I am a bit surprised." I answered passively. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Señora Pelaez?"
"Drop the 'señora', please. All that formality is making me feel awkward." she answered as she slowly broke into a short chuckle.
I replied with a short laugh. "Ahh, yes. I think I should call you 'Doña' instead."
"Isagani!" she smilingly reprimaded, answering with a tone of slight annoyance.
"So," I continued, "can I fix something for you to eat? I can call for the hotel's attendants. Some fruits? Or perhaps a meal? I hear their adobo here is out of this world. Or some wine perhaps?"
"No, it's all right. I won't be here for long. Thank you." she refused as she paced towards the window and walked past me. "I...my son will celebrate his birthday in two weeks. I'd greatly appreciate it if you and Señor Basilio can attend."
At this, I paused for a few moments. I'm well aware that Paulita has sent us invitations to her son's birthday. But to come here in person just to tell me this...something isn't quite right.
"Have a seat. Please." I offered as I pointed towards a vacant chair beside the couch - a suggestion that she did not hesitate to take. "You know, I somehow find myself rather indebted to you for going through the trouble of coming here just to notify me of this, so I'll really feel bad if I were not to at least offer you something while you're here. A glass of sherry, perhaps? To at least...lift your spirits." I suggested.
"Well, if you insist." she consented.
Eagerly, I went to the couch table and picked up the half-filled bottle of sherry and poured a meager amount on the clean glass goblet that I picked up just beside the glass that I was using earlier.
"So, Paulita, I'll leave out the formalities and I will cut directly to the chase." I continued as I handed her the goblet. "I believe you have something important you want to talk about aside from your son's birthday, am I right? Otherwise, you won't even bother to come all the way here at all. So what is it?"
At this, her face lost its radiance and her lips became stiff. Silence was in the room and it was as if our energies are being sapped by it. It was only when Paulita smiled and spoke up was the silence broken.
"I see. You never changed. After all these years, you are still as straightforward as ever. Well, if that's what you want, then I'll get to the point." she replied with a smile, pausing for a moment. "The truth is, my father-in-law, Don Timoteo, sent me to make you an offer."
"Interesting. What offer?" I inquired nonchalantly.
"He speaks of a huge venture that you and Dr. Basilio are engaged in. He says he wants to offer a negotiation for his services."
"I see." I quickly answered. "Can't say I don't appreciate his initiative. I have a question, though. Of all people, why did he send you to tell me this? Are you one of Don Timoteo's trustees? Tell me something I don't know, señora."
"I'm not associated with his business, but he meant no offense. I'm only here to deliver his message. You see...to begin with, Don Timoteo is too old to travel from San Diego to Batangas and Juanito is not in favor of this proposal so he cannot send him. None of his partners know about your plans on erecting a school within San Diego - except him, me and Juanito. Please understand, Don Timoteo's offer is to your best interest, Isagani."
"My...best interest? It is I who will be the judge of that. We cannot arrive at a decision if we do not have a proper negotiation. He thinks sending you will make me agree on his offer? The nerve of the bastard. Who does he take me for?!"
"I did not come here to entice you in making any decisions, and that's probably not the reason why he sent me. I went to you solely to offer an invitation - to persuade you to come to San Diego and arrange a meeting for the both of you. I understand how you feel. He didn't choose me as his messenger to insult your intelligence." she replied placidly.
I let out a huge sigh, took the glass sitting on the table near the couch and filled it with wine.
"By the way, how did he know about our plans on erecting a school in San Diego?" I asked sternly.
"I-I have no idea. He did not tell me anything about it. What I'm told is all I know."
"Is that so? Well, at least one thing's clear - this wasn't exactly about inviting me to a celebration. You could have told me sooner that this is a business proposal. By the way, how come his partners don't know about this? And what's in it for you, anyway? What are you going to get from this?" I asked as I finished the wine on one gulp.
"We needed to be cautious. Some of his partners are friars from powerful corporations, and you know very well that they do not like the members of the laity to manage schools. Please don't think ill of me. I have nothing to gain from this." she answered.
"Nothing?!" I retorted. "Don't give me that, Paulita. I wasn't born yesterday."
"I don't doubt that, and I can understand why you think that way." she answered, struggling to sound cheerful as she can manage. "I'm not hoping to get something out of this. Not monetarily or anything material, at least. I just...I want you to meet my child, that's all. Juanito wouldn't have it, so I..."
"Really?" I asked in a challenging tone.
"Yes." she replied softly. "That's all."
I paused for a second, thinking about her answer.
"Why? I asked.
"I want him to meet the most honorable and loyal man that I know." she replied immediately.
"You push your flatteries too far." I scoffed. "I like it. What's his name, by the way?" I asked.
"Miguel." she replied.
"Ahh, yes. Miguel. What a handsome name." I remarked. "Was it you who gave it to him?"
"Yes." she replied.
"Thought so." I complemented. "Your son is quite something, I'll give him that. As far as I've heard, the boy's taken a huge interest in guns. Is that true? Not that it's bad, it's just...unusual. To be honest, I was surprised when I heard the news from a friend. I suppose he took after his mother after all, eh?"
"Pilyo." she remarked with a chuckle. "His father exposed him to that at an early age. You know, he is so fascinated with them. He's also interested in stories he hears from our American business assocoates about gunfighters and outlaws from America. He often tells me that when he grows up, he wants to go to America and become a gunfighter."
"Well, that is a bit too much, but then again, you can't keep him from leaving the nest, can you? A day will inevitably come when a boy has to become his own man. Don't get me wrong, though. You seem to be a good mother, but there are times when we have to let things run their course. He'll grow older, and gradually he'll discover that there's more to life than shooting guns."
Paulita gave a short sigh. "I suppose you're right. A hatchling cannot learn how to fly if you won't let it stretch its wings. Perhaps, its because mothers like me tend to worry too much about their children."
"I won't judge. Worrying is what mothers naturally do." I replied to assure her.
"Yes. I guess so." Paulita agreed, smiling at me as she replied.
"By the way, your son speaks English?" I asked with curiosity.
"Yes. And I have to admit that his English is far superior than mine for his age. Give him a few more years and he'll speak like a true American." she answered with pride.
"I see. Well, in America, New York is a place where many cultures meet. Once he becomes fluent in English, he'll fit right in."
"Well, I don't know about that. I've heard stories about New York being overrun by crooks and criminals and he WANTS to live his life there. You know, I have been thinking for some time: did I do the right thing when I did not chastise my child because of his interests? Was I spoiling him too much? D-do I even have what it takes to be a parent Isagani?"
"And why not? You know, guns aren't completely evil, because it entirely depends on how one is going to use it. Like money. You can train him to respect it, to use it only when absolutely necessary."
"I suppose so." Paulita replied with a smile, seemingly amused at my response. "You seem to know your way around parenting pretty well, so now I'm not quite sure if you're still a bachelor." she jested.
"No, I am still a bachelor, I assure you." I replied in a jesting tone.
"Why so?" she asked with her curious eyes looking at mine.
"Family life...isn't exactly something I would be competent with, Paulita." I sighed, pasing for a few seconds. "You see, even if I do manage to get married, the nature of my work will not allow me to see my family often. I am a banker by profession, and this career requires a lot of my time and energy. I cannot be a banker and a father at the same time. I'll be blunt with you, Paulita: I love my profession, and my child doesn't deserve that kind of father. I would be unfair to him." I replied in a low tone.
Paulita lowered her head a bit. "I see." she replied softly, taking a sip of the wine before falling silent for half a minute.
"Can I ask you something, Isagani?" Paulita exclaimed.
"Sure." I answered firmly.
"I know you might hate me for bringing this up, but...I know I have been selfish back then, so...I need to know if you're still mad at me for what happened ten years ago."
I was somewhat shocked hearing this, as I never expected her to bring up the subject. I began to think about it long and hard, and then everything came back to me that moment - all that despair, all that rage, all that grief and all that hatred were beginning to build up inside me, dragging me into a spiral of heightened emotions and then hitting me all at once like a swift and unstoppable train.
I loved Paulita - perhaps too much that I can no longer love anybody else, even myself. She was my crowning glory, my pride and the soul of my aspirations. I was ready to do everything for her, as I believed she loved me too.
I remember the time when I opened up to her my dreams and aspirations, oh how I told with firm belief that our project of building an academy of instruction in Castillan will be the pioneer in making the Philippines like that of free Europe! How foolish of me, thinking that as her sweetheart, she would support me in my dream, only to be met by her bemusement - as if suggesting I was ridiculous for believing such outlandish ideas!
How I hated myself for pretending to not see, how she indulged in the praise and attention of other men, all the while barely acknowledging that our relationship even exists! How stupid of me to still love her even though she threw me out the window like a used rag and married a man she barely even knew! And for what? Advantage?! This whore of a woman hasn't any right to casually ask me if I am still mad about what she did.
And now she comes, asking me to go to San Diego to meet the don, thinking that her going here to invite me would influence my decision to their favor?! Damnation!
My fist started to shake in anger as these thoughts began to take hold, but I shook it off, reminding myself that I had to maintain my composure.
"Why did you ask? I am quite interested as to why you came up with such a question?" I probed, trying to look as cool as I can be.
She broke eye contact and did not say a word.
"Juanito was able to give you everything you wanted and I had nothing, so you leaving me was just a matter of time." I continued in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Juanito gave me everything that I wanted, that much is true." she answered. "But you...you gave me everything you had, and for lack of better judgement I shunned you. Now that I know better, it breaks my heart knowing what you have endured after I left you was not deserved. It isn't right. I know that by now you will never trust me after everything I did, but nonetheless I want you to know that I am very sorry for what I have done. I was wrong. You did not deserve all the hurt that I inflicted upon you. Can you forgive me for what I have done?"
Her words struck me like lightning. I have never expected her to apologize, let alone acknowledge her faults. But knowing her, she might be just doing this for the sake of Don Timoteo's proposal. I am definitely not falling for her tricks again.
"That is a very touching thought, Paulita. I appreciate the gesture. But it has been a long time, is it not?" I continued, trying to avoid her question. "I believe it's time we live and move on with our lives."
Paulita sighed, and after a brief moment, her lips broke into a sweet smile.
"I suppose you're right. There's no point in bringing this up. We should just keep these things in the past and move on." she said as she finished the remainder of her glass in one gulp. "I...I should be going, Isagani. Thank you very much for the...the wine and..."
"Should I accompany you outside? You look rather flustered." I offered.
"No, I'm fine. It must be the...the wine, but...thank you. I can manage." she refused, her voice rumbling and her tone dismissive.
"Very well." I replied in a low tone. "Then allow me to open the door for you, at least." I offered with a smile as I went to open the door for her.
Halfway through the opening of the door, I came to a sudden halt - which startled Paulita for a moment.
"Please give my regards to Don Timoteo Pelaez. Tell him we really appreciated his initiative and we'd want to hear from him soon." I said as I intently looked into her eyes, wearing the most subtle arrogant smile that I can manage.
"I-I will." she replied nervously as she hurriedly took her leave, breaking my hold of the door.
Slowly, as she walked out of the corridor, I took a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it with a match.
"Don Timoteo, you sly son of a bitch." I exclaimed. "You're up to something. I just know it."