Chapter Ten
Joe Halili - Naguela
Joe placed both hands firmly on the steering wheel as he searched his right for the upcoming entrance road. He had never been to this part of Naguela before. The roads were tight and dangerous. They'd come very close to the edge of a hill on their way here. Zella did her best to help Joe navigate the roads from the passenger's seat, but the GPS was becoming less accurate the further west into the country they went.
"Turn there," Zella said, pointing at the opening. Joe had seen it at the same time.
He pressed on the brake, slowing the car down before pulling the steering wheel to the right. It wasn't immediately apparent where they could park the vehicle, so they followed the long winding path leading towards the farmhouse. The sky was ablaze with color. The fields on either side of the road were lush. With their windows all the way down, they could hear birds singing and insects flickering and chirping around them. As they got closer to the farmhouse, they saw cows grazing in a field and horse stables in the distance. The farmhouse had a brown roof and white walls.
Joe Halili pulled up in front of the circled driveway. A man and a woman were at the door to greet them right as they stepped out of the car. The man was tall and thin with a salt and pepper beard. The woman was short and plump, with a warm smile.
"Good afternoon," they said together.
Halili beamed back at them. "Hola! You must be Manuel." Joe took the man's hand and shook it firmly.
The man nodded. "And this is my wife, Teresa."
"A pleasure to meet you both," Joe said, dipping his head. He looked over at Zella and subtly nudged her wrist.
"N-nice to meet you," she said. Manuel set his eyes on Zella. The farmer had an energetic aura about him, despite his age. He glowed under the sunlight, giving off a serene zest that showed how much he loved being out in the open. Joe noted his eyes were red and baggy. Maybe he was under some kind of stress, even with his beautiful farm life.
"My name is Joe, and this here is my partner, Zella. We recently moved to Naguela and have a small business. My assistant heard you are interested in buyers for this farm. We figured we should come and see it for ourselves."
"Yes, yes," Manuel said. "Follow me and I will show you around."
Manuel and Teresa walked them around the farm, explaining the many complexities of farming, and introducing them to a few of the staff workers along the way.
Manuel talked them through the crops he grew, which included corn, soybeans, and wheat. He explained how important the type of soil you used was for the end result. Joe had grandparents back in the Philippines who were once farmers, so these topics interested him. Zella however, was quiet. She walked with her hands interlocked in front of her crotch, her two index fingers tapping against each other. Joe had noticed her doing this a few times. He figured it was something she did for comfort, or perhaps she was just bored. Once or twice, he noticed her huffing and puffing, fanning herself with her fingers.
"Would you like me to show you the inside of the house?" Teresa asked Zella after one such time. "I'll pour you some fresh juice."
"No, I'm fine," Zella answered. Teresa looked a little saddened by Zella's response.
Joe asked Manuel about their clientele. Manuel spoke about biodiversity and the challenges of sustaining the farm. They were finally circling back to the house when Manuel opened up about selling the farm.
"I'm an old man now. I love farming, but I don't have the patience to keep up with the business side of things. My dream was to focus on farming and let someone else handle the business. But now I find myself in a mess that I can't get out of. And if I don't fix it, they will force my family off this farm."
Zella locked eyes with Manuel. She parted her hands and folded her arms, her chin angled towards him. Now she was paying attention. "What happened?" she asked.
"Come," Manuel said. "Let's head to the house and talk over a drink."
They followed Manuel and Teresa back to the main house. The decor brought back memories of houses in the Philippines for Joe. Ones owned by elders who'd had their furniture passed down for generations. Back then, they built the furniture to last. To where the furniture often outlived its owner. The furniture of today diminished rapidly from the moment someone purchased it. This decline in craftsmanship was a way for corporations to get people buying more furniture and appliances in their lifetime. The older generations were determined to keep their possessions because of the value of craftsmanship they grew up with. This was very apparent in Manuel and Teresa's home.
Joe smiled as he thought of the cutlery and dishware that had been in his family since he was a child. They were like the chinaware patterns on the plates Teresa served them sandwiches and cookies on.
"So, what happened?" Zella asked once again. Joe smirked at her bluntness. There was no enjoying the food and drink before jumping straight into the conversation.
Manuel took a sip from his glass and set it down, letting out a note of pleasure. "Well, I must admit to several silly errors on my behalf. My first mistake was failing to pay my bills. I was once a respected man in this country. Friends with all the politicians. Everyone looked out for me and made sure I didn't have to stress over bills and taxes. That all changed when the new regime came in. The new regime is young and cares nothing about an old farmer like me. I'm nothing more than a relic of the past to them. And they have no respect for a farmer when they can simply cut trade deals for fresh produce and meat."
Joe nodded. "It's like my father always says: one generation works hard to spoil the next. They don't know the pride in having that fresh produce grown on their own soil."
Manuel smiled for a moment. And then the smile vanished. "Yes. But I must admit that I also got spoiled. All those years of being respected and looked after made me hesitant to pay my taxes. Especially to a regime that is ruining our country. The war with the Etreans isn't all on them, but had they responded to it differently, maybe there wouldn't be so many innocent children being killed. Being forced into picking up a gun and fighting."
"There haven't been any major fights in the past few days," Zella said. "I heard there's a chance of peace talks."
"For our sake, I hope so. But let me continue so I don't waste your time. When I stopped paying my expenses, the government threatened me with red notices. In my older age, my patience for these things is wearing thin. And all my children are living their lives abroad now, so I can't lean on them. For that reason, I sought the help of Santino."
"Santino?" Joe repeated.
"Santino," Manuel nodded. "He is a well-known businessman in our country. Officially, he is a loan shark. And I should have known better than to trust him. He is a man with a reputation."
"What did he do?" Zella asked.
"Ohhh! He is a wicked, wicked man!" Teresa yelled.
Manuel placed his palm over Teresa's hand. "Forgive my wife. She gets very upset when we talk about Santino. Santino said he would help us. He offered to buy out my farm and pay off all my debts. He told me he would give me the life I wanted. To focus just on farming and nothing more. That all me and my wife would have to do is maintain the farm as usual, and maybe hire a few workers here and there to meet demands. He would take all profits from the farm, but pay my wife and I a salary so that we could live comfortably. But Santino got greedy. First, he made sure that the clients I'd been dealing with for years would pay him directly, and that not a penny of the profits would touch my hands. And then, the salary he paid us decreased every month. To the point we have to sneak more and more of the products we're trying to sell in order to stay healthy enough to work. And when he found out that we were taking from the product, he stopped paying us all together."
"We need that money," Teresa added. "It's not just for us, it's for our grandchildren, too."
"And that's why, when your team reached out to us, wanting to inquire about our farm, we were hopeful. Hopeful that you were people with good intentions. To buy our farm, you will need to haggle with Santino. He is obsessed with money, but he can be reasoned with. I lack the persuasion skills to do it. I'm old and tired."
Joe felt Zella's eyes on him. He reciprocated the stare. He understood her without needing to speak. They wanted to help Manuel and Teresa. Having a farm that made money would be a bonus. But at least they'd help this couple live their last days in happiness, free from the stress of a greedy loan shark. "We'll do our best to persuade him to sell," Joe nodded. "And if we're successful, we'll be generous with how we split the revenue."
Teresa smiled broadly. "Thank you for wanting to help us."
"Know this," Manuel said. "Santino knows the benefit of having a business like this. And I don't doubt that he's into money laundering too. This could be something he uses to clean money. That means you must negotiate the deal well to make it seem appealing to him. For instance, you could offer him a fraction of my profits for an additional six months after the buyout. I don't mind giving him some money for a little longer if it means we'll be rid of him soon enough."
Zella leaned forward. "No fucking way are we giving him more of your money. If we close the deal, you're getting what you're owed from then on."
Joe cringed at the curse word. He wondered if Dr. Calloway had ever taught her social etiquette. Halili was raised to never curse in front of elders that he respected. He took his phone from his pocket and opened up a message thread with Zella. "Just give us this guy's address and we'll head over there today."
Joe typed the address as a text message to Zella so they'd both have it. They said their goodbyes and headed to the car. Joe opened the car door, took a deep breath, and gazed over at the stables. To him, this was what life was all about. He looked up at the sky and smiled. "Hey, mama, I'm going to buy this place for you too, ya? Your boy is about to own a farm, just like Auntie Mona." He hopped into the car where Zella's curious eyes followed him.
-Mere Immortal is written by Gary Swift. If you see this on another website under another name, then someone has plagiarised it. Visit mereimmortal.com for official chapters. Subscribe to the Substack paid tier to read further ahead in the story.
-This version of Mere Immortal is written in US English.