“City Gates” A Prequel to “Nameless” Part 1

“City Gates”

A Prequel to “Nameless”


by: Jeel Christine de Egurrola

Two Brothers by Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, 1921

PART 1: THE GREEN BROTHERS

Kato Green

“Move faggot!” I could hear my step-father’s loud cry. My brother Marcus moves away. My stepfather smiles sarcastically at Marcus... and Marcus.... poor Marcus just stares.

“What are you staring at, huh, faggot!!?”

“Nothing.” Marcus replies unnerve...

“What do you mean nothing? You’re staring at me like you wanna throttle me like a mouse!”

“I do not stare at you like that.” He defends himself with the voice that is no one’s but Marcus’—low and apathetic.

I don't understand why Marcus just allow anyone to label him, cuss against him, and abuse him. Profanities are insult to one's soul, and the more I hear them, the furious I become. Curses and words that pull people down are much worse than physical pain.

There was one time when I was fourteen that I found Marcus sitting beside piles of garbage bruised and wounded. His lips were swollen. He could barely move. I was supposed to meet him after his work in a bookstore to borrow books from a retired professor in a city state school who happens to be Marcus' boss. When I didn't meet Marcus I was worried and searched for him for half an hour and find him in that desolate alley. I was angry at whoever did it to him. He didn't tell me who, but I knew he wouldn't. He didn't want me to worry and I was furious. Had I know who the perpetrators are, I could have done the unthinkable. Had I been here during the incident, the perpetrator would have already been in his deathbed.

As an existent oppressed being in a cosmic chance I have learned to protect my self from my oppressors. My protective instinct is one of the reasons why I and my brother are still alive. Though I do not excel in hand-to-hand-combat, I am good with knives, but my greatest advantage is my ability to predict my opponent's offenses beforehand. I am not as educated as the rich and the powerful, I know how to write and read. Our mother taught us how to... One of the reasons why I read about human physiology and behavior is for my own and my brother's survival and maintenance.

In a wrinkle of a time, the big grumpy man in his early forties reaches and kicks my brother like a soccer ball. My brother hits the ground and I, now irate, take a bronze-made fire poker rod that is posed near the fireplace mantel and hit it toward the back of the big guy with full man strength. Such an ugly scene and a very bad thing for a teenage boy to do... In our society, we are subjected by laws that oppress the weak and the poor, and justice is only for those who are strong and rich—even the most disorganized criminals get away from trouble.

My stepfather squeals agitated obscenities. “You fuckin’ asshole! Just like your fuckin’ mother. Come over here bitch!” I move hastily toward the backdoor of the house where my small eight month old Doberman Pinscher my brother gave me last week as a birthday present sits on the meadow of manila grass. The dog barks an otherworldly sound like a sound of fright upon the sight of my step-father grasping my shoulders with his claw-like nails digging through my tanned skin. I feel the pain but I fight. Fighting is the only way to survival. From my experience with Doug, I learn to fight to protect me and my brother. I would do anything to defend my brother for he is my best friend and my only family left.

He continues to utter profanities—words I dare not hear. He pulls me inside the house and back and forth he aims at me with his painful blows. I smack him with upper hand blows and he stumbles, he stands up and hastens his motion back to me and he hits my forehead with the fire poker rod I hit him previously. I run groggily into the disorderliness of the kitchen where my brother is lying unconscious—dead to the world—on the dirty kitchen floor. Before I could reach the collection of knives in the knife handle, the big guy hits the occipital of my head and everything goes black. To nothingness I escape...

Marcus Green

I see myself looking at a vast field of daises, with my little brother beside me. I look at him and his slivery-gray eyes sparkle like gems exposed to the sun. He smiles at me like he always does when we are together. Kato takes off to Black, the little Pinscher I bought him with my meagre earning from the restaurant where I work as a dishwasher. I have no education. People like us—those who belong to the lowest strata in caste society do not get an education—not in this dystopian world.

I look at a seven-year old Kato playing with the black pup. His smiles are extraordinary—my comfort since our mother’s death.

I still remember it was noon when my mother and I went to the city market to buy us spices, potatoes and beans for mom’s bean casserole. It was a special day—Kato’s 7th birthday. My mom wanted to surprise him with a special casserole—our special casserole (one special viand that we can afford). Rice, bread, and the ones that we gather—fruits, root crops and vegetables—are the only food that we are used to eating... Sometimes if mom gets an extra tip from her clients in a beauty salon where she worked, we get to eat meat. Meat is the best food in the world. When I was young, I wanted to be a meat man so I can slaughter meat and bring my family meat every day.

Despite our impoverish situation, poverty is never our enemy because we have outgrown it or more like we are already used to its anguishing slaps.

My mother died the same day when a group of hoodlums come crashing us with their muscular bodies. One hoodlum—Scarface, I call him because of the long ugly scar lines diagonally from his left eye to the nose and to his right cheek—slits my mother’s throat. I will never forget that face.

Our food and our money they took. I fought like it was the fight to death but with my slender torso and limbs and my non-athletic body did me no good. Another goon knocked me out to the ground.

The memory keeps coming back. Always grief-stricken, the life I live with my brother, although oppressive sometimes because of the drunkard and emotionally-unstable stepfather, is my only comfort—a pillow that enshrouds me still to my sanity that I am so afraid to lose.

I laugh at the sight of Pinscher trying to catch its tale in circular motion. Black does it for minutes until he goes tired and instead jumps to give little Kato a lick on the face. That is the sweetest act of affection an animal can give to its human best friend.

I go to sit beside my brother, and for hours we talk and talk about anything under the sun. And then I wake up... Just a dream...

It is almost sunset when I regain my consciousness. I see myself lying on the dampness of the kitchen floor. Confuse, I try the recover from whatever trauma I received. As I regain my senses, my brother’s dire face I see in my mind. My brother... Kato...

I try to sit my banal torso just to see the lifeless body on the floor across me. Kato...

For a moment there I lose my self to despair. My vision now blurry from the lens of tears... My brother couldn’t be dead. Oh no! I reach for him and check his pulse but I sense none.

He’s alive. I try convincing myself.

“He’s dead.” Says a familiar voice—voice that once soothes, but no longer.

“Mom?” But no one answers. “Mom, is that you?” I look at my surrounding and I see no one, hear no one. I must be dreaming. Worse, I must be crazy. I sit there looking at something from a distance but actually seeing nothing for what seems like aeons, absorb in my own neurosis.

A sudden rap on the French window snaps me to my awareness. What the hell!

Dog paws stretch up through the window—Black is rapping the glass window as if knocking to be taken inside. I reach up to open one window and the poor creature leaps in the kitchen. Black moves toward the lifeless body of my brother. Kato’s face now pale, eyes closed, a cut projects from his right eyebrow and extends to his right temple, purple bruises from blows spread through his cheeks. A chill shudders through me as my brother’s lashes flutter.

He’s alive. Thank God. I whisper.

“Kato” I shake my brother’s shoulder as gentle as possible. His eyes flutter again and finally I see those silvery gray eyes. I give him my sincerest smile. “Kato, Oh my God, Kato. Are you okay?”

And Kato smiles back. “Marrrrckk-k-k-ccuss” he stutters.

“Hello brother. Can you sit?”

“I guess.” I pull him up and his body responds. Thankfully... “Where’s Doug?”

“I don’t know. He must have been asleep by now. The last thing I remember is that it was noon when the asshole attack me...us...”

I help set my brother on the couch in the living room and start cleaning with water and dressing his wounds with clean gauze from Doug’s first aid kit he hides under his bed—the same kit he stole from the city hospital where he worked as a custodian for over two months. A year ago, he lost the job because of his irritable disposition. From then on he never looked for another job. So, I answer his needs. I couldn’t say no. I have to repay what my dear mother owes him. He took us in when we were on the edge of surrendering from survival.

He never loved my mother, nor did he love us. He took us in because she was beautiful. My mom was an object to satisfy his desires and sexual needs. When mother died, he started abusing us physically and especially me because I am gay. Sometimes when he comes home drunk, he would hit me for no particular reason other than me being gay—a disgrace to his home is all, he said. He makes us do things we would never consent like stealing. But who are we to question? We are nothing but a weakling in a struggling and oppressive home.

Kato Green

We stay in the house for a while but we take off after an hour. Doug is still in his room dreaming. We have nowhere to go. We have no food. I have a few coins I saved from my work as a newspaper boy in the morning and an errand boy in a bakery during the night, and Marcus has his own savings too, but our money will not suffice for longer if we are too flea from this place and away from our stepfather. But we have no other options left. We know no one we can possibly trust in our hypocrite community.

We travel by foot for hours until we reach the train station where we buy our tickets to Penndorion, another city state where metalwork is its major industry.

We sit side by side with my brother. An old woman sits across me, and beside her a little lady, age twelve perhaps. She sings a song loud enough for us to hear. Her voice like siren's voice enthralling me to my death. The song she sings I am not familiar but it soothes me.

♪♫♫ Deep in the meadow, under the willow
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your eyes
And when they open, the sun will rise

Here it’s safe, and here it’s warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet–
–and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay
And when again it’s morning, they’ll wash away

Here it’s safe, and here it’s warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet–
– and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.

Here is the place where I love you. ♫♪♫

(Words/lyrics borrowed from The Hunger Games by Suzzane Collins, and melody from Yiruma's Kiss the Rain >>> listen to the song here sung by Kimmy West of Mockingjay.net) 

As soon as we arrive at the Penndorion railway station, groups of uniformed and armed security men checks the luggage of the arriving guest, especially those with big baggages. We have no big luggage unlike the others. What I have is an old faded blue backpack with few of my clean clothing and my little dog hidden inside.

I have always wanted a dog since I was little, but I wasn't allowed. Doug said that dogs aren't for kids, and that they are filthy beasts who poos anywhere. I know I'm eighteen but it doesn't matter, this dog is mine. Sometimes it feels good to be childlike once in a while.

Marcus brings his black leather tanner bag satchel–his most expensive and priced possession–hangs on his right shoulder. 

We join in the crowd of people, and we lose ourselves among the sea of faces...

*********

You may also read PART 2 of this prequel.

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Hiling Chapter 4

Heto na po ang Chapter 4 ng HILING, hehehehe sorry kung mejo natatagalan na ang pag update ko, mejo wala kasi ako sa mood mag sulat ngayon eh... pero ill still try to update at least one chapter per week...

salamat sa mga sumusubaybay ng HILINg na sina

Gel
Erick vladd
MJ
patrick
Nikkos
anonymous (OFW frm SG)
wastedpup
MC
mico
mcfrancis
ash
roan
marclestermanila
wyne

at sa anonymous at silent reader maraming salamat po.. at di nyu ako iniiwan at patuloy nyu parin akong sinosoportahan pati ang mga gawa ko... kung may comment kayo sa mga gawa ko pero ayaw ninyong mabasa ito ng iba you can use the "CONTACT ME"  tab sa blog ko para kahit papanu ay malaman ko ang inyong mga comments, suggestions, and violent reaction kung meron man....

again.. maraming....maraming.....maraming.....salamat po.....

Blog: http://thirdsillusion.blogspot.com/ 

-3rd/Roj-

__________________________________________________________

Hiling Chapter 4: The Royal Family

-oO0Oo-

EJ Del Castillo

Matagal na rin ang nakalipas since last ko nakausap ang Uncle Jam ko. Ngayon nga daw ang uwi nila sito sa Pilipinas since na approve na ang transfer papers naming with his son

Although di sila umuuwi ay halos every week naman sila kung tumawag sa amin through phone or through internet call and even though we only knew them on pictures ay ditto din naman naming napatunayan kung gaano nila kamahal ang isat-isa.

Yes we know about them and it’s ok as long as they are happy and no one gets hurt in the process.

Oh by the way ako nga pala si EJ Del Castillo “Elixir John Del Rosario-Del Castillo panganay ako at dalawa lang kaming magkapatid. As of now my little sister JJ or Jestine Joan Del Rosario-Del Castillo and I ay parehong nasa 3^rd year college. Yes nag loko ako once and believe me pinagsisihan ko iyon.

Nang malaman ko na uuwi na dito sa Pilipinas sina uncle Jam at uncle Jom ay agad na pag pasyahan ng aming mga magulang na sa iisang paaralan na lang kaming tatlo mag aaral, and that school is the very same school kung saan nakapag tapos sila Momy, Dady, Uncle Jam, Uncle Jom Ninong Aelvin and Tito Anton.

Although dady was late he did manage to finish what he started at the exact number of years he is supposed to graduate. Unlike me na naturingang Class Valedictorian from Elementary to High School pero due to unfortunate turn of events eh isinusuka na ako ngayon ng College ng mga paaralang aking pinapasukan dahil daw sa attitute problem ko.

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DAGLAT presents: SEE LAU II part 4

Ikaapat na Bahagi: /ee-ka-a-pat/ - /na/ - /ba-ha-gee/

Uno – Dos – Tres – Kwatro

“Please Martin! Pumayag ka na.” pamimilit ni Danielle kay Martn mula sa kabilang linya.

“Friend! Hindi ko kaya yun.” sagot ni Martin.

“Laki ng panghihinayang ni Boss sa’yo.” sabi pa ni Danielle.

“Friend, ganito, pag pumayag si nanay, go ako.” sagot ni Martin matapos lang ang usapan nilang magkaibigan.

“Sabi mo ‘yan friend ah.” tila naging maligaya ang tinig ni Danielle sa sagot nia iyon ni Martin.

“Martin Mahal, sino iyong tumawag?” tanong ni Fierro kay Martin.

“Si Danielle, pinipilit akong sumali dun sa contest nay un.” tugon ni Martin.

“I told you, sumali ka na kasi.” pamimilit ulit ni Fierro.

“And I told you na huwag mo na akong piliting sumali dun!” biglang simangot na sabi ni Martin.

“Asus!” sabi ni Fierro saka niyakap mula sa likod si Martin.

“Sama ka sa akin mamaya ah.” pakiusap ni Martin kay Fierro.

“Saan naman?” tanong ni Fierro na walang maalalang lakad ni Martin.

“Huwag ka nang magtanong basta samama ka sa akin mamayang gabi, 9pm at formal attire.” pamimilit ni Martin sa binata.

Kinagabihan –

“Ang tagal!” yamot na sabi ni Martin habang hinahantay si Fierro.

“Martin!” tawag ni Jayson mula sa likuran.

“Jayson!” sagot ni Martin. “Saan na si Fierro?” tanong pa ng binata.

“Sandali lang daw, saka maaga pa naman daw kasi.” sagot ni Jayson.

“Ganun ba? Pwede ko bang akyatin?” tanong ni Martin kay Jayson.

“Kaya nga ako pumunta dito kasi pinapasundo ka ni Sir Fierro.” nakangising turan ni Jayson. “Sabi niya din, huwag ka daw aakyat dun hangga’t hindi mo naisusuot itong pinadala niyang damit.”

“Loko talaga iyon.” sabi pa ni Martin.

Maya-maya pa at umakyat na nga si Martin sa tass kung nasaan ang Kuya Perry niya –

“Martin.” nausal ni Jayson na nanlalaki ang mga mata.

Inikot ni Fierro ang swivel chair niya paharap kay Martin nang marinig niyang tinawag ito ni Jayson.

“Martin.” laki nang paghangan na nasabi ni Fierro saka tumayo.

“Kuya Perry.” mas higit ang paghangang nasabi ni Martin.

“Tara na!” simpatikong aya ni Fierro kay Martin saka abot sa kamay nito.

“Let’s go!” sagot naman ni Martin saka inabot ang palad ng katipan.

Nakasuot si Martin ng puting coat na may lining na kulay itim at gray, na tinernuhan ng puting pantalon at ang panloob naman nito ay kulay pink na Chinese collared at may kulay brown na ribbon sa leeg. Bagong gupit at ayos na ayos ang buhok nito na bumagay sa itsura ni Martin, lalong tumingkad ang mala-anghel nitong mukha at kagwapuhan.

Si Fierro naman ay nakasuot ng kulay itim na coat na may lining na puti at may burdang kulay gray at tinernuhan din ng kulay itim na pantalon. Kulay pula naman ang panloob ng binata at kulay brown din na necktie. Tulad ng pangalan niyang Fierro ay napag-aalab din ang karakter ni Fierro sa suot niya at napag-alab din nito ang kagwapuhan ng binata. May naging simpatico at kaaya-aya ang anyo nito na mas naging kahali-halina.

“Wow! Nice couple!” maibulong ni Jayson sa hangin.

“Saan ba tayo pupunta?” tanong ni Fierro kay Martin.

“Puntahan mo na lang itong restaurant na’to.” komento pa ni Martin.

“Good evening Martin!” simulang bati ni Cris kay Martin pagkapasok nito sa loob ng Guilbert’s Place (Local Restaurant sa Plaridel, malapit sa Sta. Rita at Rocka).

“Sinong kasama mo?” tanong pa ng binata kay MArtin.

“Martin, tara na!” sabi naman ni Fierro na bagong pasok sa loob.

“Cris!” muling nasabi ni Fierro nang makita ang kausap ni Martin. Kita sa mukha nito ang pagkabigla ngunit pinilit niyang magpakapormal pa din.

“Fierro?” nagulat na sabi ni Cris. “Anung ginagawa mo dito?” tanong pa niya.

“Sabi mo kasi magsama ako, kaya sinama ko si Kuya Perry, hindi pwede si nanay kasi maaga ang pasok niya bukas kaya si Kuya Perry lang ang naisama ko.” salong paliwanag ni Martin kay Cris.

“Halina kayo.” walang nagawang sabi ni Cris na inaya ang dalawa papasok.

“Ma, Pa, I want you to meet Martin.” pakilala ni Cris kay Martin sa mga magulang niya.

“Martin, my parents.” sabi pa ulit ni Cris.

“Nice meeting you ma’am!” nakangiting bati ni Martin.

“Nice meeting you Martin.” sagot naman ng ginang. “Sino iyong kasama mo?” tanong pa nito sabay aninag sa nasa likurang si Fierro.

“I am with my brother, Fierro.” pakilala naman ni Martin.

“Good evening Uncle and Tita!” pilit pinatatag ang sariling turan ni Fierro.

“Percival!” madiing anas ng ginang.

“Yes Ma! Si Perry.” sabi ulit ni Cris.

“Wait, may ano?” naguguluhang singit ni Martin.

“Sorry Martin kung hindi ko nasabing half-brother ko si Cris.” pauna nang hingi nang paumanhin ni Fierro.

“So, another trick mula sa inyong dalawa?” pilit ang ngiting tanong ni Martin kay Fierro.

“Definitely not!” salo ni Cris sa tanong.

“Upo na muna kayo.” sabi pa ng matandang lalaki sa kanila.

Pilit na pinahupa ni Martin ang sariling emosyon saka may pilit na ngiting umupo. Samantalang si Fierro naman ay hindi alam kung papaano papakiharapan ang mga taong sanhi nang paghihirap nilang mag-ina. Hindi pa siya handa para makita ang mga ito at wala pa sa plano niyang makaharap ang mga ito.

Matapos ang ilang sandal –

“Excuse me for a while.” pasintabi ni Martin sa mga ito.

Sinundan naman siya agad ni Fierro –

“Martin, sorry, sasabihin ko din naman lahat sa’yo.” paliwanag ni Fierro kay Martin.

“Sorry Perry, pero teka lang, magmove-on muna ako sa kalokohan ninyo ni Cris.” sagot ni Martin.

“Please Martin pakinggan mo muna ako.” pamimilit ni Fierro kay Martin.

“Ano ba ba ang sasabihin mo? Ano pa ba ang hindi ko alam? Ano pa ba ang dapat kong malaman? Ano pa banag ang mga itinatago mo? Ano pa ang mga kasinungalingan ninyo?” tanong ni Martin na kita ang pagpipigil ng luha.

“Listen to me!” saad ni Fierro saka tinitigan sa mga mata si Martin. “All I need is your trust! Sasabihin ko din sa’yo lahat.” sinserong saad pa ng binata.

“Bakit hindi pa ngayon?” tanong ni Martin.

“Dahil hindi pa panahon.” sagot ni Fierro.

“Malalaman ko din naman yan, sasabihin mo din naman yan, bakit hindi pa ngayon?” tanong pa ulit ni Martin. “Ano to? Sa susunod mukha ulit akong tanga, tulad ngayon?” giit pa ulit ni Martin.

“Trust me Martin!” pakiusap ni Fierro.

“How can I trust you? Wala na akong reason para paniwalaan ka.” sabi ni Martin.

“You love me, right?” tanong ni Fierro.

Tango lang ang sagot ni Martin.

“That is enough para pagtiwalaan mo ako.” nakangitng sabi ni Fierro.

“Ewan ko Perry! Oo, mahal kita, pero nahihirapan akong kumuha ng dahilan para pagtiwalaan ka. Illogical and fallacious iyong sinsabi mo.” sabi pa ulit ni Martin saka iniwan s\mag-isa si Fierro.

“Martin!” tawag ni Fierro.

“Fierro.” tawag naman ni Cris kay Fierro pagka-alis ni Martin.

“Ano ba ang balak mo Cris?” singhal ni Fierro kay Cris.

“Sirain ang buhay mo!” sagot ni Cris dito.

“Gago ka! Hindi pa ba sapat na winalanghiya ninyo ang buhay namin ni Mama?” tanong ni Fierro dito.

“Hindi pa tol! Kung alam mo lang kung anung hirap ang nangyari kay mama nung ipagpalit kami ni Papa sa inyo!” paninisi pa ni Cris.

“Nasa inyo na si Papa di ba? Dapat masaya ka na.” sabi naman ni Fierro.

“Oo, ibinigay nga ninyo sa amin si Papa pero lantang gulay na siya nuon, hanggang ngayon langtang gulay pa din.” sumbat pa ulit ni Cris.

“Kaya ba ipinagpalit na ng mama mo si papa kay Tito Bobi?” balik panunumbat naman ni Fierro. “Malandi din iyang mama mo! Komo ba wala nang mapapakinabangan kay papa, lalandiin naman niya iyong kapatid ni papa?”

“Wala kang karapatang lapastanganin si mama!” sabi ni Cris sabay bitaw ng suntok kay Fierro.

“Puta! Ikaw! Kayo ang nagsimula nito!” ganting suntok ni Fierro na nagpabuwal kay Cris. “Ibinalik na namin sa inyo si Papa, kahit ipagpilitan naming kami na ang mag-aalaga ayaw ninyong pumayag! Ipinasara ninyo iyong eskwelahang minana ni mama sa lola niya at higit pa, ibinaon ninyo kami sa utang na kayo naman ang may gawa! Namulubi kami sa U.S., dahil sa inyo!” ganting sumbat pa ni Fierro.

“Mang-aagaw kasi ang mama mo!” sabi ni Cris. “Maninira siya ng pamilya!” sabi pa nito saka kinuwelyuhan si Fierro.

“Tandaan mo Cris! Mas matanda ako sa’yo at di hamak na mas nauna si mama kaysa sa mama mo! Nagkataon lang na malandi iyang nanay mo!” sagot ni Fierro saka tulak kay Cris palayo.

“Gago!” sigaw ni Cris saka muling sinalubong ng suntok si Fierro.

Nakailag si Fierro sa suntok na iyon kaya naman dumausdos si Cris pababa at tumama ang tagiliran sa dingding.

“Matakot ka na Cris! Mararanasan mo kung ano ang ginawa ng pamilya mo sa amin ni mama! Kukunin ko ulit si papa sa inyo. Humanda ka! Malapit nang magsimula ang lahat!” pagbabanta pa ni Fierro.

“Hindi mo magagawa iyan! Kukunin ko muna sa iyo si Martin!” ganting banta ni Cris sa kapatid.

Sa sinabing iyon ni Fierro ay nakaramdam siya ng takot para sa katipan. Oo, naalala niya, anung balak ni Cris kay Martin at dinidiskartihan ito ng kapatid.

“Tigilan mo na din kami ni Martin!” madiing pag-uutos ni Fierro.

“Simulan mo nang bumilang ng araw at baka paggising mo wala ng Martin sa tabi mo.” wika pa ni Cris saka isang nakakagagong tawa.

Agad na lumabas si Fierro saka tinungo si Martin. Hinablot niya ang katipan at wari ba na walang nakakakita.

“Martin! Halika na!” madiin n autos ni Fierro dito.

“Ano ba Perry!” tutol ni Martin.

Anumang pagpupumiglas ang gawin niya ay baliwala ito sa lakas ni Fierro kaya naman madali siyang naisakay nito sa kotse.

“Ano ba ang problema Perry?” galit na tanong ni Martin dito.

“Mag-resign ka na kila Cris! Sa akin ka na magtrabaho. Asikasuhin mo na lang iyong Construction Company natin.” utos pa ni Fierro.

“Bakit ko gagawin iyon?” sarkastikong tanong ni Martin.

“Basta! Huwag ka na lang magtanong!” galit na sigaw ni Fierro kay Martin.

Kahit umaandar ang kotse ay pilit itong binubuksan si Martin.

“What the hell are you doing?” tanong ni Fierro kay Martin.

“Just choose, you’ll stop the car and let me out or I’ll jump!” buo ang loob na tanong ni Martin.

“Sorry Martin!” paumanhin ni Fierro saka inihinto ang kotse. “Pag-usapan na lang natin muna to.” pagsusumamo pa ng binata.

“Mamaya na lang tayo mag-usap sa bahay. Hahanap muna ako ng dahilan para pagtiwalaan ka.” malungkot na sinabi ni Martin saka bumaba.

“Martin.” tanging nasabi ni Fierro na nangingilid na sa mga mata ang luha.

Alas-dose, ala-una, alas-dos, alas-tres, alas-kwatro, alas-singko, hanggang sa makatulog na ang kawawang is Martin ay wala pa ding Fierro na umuuwi sa kanila. Naka-ilang text na din siya sa katipan na nagsasabing umuwi na ito at nakakailang tawag na din siya dito subalit hindi sumasagot o nagrereply. Lungkot! Tanging damdaming may puwang kay Martin, isang pinaghalu-halong emosyon na sa pagsusuma ay lungkot ang sagot.

Ala-una na ng hapon nang magising si Martin subalit walang Fierro na nasa tabi niya, wala ding Fierro na nagtetext o nagpaparamdam sa kanya. Walang anu-ano ay tila may sariling buhay na tumulo ang luha sa kanyang mga mata. May kung anung damdaming nagtulak sa mga luhang iyon para kumawala sa kanya.

“Tinanghali ka na ng gising.” bati ng ina ni Martin sa kanya at sa kanyang pagkagulat ay may mga bisita sila.

“Hinintay ko pa kasi si Kuya Perry eh.” paliwanag naman ni Martin na tila walang pakialam sa mga bisita nila.

“Kuya Martin!” sabi naman ni Gelo na hinahatak ang shorts ng binata. “Isasali ka daw nila sa contest.” sabi pa ng bata.

Biglang lingon si Martin sa mga bisita nila at ngayon niya napagtanto na may isang pamilyar na mukha duon at ito ay ang head organizer ng contest na tinatanggihan niya.

“Danielle told me na kung papayag ang nanay mo, papayag ka na ding sumali.” sabi pa ng head organizer. “Gladly, kasasabi lang niya ng oo bago kau gumising.” nakangiti pa niton sabi.

“Huh!” biglang lingon si Martin sa ina at tumango lamang ang matanda.

“It’s final and official, you’re our 24^th candidate.” sabi pa nito.

“Si Danielle?” agad na hinanap ni Martin ang kaibigan.

“Sabi niya may inaayos lang daw siya.” sagot ng head organizer.

Matapos sabihin lahat ng detalye at impormasyon tungkol sa contest ay umalis na din ang organizers ng Ginoong Lakambini sa bahay nila Martin.

Binuksan ni Martin ang binigay sa kanyang papel ng mga ito at binasa.

“A change of format in male pageantry, Ginoong Lakambini will showcase that Adam as a creation is not limited into the stereotyped casts. This will change the landscape of male pageantry that real men wore dresses and other female suites yet re-discovering the beauty not only in the physical but more off, the inner sanctity.” sabi sa Mission ng Ginoong Lakambini.

“Homosexuals, especially the cross-dressers are not allowed to join the contest.” ito ang nasa unang requirement kung papaano makakasali sa contest.

“Candidates must be willing to wear long gowns, dress, wig and other accessories that will make him look like a female.” ito ang nasa ikalawang requirement.

Itutuloy pa sana ni Martin ang pagbabasa ng dumating si Fierro sa kanila. Agad siyang niyakap ng kasintahan at siniil ng halik sa mga labi.

“I love you Martin!” sabi ni Fierro na naluluha.

“I love you more!” sagot naman ni Martin na walang pagsidlan ang kaligayahan at tuwa. Muli niyang naramdaman ang kapanatagan sa nakitang ligtas at kasama na niya muli si Fierro.

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