Our grave house was the last one in a long row of mausoleums at the end of an alley. Lola Fely was content enough to let us live here, since she wouldn’t have to pay a caretaker to keep the mausoleum clean, the grave markers dusted and polished. Especially for All Saints’ Day, when relatives would come to visit. When that happened, Mama and I had to move out all of our belongings and hide.
Most of the grave houses in my alley had people living in them. One of them had a cradle made of palm leaves suspended with rope from the ceiling. Someone even had kerosene lamps and a radio. It had been scary to live here at first, but Mama told me that the living would do us greater harm than the dead ever could.
I believed her.
Chapter Five
On the way home, I stopped at a flower stand and bought a bagful of dried everlasting daisies to string into garlands later. It bounced against the other bag I carried. Aling Lydia had given me some bread, cheese, and steamed pork buns. I wanted to pull one out and eat it right there in the street but I decided to wait and share it with Mama. She was probably there by now.
I ran the rest of the way home.
The plastic bags I carried swung on my arm like pendulums. I dodged people buying flowers and candles at the gate, passed a funeral march down the main cemetery street, and jogged around some small children playing a game of hopscotch. The money Aling Lydia had paid me was pinned inside the pocket in my waistband. The bulkiness of the pouch was comforting against my stomach. She’d paid me only half of the usual fee because the other half of the laundry would be done tomorrow. If I could sneak a little of the money into my hiding place, then my puhunan would be almost complete.
I hoped Mama would stay home tonight. I could tell her about that gossiping woman who wanted to steal her job. That would make her want to go to work tomorrow. Then we would eat the pork buns for dinner and maybe go to a neighbor’s grave house and watch a show on her small television. A mausoleum painted sky blue marked the entrance to our alley. It was larger than my grave house, with barred windows on two sides, as well as a gated front entrance. There were two tombs inside. Little Ernie and a couple of his friends were usually perched on top of one of them playing cards, but now there was no one there.
That was strange. There were always people hanging around. Tina, a young mother who lived in the grave house next to mine, liked to sit outside watching her baby walk and play with the other kids. Another neighbor was usually roasting corn on chicken wire, set over hot coals inside a large can that used to contain powdered milk. The can of coals was there, thin gray smoke curling above it, but there was no one around.
Little Ernie came out of Aling Nena’s place and walked toward me. He seemed nervous. Strange. He kept looking over his shoulder at the empty alley.
“Hi, Ernie.”
He motioned frantically for me to be quiet and tried to push me back in the direction of the main road.
“What’s the matter?”
“Don’t go home yet. Wait here until I get back, okay?” Ernie whispered. Then he ran down the main road and out of sight before I could ask him why.
What in the world was that all about? My stomach twisted and the hairs on my arms were standing on end when I noticed Aling Nena’s and Tina’s grave houses with sheets pulled across the bars. It was as if they were hiding. But from what?
A voice I didn’t recognize drifted toward me from the end of the alley. As my feet took me closer, I could distinguish two, maybe three voices. My heart began to pound when I realized the voices were coming from my grave house.
“You pig! Will you stop eating and keep a lookout?”
“In a minute. And don’t call me a pig, you bug-eyed monkey.”
“Now you’re really asking for it.”
“Stop it! Or I’ll kick both your…”
“Hey, boss! Look at this.”
The loud clang and crash of a broken tile echoed down the alley. I quickened my pace and hid behind the wall of the grave house next to mine. My heart pounded so loud, I was afraid they’d hear it.
Oh, no—they found my hiding place.
I had discovered the hole when I’d crawled around the tomb to retrieve a coin that had rolled behind it. When the tile shifted, I was sure I’d broken it, and thought Lola Fely would find out and punish me.
There had been candles inside the hollow space, covered in a blanket of dust and cobwebs so thick you couldn’t tell what color the candles were. There was also a box of matches. I’d left the candles out and decided to use the hole to hide my old shoebox containing Papa’s watch, the picture, and later on, money. Mama never questioned where the candles came from, and as far as I knew, she didn’t know about that hole behind the tomb.
And now someone else had found it.
I held my breath and peered into my grave house. My knees trembled and would’ve given out if I hadn’t been clutching the cement wall.
The black bars of the gate stood open. There was nothing left of the small padlock except for the U-shaped piece still hanging from it. The rest lay in pieces on the cement below.
Littered over the floor were the contents of our baskets. My sweet potato plant had been knocked over, dirt scattered in a halo around it. Some of its leaves had been trampled. Clothes, towels, and underwear were being kicked around by three of the ugliest men I had ever seen.
One of them was short and squat, his brown knobby knees so bowed that he rocked from side to side as he walked and pushed my things all over the floor. The second one was tall and thin, like a stick man. He paced the grave house, his bulging eyes fixed on the guy sitting on top of Papa’s tomb while he finished off the rice and fish I’d left for Mama.
A sudden rush of anger filled my head. My temples felt like someone was pushing their fingers against them, trying to get through to my brain. The one sitting on Papa’s tomb must be the leader. How dare he sit there like some kind of king! In his lap was the old shoebox I had hidden in the floor behind the tomb.
If fear made me a coward, then anger made me careless. I rushed at the one that was holding my box. I wanted to pull him off the crypt, but the skinny one grabbed me by the arms and pulled me back.
“Hey! Get off my father’s tomb!”
The guy raised his eyes slowly, and then stared at me long and hard.
“You must be Nora. Your mother told me about you.”
My skin tingled with a chill, even though the air was hot and still. Words like “So what?!” and “Who do you think you are?” got stuck in my throat. Fear was like glue; it sealed my mouth shut. My stomach churned at the thought that someone, this stranger, knew who I was. What was Mama doing, talking to someone like him?
“Hey, Tiger! What do you want me to do with her?” asked the skinny guy. Panic rose in my throat like vomit.
Tiger. This had to be the guy those gossips were talking about. He had pale patches of skin on his otherwise dark face. His hooded lids hung over eyes with yellowish whites, and his lips were both purple and brown at the same time. His thin, sticklike body reminded me of a mosquito, with cheekbones and a chin that stuck out at sharp angles. He held a cigarette between his bony fingers. A flash of silver and blue caught my eye as the stranger raised the cigarette to his lips.
Papa’s watch.
No.
“Take that off! And let me go, you cockroach!” I tried to pull my arm away, twisting and kicking at his shins, but the thug wouldn’t let go.
Tiger held up his arm for me to see, and smiled. He was missing a few of his bottom teeth. “It looks good on me, ha? Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it,” he said. The watch slid up and down on his bony wrist, the silver bracelet too big for him.
My face felt hot. My hands knotted into fists. I wanted to claw those yellow eyes out. “Don’t take my father’s watch! If my mother owes you money, I’ll pay it back. Just let me have my father’s watch. Please.”
“Actually, she owes my boss money. She’s late with her payments, so I’ll hold on to this as collate
ral,” he said. He placed the cigarette between his lips, and smoke drifted out of his nose. “I’m not here to talk about your mother’s debts. Like I said, your mother told me a little about you, and I was … well … curious.”
His words made me cringe.
Who was his boss? Jojo had told me once that there were people who lent money out and expected to be paid back with interest. I think he called them loan sharks.
No. Mama would never borrow money from someone like that.
“You’re lying.” My voice shook, as if I didn’t believe what I’d just said. Was this the reason why Mama had talked to this guy? There had been a moment here and there, when I’d wondered where Mama had found the money to continue playing mahjong. She had said once that she sometimes won big in the beginning and instead of stopping, she’d go on playing, only to lose it all again. I didn’t think she’d borrow money just to gamble it away. I stood up straighter. “It’s not true. She wouldn’t borrow money from you or your boss.”
“I don’t care if you believe me or not. I know it’s true, and so does your mother.”
Tiger slid off the tomb and stood in front of me. I tried to back away, but the skinny one held me in place. Then Tiger walked around in a circle, studying me.
“There’s a way for you to help pay your mother’s debt. You can join my gang of pickpockets. I’ll give you good food to eat, and even some money. Why don’t you come with us?” He stepped closer. His breath smelled like an overflowing ashtray.
I finally twisted out of the skinny man’s grasp and ran to the door. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Give me back my father’s watch, or … or…”
“I don’t think so,” said Tiger. He sauntered past me. “Come on, boys. There’s nothing left for us here. Think about our offer, Nora.”
Before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed his wrist. “Give me back the watch!”
He pulled my hair with his free hand and yanked my head back. I screamed. He twisted his other hand out of my grasp and clamped it over my mouth, pushing me back against the wrought-iron bars of the grave house.
I clawed at his hand, forcing my fingers between his palm and my face. When he looked over his shoulder and nodded to his friends, his grip loosened for a moment. I opened my mouth, pressed his fingers against my teeth, and bit down with all my strength.
“Aray!” He whipped his hand away and jumped back. He hissed as he stared at his finger, blood seeping out of the cuts my teeth had made. “You think this little bite is gonna stop me?” He started to walk toward me and froze. There were shouts coming from up the alley.
“Nora!” Jojo’s familiar voice almost made me faint with relief.
With one last angry look at me, Tiger and his gang ran out and away from the approaching voices.
“Alis! Go back to the rats on your side of the cemetery, you piece of trash!” yelled a wiry, toothless man wearing a red baseball cap. He ran past my grave house carrying a big stick. Jojo and another young man followed close behind him.
It was Aling Nena’s husband, Mang Rudy, and their son Virgil. Mang Rudy was a carpenter and stonemason by trade. Virgil drove a motorcycle with a sidecar called a tricycle. They made it their business to keep our alley safe from thugs like Tiger.
“Nora, are you all right?” Jojo’s eyes were wide and pleading, his eyebrows arched so high that they had disappeared beneath his bangs. If I hadn’t been scared to death, I’d have laughed.
My throat ached and my knees buckled beneath me. Jojo caught me by the arms before I hit the floor. He held me up until I could stand again.
“Don’t let me catch you around here again or I’ll call the police!” Mang Rudy yelled, pulling his cell phone out and flipping it open to show he was serious. Tina, her baby on her hip, Aling Nena, and Ernie stood out in the alley, their eyes fixed on me. It made me want to run and hide. My cheeks felt hot. Why did they have to stare at me? I tried not to look at them. I didn’t want to see the pity in their eyes.
“What happened here?” asked Mang Rudy. He didn’t wait for me to answer. “What were those good-for-nothing roaches doing in your grave house? Were they meeting your mother here? Don’t look at me like that. I’ve got ears and I know your mother is friendly with that piece of trash.”
“But … but…” He was right, of course. Mama’s gambling had really gotten out of hand. Now she was borrowing money from a loan shark. My eyes blurred, and Mang Rudy’s face went in and out of focus as he continued to lecture me on being careful whom I associated with. That it was wrong for my mother to be on friendly terms with the likes of Tiger and that we should both have the common sense to stay away from him. What I didn’t understand was, why was I getting lumped in with Mama? I wanted to say so, but my mouth stayed closed, my lips pressed together so hard my jaw ached.
Mang Rudy paused his scolding and looked around my grave house. His eyes traveled over the mess, his forehead furrowed. “Well, it’s late. Where’s your mother?”
“She’ll be home soon.” My voice was so soft that he leaned closer and made me repeat what I had said. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. He might notice the doubt and worry that filled my own.
“Well, I hope you’re right. Don’t forget what I told you, ha?” He clamped his hand on my shoulder and gave it a shake. Then he turned to walk home with Virgil, who was standing in the alley talking quietly with Jojo.
“Salamat po.” My voice came out barely above a whisper. They turned and waved to me, and gave Jojo a thumbs-up.
Jojo looked at my face and said, “I ran into little Ernie and he told me that Tiger was here. We ran to get Mang Rudy and Virgil. It looks like we got here just in time. Are you sure you’re okay?”
I gazed, numb inside, at the clothes strewn on the floor and at the bruised leaves of my sweet potato plant.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I wiped away the tears on my cheeks. “Let’s go get your laundry before it gets too dark.”
But I wasn’t okay. I wouldn’t be okay until I got Papa’s watch back … and until Mama told me the truth.
Chapter Six
I remembered the day Mama and I moved to the cemetery. We had left Lola Fely’s home before everyone woke up. All we had were our baskets, a mat, a broom, and a couple of buckets.
Mama had a little money left and used some of it to hire a tricycle to take our things to the cemetery. On the way there, we stopped at the street market, or palengke. Mama bought some cheap plastic bowls and glasses, along with a few spoons, forks, and a knife. She seemed almost happy, now that we were away from Lola Fely’s house. I would be, too, if I didn’t think too hard about where we were going to live.
On the way out, I noticed a place that sold furniture and lamps made from wicker, bamboo, dried palm leaf, and capiz shells. I trailed behind my mother, my steps growing slower, and before I knew it, I was inside the store. My fingers trailed over the pink, yellow, and blue pattern of a woven mat, and then through strings of pearly, translucent capiz shells hanging from wind chimes of all sizes. Papa had once told me about how, as a boy, he and his brothers would help his uncle collect baskets of windowpane oysters, which is what capiz is made of. He once helped me make a small wind chime out of these shells for a school project.
“Nora!” Mama stood at the store’s entrance, breathing hard. “I thought you were right behind me.”
“Oh, sorry, Mama. Look at this. It’s just like the one Papa helped me make for school a couple of years ago. Remember?”
Mama’s eyes shifted to the wind chime I had been looking at. The lines in her forehead softened as she drew near. The corners of her mouth lifted. She reached out a hand and brushed the strands of shells, listening as they tinkled.
“I wish we could buy it,” I whispered. I knew we didn’t have a lot of money.
Mama looked at me, then at the wind chime. She pressed her lips and nodded. “Let’s do it. We’ll buy another mat too. Something nice to sit on while we eat.”
“But Mama—” She pressed a finger t
o her lips and signaled for me to keep quiet.
I watched Mama haggle with the vendor and then hand him her payment for both items. On our way out of the market, Mama noticed my frown. She told me not to worry, that we would make that money back easily.
We had arrived in the cemetery late in the morning. The squatters who lived in the mausoleums nearby watched us without trying to look obvious. Mama paid the tricycle driver a little more than he had asked for, and he helped us unload our things. She always said it was good to be generous so that generosity would be shown to us in turn.
We opened the gate to the mausoleum and looked around. I hung the wind chime from a hook in the ceiling. The strands of capiz tinkled, then grew still. From out of her canvas bag, Mama pulled out two small candles, matches, and a framed picture of Papa as a young man. I recognized the photo that had hung in Lola Fely’s living room and gasped. Mama smiled. She held a finger across her lips to stop the question I was about to ask. She propped the picture next to Papa’s grave marker, placed the candles on either side, and lit each one.
Mama and I prayed for Papa to watch over us while we lived here. Afterward, we stood up, brushing dust off our knees. She reached for her walis tingting, a handleless broom made of the dried ribs of the coconut leaf, and began sweeping the floor along the base of the tomb.
“Nora, why don’t you fetch some water so we can wash the dust off the floor.”
I remembered seeing a faucet somewhere along the main road with a garden hose attached to it and headed over there with the buckets. I filled them both to the brim. I was halfway to the grave house when I heard someone say, “You’re leaving a trail.”
I turned to look and saw that I was, in fact, leaving a trail of water behind me. That was when I saw Jojo for the first time. He was sitting on a tomb by the side of the road with his legs folded beneath him, a wide grin on his face.
I ignored him and kept walking. My arms and hands burned from the weight of the buckets. Who knew that water could be so heavy!
Everlasting Nora Page 4
