Everlasting Nora

by Marie Miranda Cruz

  “Hey, you hang out with the water boy? I guess losers make friends with other losers, eh?” Tiger sneered.

  “Shut up!” Jojo made a sudden move as if to hit him, but I held him back. The last thing I wanted was for him to get hurt because of me.

  “What are you going to do? Fight me? Don’t you remember what happened to your stupid friend?” Tiger laughed. The sound of it made me want to grind my teeth.

  “Hayop ka!” Jojo yelled more curses than I knew existed. They came out so fast he practically growled them at Tiger. My hands were locked around Jojo’s arm, but they were slipping fast.

  The woman at the gate was still there, watching us. Was that Rosie? What was she doing? Why didn’t she come and help us? I waved to her and screamed, “Help!”

  She didn’t hear me. Her eyes were fixed on Tiger.

  Jojo tried to attack Tiger again and again, shouting and kicking. I could tell he was crying without seeing his face. His voice broke a couple of times.

  “No!”

  I lost my grip on his arm. He shot forward, head-butting Tiger in the stomach, and pushed him against the fence.

  “Somebody help us, please!”

  The children playing nearby stopped and watched. One of them ran farther up the street and into one of the houses. I noticed that the woman at the red fence was gone, the gate was closed.

  We were on our own.

  Jojo had Tiger pinned to the wall, punching him in the stomach. I pulled at his shirt and screamed his name over and over while my mind screamed, Stop.

  Tiger grabbed Jojo by the hair, kneed him in the face, and then pushed him into my arms. It sent us both tumbling into the street. Jojo covered his nose with his hands, blood dripping through his fingers.

  A hiss escaped through Tiger’s clenched teeth. His eyes and nose were pinched together in anger. He stood over Jojo, a wicked grin spreading on his face when he saw the blood oozing out of Jojo’s nose. “You’re gonna regret you ever tried to mess with me.” Then he kicked Jojo in the stomach.

  Jojo curled into a ball and Tiger began kicking him everywhere—his back, his head, and his legs. Oh my God. He’s going to kill him. I had to stop this. But what could I do? I felt paralyzed, my feet rooted to the concrete. Do something. I could ram my body into him, the way Jojo had a moment ago. I forced myself to move. Tiger must’ve seen me coming because his hand whipped out and punched me in the chest. The blow knocked me backward. I didn’t have time to break my fall and landed on my back, hard.

  Something clattered on the concrete next to me.

  The balisong lay half open on the ground. I’d kept it in the secret pocket of my capris since Jojo had given it to me. I’d forgotten I had it. I snatched it up, releasing the blade. The wooden pieces that covered it folded back into a handle. My hands shook, but I gripped the knife as hard as I could and faced Tiger. He was bending over Jojo, checking his pockets for money.

  “Get away from him!”

  I pushed Tiger as hard as I could. He turned and swung at me. I raised my arm to block his blow when I heard him hiss in pain.

  He stepped back a little, cradling his forearm. He stared at me, his eyes mere slits, his mouth set in a grimace. Blood poured from a gash in his arm. A smear of blood glistened on the tip of the balisong. I could feel my cheeks twitching into a smile. I’d gotten him and I wasn’t even trying. Courage surged through my veins like fire. I could do this.

  What did Jojo call it? The balisong dance. The knife whistled through the air in a flash of silvery light. Tiger involuntarily took another step back, almost tripping over Jojo’s sprawled legs. He’s afraid, he must be. But his eyes didn’t lose that menacing look.

  “You think a little girl with a knife is gonna scare me?” He lunged at me and tried to grab the weapon out of my hands. I slashed the balisong through the air once more.

  “Ay!” Tiger stumbled back. He grabbed his hand, blood pooling in his palm. I jabbed and waved the knife, screaming like I’d lost my mind. The sight of Jojo lying on the ground woke up something inside of me. I had to do something to help, or give in. And I wasn’t about to do that.

  Tiger backed away. He growled something I couldn’t understand and then ambled down the street. I made sure he was completely out of sight before I dropped the knife.

  Jojo struggled to sit up. “Is he gone?”

  I knelt beside him, a sob escaping from my mouth when he turned his face toward me. His nose and mouth were swollen and a dark bruise had begun to form on his cheek.

  “Yes,” I whispered, my heart still pounding.

  He nodded and fell back against the ground with a sigh.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Nora.” It sounded like he had said Mora. Jojo looked at me through swollen eyes.

  With a lopsided smile, he said, “You’re pretty good with a knife.”

  I couldn’t help smiling back.

  I helped him stand, my arm wrapped around his waist. We turned to head for home. I wondered how long it would take us to walk back to the cemetery. It seemed like such a long way.

  “You dropped something.” The woman from the gate stepped in front of us and handed me the balisong, folded and closed. She was younger than Mama but she had lines of hardship around her eyes and mouth. Her black hair was tied back in a low ponytail behind her head. She had a round face, with a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks and nose. “Come to the house. Let’s clean up your friend.”

  We followed her through the red gate. On the other side was a tiled patio with white-painted wrought-iron chairs and a glass-covered table. She gestured for us to sit and held a finger to her lips. She pointed to a window behind us, partially obscured by potted plants. Low voices and sad music drifted over to us from a television inside. The glow of it was visible through the screened front door. The woman disappeared around the side of the house. She returned with a small basin of water, a towel, and a bottle of alcohol.

  She poured some of the alcohol into the water. Jojo flinched but said nothing when she pressed the cloth to his lip and wiped away the blood and dirt on his face.

  “Umm…” I opened my mouth and shut it again when I remembered that she wanted us to stay quiet. So I whispered, “Are you Rosie? I need to talk to you. I’m looking for my mother.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you Lorna’s daughter? Oh my goodness, I wanted to go find you, but your mother never told me what part of the cemetery you live in.”

  She knows something!

  “Is Mama okay? Do you know where she is?”

  “No, I don’t know where she is; that was one of the reasons why I was looking for you.”

  “Rosie? Who are you talking to out there? Is that rude man back? Maybe we should call the police,” said a man in a voice that was as dry and whispery as rustling palm leaves. Rosie stood and peered over the plants in the window.

  “Hindi, po! It’s not that man. It’s just my friend’s kids.” She sat back down with us and whispered, “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave soon. My granduncle is very nice but he’s old and not very patient.”

  “You work here? I thought you lived here, you know, as the lady of the house.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea? I’m just here to take care of him and make sure the house stays in order.” She rolled her eyes for emphasis.

  She finished cleaning Jojo up and placed the basin underneath her chair. “Look, I don’t have much time so I’ll be brief. I’ve been worried about your mother. She was supposed to meet me here yesterday for a game of mahjong. And when she didn’t show, I thought that something must be wrong.”

  So she didn’t know where Mama was or what had happened to her. Disappointment hit me like a punch in the stomach. But why would she think something was wrong because Mama didn’t show up for a mahjong game? She already seemed to know that Mama had been missing for a couple of days. And then we saw her talking to Tiger. What was his connection to Rosie and Mama?

  “What were you and Tiger arguing about?” I didn’t
care if she thought I was rude. Rosie looked down and then at Jojo, who was touching his lip and wincing. She seemed taken aback by the question. There had to be a connection.

  “Oh, you mean the guy wearing the baseball cap? He was being rude, like my uncle said. I told him to go to hell.” She hesitated, as if she wanted to say more. Then she looked down, pressed her lips together, and said, “I really don’t know him that much.”

  “Please, Rosie, I need your help. Mama has disappeared and I have a feeling Tiger has something to do with it. If you don’t help me, then I’ll have to confront him myself.” It wasn’t something I had actually considered doing, but if I had to, I would.

  Rosie’s eyes shifted between Jojo and me. Then she sighed and said, “Tiger works for Ruel Santiago, the owner of Santiago’s Grocery, who also happens to run a money-lending operation on the side, among other things. My uncle has borrowed money from him over the years. Tiger and his gang collect payments for Mr. Santiago.”

  “How did he meet my mother?” My voice came out stronger than I intended. Rosie signaled me to keep my voice down as she peeked over the plants to check on her uncle. I’d have to be more careful if I wanted her to keep talking.

  “A month ago, your mother came over after visiting someone. I think she said it was her aunt. She was in a pretty rotten mood and started grumbling about money. I told her about Mr. Santiago. She asked me to take her to his office. That was where she met him.”

  Mama went to visit Lola Fely? She’d never mentioned it to me. I wasn’t surprised that she came away from the visit in a bad mood. Whatever it was, it had made her desperate. “Do you know how much she borrowed? Did they do something to her because she couldn’t pay it back? If you know what happened to her, please tell me.”

  “Rosie? Nasaan ka?” Her uncle grunted and mumbled to himself. A chair creaked and a pair of slipper-covered feet shuffled toward the door.

  Rosie peeked over the plants and said, “Look, I’ve got to go now. I told you the truth. I don’t know where your mother is, which is why I wanted to talk to Tiger in the first place. But I do have my suspicions.”

  “Rosie?” The old man was at the screen door. He was small and bent, like a bamboo plant caught in the path of a typhoon wind.

  “I have to get my uncle ready for bed soon.” Rosie jumped up and continued, “There was another reason why I wanted to find you. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  Rosie went back into the house. She murmured something to the old man, who nodded and went back to watching television. When she returned, she handed an envelope to me. “Here, this came for your mother the other day.”

  It was a letter for Mama with Rosie’s Santa Inez street address. I gasped. It was from Tito Danny! My mind filled with questions. “How—?”

  “I would like to talk to you some more, but you’ll have to come back another time.”

  She ushered us to the gate and out. The lock slammed shut behind us. It was fully dark now and the street lamps were bright. We stood under one of them and tore open the letter.

  Jojo leaned in. “What does it say?”

  My eyes scanned the cramped handwriting. It was short, just a few lines. I swallowed and read aloud. “It says—Dear Lorna, I hope this letter reaches you at this new address. Please know that I have received your other letters and replied to them promptly. I don’t know why you never received them. In those letters I told you that my last litter of piglets didn’t survive and I have been struggling to raise a new brood. I want you to know that this time, my pigs are doing well and I hope to sell them soon. Once I do, I will write to you again with instructions on how to pick up the money I will send. Please be patient, my sister. Give my love to little Nora. Your brother, Danny.”

  Jojo looked at me, waiting for me to say something. I folded the letter and stuffed it into my pocket. What was there to say? Did my uncle know about Mama’s debts? When did Mama last write to him, and why had she decided to use Rosie’s address? What had happened with Tito Danny’s other letters? All I had were questions, and only Mama could answer them.

  “Come on, let’s go home,” said Jojo.

  I nodded and followed him down the street. I was glad he didn’t ask me about Tito Danny or the money he wanted to send. Even if he did ask, I couldn’t have brought myself to talk about it. I think he knew that.

  Children were still playing outside. Their mothers stood by the fences, talking among themselves. They stared a little as Jojo limped by. No doubt they’d heard all about the fight from their children.

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth about your mom and Mr. Santiago?” said Jojo, pressing a hand to his ribcage. “Ow, man, my side hurts.”

  “Hey, maybe you should see a doctor.”

  He barked out a laugh and then rubbed his thumb, index, and middle fingers together. I got it. No money. Well, he didn’t look too bad. The more he walked, the less he limped.

  I sighed. “Yeah, I think she was telling the truth. I just wish we had more time to talk to her.”

  “We can come back again tomorrow. Remember, you’re staying with my grandmother tonight.” He tried to smile at me, but it came out lopsided because of his swollen lip.

  Yes, I did want to talk to Rosie again. Things were becoming more confusing. Had Mama tried to borrow money from Lola Fely? How much did she owe? My mind reeled through my mental list of her debts, including how much Mr. Santiago might have loaned her. Had she run away out of fear? Or shame? The thought made my eyes sting. How could Mama do this? Her gambling had made her blind and careless.

  The number of questions was growing and the answers were few. Somehow I knew they would come, but would they be answers I could live with?

  Chapter Thirteen

  I’m holding on tight to Papa’s watch. He runs back into the house where Mama must still be. The fire breaks through the roof, orange tongues of flame licking the night sky. Someone screams behind me. Mama is standing among the bystanders, clutching at them and screaming, “My house! My house is burning! Please help us! My husband, somebody get my husband!”

  Mama makes a move to run into the burning apartment, but people hold her back and tell her to wait. Then my head whips back to the fire, my breath suddenly catching in my dry, throbbing throat. I scream, “Papa! Papa!” but no sound comes out of my mouth. I run toward the flames. A line of men are passing buckets of water to some men standing on top of the next building, who are trying desperately to put out the burning roof. There is shouting everywhere, and the sound of sirens in the distance.

  Why is Papa going back into the house? Doesn’t he know that Mama is already outside, away from the fire?

  Suddenly, there is a loud tearing, a groaning metal sound, that makes the men passing the buckets begin to scatter. One of them grabs me and pulls me away and cries, “It’s going to collapse!”

  He carries me, while I kick and struggle to get away, and sets me down next to a canal. I want to tell him that Papa is in there, that I have to get him out. Then with a crash, the roof of my house caves in with an explosion of sparks that begins to ignite new flames in neighboring buildings.

  People around me run to put out the new fires as I stand there waiting for Papa to come out, believing that he will, that he will just walk right out through the fire. I shuffle slowly toward the burning remains of my home, while someone screams my name behind me …

  “Nora. Nora, wake up.”

  I sat up and nearly fell out of Jojo’s bed. Lola Mercy’s surprisingly strong hands held me in place. My face was wet and my eyelids were swollen. They felt covered in mosquito bites and I wondered if maybe they were. But I knew I must’ve been crying all night.

  “You were dreaming about your mother, weren’t you?” Lola Mercy clucked her tongue and busied herself with making her bed in the dimness of her shanty. “Would you like some pandesal? Jojo dropped it off just a few minutes ago. They’re still nice and warm. I tell you, Ibarra’s makes the best…”

  Ibarra’s Bakery.
Oh no. “Lola? What day is it?”

  “I believe it’s Wednesday. Something the matter?”

  “No—I mean, yes. I was supposed to go back to work yesterday. There were towels and aprons to wash. Oh, Aling Lydia is not going to forgive me this time.”

  “Oh, nonsense, she will understand. Come, have breakfast.”

  After a quick kiss on Lola Mercy’s papery cheek, I grabbed a roll and ran out the door with one word echoing in my mind. Please, please, please.

  The last thing I needed was to lose my only means to stay alive. I slowed my pace to catch my breath, and hoped—no, prayed—that I still had my job.

  Crowds of people clogged the street leading out of the cemetery. It was still early in the morning but the sun was high and hot. I hurried along, taking bites from the roll, bracing myself for the scolding I would get from Aling Lydia for being late again. I ran across the street and tried not to look inside the bakery. I didn’t want to give Perla another chance to make a nasty remark.

  But I did anyway. She seemed to be watching for me, because as soon as I looked at her she was already staring at me, smirking. I noticed that the girl who usually worked behind the counter with Perla wasn’t there this morning. Instead, a teenage boy stood beside her, handing a customer their change. Mama had once told me that Perla had an older brother but I had never seen him. Could this guy be him? He was tall, with dark hair that fell in soft waves across his forehead. He had the same eyes and fair skin as Perla. But unlike his sister, his face looked kinder. He smiled and chatted with the customer he was helping. Too bad his sister wasn’t more like him.

  When I walked in through the front gate of the house, I found the porch empty. Aling Lydia usually waited for Mama and me to arrive so she could give us instructions and count the number of pieces there were to wash.

  I was about to knock on the front door when I heard running water coming from the backyard. I walked toward the sound and peered around the corner of the house. The woman I met a few days ago with the mole on her chin was busy hanging towels while she filled the large palanggana with water. I hid when she started to turn my way. No wonder Perla was smiling.