Everlasting Nora

by Marie Miranda Cruz

  My cheeks tingled with heat. “I am serious. I could take it to a pawn shop, and…”

  “No way! You’re crazy to want to go near his hideout again. Stay away. Your father’s watch is gone. Forget about it.” He grabbed a duster from his pile and slammed it into the soapy water, still chuckling.

  How could he laugh at me? Of course he would think my plan was crazy, but what Mama was going through wasn’t. He could think whatever he wanted.

  We finished our wash with Jojo telling me how he collected recyclables, and about some of the colors he used when he painted tombs, like pink, sky blue, and pale green. He said it made part of the cemetery look like a rainbow. I kept my lips pressed together the whole time, still too annoyed to speak.

  I hung the clothes to dry while he emptied the basins. My irritation strengthened my resolve to do what needed to be done. I was determined to go through with my plan, with or without him. Not talking to him was a good way of keeping things to myself. Also, I didn’t want to argue with him.

  “I’m sorry I laughed at you.” Jojo tapped me on the shoulder. “Come on, talk to me again. You have to admit that your plan is crazy, right? And dangerous?”

  “Yeah. I know.” The line vibrated as I snapped the wet clothes open before hanging them.

  “Look, I know the watch was important to you and I know how much you think you need it, but having anything to do with Tiger can only mean trouble. Lola and I can help you find the money for your mother; it might take a few days but we’ll find it.” Jojo’s eyes were wide with pleading, his brows furrowed. “Promise me you won’t try to steal the watch? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  I could feel my resolve cracking but my desperation was stronger. We didn’t have a few days. My stomach growled. Mama was so ill. Hunger and sickness made people want to do stupid things.

  There was no way I could make that promise but I couldn’t tell him that. So I shrugged and waved goodbye when it was time for him to leave for work.

  Back inside the grave house, Mama continued to sleep. She lay so still, I had to hold my hand in front of her mouth to feel her hot, shallow breath. I made sure a covered glass of water was within her reach, along with some of the medicine. It helped her sleep but only for a short period of time. The fever was now constant. She needed something stronger. She needed to see a doctor. The kulambo covered her completely, protecting her from the flies that sickness attracted like bees to flowers. With the sheet drawn across the bars against prying eyes, I stepped out into the alley.

  It was time.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The hidden pocket on my waistband was empty except for the balisong. The hard shape of it pressed against my stomach, quieting the butterflies that fluttered there.

  My first thought was to follow the main road into the Chinese cemetery. I decided against it. That would be like walking into a cage of angry monkeys, as Jojo liked to say. It would be better to use the shortcut we’d taken a few days ago.

  I found the gate and crawled through it before I could talk myself into turning back. My heart thudded in my chest like a fist punching a wall.

  The electrical box and the caged yard were just as I had last seen them. The gap Jojo had made at the bottom of the fence was still there. Without hesitation, I wriggled through to the other side, with the grave houses of the rich dead looming over me.

  I slipped the balisong out of my pocket. I held it the way Jojo taught me, with my thumb resting near the release clip. The way to Tiger’s hideout was deserted. I stayed close to the buildings so I could hide at a moment’s notice. It was the hottest part of the day, just two hours past noon. I hoped I would find Tiger’s grave house as empty as the streets.

  There was no sound except for the distant melody of a funeral march and the soft slap of my slippers against my heels. I ducked behind the low wall of the grave house next to the one Tiger lived in. The two-story building of Mr. Santiago’s family crypt looked empty.

  I tiptoed to the front gate of the grave house and listened for any sound of movement or conversation. Nothing. My hand was on the gate, ready to pull it open, when I heard footsteps and voices coming from the other side of the building. I jumped behind the low wall just as two men emerged from around the corner.

  They were the very same thugs who had been with Tiger when he ransacked my place. It was the bowlegged one and the one that looked like a matchstick. They sat on the stoop and lit cigarettes. How was I supposed to get in there now?

  “What a great place the boss has upstairs. The whole building has electricity!”

  “Yeah, he’s really tight with that Mr. Santiago. I heard he gets to work at the grocery store soon.”

  “Night security or something, right? Ha! Security. What a joke.”

  “Yeah? Well, if he’s gonna give up this place, I’ll take over as caretaker. Hey, is he home? Maybe we can check out what he’s got upstairs.” Smack. “Aray! What was that for?”

  “Hunger is making you stupid. Come on, let’s go get a snack.”

  “Tiger told us to wait for him here. We’re supposed to be watching the place, remember?”

  “Sige na, we’ll be quick. There’s a woman a few streets over who makes great banana-que.”

  Their voices faded. As soon as they turned the corner at the end of the street, I bolted out of my hiding place. I was inside Tiger’s grave house in just a few seconds. I probably had only a few minutes to search and then get out.

  The first floor of the grave house had a single tomb, made with marble so shiny I could see myself on its polished surface. It dominated the middle of the room. Where were the stairs to the second floor? I looked all around me, my throat tightening with panic.

  There they were, located in the corner, painted the same color as the back wall. Metal stairs twisted up and around a pole, into the floor above. They blended in so well I almost didn’t see them.

  The steps clanged as I ran up. I found a small landing and a screen door at the top. It had no handle, just a keyhole. I grabbed the frame and pulled. It wouldn’t budge. I stared at the room beyond. There were no tombs on the upper level of this grave house. The room looked like a small apartment. It had a worn old couch set against one wall. A TV sat on a crate in front of it. Against another wall stood a bed with a rusty metal frame and a thin mattress covered with a bright bedsheet. Next to it was a table full of small knotted bags, a black metal box, and other odds and ends like old containers and food wrappers.

  Disappointed, I turned to leave, when something shiny caught my eye. A black comb lay on the edge of the table, and next to it, partially covered by a balled-up paper food wrapper, was the silver wristband of Papa’s watch. I shook the locked gate in frustration. I needed to open it, but how?

  I stared at the keyhole. It looked rusty with age. Would the balisong fit? I snapped the butterfly knife open and looked closely at the blade. It looked about the right size. I gently eased the thin blade into the slit and wriggled it around. Sweat trickled down my face as I moved the blade up and down, then side to side.

  Voices drifted up to me from the street. I gasped, my heart galloping in my chest. A high-pitched whine escaped from my throat the closer the voices got to the grave house. The door lock clicked just as the men stepped inside. The slap of their rubber slippers echoed through the structure. The aroma of fried bananas wafted into the air. My hand clutched at my stomach. Please don’t growl. I stood frozen on the landing, my back pressed against the screen door. I could see their shadows moving against the wall below.

  “Did we leave the gate open? Tiger would kill us if he found out,” said one man.

  “What difference would it make? The second floor is locked up,” said the other.

  The slapping sound of slippers came closer to the stairs. My hands tightened around the balisong. My breathing quickened as my panic grew. I held the knife out in front of me.

  “Come on, let’s sit outside. It’s hot in here.” Their footsteps moved away from the stairs.


  After making sure they were outside, I turned once again to the door and pulled on the frame. It was still locked. The mechanism had probably snapped back into place when I pulled the knife out. I moaned and started to pick the lock again when I heard shouting coming from the street. If that was Tiger coming back, then I’d better get out of here. I crept down the stairs and hid behind the space between the back wall and the tomb. I chanced a peek to see if the coast was clear. It wasn’t.

  A policeman was standing right outside the grave house. He stopped the two men before they could find a place to sit.

  “There will be a funeral coming through. You guys have to leave,” said the policeman, pointing down the street.

  “But we work here,” said one of them. “Our boss won’t pay us if he finds out we left. We’re supposed to be watching this place.”

  “Sure you are. You can come back after the funeral passes,” said the policeman, talking exaggeratedly slow. “Just so you know, there will be another one coming through this area tomorrow. There will be TV people present for that one, so you can’t be here. We can’t have you squatters hanging around. Now move!” He waved a black baton at them, pointing away from the coming funeral.

  “No problem, boss. We’ll just hang out behind the building.”

  The sound of their footsteps and complaints faded, only to be replaced by the scratchy sound of funerary music. A white hearse drove slowly by. Inside was a coffin draped in flowers. There were people walking alongside the car but most of the mourners walked behind it. They carried a colorful array of umbrellas to shield them from the sun. A band of musicians followed, playing a repeating stream of funerary music.

  Should I go upstairs and try again? The funeral procession would soon pass the grave house and those thugs would be back. I would have to return tomorrow when the next funeral procession came this way.

  After the last car passed, I ran out of the grave house as fast as I could to the shortcut in the outer wall. I crawled under the fence of the utility shed, relieved that I’d made it out safely. But I had been so close. So close to having Papa’s watch in my hand again. So close to getting help for Mama.

  With the balisong safely tucked back into my pocket, I passed through the little gate and found Jojo standing on the other side. And he was mad.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Jojo stood there and scowled at me. It looked like he had just returned from the market. He carried a basket containing two small fish, bananas, and some vegetables. I waited for him to say something and when he didn’t, I tried to walk past him.

  He stepped in front of me and said, “Where did you just come from? No, let me guess. You went to confront Tiger and asked him to let you have your father’s watch back.” He continued to scowl at me while he waited for my answer.

  “And what if I did?” If he wanted a fight, he was going to get one. I wasn’t about to let anyone stand between me and what I needed to do for my mother.

  “Oh you did, huh? Then you are…”

  “What? What am I? I’m just a stupid girl who cares if her mother lives or dies.”

  “But you can’t just talk to Tiger like he’s some ordinary guy. He’s dangerous.”

  “You want to know what I did? I tried to sneak into his place. If Tiger’s friends hadn’t shown up, I would’ve had the watch in my hands right now.” This time I pushed past him, hoping he didn’t see the tremble in my lower lip. I wasn’t going to cry. But before I broke into a run, he grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him.

  “You really don’t care what happens to you, do you?” Jojo asked. His scowl melted in front of my eyes. Now, he just looked defeated.

  “Of course I do. I’m alone and scared. But I will not sit around and watch my mother die.”

  “But you’re not alone. I’m here to help you. Look, I just got paid and I’m bringing some food to your grave house. All your mother needs is fresh food. Lola’s gonna make a soup with the fish and vegetables. The bananas are the small ones your mother likes.” He swung the basket in front of me to show me how fresh the fish were, their eyes clear and not bloodshot. Then he led me to the sidewalk. “Do you really think your mother is dying?”

  I nodded. We headed back toward the main cemetery gate, both of us lost in thought. Jojo’s face was somber, his brows drawn together in concentration. Frustrated, he punched the air and said, “There has to be a way to find enough money. Another, safer way.”

  “There are other ways, Jojo. But they all take time. My mother is running out of time.” The memory of Mama’s feverish skin flashed through my mind and made me more impatient for the next day.

  “Hey, how about this?” He jogged over to an electric pole tacked with advertisements, old and new. Jojo grabbed a bright yellow flyer and handed it to me. “I saw this earlier. I know what you’re going to say but just hear me out. This could be about a job. Maybe you can ask the nuns for help. They do this kind of charity, don’t they?”

  I looked down at the flyer in his hands.

  “This isn’t about a job, Jojo. It’s about a scholarship program.” It was the same one Kuya Efren had told me about. I folded the paper and tucked it into my shorts pocket, remembering the reviewer and application forms I already had.

  “Well, why not just go and ask if they can help? I’ve seen them visit sick people in the cemetery before.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t take that chance. No. I’m sticking to my plan and taking back what belongs to Mama and me. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be able to take her to the hospital.”

  Jojo opened his mouth to say something. I interrupted him and said, “I know, I know, it’s dangerous. But if I got through it today, I’m sure I’ll get through it tomorrow.”

  His face was still clouded with anger. I wasn’t about to back down. “Listen. There is going to be a big funeral tomorrow of some important person passing right by Tiger’s grave house. No one will be there. We could do this together. One of us can stand guard while the other gets the watch.”

  “Hey, wait a minute. What is this we business? I’m not going to sneak into Tiger’s place and neither should you. It would be suicide, plain and simple,” said Jojo, his face so close to mine that I could feel the heat of his breath.

  “But it wouldn’t be, because no one will be there. Don’t you see? It’s the perfect chance.”

  “No.”

  “But…”

  “I said, no. You were lucky to get out of there alive today, because you can be sure that if you had been caught, you would wish you had listened to me.” He turned and walked away, wiping furiously at his eyes.

  What could I say? He was right. But what if I succeeded? I had to try, for Mama’s sake. I could see now that if I went through with it, I would hurt Jojo. I caught up to him but he refused to look at me.

  Then he stopped and faced me, his eyes still shiny with tears. He didn’t look angry anymore. “Nora, please, don’t go back to Tiger’s place. Wait for me tomorrow, and if you still want to go, then I’ll go with you. But hopefully you’ll change your mind about it by then, because I have a plan.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please, Nora, please? Say you’ll wait for me before you go? I promise I’ll be at your place early. I promise!”

  “What are you thinking of doing?”

  “Please, just promise.”

  “Okay, I promise. But you have to tell me what you’re planning to do.”

  “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. I’ll be there early. Come on, let’s get this basket to Lola before she decides to boil her slipper for soup.”

  We continued walking in silence. As we passed Ibarra’s bakery, I glanced inside, searching for Aling Lydia. She was there and so was Perla. For just a moment, the urge to run over to the bakery and beg for money overwhelmed me, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to help me. Besides, Aling Lydia was busy talking to a nun with an armful of yellow paper. They both turned to look my way. I ducked my head down and quickened
my pace.

  When we reached the cemetery gate, the policeman I saw earlier was busy directing the line of cars from another funeral into the flow of traffic.

  “Jojo, go on ahead. I have to ask that policeman something.”

  I stepped into the street and glanced back to make sure he heard me. Jojo stood where I left him, staring at me with one eyebrow raised. I waved him away and smiled to reassure him that everything was fine and that I wasn’t up to anything crazy. He finally turned with a shake of his head and walked into the throng of visitors exiting the cemetery.

  “Excuse me, sir.” The policeman didn’t hear me. I repeated myself, then tapped him on the arm. He turned his frowning brown face in my direction. His eyes were like slits. His bushy brows were drawn together; sweat dripped at his temples. The skin on his cheeks was rough with acne scars, and the corners of his wide mouth were turned down in distaste.

  “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy here?” asked the policeman. He continued to wave cars out of the cemetery gate with one hand while holding the other up to keep street traffic in the other direction stopped.

  “Sir, will there be a funeral like this one tomorrow?” It seemed like a stupid question to ask, since this was a cemetery, and there were always funerals going on for the rich and poor alike.

  “Today a banker from Makati; tomorrow, a councilman from Sampaloc,” mumbled the policeman as he continued directing traffic.

  “Sir, will it be at the same time as today’s?” I winced when he scowled at me again. Then he turned away and didn’t even bother to answer my question.

  How rude! Well, at least he’d confirmed that there would be a funeral tomorrow. Maybe if I waited at the gate early enough, I’d know when it started, and could be through the shortcut to Tiger’s place before the procession actually got there. Hopefully Jojo would keep his promise and be at my grave house early. It occurred to me that he might be planning to stop me from going to Tiger’s place tomorrow. But I was sure that once he saw how sick Mama was, he would agree to go with me.