The sky had turned from blue to gray. Clouds covered the sky like a blanket. It was time to go home. My stomach grumbled. I walked through the main gate, against the flow of visitors and street vendors leaving the cemetery. Once I got free of the crowd, I jogged home, hoping to entice Mama’s appetite with the prospect of soup from Lola.
When I finally turned the corner into my alley, Aling Nena came running up to meet me. She was a thin woman, with hair cut so short at the back that you could see her scalp peeking through. Her eyes were small and so close together she looked almost cross-eyed. They were wide open now, her brows furrowed with worry. “Thank goodness you’re back! Where have you been? Your mother went looking for you. I tried to stop her and get her to lie down but she wouldn’t listen. She kept saying ‘wait’ and ‘don’t leave me.’ She didn’t even want me to walk with her. So I had little Ernie follow her. Quick. They can’t be far.”
Aling Nena continued to babble apologetically while my mind whirled. Why would Mama come looking for me? Did she figure out that the watch was missing?
The sky darkened to a steel gray. The first drops of rain hit the top of my head with surprising coolness. I had to find Mama fast.
Chapter Twenty-three
I found them by the side of the road not far from our alley. Ernie tried to help Mama stand. But she kept losing her balance. According to Ernie, she had collapsed and hit her forehead on a nearby tomb. She had a horrible bump on her head and a cut that dripped blood in the pouring rain.
With Ernie’s help, I got Mama on her feet. She leaned her full weight on me as we walked home, my arm clasped around her waist. By the time we reached the grave house, the rain had plastered our hair to our skulls and was dripping from our clothes. I thanked little Ernie and sent him home.
Mama moaned when I set her down on the mat. She grabbed my arm and said, “Anak. I saw your papa.”
“Shhhh. It was a dream, Mama. Now calm down and rest. You shouldn’t have gone out in the rain like that.”
She stared at me with eyes that were sunken and hot with fever. “No, I wasn’t dreaming. I really saw your papa, Nora. He stood right in front of me. He touched my face. Then he smiled at me and asked me what time it was. He asked me that three times.”
The hairs all over my body stood on end. It made me shiver even though the air was warm and humid from the rain. “What do you think Papa was trying to tell you?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes were shiny with tears. “He said that I had to find you. Then he turned to leave. I didn’t want him to go, so I followed him.” Mama’s voice trailed off into a whisper, her eyes focused on some distant memory.
My own eyes burned and my vision blurred. Mama was deteriorating fast. I pushed the thought away, cleared my throat, and said, “Mama, please. Rest. Everything will be fine tomorrow, you’ll see. Just hang on.”
It was so hard to be brave when all I wanted to do was cry.
It wasn’t until we both changed into dry clothes that I noticed two small iron pots in the corner of the grave house. One contained the fish-and-vegetable soup Jojo had promised, and the other some boiled rice. “Mama, look! Jojo left us something hot for dinner.” She didn’t answer and continued to stare at nothing. I fed Mama as much as she could eat, right out of the pots. I ate when she was done, saving the rest for breakfast.
I placed the pots in a basin of water, to prevent ants from getting to the food. Beside it stood my sweet potato plant, its leaves and stems now completely brown. I moved the pot outside. Maybe the rain would revive it. The soil the plant grew in would be soaked by morning. I wished it would survive. It seemed pretty hopeless though. Once the door was locked, I hung up the kulambo over Mama. Then I crawled underneath it and stretched out next to her sleeping form.
My muscles and bones ached, but I couldn’t sleep. The rain tapped on the roof of the grave house, making it hard to hear Mama’s breathing. It was coming down harder now.
Mama had shown me how to plant sweet potatoes when we first moved to the cemetery using a few leaves from Lola Fely’s garden. Jojo and I had found a large bucket, made a couple of drain holes on the bottom, and filled it with dirt. Together, we’d carried it back to Mama.
She’d held up a stem with heart-shaped leaves and pointed to a small green bump near the bottom. “Do you see this? When you bury this in the dirt, it will grow into roots. Then in about six weeks, we will have sweet potatoes for roasting!”
We had harvested four of them, each one the size of a banana. We gave two to Lola and Jojo and one to our neighbor Tina, who had been pregnant at the time. Mama had sliced off a piece of the remaining one, then roasted the rest of it in a small oven she made with rocks. While it cooked, she showed me a bump or “eye” she’d cut off the sweet potato, then buried it in the dirt. We repeated this process every six or eight weeks.
Now there would be none. The thought made my chest ache. I watched Mama breathe until my eyes grew so heavy that when I blinked, I didn’t open them again until morning.
* * *
Mama was still asleep when I left for the gate. I waited for Jojo as long as I could. What had happened to him? He’d begged me to wait and then he didn’t show up. Well, he couldn’t say that I didn’t give him a chance.
The streets were still wet from the previous night’s rain. Black muddy spots covered my calves and my shorts. The cemetery gate was crowded with the usual visitors and vendors. After checking for approaching funeral processions, I sat in a shady spot by the road. I rested my head against the cool cement of a tomb. Hopefully the wait wouldn’t be too long.
Time crawled by as the sun rose to its highest point in the sky. My eyelids grew heavy. I closed my eyes, telling myself I was just resting them, but I drifted off anyway. I dreamed about Jojo. In the dream, he was asking me a question, but I didn’t understand him. All I could hear was a sad melody that played over and over again. It sounded like—funeral music.
My eyes flew open, expecting to see a procession passing by, but instead I was looking at a little girl with large brown eyes and a sharp chin. She was crouched in front of me, wearing faded denim shorts and a pink T-shirt that looked too big for her small body.
“Hey, you’re awake. You better get out of here or the police will get you. Got any spare change?” asked the little girl. She was eyeing my pocket to see if I had anything in there.
“Uh, no. I don’t.” The street was empty except for the usual foot traffic. The faint strains of a funeral march caught my ear. “Hey, did a funeral pass by here a little while ago?”
The little girl’s face brightened. “Oh, yes! A big one with lots of cars. I walked up to one and tapped on the window and a woman inside gave me five pesos. I wanted to try the next car but the policeman saw me and shooed me away. I ran over here to watch the rest of the cars go by. That’s how I found you.”
“Which way did it go?”
The girl pointed toward the Chinese cemetery. With a hasty thank-you, I ran to the end of the street and rounded the corner. There it was!
The funeral procession was huge. At the head of the line were a couple of policemen on motorcycles. The car that followed carried a coffin covered with wreaths of red and white flowers. There were mourners following it on foot, with more riding in cars behind them. Running alongside the vehicles were squatter children waving and knocking on the windows, begging for money. I caught up to them, trying to blend in.
When it reached Tiger’s grave house, I hid behind one of the lion statues by the door. The mausoleum looked deserted. Once the funeral procession turned the corner, I went inside.
I climbed the metal stairs as quietly as I could, ready to bolt back down in case Tiger was there. He wasn’t. The door at the top was locked just as before. I snapped open the balisong and inserted the tip into the keyhole. Sweat dripped down my forehead and into my eyes. My hands shook so much, the knife slipped out several times.
After taking a deep breath, I inserted the balisong again, moving it slowl
y until I felt it catch on something inside the lock. With a twist, it snapped, and the door swung open.
I headed straight for the table, where Papa’s watch lay among the debris of food wrappings and Tiger’s personal items. Next to it was an envelope with Mama’s name scrawled across the front. I looked inside and saw a stack of purple one-hundred-peso bills. Tiger must’ve switched the envelopes just before the taxi was supposed to take Mama home. I rolled the bundle up and stuffed it into my pocket. I slipped Papa’s watch onto my wrist, pressing my lips to it. I skipped to the door. Mama was going to see the doctor as soon as I got home.
With the balisong still in my hand, I closed the door with a clank and froze. The crunchy sound of tires on cement echoed through the grave house. Then I heard the click and thud of car doors opening and closing, along with the muffled sound of voices. My heart thumped against my ribs and my hands shook so much that the balisong slipped out of my sweaty hands. It clattered down the metal staircase and landed on the cement floor, spinning out of sight. I held my breath and waited for someone to rush into the grave house and find me. But no one came.
Maybe those people were visiting another grave house. Please let it be so. Blood pounded in my ears as I crept down the stairs and hid behind the tomb. I could see the car from where I was hiding. Three guys were leaning against it, smoking cigarettes.
No. One of them was the skinny man I saw yesterday.
“I wish Tiger would hurry up and get here.” The thug flicked his cigarette to drop the ash on the ground. He was a heavy-looking fellow with a large brown face and a short, spiky haircut.
“Yeah, well, he better get here soon. The boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” said the skinny one.
How was I going to get out of here? I fought down the panic clenching my throat like a vise. Stay. Calm. Think! If I could get to the door without any of them noticing me, then I could make a run for it. I’d have a better chance if I had the balisong pointed at them. They wouldn’t mess with someone with a knife, right? I looked around. Where was it?
The balisong lay against the wall, right next to the gate. Could I get to it without being seen? I’d have to be very quiet. I stepped out of my slippers. With bare feet, I padded across the floor.
I was halfway to the gate when I heard the voice that turned my blood to ice and my courage to ashes.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Where’s the kid?” asked Tiger. I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
“In the backseat, boss,” said another voice.
“Did anyone see you? Did he put up much of a fight?” asked Tiger.
“Nope. We taped him up real good and got him in the car before the funeral came around. Why do you want him, boss?” said one of the men.
“The stupid kid thought I wasn’t home last night and tried to sneak in. He ran before I could get to him.”
“Why don’t we just beat him up? Teach him a lesson?”
“I thought of that but I got a better idea. I’ll turn him over to Mr. Santiago and tell him the brat tried to steal one of the porcelain flower vases his wife bought recently for the mausoleum. He’ll send the kid to prison for that. The police will believe him over the kid. Getting his butt kicked will be nothing compared to rotting in jail. Wait here while I get my keys.”
A kid tried to sneak into Tiger’s grave house?
My mind raced. Jojo had said he had a plan. Then he didn’t show up this morning.
No. It can’t be …
Tiger came into view and opened the gate of the grave house. I pulled myself back into my hiding place. I made myself as small as possible so he wouldn’t see me. The sound of rushing blood filled my ears. Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.
Tiger ran up the stairs, unlocked his door, and went into his room. He hadn’t caught sight of me but he could when he came back down. There had to be another place to hide, but there wasn’t. I crouched low as he climbed down the steps and headed out the door. He was too busy sorting through a set of keys to notice me.
It was a good thing Tiger hadn’t seen the balisong either. I had to try to get it now or risk being caught without a way to defend myself.
After making sure Tiger was outside, I tiptoed over and snatched up the butterfly knife. With my body pressed against the wall, I peered out the gate. I couldn’t see the kid inside the car.
Tiger had his back to me, and his gang stood beside him facing the car. It would be risky, but if I could sneak out, I could run and hide somewhere outside before they even noticed me. I just had to wait for the right moment to step out.
Tiger handed a set of keys to one of the guys and said, “This opens the back door to the boss’s building. Make your way south on Bonifacio Avenue. Remember, Santiago’s Grocery is across the street from the Chinese General Hospital. Park at the back of the building and get the kid in there quickly. I’ll meet you there.”
Something thudded against the inside of the car door, as if someone was trying to kick it open. Tiger looked into the vehicle and rapped on the window.
“You better stop that or I’ll beat you myself for ruining my boss’s car,” shouted Tiger. He pounded the door with his fist. “It serves you right for trying to break into my room last night.”
I guess I wasn’t the only one trying to steal from Tiger. The thought made me cringe, remembering what Jojo told me yesterday. Please don’t let it be Jojo. What were they going to do to that boy? I could find someone to help him but I had to escape first. I took a deep breath and inched out of the gate while Tiger and his gang hurled more abuse at the captive inside the car. “I’m warning you, stop kicking the door or we’ll have to tie you up like a pig!” cried one of the men. The thumping continued.
My feet had barely touched the bottom step when Tiger pulled open the back door of the car and said, “Hey, someone grab those feet. Get in. We can’t waste any more time. The boss is waiting, so let’s get him there as soon as possible.”
A familiar head of spiky hair came into view. The boy’s face was bruised, his eyes swollen. A strip of cloth had been tied tight between his teeth.
Jojo.
A gasp flew out of my mouth the moment I recognized his battered face.
They all spun around to look at me. Tiger sneered and said, “Well, what’s this? And what are you doing coming out of my grave house?” His eyes narrowed at the balisong clutched in my hand. Without taking his eyes from me, he signaled to one of his guys and said, “Go on ahead. You have the keys. We mustn’t keep Mr. Santiago waiting.”
His gang hesitated, then got into the car and drove away. Tiger stared at me, waiting to see what I would do. I started to move, inching away sideways. He still watched but said nothing. Was he going to let me leave? I breathed in short, terrified gasps. I glanced to my left and saw that I had my chance. I had a clear path to the street.
I bolted. But Tiger was quick. He reached out, grabbed my hair, and pulled me backward. I lost my balance and fell, dropping the balisong as I landed on the edge of the stairs. I scrambled for the blade but Tiger got to it first. He flicked the knife closed, and then flicked it open. Closed. Open. Closed.
Open.
“Where did a worthless squatter like you get a knife like this?” Tiger stood over me as he ran his finger down the side of the blade.
“Give it back.”
“Not so fast,” said Tiger. He snapped the balisong closed. “Whoever gave it to you was wise. A young girl needs to protect herself in a place like this. What are you doing here?”
His eyes caught the flash of silver on my wrist before I could hide it behind my back. He grabbed my arm. “Why, you little thief.”
“You’re the thief! You took this watch from me and you stole my mother’s money. Hayop ka!” I said through gritted teeth. He continued to stare at me, chuckling. Before I could stop myself, I spat into his face.
Tiger wiped away the spittle with his free hand. He began to laugh. “What should I do with you?”
>
He pulled me up and dragged me back into the grave house. I bit the hand that held my arm. He shrieked, then grabbed a handful of my hair.
“Don’t make me cut your face!” shouted Tiger. He tried to flick open the balisong while I twisted in his grip. Frustrated, he threw the knife to the floor and bent to swing me over his shoulder so he could carry me up the stairs.
I brought my knee up hard against his face. He reared back screaming, covering his nose with his hands, cursing at me the whole time. I stumbled out the door and scooped up the balisong.
I ran. Panic gave my feet wings. I could hear Tiger shouting behind me. My feet were numbed to the small rocks and bits of glass I stepped on. They were cutting the bottoms of my feet to ribbons. My chest was tight with the need to stop and take a breath, but I knew that if I stopped, I would die.
All I could think about was finding a place to hide. I found myself in the oldest and emptiest part of the cemetery. I raced through a narrow lane between rows of tombs built so close together, I was sure I’d find somewhere to lie low.
With a quick glance, I realized that Tiger had stopped chasing me. I stopped, breathing hard, my hand pressed against the pain in my side. My panic faded and along with it, the strength in my legs. I dropped to the ground, my whole body shaking with a mixture of relief and misery. I folded the butterfly knife and tucked it into my pocket.
Jojo. I had to find him. But how?
I looked around to figure out which direction my grave house would be in. I’d go home, check on Mama, and then go and find Mang Rudy. Yes, he would know what to do. I stood, my feet burning with pain. I wished I had my slippers, but I’d left them at Tiger’s grave house.
Something moved. My head snapped around to look. Nothing. My heart banged in my chest. Nobody was around. It could be a stray dog picking through the trash scattered all over the ground. I took a step forward. Out of the corner of my eye, I gasped and stared, barely breathing, at a grassy spot between two tombs. Could it be Tiger?
Everlasting Nora Page 16
