by Oz Mari G.
“You can do it gradually, Anza. Not like this—not cold turkey.”
“Right,” she yawned. “Not cold turkey.”
Veren felt Anza’s weight settle on him as she fell asleep. The hand that rested on his chest slid down to her lap. Her breathing became an even cadence. She slept like a child—complete, trusting, vulnerable.
This had become a habit between them. Him watching over her slumber as she dreamed. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
He took in a deep breath, then released it. Every molecule of air flushed away the remnants of the fear that had gripped him earlier when he thought she’d wandered off in a fever-induced sleep. He went on a frantic search for her in the hallways. And the stairs, half afraid that he might find her broken body at the bottom.
He was in the garden when he looked up and saw someone smoking on a verandah. He realised he didn’t check the one in her room. The only thing that stopped him from climbing the verandahs from the front was the smoking guy. It would shock the man to see him scale the building one verandah after another. That could cause a ruckus.
He rushed back to her room. His relief when he found her curled on the small couch overwhelmed him. Then he got angry at himself for overreacting.
Anza had carved a space in his heart, a fact that he found alarming. She was too young for him, and he had no time for love in his life right now. Her impulsiveness, her drive for independence, required someone who would watch over her constantly while allowing her to grow.
He couldn’t afford to be derailed. His path was set and the timetable for each milestone, fixed. This case was supposed to be a stepping stone, but she turned out to be a divergence from the direction he had chosen since childhood.
His frustrated sigh echoed her sleepy one. She shifted in his lap and straightened her legs. He looked down at her sleeping form and cradled her closer, rocking her. Holding her like this, entrusted in his keeping, somehow soothed his anxiety. It made him believe that life would sort itself out in the long run.
It gave him hope.
Their conversation earlier showed him the time to convince her to go home had come; she was ready for it. She had loosened her grip on her idea of independence. She was ready for a compromise.
He knew he could convince her to go home before the end of the day tomorrow if he applied himself. And they would be on her trip back home the day after. She would be with her father then, and he would be on his way. It would be ‘Mission Accomplished’ with a day to spare. His schedule would return to normal, but the rest of his life never would.
Anza sneezed. It alerted him to the dropping temperature and reminded him that she was still recovering. He stood up and carried her with ease back to the room, then laid her down on the bed, tucking her in.
He stood by her door as he fought the desire to stay. The knowledge that he had another day with her made him close the door and walk away.
If he must learn to let her go, he might as well start now.
Pangs of hunger woke Anza up. She was disappointed when she saw the empty bed next to hers. Veren must have decided last night that she didn’t need to be watched anymore.
The sky was just lighting up now with the morning sun. She wondered if the kitchen was already open. Her stomach growled. She felt normal, but her hands trembled a little. Must be my hunger.
To revive herself, she took a full shower to wash away traces of her illness. She put on the sea-green eyelet dress she bought the other day. She was going to wear it the night she fell ill. Now that she felt better, she wanted to look good.
She got downstairs and found that the coffee shop had just opened for the day. The staff was turning on lights and setting tables. The kitchen wouldn’t be ready for another hour. They offered her coffee while she waited. She accepted it and took it with her as she walked to the bakery located two blocks away. An hour was too long to wait. Also, she wanted fresh air—the walk would do her good.
A block in, she was out of breath and reconsidering the wisdom of her decision. She rested and weighed the pros and cons of continuing to the bakery—she was halfway there already—or going back to wait for the kitchen to open.
She was gauging the distance between her two options when she saw Veren hurrying her way. His expression was thunderous. And she knew the reason for that look. She waited for him to come closer and as he loomed over her; she gave him her best heartfelt smile. It worked as intended. Veren faltered mid-step and forgot whatever he intended to say at the sight of her beaming face.
“Good morning, Veren. What brought you out this early?”
He blinked at her. Twice.
Resigned, he asked, “Why are you out this early, Anza?”
“I was hungry. I want to buy bread.” She pointed to the bakery.
“You’re not recovered enough yet to be walking this distance.” He led her to a wooden bench at the corner of the street. “You wait here. I can get you what you want. Anything in particular?”
“I can go with you …”
“No. You’re already breathless. Just sit there, and I’ll be back shortly.”
He sounded like her father whenever he didn’t want any argument or negotiation. It made her smile.
“So, what do you want?” Veren persisted.
“Some pandesal? Or anything with meat in it, like meat pies, or sandwich buns. Anything savoury …” Veren’s eyebrow raised in surprise. “I’m hungry,” she said in her defence.
He reached out and touched her cheek, smiling. “That’s a good sign. Your appetite is back. And your temperature is normal.” With one last appraising perusal, he departed.
She watched him jog to the bakery. Her heart fluttered. How exactly did Veren see her apart from as a little sister? His affection and concern for her warmed her soul.
The sound of jogging feet made her turn her head. It seemed there was another early riser today. To her surprise, she recognised him as Diego. He skidded to a stop in front of her, jaw going slack in surprise.
“Anza!” The delight in his face was clear.
“What are you doing here, Diego?”
“Jogging. We’re staying four blocks away from here.” He pointed in the bakery's direction. “I’m on my way back to our hotel.”
“What a coincidence!”
“Where are you staying? And why are you here?” Diego’s questions were tripping over each other.
“I was going to buy bread from the bakery. Veren is doing that for me.”
“Oh … So, he’s still with you?” His frown seemed wary.
“Yes. He’s my keeper, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. Although, I still don’t know what it means,” Diego said, his tone inviting an explanation from her. He would be disappointed, as she had no inclination to do so—she didn’t know how to define it herself.
In perfect timing, her keeper approached, a brown bag full of bread in his hand.
“Good morning, Diego. It’s quite a coincidence to find you out and about this early in the morning.” Veren’s deep voice lacked much intonation, but still sounded thick with meaning.
“Good morning, Veren, and I agree. It’s quite a pleasant shock to encounter Anza here. But it makes my day.”
“It looks like you were out jogging, so we won’t keep you. Anza needs to eat and rest for now.” Veren may have been polite, but he was also dismissive. He grasped Anza’s elbow, clearly intending to bring about her eating and rest as soon as possible.
The highhandedness annoyed her, but she had no energy to argue with Veren in the street, and certainly not in front of an audience. “Bye, Diego,” she said in a cheerful voice as she waved at him. “It was nice to see you again.”
Diego had no choice but to nod. His expression reflected his unvoiced protest.
She and Veren walked back to their hotel, bag of bread in hand. They settled on a chair set outside of the coffee shop. Veren took out the contents of his purchase. The smell of freshly baked bread made her mouth water.
“You’re still hungry after all that bread?” His appetite amazed her.
“I’m a growing boy,” he joked. “Plus, the jog to the bakery sapped my energy.”
“Oh, that reminds me …” Her earlier annoyance at his domineering manner returned. “I dislike it when people decide for me.”
His eyebrow raised. “Did you not need to eat and rest earlier? You braved the distance just to get something to eat, and you were breathless in the effort. That shows you were both hungry and tired.”
“Yeah, but that’s beside the point.”
“Well, you can discuss your point when you’re well and have enough breath to argue,” Veren said, ending their discussion on that topic.
It was hard to sustain her annoyance when he had a valid argument. She would let it slide, for now.
Anza and Veren spent the morning by the garden under the shade of the trees, with Anza dozing off a few minutes at a time. But she was on the mend, and her recuperation satisfied him. He wanted her recovered for their talk about her homecoming.
The day was breezy; the garden was fragrant with jasmine, the sky blue and cloudless. His heart felt full of emotions as he watched her nap against him. Anza looked better in a dress. She looked less like a child in it than in jeans and oversized shirts. She was on the brink of blossoming into full womanhood. It pained him to think he wouldn’t be there to watch it happen.
For now, he needed to finish his mission, to fulfil what he meant to do when he came looking for her; to convince her to come home.
The opportunity came over lunch. He had food delivered to her unit and set it all up on her verandah. He wanted the perfect ambience and privacy for their talk.
Anza ate well. She even had a hankering for dessert, so he ordered some fruits for her. Over her ginger tea and his coffee, he raised the question that was at the surface of his mind.
“Anza, last night you mentioned changing your plans to achieve independence. What changed?”
“I want my parents to know that I’m well,” she said.
“How would you do that?”
“I’d like to borrow your phone for a start, so I can text them and tell them I’m okay.” Her eyes held an appeal for him to say yes. “I plan to send them regular messages later, perhaps once a week, once I get a new phone.”
“Anza, a text message once a week won’t stop your father from worrying. Only one thing would do that. And you know what that is.” He could relate to her father’s anxiety. The thought of leaving her here alone and unprotected was knotting his gut into pretzels.
“I can’t give up on my independence, Veren. It’s crucial to my future …” Her response carried defiance, desperation, and regret.
“You wouldn’t have to give up on your quest. There’s a better way to do this.”
“How?”
“Negotiate with your dad. Tell him why you want to do this and then ask him to allow you to make friends and establish relationships with people outside of your family.”
Anza digested his suggestion, determining the viability of it. “Do you think my dad would agree?” Hope glinted in her eyes.
“You’re in a better position to answer that, Anza. I don’t know your father … as well as you do.” He took a gulp of his coffee. “But, given his bitter experience this past week, he would know you’re serious and that it’s worth considering.”
Anza went quiet for a while, chewing on the inside of her lower lip as she contemplated her circumstances and the options available to her.
“It might work …” She nodded to herself, then sighed. “I wish I had asked him before I ran away.”
“Well, look at it this way. The pain of the past week added weight in your favour to sway him to your cause.”
She smiled. “You have a good point there.”
“So, are you ready to go home tomorrow?” He wanted to bring her to her father himself, to ensure that his last image of Anza was that of her surrounded by the people who loved her.
“Yes, I am,” she said with a nod. “How about you? When are you planning to leave here?”
“I was thinking that we can travel together; fly back to the mainland tomorrow.”
“Why would you cut your visit here short?” She was perplexed.
“I want to make sure you get home safe and sound.”
“Veren, I don’t want you to cut your holiday short on my account.”
“I can come back here anytime,” he reassured her. “Besides, I need to go to the mainland tomorrow. There’s something I need from there that I can’t get here.” He needed his sustenance, since his vital hunger was surfacing. He could feel his Crux weakening. The telltale tightening of his core had begun this morning.
“Are you sure?” She looked doubtful. “You’re not just saying that because you’re taking your role as my keeper seriously, are you?”
“No, I’m not saying that because I’m your keeper. However, I do take that role seriously.” He pressed her mouth closed with his forefinger when she was poised to argue. “So, it’s settled. We’re flying out together tomorrow.”
Anza looked unconvinced, her eyes narrowed as she seemed to be readying herself for an argument. And he remembered their last exchange. His chest tightened with the effort not to coddle her, like her father did.
“Anza, I am not deciding for you in this instance. I am choosing for me. And I really want to fly with you. Will you let me?”
She looked at him intently, then a slow smile appeared on her lips. She nodded. “Okay.” She went back to eating her fruits.
Warm feelings invaded his heart as he watched her eat. He wondered if he should tell her who he was, why he came here. It was an unnecessary barrier between them.
Will she be angry at me for deceiving her? Maybe I should warn her father not to divulge who I am to her.
“After lunch, why don’t you go take a nap? I’ll go to the airport and buy our tickets.”
“Okay, but let me give you money for my fare.” She jumped up to rush off.
He held her arm to stop her. “It’s okay, little one—I can take care of it.”
“I insist, Veren. Besides, I don’t have to pinch pennies now. I’m going home.” Her mouth had a stubborn curl to it.
“Okay.” He let her go; the determined glint in her eyes brooked no argument.
Anza came back soon after and handed him the money.
“I should call my dad first. He could be in Manila,” she said, thinking aloud.
“He won’t be,” he said on impulse.
Anza looked at him, surprised. “How would you know?”
“Well, um… if I was your father, I would stay where you left me, in case you return.”
She paused and considered that. “I guess so.”
He got up and kissed her forehead. “Bedtime for you, little one. I’ll take care of our tickets.”
On the way to the airport, he battled regret, sadness, gladness, hope, and some other emotion that he couldn’t name. It was too alien for him to identify.
All he knew was that it stemmed from the reality that he was parting ways with Anza by tomorrow.
8 The Keeper, The Viscerebus
The mixed feelings that ruled him as he completed his task weighed in his heart. He had secured the tickets. The inevitability of their parting was now tangible. He was both reluctant to hurry back and wanting to take his time. With the moments ticking by, he wanted to squeeze every second with Anza, and yet, not seeing her felt like he was holding back time.
As if Fate wanted to rub it in, his phone rang. It was Edrigu.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” he said. Edrigu's call was another dose of reality.
“Good afternoon, Veren. How are you doing with your mission?”
&n
bsp; “We’re flying to the mainland tomorrow. Anza agreed to go home.” His heart weighted down by that declaration.
“Congratulations. I knew you could do it.” Edrigu's pride in him should have lifted his spirit, but it didn’t. “Did she make a fuss?”
“No, Sir. She came to her own resolution when she got sick. But the idea of negotiating a measure of freedom from her father convinced her, ultimately.”
“Well, she won’t have a hard time. Manuu agreed.” Edrigu sounded smug.
That was welcome news, but that information was like the closing of a door.
“What did he agree to, Sir?”
“We didn’t discuss the details. Just that he would allow Anza to make friends with humans, and keep in contact with them. I trust Anza can handle it herself. Based on your reports, she's got pluck.”
“Yes, she's got that in buckets.” He was proud of her. Anza would hold her own against her father.
“So, does she know who you are? Have you told her?”
“No, Sir. To her, I’m a friend she made here on the island. Her first human friend. A temporary keeper.”
“A temporary keeper … I see.” A brief silence ensued. Edrigu seemed to have understood the pain in Veren’s heart. “Should I expect you to be back here by tomorrow as well?”
“Yes, Sir, I booked a flight in the afternoon.”
He had today and tomorrow with Anza, and he planned to make the most of it.
He was perusing the tourist brochure for a place to take Anza to dinner later that evening when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Hi, bro.” Diego stood beside his table, uncertain yet defiant.
“Diego”—Veren stood up, surprised—“What brings you here?”
“I was looking for a place to eat, and …” Veren’s direct look made Diego falter. “Fine. I came here looking for Anza. I saw you guys go in here earlier.”
“Why are you looking for Anza?” There was no use in prevaricating, in pretending he was unaware of Diego's interest in her.
