Chapter 5
Of King and Queens and Promises

We settled in the barrio life as well as can be expected. Eventually even the hard bed became comfortable, the creaking floor a lullabye, and the strange sounds in the night like friendly whispers in our ears as we drift off to sleep.

Mark and I became close. Closer.

He would usually get up earlier than I did, he would go prepare breakfast, ready the clinic for me, and have everything set when I come in. In the evenings, I would prepare dinner, fix our bed, settle down on my side of the wall, and we would talk. Some nights we’d sing. Sometimes he’d cry. But mostly, we find ourselves just looking at one another.

December came, and so did the first major change in our barrio life. It happened thus:

We usually close the clinic down by six pm, just as the sun is setting. Without electricity, it’s kind of hard to get home in the dark. But on that night, we closed past eight pm, and the darkness was absolute. We had our first appendectomy, and as things are as they are, it took us about half of the day. Fortunately, everything went well, with little complications, and we had asked the patient’s father to stay with him in the clinic, and to call us if anything happens during the night. Exhausted as we were, we managed to pass by one of the two stores, and got ourselves some canned corned beef for dinner. When we got home, I prepared the corned beef, adding potatoes, onions, lots of garlic. Mark cooked and prepared the rice. At some time before nine pm, we were having dinner, and on that night we chose to have it outside the house.

So we sat under the stars, toasting our little clay mugs. And like on any other nights, we talked. And we talked. And while we were talking, I stared at his eyes. And he stared back. And I felt like I was falling into the darkness of his eyes. It was an strange feeling. It felt like I was wheeling out of control. He reached out for my hand, but I took it away politely.

After eating, while I was washing my hands, he came up to me. He stood a few feet away, just watching and watching and watching. I felt little earthquakes in my belly, the way I did when I was in highschool and my crush would look at my way. Little earthquakes that spread through my body in little tremors. Ripples on ripples on ripples. It was an oddly familiar feeling. Something I was so sure I would never feel again. Something I was glad I was feeling again.

I asked him to not look at me that way, because it made me uncomfortable. He said he couldn’t help it. So I let him watch me. He watched me when I washed my face. When I dried my hands. We entered our hut and I went to my side of the wall. But when I looked up, I saw he still had his eyes on me. I went to prepare my sleeping bag. I felt my heart skip a beat. I told him I would be getting ready for bed, so please turn around. He asked me to hurry and turned away. And, curiouser and curiouser, I wished he hadn’t.

When I was done putting my sleeping attire on (which was what I usually wore: a pair of old jerseys, and flannel pants), I asked him to sleep beside me. He needed no second invitation. He pulled his sleeping bag closer to where mine was, pushing the divider out of the way. I asked him to share my sleeping bag, which was large enough to hold a party in. He looked at me, smiled, and whispered a hurried thanks. He was also in his jerseys and scrub pants, which is what he usually wore to bed.

That night, I slept deeply, knowing that when the sun comes, I would be his mistress.

Chapter 4
Coming Home

We set up a makeshift hut at the edge of the barrio, with the help of the townsfolk. It was a one storey affair, an uncomfortable division in the middle of the room, and nothing else. It had a single window looking out to the woods beyond, and the door to the barrio. I hung some paintings I made with me on my part of the wall, and he pictures of his wife and kids on his. As there was no electricity, God only knows how long the single burner we brought was going to last. By sun down, we have set up the little hovel we will call home for the next couple of months. I prayed electricity would find us soon. I have also left my mobile phone as there was no signal at all the first time I stayed here.

In the dark I could hear him fidgeting in his sleeping bag. I asked if he was awake and he said he was. He said he was finding it very hard to sleep. And so we talked. And finally, he introduced me to him.

His name is Mark Reyes, married for five years, with two kids. He had breezed through graduate school with flying colors on scholarship. He had been practicing for a little over six months now with three major surgeries and countless minor ones under his belt. Since his internship he has dreamt of setting up his own medical missions all over the country. This for him is a dream come true. On special days he goes golfing, target shooting, spelunking, diving, balling, or whatever fits his fancy. He loves to watch the sun setting, the moon rising, and believes that every star has already been chosen by any one lover out there wishing for something.

He has the most curious eyes, so dark they’re almost black, but in certain angles they’re almost gold.

He talked about his family, too. Wife, kids, marital issues. Most of the marital issues flew right past my head, as I have never been married. At this point, dawn was nearly upon us. A few birds have started to test their songs against the stillness of the night. I suggested sleep, even for a couple of hours, before we do our day’s duties. He agreed, and I turn to my side, facing the wall of paintings, and closed my eyes.

It must have been past ten in the morning when I got up. I fixed my bed. There was breakfast waiting on the low squat table we had, two fried eggs and a fried chicken leg. Mark was nowhere to be seen. I hurriedly ate and set out to do my daily tasks.

A blast of icy cold wind kissed my face when I stepped out of what would be our house for the next few months. It was early November, and the cold was unbelievable up here in the mountains. It almost felt the way the biting winters of New York felt, minus the snow. Wrapping a shawl around my shoulders, I proceeded to the middle of the town, a good ten minute walk from where I was staying, to set up the mini clinic. I found Mark already there, directing the towns people about. Eventually, the clinic was set up, with one bed against the wall which had the window, a table and chair at the far end, a wooden file cabinet across it, and some of the paintings I had. It looked cozy, and primitive.

By ten am on my watch, we were officially open. We had one of the towns men announce our opening, and by eleven am, the people started coming to the clinic. There wasn’t much to do, really. Just routinary check up, med prescription, and health advisory. But by two pm, I was exhausted. Mark had gone off for some food and I was left in the clinic.

I was reading through our log, when I chanced to look out the window. I let out a little yelp of surprise when I saw the old woman from before standing there, looking at me. When she saw me look up, she turned, and walked away, and never glanced back.

Chapter 3
The First Moon

It was in fact an odd backwater barrio I was in. They didn’t bury their dead. They rolled the corpse in a mat made of woven hay, and hung her on a tree within the woods that surrounded the place. All these I tried to accept with what grace I had. Different culture, that’s all. They explained to me that they were offering her death to the guardians of the forest, to the engkantos and the diwatas that looked out for them. Nature spirits that tended the unruly garden of the woods. I hesitantly asked them what the spirits would do to the corpse. They looked at me funny, and said nonchalantly that the spirits ate the bodies. Different culture, indeed.

I spent the next few weeks disseminating what medical knowledge I had to the townsfolk, treated some of the more common diseases that I could, gave medicines. In my own little way, I tried to give back what I had been blessed with. There were two more deaths, another pregnant woman who was busy dying of starvation anyway, and an old man who was suffering from dementia. He wandered off into the woods one night and was subsequently found decapitated the following day, unexplainable claw and teeth marks all over the naked body. After a couple of months, I decided to return to the city to get more supplies. I also decided to bring a companion along, if I could.

They gave me a huge hen, some dying vegetables, and woven clothes as a farewell gift. Two burly men carried my troubles all the way down the side of the mountain, bundled everything on the roof of the lone tricycle of their pseudo city, and waved me off. I watched their browned broad back as they disappeared into the woods where we came from.

Four hours of bone jolting journey on the tricycle and I was on the primitive stretch of land they decided was an airport. I promptly melted on the pavement, was assisted to the plane that looked like a remnant of the ancient war ridden days, and flew back to Manila.

On the plane, I tried to write down everything I could remember about my stay in the little barrio, too unassuming to even have a name.

When I arrived in Manila, I enlisted the aid of a young upstart doctor who yearned for field work and was never given the chance. Together, we gathered enough funds enough for a six month supply of medicines, food staples, and a few bric a bracs, a couple of tents, flashlights, and other stuff. I was almost determined to civilize the little barrio. I was almost determined to wipe out their superstitious nonsense and bring them to a better life. And this time I was also determined to stay, just a little longer. Tenure has its benefits, and my bank account kept getting fatter.

It took us the rest of the year to gather what supplies we needed for our journey back to the wilderness. I’ve forgotten most of what has happened in my stay in the barrio but for some disjointed flashes of memories. On the night that we left, I told what I could remember of what has happened to my companion. He listened attentively, took in every word. When I was done, he said that there really are some things that modern science cannot explain. He also said that there might be a possible explanation for the fetal deaths and the marks, but probably not the explanation I had in my mind.

That left me more bewildered than I started with.

We boarded the plane in silence, each contemplating the conversation we just had. I glanced his way, and saw him fiddling with the cruciform pendant he had. He didn’t see me. He was staring at his feet. I wanted him to explain what he said to me at the airport, but left it to him to find the right time. I believed he will tell me when he’s ready.

With that, I settled back on my seat, closed my eyes, and dreamt of places far far away.