7/30/2019 Not Like Other Days
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Not like other days
By: Jhonry C. Dela Cruz
The distant clanging of church bells woke me. I felt as
distraught as my unkempt bed.
The colorful banderitas were fluttering in the corner of my eye
as I checked the mirror to fix my forlorn
face and practice my feeble smile in vain.
How could I ever forget? Today was not like other days. Today
was the town fiesta.
I saw a few wilted rose petals and some teddy-bears tiny arm
seemingly torn up from its seams and
tossed aside. I winced and sunk to my cluttered floor. He would
never give me another gift. He wasnt
coming back. Not after what happened last night. I had sent him
away. Now, he was out of my life,
whether I truly wanted it or not.
Stop this useless self pity. It wont do you any good. Not now.
Not ever.
I strained to hear his sweet voice again if only in my mind. I
wonder who he would whisper those
sweet-nothings to next? Dont waste any time in these worthless
musings, I thought, snapping out of my
reverie. There were still guests to entertain and dishes to
prepare.
I was halfway down the stairs before I hastily clambered back up
them. I had forgotten to change out of
my tear-stained shirt into something that granted me some
dignity and self-worth.
**********
I managed to walk though our usually-spacious sala while
greeting every guest with a hollow grin and
paying my respects with a mechanical mano po gesture. I made my
way into the kitchen in a hurry. Myunknowing mother would kill me
for my indolence although if she only knew how dead I already
felt,
Id doubt that.
With the many house-help scurrying left and right, the kitchen
was a glowing, smoking factory filled with
life and color, manufacturing to feed the hungry and babbling
mouths of those waiting outside.
Mothers stressful reprimands and painful pinch still stung. My
arm grew sore from continually mixing
the purple yams from an oozing gooiness to a sticky
confectionary perfection, all for our trademark rice
cakes. My favorite partner wasnt here to help me. This annual
task of mine didnt get any easier
without him here and with him out of my life.
I wanted so much just to vent out all my frustration with the
wooden ladle I was struggling to hold on to
with my shaking hands, but to whom?
In a both calculated and unexpected fit, a hybrid of rationality
and impulsiveness, I told him I wasnt
happy and that I never was truly going to be so as long as I was
with him.
But I was beyond flabbergasted to have suddenly evoked the same
words from him.
7/30/2019 Not Like Other Days
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This time, I really did not have anyone else to blame but
myself. Or did I?
************
With the visitors full and gone, I was standing on the festive
riverbank, where nearby, the merry-makers
frolicked in our mighty, ever-flowing river. The wading hands
and oars of our patrons pagoda-pullers
offering apanata left me soaking wet.
One year ago, I was happy, secure and standing right next to him
on this very spot. Today, I couldnt be
any further from that memory. Next year, no one can say for
sure. But I can only hope to get out of
these depths, sooner or later.
Did I make the right choice? Did I even have a choice?
It was for the best, anyway. I just knew it. It just didnt feel
like that at all right now.
But I wished with every fiber of my being that I was right.
With impeccable timing, my teardrops mixed with the raindrops of
the harvest-time showers.
My wistful sorrow managed to drown itself in the midst of the
merriment surrounding me.
No one would ever notice, I thought.
How could I ever forget? Today was not like other days. Today
was the town fiesta.
[650 words]
Jhong is a sophomore student-nurse of the UP College of Nursing.
He hails from the province of
Pampanga, among others, being the globetrotter Navy-brat with
quite the colorful past he is. He is a
resident of Apalit, Pampanga, where at its annual town fiesta
this fast-food sob-story finds its setting.
