Long Distance Love

LONG DISTANCE LOVE

KATE VALDEZ

Cecilia piled up the mangoes on her small wooden table, making sure that the freshest and the tastiest-looking ones are presented to entice more customers. She smiled at the mother-son pair crossing her spot and offered her goods, but was turned down with a shy smile.

The market is in its typical rowdy state, particularly weekend mornings, with men in dirtied shirts carrying heavy cargoes on their shoulders, and the voices of the vendors creating the usual sound reminiscent of public markets. Cecilia could feel the sweat trickling down her back and she fanned her face harder with the piece of cardboard she tore off a carton earlier.

She swatted away the flies that came close to the fruits while greeting the people passing by, each time hoping that they will buy from her so she can go home early. Mentally calculating her earnings for the day, she patted the body bag fastened around her waist and smiled.

She stood up at the thought and brought attention to her fruit stand with her loud voice, when she stopped, brows furrowing and lips parting in surprise, when someone caught her sight. Though unsure and partially decided that she was imagining things, she hastily picked up the remaining fruits, shoving everything in a sack and ran away. The old lady selling vegetables beside her narrowed her eyes at her in suspicion but Cecilia ignored her in favor of going as quickly as possible.

‘It can’t be. He’s gone.’ Her steps became hurried and she sprinted her way out of the market and to her home, ignoring the streaks of mud striking her long skirt as she walked along.

She took the stairs two at a time and barged in their apartment, relieved to see Kokoy sleeping on the banig mat, lying on the exact same spot as she had left him earlier. Closing the door behind her, she recalled the man at the market and gasped loudly when everything sunk in. ‘It’s not him. He’s dead.’

***

The sky was dark and dreary and young Cecilia bunched up her skirt, holding it with a hand tightly as the wind blew stronger. Wisps of hair fell on her forehead and she frowned, she must not have bundled up her hair properly earlier, she had thought. She blew the hair away, unable to tuck them as her other hand was busy balancing the bilao basket on her head filled with rice cake delicacies.

The girl was hurrying to go back home from selling the delicacies, which were still a handful since she was not able to make it to their regular customers. The sky was dimming and she saw lightning from a distance. Any minute now and there will be a downpour and she had to be back home lest she wanted to walk alone at night time. Her father will be mortified.

The rough road slowed down her pace. A drop of water on her arm made her take longer strides to no avail.

The downpour was relentless, coming down in large drops. She ran to the nearest shelter, a makeshift shed made up of an old, rusting roof hammered down on pieces of bamboo and old wood. It offered some protection from the rain but not the wind and she can only shiver in the cold.

With her arm going numb, she settled the bilao basket down and crouched beside it, using her long skirt to shield some from getting wet. She bit her lip in worry; her mother would not be happy to know that the food will be wasted.

The rain continued to pour, this time with lightning and thunder. It was around an hour before the sun sets but there was no in sight. Their barrio was near the outskirts of the province of Bataan, nestled behind the mountain ranges and outlined with shores. Not a lot of people reside in their place, with most families basking in solitude as houses were at least a kilometer away from each other. Needless to say, barely anyone can be seen outside at this hour, especially a lone lady. 

She rested her head on her knees, closed her eyes, and prayed for the rain to stop. She had never been out this late before.

Loud footsteps interrupted her and she whipped her head up instantly, surprised to find two foreign men clad in military fatigue pants, plain white shirts, and black boots running to where she was. They were drenching wet and obviously ran a good distance to seek shelter, their boots covered with mud.

It was their height which she first noticed. Both were tall, but the other was almost towering, a good foot taller than his comrade, and much taller than her. She will probably only reach up to his chest if she stood next to him. They were speaking in rapid English she cannot comprehend while they card their fingers through their hair and wring the end of their shirts to squeeze some water.

Cecilia lowered her head, hoping that they will ignore her. She felt uneasy in the presence of strangers -- and men at that.

They looked at her direction and she glanced at them briefly before turning her head away again. She gulped nervously.

“Trapped in the rain?” the taller of the two asked, a friendly smile on his face.

She nodded meekly, relieved that it was a short phrase. Her knowledge on the language was limited, which was only thanks to her mother, a public school teacher, who patiently taught her and her siblings at home.

She ignored them and did not look back even if she could feel the weight of someone’s eyes on her. She was probably imagining things and she pursed her lips at the gray sky. They did not say a word to her again to her relief.

When the sky cleared and the large droplets turned into showers, she picked up her bilao basket before rushing home. As she had expected, she received an earful of scolding before going to bed.

There’s a spring in her step as she swayed the empty bilao basket in her hand. Business was good that day and she sold everything easily. She was in the public market on her way home when she stumbled upon a man. 

Cecilia only came up to his chest and she noticed his tanned arms and broad shoulders before looking up, surprised to see the tall guy the other day. This time, he was wearing a moss green shirt and a holster is attached to his belt.

His eyes widened in recognition and he smiled. “Fancy seeing you again.”

Cecilia, unable to form a proper response, returned his smile. She sidestepped so she won’t block his way and was about to go when he spoke again.

“I’m Harry,” he offered his hand, which she looked at curiously. American men, usually donned in military uniforms, were not a rare sight in their area. It had been years since they established a regent in their province and most people in their place have grown accustomed to interacting with them, though the fear and intimidation never ebbed away.

But this was a first. She had never directly spoken to them, especially if her parents are around. Her parents are strict but they are more uptight when it came to her, their eldest daughter.

He retrieved his proffered hand and brought it to his nape, scratching it awkwardly. Cecilia almost felt sorry but it faded when she remembered her father’s angry face.

She bowed her head and made another attempt to go on before he talked again.

“Can I know your name?” His eyes looked hopeful. The brown orbs looked at her intently and Cecilia cannot help but blink her eyes bashfully.

“My name is Cecilia,” she said in her practiced tone. A smile bloomed in his face.  Cecilia balled her hands into fists, not expecting such reaction.

“Nice to meet you, Cecilia.”

***

She combed through his ash brown hair and smiled as she listened to him talk animatedly about the game they played at school yesterday. His brown eyes twinkled as he narrated how their group won in the end, bragging how he helped achieve the win.

“I must have gotten my strength from father, didn’t I Mom?” he flexed his arms the way the men in the marketplace do jokingly and she patted his hair while chuckling.

Her smile was a bit forced but she replied in affirmative. “Yes. Your father is a strong man. He fought a lot of bad people because he loves his country.”

Getting his bag from the chair, she stood up and led Kokoy out, locking the door to their small apartment, and walked him to school. Juan Carlo, or Kokoy as she fondly calls him, just entered as a first grader in school a few months ago. She thought it would be hard for him to adjust to the school environment but he was able to adapt quickly, gaining friends on the first day with his boyish grin and outgoing character. ‘Just like his father,’ she thought absentmindedly but pursed her lips at the unexpected thought.

“Is he still fighting bad people?” he held her hand tightly as they strolled on the sidewalk.

She smiled and went quiet for a moment. “He’s not fighting them anymore because he’s in a safer place now,” she ruffled his hair and sighed as confusion morphed in his face.

“Where is that safer place? Can’t we go there? Can’t I see father?” Cecilia was saved from answering when they turned at the corner of the school. Kokoy was distracted when they came across his classmates whom he talked to enthusiastically.

Their conversation brought her back to what happened the other day and she was tempted to not let her son go to school anymore. Maybe she could tell his teachers that he would be gone for a day, but the excitement on his face forced her to let him be. She was worried for nothing and maybe, it was the hot weather that day that caused the hallucinations.

It was just impossible. Eight years have passed yet a familiar-looking back can easily haunt her memories.

***

It was extremely hot that day and the cold stream of water didn’t help. Cecilia wiped the sweat from her forehead with an arm and rinsed the shirt she was washing, the remnants of soap mixing in with the clear water.

“He’s been looking at you Ces,” her friend, Clara, mentioned, before gesturing at a group of men which arrived a few minutes ago. They seemed to be fishing and building a bonfire but Cecilia paid them no heed when they arrived half an hour ago. She needed to finish doing the laundry fast because she still had to cook for dinner.

“Who?” she threw a glance at the group and caught Harry’s eyes. A shiver run down her back.

She broke their eye contact and wrung the shirt off excess water before putting it on the pile of clean clothes. She picked the metal basin up and ignored Clara’s protest as to why she was leaving her alone and told her a quick apology before going on her way.

The rocks were slippery but she tiptoed her way slowly, stepping on each with familiarity. She thought she had successfully evaded him but she was wrong. Someone was following her. Cecilia can clearly hear the heavy steps behind her and she quickened her pace.

“Cecilia, wait up.” She halted and grumbled. She should have walked faster. Now she could not give out the excuse that she didn’t hear him.

Harry was smiling at her when she turned but she just looked at him blankly, waiting for what he was about to say.

“Do you need any help with that?” he gestured at the basin full of clothes, which she perched up on her waist for support.

She shook her head before turning around. If someone sees them and tells her parents or siblings, she would be in trouble.

“Hey,” he jogged up to her until he’s blocking her way.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked slowly. She lowered her gaze and was amazed once again by how tall he is.

“You are,” he sported an awkward grin before snatching the basin out of her hands.

She squawked indignantly and attempted to get it back but he raised it to his head, which was nowhere Cecilia’s reach.

“I have to go home,” she said worriedly. She thought of jumping for it but the clothes might slip down the ground and she didn’t want to wash it again.

“I’ll walk you,” he started to lead the way.

Cecilia panicked and grabbed his arm. “No!” she said in a raised voice which made Harry’s brows shoot up, confused.

“Please give it back.”

The soldier sighed and gave it back to her relief.

“Can’t we be friends, Cecilia?” his eyes looked that way again, the same expression he had when he asked for her name, hopeful.

“No,” she gulped. “Father and mother will be angry.”

“Why?” he stepped closer to her and she took a step back instantly.

“They don’t want me to be friends with strangers,” she enunciated each word carefully, hoping that he will finally get it. There was no one around but Cecilia couldn’t help but check if there was someone who can see them.

Harry deflated. “But do you want to be friends with me?” He crouched down so they can be at eye level, his gaze determined.

Cecilia contemplated. Harry seemed nice and she didn’t feel awkward talking to him compared to the other foreigners in their area. He was always smiling at her and he looked approachable despite his formidable stature. She felt at ease with him.

Her silence extended for a minute. “So you want to be friends with me,” he grinned. The sight stunned Cecilia. She had seen him smile before but not like this, with his lips curled up and his mouth showing neat rows of teeth.

The girl looked down, crimson coloring her cheeks. Harry chuckled at the sight.

“Let’s keep it a secret then.” His eyes glimmered in mischief.

Cecilia tilted her head, puzzled by what he meant.

“Our friendship, let’s keep it a secret.”

***

Cecilia stared off into the distance and was jostled back into the present when a middle-aged woman stopped in front of her stand and asked for a kilo of mangoes. She complied hastily, berating herself for drifting off.