A WORK OF FICTION...

A WOMAN NAMED KITTY..part 2

"What is it?.." I asked Kitty who stood before me, this time looking a bit more distressed..

"I want to talk with you.." she said.

"I thought there is nothing else to talk about..We're finished aren't we?"

After a few seconds of silence, she said.."Yes..but..I just want to say that... I still love you more than ever.."

I stood up, ready to give her a lashing.."You have a funny way of showing your love, don't you?"

"Please, please! " her eyes started to moisten.."I do not have much time left, so please..listen.."

Somehow, I held my temper..It is my frst time to see this emotion on her face.."

"Okay,? What??.."Sarcasm has not completely left my voice...

Her eyes darted swiftly around the room, examining the people in there..Then she turned again to me.." We can't talk here..Let's go somewhere else.."

Now I started feeling some pity for her..She took out a tissue and tried to appear as normal as possible..

"Let us go to your car.. I will pick up mine up later.." she said quietly.

 

So she asked me to drive along 401 West, the highway that would end in Windsor at the Ontario border after maybe four hours drive.. Beyond it would be Detroit, Michigan.

It was rush hour. Workers, blue or white collared are starting to drive their way home anticipating a relaxing time at their homes.. Traffic started to build up. After 10 minutes driving, then she said, "Take the Erin Mills exit..I know a quiet place here where we can talk.."

It was a small but decent looking hotel in a quiet suburban neighbour hood..I drove in silence while she told me the directions..Soon we parked. I went out of the car and opened the door for her..Her face was still sombre. Her eyes became reddish...

"Get us a room please, "

In a few minutes, we were inside a small room with 2 twin sized beds, a fridge and a stove. But I do not think we will be needing any of those..

She was silent for about 2 minutes, then she said in a composed voice..

"My name is not really Kitty..And I am not really separated from my husband. I ran away from him many, many years ago..."This is how she began her story that kept me spellbound, listening and weighing every word....

 

 

Her name was Arabella Dolores.. She was born to a very rich family in Dagupan. . They owned 2 blocks of real estate along Bugallon avenue whichcomprised the main downtown of this busy, throbbing metropolis. They were renting 4 buildings to some rich Chinese merchants who knew how to make money every month. This kept her Father afloat even if he spent quite a fortune on his wife and two kids.Arabella is the eldest of two children. Five years stood between her and a younger sister..

She grew up with love and prosperity. She grew up to be a very refined and educated girl. She had her debut at the Manila Hotel and all the richest and prettiest young girls in Dagupan City comprised her cotillon de honor...

Then storm clouds started to gather in her horizon.Her dad became addicted to gambling.

In the period of a few months ( nights of which were spent in heavy mah jong ) and Sundays were spent in the Cockpit in Mangaldan, he became heavily indebted to several persons in Dagupan.When they started asking for their money, he had to use the papers of his various real estate properties to borrow a very large sum of money from a Chinese businessman Henry Liu.

Her family literally became tenants in their own palatial home. Since the rentals remitted to them at one time have found its way to the bank accounts of the Chinese mogul, they became a bit more than beggars in a big house which was slowly becoming devoid of its rich furnitures and paintings.. Her Moms jewelries slowly were given to the Zuniga's Pawnshop. The prospect of finding a career became dim...

Then one day her dad just told her that Mr. Lu, wanted to marry her..And all their debts would be erased..All documents would be returned to her father.

If her dad wont agree, their house and business buildings would be sold to some prospective buyers..

It was a really brutal choice..She loved her dad above anything..But she does not love the guy, not an iota...She spent several nights crying bitterly.

But in the end, there was this big marriage in Dagupan, the biggest one can remember. Arabella became Mrs. Henry Liu...Her dad's properties went back to her family.

Arabelle suffered in silence. She never worked in the house, because there was a servant for every task. Henry ran his household like a business outfit. Arabella wasnot given any real freedom. Some Chinese men do not trust women, especially their wives with money..He gave her an allowance depending on her basic needs..She felt she was just another fixture in his household.

She delivered 2 children in 2 years..Because she did not go out that often, she started to put on some weight...She ceased to look like the bride Henry married 2 years ago..

And then Henry started to have younger girl friends..With his money he can buy a truckload of them..Arabelle's life became hell...

One day, she decided to break out of hell..But it was not easy..

She planned everything carefully..She had lots of time to do it....She was able to find how to cream some money from her husband's so many petty cash boxes.. She hid her money in a box behind a secret wall which she asked a carpenter to build for her. She made him to swear not to reveal it, esp. to her husband. She paid a thousand pesos for his secrecy...She saved and coverted her money into 100 peso denominations so it is easier to store.Her husband had so much money that he hardly noticed anything was amissed...

 

"The hardest thing I did was to leave my two kids behind," she continued. "But I have to leave my prison, I am too young to be confined within its walls. And Henry is so cold, so unromantic..All he cared for is money and any young woman he can go to bed with. In fact I heard he even go to a certain country in Asia just to have sex with a virgin..for ten thousand dollars!!...He is stuck with the stupid belief that making love with virgins would prolong his virility!"

She stopped, blew her nose..then she continued. " But I know that my kids will be cared for..He has a staff of servants in that big house of his and they will be raised comfortably.With the belief their mother is already dead. Anyways, one time, he went back to China for a big business meeting and told me he will be away for 2 weeks.

"The next day after his departure, I also lef for my flight for freedom..The money I had saved were used to purchase some papers, visas, passports and all..Under a new name. Coming to Canada illegally was still easy at that time.. "

"As Katherine Versoza?" I commented..She nodded slightly.."Yes. I found a job I was good at. And I was quite happy and lived in peace for 5 years..Until yesterday..." She paused a bit then continued as if her time was diminishing slowly..

"Yesterday, I received a text. It came from Henry..He found me here in Toronto. Mark, that man is powerful. He has contacts everywhere. He told me to be at the Airport, that's all. He has all the necessary travel papers.He wants me to go back to the Philippines with him...All I have to do is to show up at the Cathay Pacific counter..or else..That was at 5:00 pm a while ago.."

My mind again started running in circles. "How about the Police?"

"What can we tell them? " she said smiling but sarcastic..Whatever we tell them should be presented with a kind of evidence..We got nothing but a fantastic story which no police man would buy!! We won't have any case, Mark.."

What a mess. I wanted to clear my head. My heart melted when I saw her weep silently lying down on her side, facing the wall..

I looked out. Everything was peaceful and quiet. There was only my car there and two others which were there when we arrived.

"Mark,"she said.."can you get me some water fom the restaurant?"

"Sure," I said.."Why don't you come with me?.."

"I do not feel like it. Besides, my face is a mess.."

I felt it was safe. The whole place was silent as a graveyard..I locked the door on my out and headed for the the restaurant which was just in the next building. I hastily took the bottle from the waiter and headed back in a rush..

I found the door open...

I rushed in. Switched on the lights. The place seemd to be okay, but the table lamp was on the floor... I looked out..My car was still there, and so with the other two ones..I again locked the door, which did not show any forced entry. I looked for some object, ANY clue that could explain what REALLY happened in the room....

I looked under the bed. I saw her purse. I opened it..It had some credit cards under the name of Katherine Versoza.. Some money..And her cel phone and charger...

More questions..Was she abducted? Did she ran away by herself? Did she go peacefully with her abductors. But where? How?...

Then near the post of the headboard I noticed a very small spot. Still moist.Checked it.It was blood. My heart started to reverberate.. I took the purse with me and rushed out. Anyway, the room was already paid for. As I went to my car. I had the feeling of being watched..through a gunscope..But nothing happened. When I started my car, still nothing happened. Then like hell, I drove away from the place...

Thanks God, Highway 401 East was already clear..Very little traffic. I didntknow how fast I drove. But no policeman followed me.

 

I reached my apartment. It was 3:00 in the morning. I pushed the couch on front of my apartment door. Then poured myself some brandy.

I threw myself on the bed. But who could sleep after an incident like that one?. The morning came as an orange eastern horizon. I called in sick. It was Friday anyway. Somehow, I was able to sleep through the afternoon. I dreamt I saw Arabella floating down a river, waving frantically her hands, asking for help. I shouted at her. Then I woke up.

It was already Friday night. I felt relieve to find myself safe and sound in my own room. . I sat up, gathered my thoughts. Can't think straight. Switched on a portable stereo by pressing its remote. It was Toronto's 96.3 FM..Nice soothing classical music..

Then all of a sudden, Arabella's cel phone rang.---#

At the seniors' home

Dec. 4, 2006---To night, we went to the weekly sing a long session and this time. I took some photos..Above is a Gingerbrad House in front of the Senior's Retirement Home where I do volunteer work..

The attendance was very good, in fact the attendees are increasing. Some of them because they arrive late, would be staying outside the music room. But we give them song books and they would try to join us in our singing.

One of the attendees before was a very young man..about 25 years old. But he turned into a quadruplegic. He was spending his days in a wheel chair..Sometimes, because no volunteers would pick him up on time from his room ,he would be staying outside in the hall. He was always accompanied by his wife, a young attractive blonde with the burden of the years already marked on her lovely face. She was always beside her huband's wheel chair. She would sing the songs for him.

One day, I did not see him anymore. But his wife was there every Monday. Then one day, even his wife did not come back and we had a feeling the young man in a wheel chair had passed on from this life to the next.

An Internet friend from Pangasinan said: " I would like to see your blog with their pics...naaawa ako sa mga seniors dito.*..I commend you for entertaining them...nag-spend na lang sila doon ng **last days of their lives...so sad.." by Authentic Pinay

VIC

* I feel compassion for the seniors here..

**they are spending there

The song leader is an Irish friend of mine, Vince Proctor. We share the same passion: community singing for almost 30 years..

If there is anything I learn from playing here it is the fact that sooner or later we all will reach this stage in our lives. Now that we are still capable of doing good for others, let us do it..We should show compassion and love, not just in words but in honest-to-goodness deeds. Not only during the  Christmas Season, but all throughout the year..

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERY ONE!

FEEDBACK FROM LONGWAYBYE

what a story...but it happens, it is all too common...

I fell in love with a married woman before, with kids. She told me she was separated...we had good times, but her past life slowly revealed itself

And what I had thought was truth became a little twisted...until i wondered whether it was all one big lie...

Vic, I never married. I belong to the group who loves only one, and one alone. I gave my heart...I dont have another...

I wish people wouldnt lie...I wish they wouldnt play with love.
Comment from longwaybye - 04/12/06 7:23 PM

a short story

a woman named KITTY

Her name was Kitty. Short for Katherine.

She's from Dagupan City the boisterous commercial center in Pangasinan. When I met her at a Starbucks cafe in Toronto's Eaton Center, Dagupan was the first topic we talked about.

She was waiting for a bosom friend, a girl named Katy. Katy, Kitty. ( They shared a common sounding  name ) and they would spend most of their time together. On Saturdays they would visit Eaton Centre. Shared some stories about how the week went by. Then they would go out and shop. When they arrived in their individual  homes,  they would still chat together via the internet.

I sat on a table near Kitty who was trying to contact Katy with her cel phone.When she closed her phone with a harried look, I sat down in front of her and said:" Are you from the Philippines?" She answered "Yes," and that is how it all began.

We conversed for almost three hours. And our chat brought us back home vicariously particularly to the  lives we left behind in the Philippines.

She a family had a family in Dagupan.She had a pretty girl ( she showed me her photo from her wallet ) and 3 boys. Her name is Alma . Now a  Nursing student in a prestigious University,  she is hoping that  she could also join her abroad after her studies. 

Kitty is divorced from her husband. She has brothers and sisters in the US, she is the only one living in Toronto. She said she wants to be away from everybody, after her difficult divorce proceedings. At least she got rid of him.

I was attracted by her very pretty face. She had lovely eyes that sparkled like diamonds when she laughed. Her hair was shoulder length, but at one time, she said, it reached down  to her butt. But she had to cut it because of her job as a manager in a garment production company in Spadina. She has to use a hair net at work because very often she would go around and inspect the workers of the plant. The owner do not want her hair to be snagged in a machine.

I was tempted to say I am a widower. But on second thought  I told her the truth. I  told her my name,  is Mark Marcelo. I was married and my  family is in the Philippines. My wife did not like to to Canada because she could not leave her thriving orchid greenhouse in Bonuan. Flowers are big business in the Philippines. So I left alone for Toronto from Dagupan. It had been 8 years that I had not gone home and I do not miss them much anymore...

 

We did not notice the two, maybe three hours that slipped by like a downhill river. Soon the mall was about to close and we had to go. She had her own car and it was parked at a different parking area.

"Can I see you again?, " I had to ask. "Of course, she said.." and she left me her phone number.

That was the beginning of a relationship. Both of us were lonely, separated from our families.  We had to work hard to help them have a good life. Both of us shared the same passion for music. Then both of us began to share an uncanny passion for each other.

The next place we visited together was Toronto's harbourfront during Canada Day, July first. We felt like teenagers starting on a first date, free from anything. No families, no obligations, just each other. We had lunch in a bistro overlooking Lake Ontario. The water was gorgeous. Later we rented a motor boat and we sailed to Center Islands, about 2 miles away coast line of Lake Ontario. The Islands which was in verdant glory ( trees, shurbs and the grass were in their summer green ) we had better privacy. She told me she was already in love with me too, and that she was trying to forget her husband which was not an easy thing to do.

The strange thing however is that  it was a platonic relationship. During the first time we hugged and kissed inside a hotel room, I brought my hand down and she slapped it and pulled herself away.."I do not want that!" she said sternly. Her usually laughing eyes became pools of fire.."Please, don't, if you want to see me again.."

"Okay, okay.." I said,"I am sorry.." I was not really interested in sex anymore. I really loved her company. I came to respect her, so even if we slept in the same room that night, we stayed in separate beds. We did not make love. I did not want to force myself on her. Anyway, the wine I drank with my dinner made me drowsy and soon I fell sleep.

In the morning, I found her awake and in a pretty mood. She already had a shower, all dressed up to enjoy the day. We talked again as if last night's incident did not happen.Before we went out the door, we  hugged and  kissed , but when I started to bring down my hand, again she  brushed it gently it with a smile. "Okay, okay, " I teased her. "maybe next time". She just stuck out her tongue at me.

We spent the rest of the day exploring the underground malls of Toronto from the Union Station up to Dundas Square, an area of about 3 square miles.  It was an underground labyrinth of malls and shops.It is one of the  attractions of Toronto, Ontario's "Queen city."

During the next month, we spent time together talking over the phone or going for a drive.  It soothed my longing for my family. She said she did miss her family too. But she does not want to go back to Dagupan. For what? The old life she left there?. No way, Jose, she said laughingly. But she gives so much money to her family so they can live comfortably. She hardly spoke about her husband. But she said he still loved her. Does he has a girl friend right now?. I asked her. " I don't know and I don't care.."

So we had a few weeks of idyllic relationship. At the end of 4 weeks, we finally had sex in a country Inn out in the picturesque Niagara Penninsula. It was a very romantic place, a small town where the past is still alive. Old buildings. No factories. Not even buses. People have to come here in cars. That was a landmark in our relationship.She told me she never had sex for nine years.

I imagined I found a love partner, a soul mate away from home. Until that fateful afternoon after about 3 days later..

On that afternoon, I received a text telling me to meet her at the Woodbine Inn in a hotel near the airport. I did not suspect anything wrong. In the last meeting we had, she had such a jolly disposition.

I drove to this cozy restaurant in a plush hotel called Regal Constellation at the airport strip.

When I first saw her face that time, I knew something was wrong. Her face was stern, almost emotionless.

" I do not want to see you anymore..I am so sorry.." she said the minute I sat down. It dropped on me like a ton of bricks..

"Excuse me, Say that again??" Kitty looked at me, her hand holding a bottle of Perreir.

"Mark, I can't see you anymore. I am going home..for good.."

I felt stunned. I fumbled for something to say but...

First, I tried to compose my mind.

"Why?"

"Sorry..It is personal.."

"Personal??" I said my voice becoming a bit louder.

" Could you atleast tell me why?..I am entitled to know.."

" I could tell you anything, but I do not want to lie at this point." she said.."her voice started to tremble with emotion.." Let us just..drop everything...I can not tell you anything more.."

It is so strange how love could change to hatred, just like that. That a woman whom you  loved and idolized would suddenly turn into a cold monster. But love can not just be turned on and off with a switch or button. The heart where the soul dwells, is not a machine.

I am the person who can not dwell too much in keeping a lid on my emotions..First I tried to find out whether it was a dream or not..It was not.. My mind became blank. I looked around and  I saw a waiter coming to our table to get our orders. I stood up  I met the waiter on the floor, gave him a 10 $ bill and said, "Sorry, but we changed our minds.."

I gave a quick look at Kitty. She was still there motionless, looking at nobody. "Bitch!" I said mentally..My heart started to beat hard and fast. I walked hurriedly  to a lounge adjoining the restaurant.  I saw a space in a couch facing a glass window facing the busy Airport road. . I sat down. There were many people in the lounge, mostly new arrivals. The Hotel is near the Pearson International, the new name of the Toronto International airport..I tried to gather my thoughts. I closed my eyes and tried to dissolve her image in my consiciousness..

But then after 2 minutes, I smelled a familar perfume. I opened my eyes and saw Kitty standing in front of me. I do not know whether to talk to her or go back to my car- end of part 1

an article from G

Tribute to Father Juan Villaverde

in the Range of Light

Looking westward from the summit of Nozo one sunny morning, a landscape was displayed that after all my wandering still appears as the most beautiful I have ever beheld. At my feet lay the eastern valley of our dearly loved province, almost level and green, like a lake of pure sunshine. And on the foothills of eastern boundary of this vast Farmlands the raise of Caraballo Mountain, perhaps kilometers in height and some gloriously colored but mostly denuded-it seems not treated with admiration and worthy, in some of the scene like the sand dunes of the desert. And after all of my life growing up in our hometown nestled on the foot of this mountain of wondering and wandering in the heart of it, rejoicing in its glorious torrent of light, the white beams of the streaming through the Father Juan Villaverde trail, the noonday radiance on the crystal rocks of Puyao, the green flush of the Aroo tree and the shinny water on the up streams of Ambayoan-it still seems above all the others in the Range of Light.

For Father Juan Villaverde paradise (Caraballo Mountains), he gave up his life to missionary work among the hill-people (Igorots), seeking in every way to better their condition materially and morally as well. Father Juan Villaverde is not one of our national heroes though he did his obligation to the best of his ability. For thirty years Father Villaverde worked unceasingly, building roads, bridges and churches, and striving to civilized people among whom he lived; but this chief work, that by which his memory is kept green to this day, is the great trail from our province across the Caraballo Mountain range into the province of Nueva Viscaya. Father Juan Villaverde is great and exceptional among others Spanish friars. He is indeed my hero.

another one

TEARS

So she said: " I do not love you anymore.."

And I asked her to repeat it,

And she said: "I do not love you anymore.."

 

"Why?" I asked, with a quivering voice,

Unbelieving, yet believing the truth

That came and stared at me right

in the eye...

 

She did not answer. She just sat down there

Looking past me, hardly touching the glass

of Coke which I ordered from the bar.

"So everything was a sham?" I asked a second question,

while dreading what answer I would receive..

 

"Yes, " she said.."It was.."

All those words of love, all those passionate

Kisses, all those hugs laced with promises

of Endless Love til death we us part..

 

There was a Wurlitzer behind, and I grabbed

a handful of coins and pressed one title

Just one title. A song by the BeeGees..

 

I went back to my seat. It was one of those

Moments when speech was no longer useful

When silence could be louder than

a thousand orations being delivered by

Silver-tounged speakers..

 

The BeeGees started their song.

I started to cry in front of her.

Silently. No sound.

The table in front of me

And her at the edge, started to ooze

Like a fresh water colour painting

Doused with a spoonful of

Water. The tears just covered

my vision with blurry images

which I did not really percieve

 

But silently, she just sat there

Unmoving, Wondering

Really wondering if it was possible for a grown man

To cry.

 

It was..

 

Fifteen minutes could feel like

Fifteen hours, or maybe

Fifteen years. Time is irrelevant when

Someone is trying to break your heart

And crushing your sanity.

 

After a few repetitions,

The music stopped. I did not wipe my face.

Tears have the natural characterstic of

Drying up on the ridge of your face

Where they streamed like

Rain splashing on a window.

VIC

 

poetry

A CHRISTMAS VISIT 

 

The Christmas lanterns are now glowing like

liquid crystals moving about

Hanging by the windows of houses that lined

That familiar street which I never trod

For many, many years...

 

Then I saw my old house

Very dim outline of fortune trees that grew up

Trying to reach the thatched roofs.

My nipa hut was surrounded by some small piles of palay sacks piled neatly waiting to be picked up by some merchants the next morning.

It is almost midnight, December 25th, about to become the 26th.

"I am sure everyone is already asleep."I thought

The day was kind to everyone, to most people In the barrio where Christmas seemed to bring out

The best feelings from all the men of goodwill...

I stepped up on the bamboo stairs quietly, so as not to wake up everybody.

But even the dog did not wake up. He opened one eye as I passed by

Then he went back to his own kind of slumberland..

 

I entered the bedroom, my wife was sleeping so soundly

Her bosom moved in regularity with her quiet breathing

"Shall I wake her up? Shall I?"

A very small voice within said, "no, no, let her sleep.

She had a hard day.."

 

Then I crossed the bamboo floors to the living room

Where three kids were also sprawled in quiet deep slumber

I bent down, stared at their faces first, then kissed them softly

On the cheek, one after the other..

I felt like crying but the tears did not come out

No emotions only one of peace, calm and

undescribable feeling of being back

in the old familiar place...

 

I looked around..maybe to look for something

I might have left undone that day

But there was none, nothing I could think of.

So I turned back again and crossed the floor

back to the stairway..

 

Under the mango tree with a widespread quilt of branches and leaves

Stood my two companions..dressed in white.

I walked, They floated gently,

Their feet not touching the ground

As we went back to the place where we came from

So I could make this Christmas visit....

---vic