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THE BOX |
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The room smelled old, just as the whole house did. Old and comfortable. She had spent so many childhood summers here. And a few months after her father died. Now, she had returned, bringing along two suitcases of memories.
"Supper's almost ready, Faith."
Smiling at her grandmother, she showed her the snow globe that was lying on the night table.
The old woman came inside and took a closer look. "Oh, yes, that old thing. Actually, you'll find most of your things in here. Your Lolo had preserved this room the way you left it. You are after all, his favorite granddaughter, you know."
She lifted it and gave a slight shake.The snow once again began falling slowly on a tiny couple supposedly dancing on a park. How many times, did she just spend hours staring at the snow, weaving romantic stories in her head. It was a gift by her Aunt Eleanor, her Lola's oldest sister. Technically, she was also her grandmother, but Eleanor preferred to be called as Aunt. It stuck until now.
"I know, Lola." Faith replied indulgently. They had three children and she was their only granddaughter actually. Due to some quirk of nature, all her cousins were boys and she was the only child of her parents. But it had always pleased them to say that.
"You'll like what Manang Ising cooked for supper." She said with a smile. "Ginataang gulay and sinugbang isda."
Manang Ising had been with her family as far back as she can remember. "Oh, that's very thoughtful, Lola. You know you didn't have to go through all that trouble. It must have taken her the better part of an hour to prepare all that."
"Nonsense. We rarely get to see you anymore." She patted her hand and began to turn away. "Don't take too long. You know how your Lolo likes to eat on time."
When her grandmother left the room, she was still staring at the snowglobe in her hand.
Dinner was a happy affair. Her grandfather was very effusive and made sure she had more helpings of the delicious food. It has been a while and it made her glad that she chose to come here.
"Ate?"
She had been absent mindedly brushing her hair when the knock on her door interrupted her.
"Come in."
Celia, Manang Ising's youngest daughter, stepped inside the room. "Ate, you have a phone call.". The cordless phone was in her outstretched hand.
The brush stopped moving. Only one person knows where she is. "Thank you, Celia." She nodded, forcing a smile at the young girl.
"Hello?" she said softly at the receiver, watching her thin back retreating from the door.
"Faith?"
A moment passed. "Hello, Allan."
"Hello, honey. How are you?"
"Allan, we just saw each other at the airport."
"I know." He said and she could picture the sheepish reddening of his face. "But I missed you already."
She chose to ignore that. "I'm all right."
"Have you had your dinner?"
"Yes. Manang Ising made ginataang gulay."
"Great. That's your favorite, isn't it?"
"A-huh."
Silence.
"When are you coming home?"
"Uh, soon." She said, uncomfortable now.
Another silence, then she heard him take a deep breath. "It's nobody's fault, Faith."
She bit her lip.
"Don't hurt us like this."
"Uh, I have to go, Allan."
Defeated, he let her go. "Okay, Faith. I'll call him again tomorrow, to make sure you're okay."
"Okay."
The conversation kept echoing like a bad movie in her head. Finally, after much tossing ang turning. Faith rose from the bed. Maybe some fresh air will help. She was already at the landing when she heard the noise from the nearest door. It was her Aunt Eleanor's room. It had been empty for twenty years now. Not even her grandparents liked to come here, although she remembered they kept it clean.
Turning around, she saw a mop at the corner which was probably left after they cleaned her room. It could be nothing more than a rat but then again, better safe than sorry.
Carefully, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. It was dark so she groped at the light switch on the wall. When the light flooded the room, a white tail was rushing out a partially open window. She exhaled loudly, cursing at the cat. They must have cleaned and aired this room as well as hers and forgotten that window. There was no dust but the dank unused smell was still there.
After her heart had gone down to its more or less normal beat, she decided to look around. She left the mop at the door and began touching the old things. Like her room, this one was meticulously preserved the way her aunt used to keep it. Almost as if Eleanor was just downstairs and would catch her trespassing again as she used to. As a child, her aunt had always taken the time to talk to her even when she could outchatter everyone else. Eleanor was patient and cheerful that she often wondered why her aunt never married. It was with her where she found some solace after her father died. Eleanor had shown her a secret compartment between the wooden slats of the floor and had taken out a wooden box. It was probably a little narrower than an ordinary shoebox.
Inside the box were a bunch of old letters tied together with a faded blue ribbon, some photographs, a small notebook, an expensive bottle of perfume and the snow globe. She had pressed the perfume and the globe to her hands.
'"Here it's yours. use it sometimes when you're sad and think about the love you will always have." She had told her then, in that same soothing voice she always had.
In truth, Faith never understood how the objects could possibly replace her father. But, funnily enough, a part of her pain had lessened. The snow globe was still here but the perfume was long gone and the bottle broken by -- by Joey. The memory brought a wave of pain that she closed her eyes for a moment.
Suddenly, a strong urge gripped her. She had to find that box. Trying to remember, she began tapping at the slats with her foot, listening for a hollow sound. Then she recalled that it had been under the bed, surely no one had found that yet. She went down on her hands and knees groped underneath the old bed. After about fifteen minutes later, she finally found the loose boards and easily pried it open. The box was still there. Terribly dusty but still there.
Excitedly, she brought it out and was clearing away the dust when the grandfather clock in the living room struck one. She decided to close up the room before her grandparents, whose room was directly below, finally woke up because of the shuffling noise she was doing here. Quietly, except for the box, she returned everything to its natural order, turned off the lights and went to her room down the hall.
Once inside her own room, she examined the contents of the box on the bed. Everything she remembered was still there. The photographs, the notebook, and the letters. She took out the now yellowed prints and studied it one by one. Surprisingly, there were only five. Two were pictures of a foreigner, probably American, in a soldier's uniform, grinning happily at the camera. Compared to the Filipino standing standing formally near him at another photograph, he appeared to be at least six feet tall and in his mid or late twenties. The other three were images of a young and beautiful Eleanor posing intimately with the same soldier. When she lifted the notebook, she found a small velvet box. Faith frowned in confusion then shrugged. Eleanor never really showed her everything, and this one she might have left out from a curious niece.
The box contained a gold necklace with a tiny silver rose as a pendant. It was beautiful in its simplicity. She dropped it back to the box, deciding to look at it later. The notebook contained some handwritten poems, the first ones were written with rather vague but strong strokes and dashes, probably a man's handwriting. Briefly she wondered why she immediately thought it belonged to a man, since she knew some women who wrote like a doctor's unintelligible scrawl on a prescription. Then the succeeding poems were beautifully scripted, and she recognized Eleanor's handwriting. She smiled absently. It had reminded her of a time when she wished hard to have handwriting like her aunt. The chicken crawls were hard to read but the writer noted the real authors of the poems. She could make out Browning, Lord Byron, and Shakespeare, but nothing else. Eleanor's had no written authors. It could have been hers.
Love is like an aged wine
heady and sweet in its taste
where angels revel and dine
what not even fools can waste
Love is the vivid rainbow
That you see after the rain
The spring after the winter snow
An oasis within a desert plain
Love is the mountain peak
That sits high above endless strife
A gift for the weary and the weak
a hope of strength for ageless life
And love is the beacon light
That draws all of us in a spell
For us to laugh and cry
For us to know we are alive and well
That was dated June 1941. World War II. There were several other love poems. Eleanor was obviously young and in love. The poems were happy or sad or uncertain. The last poem was dated December 1942.
The candle flickers
Brightly shining
So sweetly bitter
As I watch it melting
It glows against the dimness
Of the rivers of the night
Such an ethereal tenderness
Such a passing delight
I felt the throbbing of my heart
As its tears flowed away
Soon shall its brightness depart
I plead it not, I pray
But the light began to die
The darkness gaining like a thief
Against the wishes of my mind
Against the echoes of my grief
I watch the candle flickering
Waving brightly at my pain
Perhaps it saw the comfort it brings
Perhaps it will smile again
The clock struck three, intruding to her thoughts. Faith hesitated then decided to put everything away. She hoped she could sleep the morning in but knew that she would probably be woken at about 7 am. Her grandparents had always insisted on rising early.
She was woken at a quarter past seven for breakfast. After the meal, she helped out with the series of chores her Lola preferred to do herself instead of depending on maids.
Her grandmother was fiddling with the orchids in her garden when she came out with the garden shears. Sometimes the older woman still surprises her. At the age of 74, she still moves about as independently as she could.
"Here it is, Lola. I found it inside the cabinet under the kitchen sink, just as you said I would."
The older woman reached out with a smile. "Thank you, Faith."
"Anything else I can help you out with?"
She gave her the water sprinkler. "Here. Fill this with water at that faucet and give the waling-waling something to drink."
After taking the water, she began to sprinkle among the potted plants, glancing now and then at her grandmother.
"What is it?"
Faith looked at her innocently. "What do you mean what?"
Her grandmother gave her a knowing look. "Faith please. Surely you can do better than that." she smiled. "What is it?"
Hesitantly, she lowered the container. "I-uh-was wondering if I can ask you something."
"All right."
"You might not like it."
"I haven't even heard the question yet."
"Uh. How come Aunt Eleanor has never married?"
Surprised, her grandmother looked up from the lawn chair she was sitting on. "Why the sudden interest child?"
She had a ready answer for that inevitable question. "I heard a noise from her room last night but when I looked inside, I found a cat running out the window. It was very strange to see the room just as it was the last time I saw her."
"Oh." The older woman appeared thoughtful then motioned to the chair nearest her. "Well, sit down child. You know I can't always look up, it tires my neck muscles."
Faith rolled her eyes but willingly sat beside her.
"All right. What exactly do you want to know about my only sister?"
"I just wondered, you know. There were pictures of her on the wall and she was so pretty. I'm sure there were those who knocked on great grandfather's door."
"Well, yes. Several in fact. I think there was a banker, a landowner and a thriving businessman among others. I was so much younger than she was and I remember how scared I was that I will never be as beautiful."
"Wow. Let me guess, she was too choosy and ended up with no one." Faith held her breath, she did not want to have to tell her grandmother that she had been snooping around her sister's old things. Hopefully, her Lola will mention the soldier in the picture.
There was a pause, her eyes drifting with a reminiscent smile. "Papa was never one to force any of his children to marry. God knows it was perfectly normal then, unlike these days. Ate Eleanor, on her part, was not exactly the type who was terrified of spinsterhood. We thought she'd never marry. Until the day she met that American soldier. Oh, you should see what problems that brought." Faith did not interrupt happily, trying to picture how Eleanor musst have lived her life in a time when daughters were brought up to be submissive.
"For the first time, Father stepped in and ordered her not to see him anymore. It was World War II and he was worried that ate will become nothing more than a byproduct of the loneliness and romance created by war. But my sister, in all her life, always had an iron will. Papa's fault too, he had encouraged her to be independent way too much. It was the war that finally took him away. But they wrote each other."
She placed an old bony hand in hers. "Mind you, postal services were next to nothing then, but somehow they managed ways to keep in touch. In the end, however, the letters stopped coming and your aunt never married. I was perhaps the closest to her, but even I never knew why. She never said why."
"That's awful." Faith commented involuntarily. "You don't think that greatgrandfather was right, do you? That he finally got tired of her?"
Thin shoulders shrugged expressively. "We will never know now, I suppose."
After lunch had always been siesta time but Faith could not sleep. Finally, she opened the box once more and this time took out the small bundle of letters. She hesitated a little, realizing that this had been Eleanor's private life. Curiousity got the better of her. Somewhere along this lines was the reason why she loved her American GI. Perhaps the reason why she lost him too. With a slightly unsteady fingers, she undid the ribbon and opened the first envelope.
April 14, 1941
Dearest Eleanor,
There's so much I want to tell you, but couldn't. You must forgive me for my
letter writing skills. I guess I'm not really good at this. So, I'll try to stick to what I
have to say.
When I saw you in that old dress shop in front of Pepito's house, it was like
seeing a vision that I never in my life thought I would have seen in my own eyes. I
wanted to come around and introduce myself but I wasn't sure that you'd like that.
In my hometown I wasn't very good at talking to girls. but as luck would have it,
Pepito knew you and your family personally and I asked him to introduce us. I
apologize if I have made you uncomfortable with my staring. That was a bit rude I
guess, but I couldn't help it. You were so much lovelier up close.
Would it be possible for me to invite you to go out to dinner with me? I
understand that you needed to have a chaperone with you and I don't mind. If you
just tell me when it is convenient for you to see me so I can arrange for my pass
out of the base. I really hope you'll answer me.
Yours,
Lt. William Kendrick
He sounded nice, Faith thought. He might have poured in too much oil with the "seeing a vision" bit but he seems all right. At least he sounded literate enough to send an interesting letter. She took out one of the photographs again and tried to picture how this William must have approached her. She opened the next envelope. And it was like stepping through time.
May 12, 1941
Dearest Eleanor,
Your father is a wonderful person but he definitely is opposed to me for
you. He was polite enough through dinner at your home but he told me later that
he'd rather I don't see you anymore. He thinks what I feel for you is nothing more
than a wartime thing. What I wanted to know is if you feel the same way.
I had tried hard to show you what I feel, Eleanor. It's difficult to be near you
and not be able to touch you at all. I didn't want to rush you nor frighten you off
and I'm trying to do all the proper things Pepito told me to do. I wouldnt mind
going through all that over and over again but I don't think I can take it if you
yourself think I'm doing these for shallow reasons.
I love you Eleanor. It is not something I say lightly, hard may be
it to prove to your father. You are very important to me, believe that.
Always,
Billy
July 17, 1941
Dearest Eleanor,
I would like to apologize for my behavior this afternoon. It was real stupid
of me to get into a fight with you. I had no right to call your father a racist snob.
He was just looking out for your best interest. I guess I'd be doing the same if its my
daughter (do you want daughters or sons by the way?)
I'm really sorry. I only get to see you every weekend and the last thing I
wanted was to spend my pass by fighting with you.
Billy
Her great grandfather must have objected strenously. As far as she can recall, there had been no time when Eleanor fought with anyone. Of course, she had been no more than a child then. The next envelope had enclosed a small card and the customary letter.
December 26, 1941
Honey,
I was really surprised when you said I'm invited for your Noche Buena.
Your father was obviously not thrilled by my presence last night but it was still the
best day for me. I hope you liked my necklace, took me a while to find a jeweler to
make that rose. But I wanted a different pendant than the old hearts and keys that
we see a lot. Besides it reminds me of an old poem (you know me and my poems)
by Burns. The one that starts, "oh my love is like a red, red rose..."
I loved the watch you gave me and i promise to care for it as much as I
keep that photo of ours very close to my heart. I have to go, darling, we are being
ordered to appeat in the parade grounds. As usual, Pepito will see that you get
this.
Love always
Billy
The next letter was dated January 5, 1942. Somewhere in the back of forgotten history lessons, Faith remembered that Japanese occupation started after the New Year celebrations of 1942.
Darling,
Are you all right? Everyone's on alert now and we're being kept here on a
strict watch in the base. Command won't let anyone come to Manila and they are
keeping almost everyone as close as they can. Eleanor, please call me, write me,
anything. I'm going crazy thinking about what happened to you.
I'm really worried about Manila's surrender and the consequences. Where
are you?? Are you all right? Pepito had been here and he said he saw you and
your family before he left the city. He's going back there tonight. I wanted to go
with him, but he says that an American soldier like me will stand out. I can only
bring more danger to you and your family if I go there. If it was just me, I would
have gone AWOL and tried my best to take you out of that godforsaken city. But
I'm afraid that he's right. I don't want to force my way into your home and get you
all killed. BUT I REALLY need to hear from you. They're shipping us out a week
after tomorrow, to where we still don't know. I don't want to leave without talking
to you.
I love you always,
Billy
January 28, 1942
Dearest Eleanor,
I'm on a ship but I can't tell you which one or where we are going. Security
reasons, but don't worry. I'm all right. I'm not really sure that you would get this
letter but I'm still hoping that it will reach you eventually. You haven't answered
three of my letters so I'm sending this one via air courier to Pepito. I also gave him
a snowglobe I picked up here so you could have something to remember us by. I
have asked Pepito to give it to you directly and not to leave it with someone else.
I really missed you sweetheart. Remember that I love you so much.
Always,
Billy
February 18, 1942
Eleanor darling,
Finally! I got your letter. Oh, God I really, really missed you too. I'm so
glad that you're out of the city (that's why you were unable to get my letters)
because it's getting too dangerous for everyone. Remember that day at the docks?
I had begun to doubt that you were coming at all and then suddenly you were
running through the gates. I meant what I said Eleanor. I want us to get married
as soon as we can, inspite of what everyone is saying. I know it's going to be
tough. I know I'm probably asking a lot. But I love you and I will never let you go
without a fight. As long as we stay together, I just know that we will make it.
Will you keep my necklace in lieu of a ring for now? I wanted to give
you my grandmother's engagement ring (which I inherited) but it is still in
Wisconsin.
Wait for me.
Love Always,
Billy
March 10, 1942
Dearest Eleanor,
I am sorry for my handwriting, I'm a little tired but you shouldn't worry.
It's really a good thing that Pepito is still helping us out with the mail because
all I do is read your letters over and over again. It's the only thing that's helping
me get through a lot of things these days and the only thing I can look forward
to. Eleanor, I want you to be careful always okay? I'm always thinking of you.
love always,
Billy
April 6, 1942
Dearest Eleanor,
The first time I saw you, all I could think of was that poem by Lord Byron.
"She walks in beauty, like the night
of cloudless climes and starry skies
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes..."
Sometimes I couldn't believe that you felt the same way towards me. Talk
about Lady Luck smiling down on me. I don't even have anything to offer you while
there were dozens of your countrymen who were laying out diamonds in
your path. You know that we have a small tract of land back home and farming's
the only thing I can really do when I get out of the army. I don't have much to
offer you but my love. It may not seem much to your family but i know no one else
will make you happy the way I can. You are a part of me as I am a part of you.
I will always love you, my darling.
Always,
Billy
The last envelope was in a different handwriting. Faith hesitated, there was something about the formality of the way her name was written. Ms. Eleanor Ibarra. Finally, she took out the small note.
Dear Ms. Ibarra,
You probably don't know me but I promised Billy I'd let you know. I wanted
to tell you personally because he was my best friend as well as my commanding
officer but the rest of us are being shipped out to another place and I can't tell
what's going to happen. This is hard for me because I feel that I already know
you. Billy talked of nothing else but you. Please understand that he called your
name last.
Ma'am, on April 8, 1942, he died defending Bataan from the Japanese. I'm
terribly sorry.
Yours Truly,
Sgt. Samuel Bryant
Faith bit her lip but the tears still came. Soon she was sniffling uncontrollably.
"Faith?"
She looked up in surprise to see her grandmother at the doorway. Hurriedly, she wiped at her eyes.
"Are you all right?"
"Uh, yes, Lola. I just had something in my eyes."
The older woman sat on the bed, taking her hand. "No, you were crying, apo. Is it because of Allan?"
"What? Oh, no. No, it's not because of him."
"What is it then?"
She motioned at the letters on the bed. "I was reading aunt Eleanor's old letters."
For the first time, her grandmother noticed the pile. "Why, you're right. These are Ate Eleanor's letters. Wherever did you find them?"
"Last night. In her room."
"And you were crying because?"
"Because Billy died at the war." The tears were running again.
If her granddaughter had not seemed genuinely upset, she might have laughed. "And Billy died where?"
"In the fall of Bataan. Lola?"
She took a deep breath. "I suspected it had to be that. He seemed really fond of Ate and I couldn't believe that he would just forget her."
"Did she never really refer to him at all?"
"Faith, you must understand that it was war then. All of us were trying to survive and personal grief are best left aside. I already told you that Ate was a strong person, but I didn't realize just how much until now. Father thought that Billy's desertion had caused her to hate all men. That's why she never married no matter how much the family insisted. And after the war, well after the war, we were all trying to reconstruct a life."
The old woman picked up one of the photographs and studied it quietly for several moments. "This was our ancestral home, you know. Father left it to us both. But when I married, she had lived here alone. She managed the land left to us quite well for a woman, and she never was in want, even if it must have been really lonely.
"One day, your Lolo and I had a terrible argument over another woman so I packed up and came back here."
That little known fact shocked her unreasonably. "You mean Lolo played around?"
She gave a small laugh. "Yes. But it was a long long time ago. Back then, however, our marriage was at the point of breaking up. Ate, of course, welcomed me happily and, true to form, did not try to influence my decision in any way. That night after supper, we were resting at the patio when I asked her about Billy. To my surprise, she told me something about what they had. It was the first time since the war and it was the last time."
Faith said nothing as she waited. Her grandmother carefully replaced the picture back on the box.
"She said that she and Billy used to argue a lot about Father and there were times when she was ready to give up. She was torn between two men whom she loved terribly but he would not let her go when she wanted to. She was glad that he did, no matter how things turned out. She was glad that they fought for what they had when they had it."
"The last thing she said to me was: 'Natalia, Life will always test your strength and only the lucky ones will get the love they wanted. If I could have him back for just a moment, I would gladly give up everything.' The next day when your Lolo came for him, I went back with him."
"I-I don't understand."
"It's really quite simple, child. Your Aunt Eleanor had taught me something valuable. Love is something you fight for. It is neither easy nor negligible and it takes a lot out of anyone. But it is something worth keeping."
An old withered hand gently squeezed her own. "Maybe we should leave this alone for now. I actually came here to tell you that it's time for supper and I've forgotten. Your Lolo's probably muttering impatiently in that way of his by now."
Faith laughed, brushing the wetness from her cheeks. "You go ahead, Lola. I'll just wash my face."
The older woman stood up slowly. "Fine, apo. Don't forget now."
She nodded, watching her grandmother's back as she retreated out the door. Then she turned her attention on the papers on the bed and began to gather them back to the box.
That night, Faith was the one who answered the telephone. It was Allan.
"Hi."
"Hello."
"Had supper already?"
She nodded, then remembered he could not see her. "yes."
He heard the lighter voice from beyond the line and it made him happy. "Uh, do you think you can come home now?"
She paused, remembering the photograph of Billy holding Eleanor from behind. "Allan, I think we have to talk about this."
"Faith-"
"No, please. Listen, I-I need for you to hear this. I have been terribly unfair to you and I'd like to say what's been going in my mind all this time."
She could almost hear how his mind was working now.
"Ok." He said simply.
"Five months ago, Joey died because a drunk driver hit him while crossing the street. He was supposed to turn 11 next month, remember? He was our only child and all I could think of was if I hadn't allowed him to go to his friend's home, he'd still be alive."
Then she was crying, the massive blanket she had kept to check away her emotions falling now like quiet rain.
"It's not your fault honey." It sounded inadequate even to his ears, and he felt frustration at the thought of her miles away. "I'm picking you up tomorrow."
"I was so angry at myself that I felt I deserved every pain, every tear. I-I couldn't let you inside me because I was so afraid you-you'd know that I was a terrible mother. I was so scared that you'd hate me so I just shut you out."
"My God, Faith. How can you even think that? You were never a terrible mother. Things just happen at times. I have always loved you. Always. Nothing can come between that."
"I missed you so much, Allan." she sniffled loudly. "I wish you're here with me now."
Soft laughter came from the other line. But she could hear him crying too. "I'll be there in three hours."
"No." she said immediately, then softened. "Not yet."
"Oh, Allan please. I know you've been patient long enough, but you see, I-I need to be by myself now. I have to come to terms with this on my own. To-to forgive myself again, do you understand?"
For a long moment, he was silent. "Until when?"
Faith bit her lip. "I don't know."
He released a long shuddering breath. "I love you Faith. You are my wife and always will be. Just come back to me."
Faith took the small box from her pocket. She fingered the small silver rose gently and then closed the lid once more. She could hear the voice she married from across the miles and smiled gratefully. "I will darling. Thank you. I promise not to make you wait too long." |
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