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ENDURING |
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Peter remembered the planes. The sky had been quiet, like any other normal day in a different part of the world. He had been happily playing inside his home. Little toy soldiers all lined up to slaughter the stuffed animals that made up the enemy camp. His mother had been in the kitchen, cooking something for dinner. No reason to suspect that there will be raining real death in a matter of moments.
A man wearing dirty jeans and a blue shirt was polishing the windshield of a car in the parking lot across the street when the little bombs fell down from the passing fighter planes. One of the parabombs fell on the car he had been working on and the force of the blast had thrown him clear to a concrete wall a few meters away from him. Peter had looked up at the window just as he was sliding down from the wall, splotches of blood painting the concrete behind him with a downward stroke.
"Where did you go, Peter?"
The little boy knitted his brows, trying hard to answer the question. But his mind remained empty, the memories wiped clean since that day. He shook his head finally, slipping back to his silence.
Dr. Megan Landers bit back her frustration, and smiled at the 11-year old sitting quietly across the picnic table in front of her. She had thought the quiet park approach will make him remember, since the office seemed to intimidate him more. v
"May I go now?" He said, his eyes already looking furtively at the others from the orphanage playing happily not far from them.
Again, the interpreter translated and she nodded her assent, trying not to look at the other lost children in the park. "Sure, Peter."
Another notation on the papers on her hand. Unintelligible doctor scrawls in medical lingo that actually said she had no idea on how to help him remember without destroying whatever's left of his childhood. She felt like screaming. Except that she was supposed to look calm and intelligent. Megan smiled bitterly at that.
The U.N. had brought her here in this battle-tired place. A child psychiatrist hoping to help children recover from the scars of war. That's a laugh. She had seen enough to know that she had not done enough for each child before she was shipped off to another place.
Peter lost both his parents and his younger brother when another bomb fell at their house that same day. He had been found crying and clinging to his mother who had died with her arms around him, underneath all that rubble that had been their home. Rachel, a 14-year old girl who lost her legs to a mine. She has an ordinary face, except at the rare times when she smiled and her eyes brightened for a moment. Oliver developing that mad stutter after seeing his father shot down by a man in fatigues. She could go on, citing each child's history from memory alone. But it was too much. After five years, it had become too much.
Megan turned away, feeling the migraine starting again from the base of her skull. Maybe she should take up the leave of absence that she was asked to have. Actually ordered to have would be more accurate. But how can she leave these children? She had little time for each of them as it is. Richard McKay, the head of the department, would have clucked his disapproval. Megan, you think too much. He would have told her, looking very much like her grandfather. She winced inwardly.
Peter ran towards Nina, who had not joined in with the game of tag now ringing all over the park. Like him, the nine-year old girl had lost her family to the war, but came out of it without a scratch. Except for the scars in their minds.
"Why aren't you playing?" They had become good friends the moment they met. They came from different villages but both arrived at the orphanage at the same day. They met in the lobby while a male nurse "processed" their arrival, along with the others. She had been crying soundlessly and he came over to talk to her.
They had been inseperable ever since.
"I'm tired." she said simply. "What did she tell you?"
Frowning, he shook his head. "Nothing. She just asked me about that day again."
"Again, huh." She was not even surprised anymore. Nina had gone through the same questions over and over again from her and other grown ups as well. They both figured that they will keep hearing the same questions in the days to come.
"Do you think they'll ever stop asking us?" she said after a pause.
"Probably not." He grinned suddenly. "But, didn't you notice that they always take us out to places like these or give us gifts and candies and stuff. That's better than staying cooped up at the orphanage."
Her smile was wistful. "My mom will kill me if she knew I'm eating candy."
Peter blinked, remembering how his younger brother Carlo used to filch from his own horde of sweets. And how it had always made him angry.
"I wish my mother's here." she murmured. Then the tears fell.
Looking at her sobbing, he felt awkward. Why must girls cry all the time? he thought furiously, feeling his own breath locking in his throat. He had to swallow very hard, not letting the storm of his pain control him. He's a man now, after all.
Fishing in his pockets, he found a clean handkerchief and handed it to her. "Here." he muttered crossly.
She took it gratefully and wiped off her tears, slightly hiccoughing.
"Do you want some water?" He added, gentler this time.
"Yes, please." Her mother had always taught her to say please and thank you.
Dr. Landers saw Peter running to the water fountain with a glass. Watched him run back to give the water to Nina, the calm afternoon sun bathing them in warm sunlight.
She glanced at her watch, then nodded at her interpreter. "Time to go home, Rowena." |
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