"Two Minutes"

Johny Tiongson stood at the corner of Gen. Roxas and Aguinaldo, waiting for the traffic light to turn green in order for him to go. Work had been hectic that day, his boss, Sir Raul, worked them overtime. An unexpected order came in and they drop the work at their hands to begin it. None complain about it since it meant that they would be paid one hundred and twenty percent for their efforts. Johny sighed and yanked his collar up a couple of times and got to it.

The rain poured hard as he waited for the light to change. The rest of the human stock was there with him. Men in long-sleeves and collars, women in blouses and skirts all coming out of their airconditioned caves and returning to the smog of the city. Some were unfortunately soaked to their knees. Others had combated the rain with an assortment of weapons. From umbrellas to tabloid papers, even to a hanky which couldn’t even cover the hair much least the head itself.

He check his watch it was 9:30, two hours and a half past office hours, two and a half hours of overtime that’s worth seven hundred and fifty pesos… not counting yet the remaining minutes. He smiled, but quickly pocketed it in. Of course, the BIR will get its percentage out of it. Damn government thieves. He march right away when the light shifted green.

The downpour had turned the Araneta coliseum and all other buildings around it a dark hue of gray. Johny walk militantly, people moved aside as they were about to meet him face to face. His father had died ten years back. Due to cardio arrest cause by chronic alcoholism, he died at the age of forty-five. A too early of an age to die when in that stage of life, people took up their pensions and founded a small time business, running a video rental or a quick ID photo stall. Halting for a moment, he cross the street to National Bookstore to see if some books he wanted was on sale.

Inside, he deposited his things at the counter and proceeded for the escalator. A couple of Harry Potter books were on display, he shrug remembering how his brother rave about it. Johny graduated out of college and thought he was ready for the world. Armed with his diploma and a degree in political science he thought he could tackle the issues facing the world. It was a few years after before his father died. And he didn’t know how suck the world was in procedures, downsizing, and budget cuts. Then again what did he know?

As he search along the bargain counter, Johny Tiongson saw a couple of high school girls piled up at one sector of the counter. Must be reading those cheap pocketbook romances. It’s the only thing girls ever read in a bookstore, aside from the fashion mags. He continued his search for contemporary gems that were being sold cheap. But the only thing he found was a badly scratch copy of Romeo & Juliet price at one hundred twenty pesos. He drop it and went down the escalator.

The rain had subsided to a drizzle when he got on an aircon bus on its way north. Pacing from seat to seat, to get a seat he felt comfortedly in tune with. He only got a seat at the rear end of the bus, the second to the last on the left side. He felt awkward, adjusting his butt and back to mold his body to fit the seat and make it seem they went well together. Unable to gel himself, he sat there his head feeling unattached to his body and unceremonously placed on his neck.

Looking down on the other passengers to get rid of the decapitating feeling. A couple of sales ladies were sitting a few rows in front of him. Other people like him, in collars and neat haircuts. While others, range from T-shirts to blazers, to blouses to polo shirts. Some sleeping, others were just sitting, and a few chatting. The sales ladies in front of him were munching on Piato chips and drinking coke.

The bus traveled swiftly along Edsa, since it was late evening only a few commuters stalled the bus at each stop excluding those who got on the bus a few meters away from the bus stop. The scene outside only compose of other buses speeding along Edsa, Q-mart still open even in the late night, and the long stretch to Muñoz.

John turn his eye from the window since there was nothing of interest. He just notice that two girls were sitting on the seat adjacent to his. One had short hair wore a black jacket and a blue T-shirt, she had a R2D2 keychain attached to her waist. The other had a red T-shirt with the Coca-Cola logo emblazoned on her chest and a blue sleeveless jacket. They both wore navy blue maongs and were talking about the things outside their window.

Johny watch while the girls continued on giggling about the things they saw outside. The girl with the R2D2 keychain was really cute. In contrast to her friend who was rather voluptuous and sexy, Johny kept his focus on the cute girl. White skin that seem to be alive with a certain warmth that he didn’t find in other girls which he saw at SM City or Shangri-La or any other mall. Her face had a roundness hinge with a bit of babyfat that usually goes when a woman’s body matures.

Suddenly aware of his staring, Johny turn his head back at the window. He felt his face went warm a few degrees up and touch his cheek to see if it was real. What are you doing, she might be sixteen for crying out loud. And you, how old are you again… thirty, and eyeing a maybe sixteen or seventeen year— do you want your friends think you’re sick or something. Johny took a peek again at the young girl and sighed, where were you when I was sixteen and didn’t have any burdens.

********

“Mr. Tiongson, Mr. Tiongson I know you just got back from work. But I am here to remind you of this month’s rent.” A crusty, old voice bark behind him as he place the key into the doorknob. Aling Ferdy, short for Fernandina De Rancho, Johny’s landlady, stood two feet from him and had her arms crossed. Johny told her his face straight with a certain stiffness, which was on the verge of breaking up into a shout, that he’ll pay the rent tomorrow as stated in the contract. As he had did consistently for the last six years.

Aling Ferdy made a polite reply that she just reminding him of the due date in order save him some trouble since tenants may forget for… simple reasons. Yes sure smile nicely when you have the money in your hands on the day itself— forget to pay on the hour or a day after and you rant of expulsion as if we haven’t paid for years. Johny Tiongson with his own mask to play, repeated he’ll pay tomorrow and slowly shut the door.

He goes to his room, takes off his shoes, socks, and shirt, and places them in the hamper. He goes out of his room to the kitchen, grabs the kettle from the cabinet above the sink, and fills it up with water. After filling it up to the nozzle, he turns on the stove beside the sink, and places it there. He goes to the bathroom and fills the bucket halfway and goes back to the kitchen. Adjusting the heat to make sure the water will boil to a degree that is hot and prolongingly stay hot. He smiles as he recalled the times his father shouted at him, calling him an idiot for heating water for a bath. Instead of arguing with him on the beneficial use of it at which his father will never agree with, it’s unmanly and a waste of gas. Johny only retaliated that he enjoyed warm baths. His father only gulp down the beer he was drinking and violently shook his head.

While waiting for the water to go hot, Johny surveyed his small apartment. It was a small one-bedroom apartment with the kitchen and sala together the way some small Filipino apartments were. It was pretty much vacant for a Filipino apartment. A rack with a second hand Japanese TV and VHS machine stood behind the front window. A low coffee table with sitting pillows was in front of it. Johny had blinds attached to his window. He never did like curtains especially the ones his mother use. Full of ruffles and laces or colors that either increase the dimness of a room in the rain or made the scorching light of summer get hotter than it could. On the wall adjacent to the table was a wooden shelf half filled with books decorated on top by a two-volume dictionary and a couple of pirated music CDs.

A grandfather clock loom from the space between the TV and the door. Its vintage appearance was ill fitted to the spacious practicality of the area. It was old, broken, and is usually accompanied by a couch, stand lamp and other old style type furnishings. His brother didn't want to take it with him as they moved out of their old house in Quezon City. James, his brother had bought a house of his own and in order to save on having it furnish with appliances and furniture, took everything with him except for the grandfather clock.

James tried to convince their mother to sell it to some antique dealer for some extra cash. He thought it wouldn’t go with his modern designed house in Palmera Homes. Their mother wouldn’t part with it, because it would be a great disrespect to their father who inherited it from their grandfather. Thus break the seal of tradition, if they threw it aside as if it had no sacredness to them. John said he’d keep it in order to preserve their father’s legacy.

The kettle whistled a wet-pitched tune telling John the water is already boiling. He turn off the gas knob before the stove knob and took the kettle into the bathroom and poured the hot water into the bucket. He dip his hand into the bucket to see if the water is fine. It’s too hot. Opening the faucet, Johny let the water rise a few centimeters before closing it again. The water is fine. Returning the kettle to its place in the kitchen he goes to his room, grabs a towel, and takes his bath.

Afterwards, feeling refresh and the tension out of his body. Johny turns on the TV to see anything going on. He takes out his dinner from the fridge and heats it up again on the stove. Some leftover sinigaang sitay and fried fish. Going through the channels on TV, seeing nothing interesting, he turns it off and plays instead a CD on his component. The sitay had thawed out, he pours the sitaw onto his rice and places the fish on the side of the plate. Grabs a glass, fork, spoon, and a pitcher of water from the fridge, he goes down and eats.

After washing the dishes, Johny check on everything if all were securely locked and close. He goes to the bookshelf and picks up a book with a bookmark in it and closes the light in the living room. The bit rusted hands and numbers of the clock shine a bit in the darkness as if crouching in the dark and waiting.

Johny closes the door behind him. He goes to the bed, sets the pillows in an upright position. He lands his butt on the bed, sits up, and reads the book. 12:30 PM, maybe I’ll read up to 1:00 before I turn in.

********

The day after, the work seem to have multiplied ten by ten. Some rush orders just came in; as usual they drop whatever they were proofreading and proceeded with the new order. Johny was already use to such chaos. He went to the pile of new orders and grab three batches to proofread. While he was going through his second batch, Annie, Ma’am Trisha’s assistant came to their section carrying a carton of Zesto juice drink and attached to it was a note asking for donations. She went table to table, telling them of the unfortunate incident at Aaron’s home in Antipolo. It seems a fire had occurred during the weekend at Aaron’s house. A tree those leaves weren’t trim down by the owner. The owner didn’t consider it part of his responsibility to get the branches cut down because they only mess with the Meralco wires on the side of his neighbor’s house. Besides he had better things to do than call Meralco for a treecut.

When the donation box came at his desk, Johny reach for his wallet and check for what would be a sufficient donation. After a few minutes, Johny pulled out a hundred and place it in the box. He gave his condolences and pardon for the small amount he could give— the pardon was merely for effect and for Miss Annie who seem to be agitated at the time it took for him to deliberate for his donation. Anyway, she smiled none the less and proceeded to Q.C. Dept., which was the set of desk beside theirs.

It was around twenty years ago when his grandfather died, he was eleven then and had his own mind. His father had his friends from work with him. His Aunts were exchanging stories at one corner of the sala and some of his Uncles were playing a game of cards. While his cousins with his brother locked themselves up in their Uncle’s bedroom, telling stories of ghost and other supernatural occurrences. He had overheard from his drunked father the story about the old clock in the dining room.

His great grandfather bought the clock from a friend of his who sold furniture and other home items from Europe or Spain at affordable prices. The clock was something his father’s grandfather felt that he should have for his home. He bought it right away and placed it in the dining room. Johny’s great grandmother was furious at him buying another piece of junk that had no use. The house Johny’s Uncle Chino live in was the same house his grandparents had live before. Stuff from old cameras to an wooden piano that had dials and other buttons, to rusty swords to old coke bottles with the wooden softdrink case that was use then, and even a cuckoo clock that didn’t work. His great grandfather only shrug off his wife protests. His wife rebutted that all this junk would be the death of him one day.

His great grandfather died some time after the clock was bought. One day his wife found him on the dining room floor, clutching his chest. He was rush to the hospital for treatment. They got back at home that evening, Johny’s great grandmother notice that the clock had its hands still at two and ten… the exact time his great grandfather died.

Johny’s grandfather left the clock to them since his mother so rave about it and wanted it for their home. His father didn’t gave a damn about it if it was there or not, because he didn’t believe the story… his grandfather died from a stroke and not from any supernatural influences.

“John, phone call for you… it’s your brother on the line.” Ma’am Trisha yelled from her desk in HR. Since the company wanted to save on unnecessary expense for equipment and monitor the time employees took while taking outside calls. They only installed one phone for use by employees, the phones would be position in between two sections. It so happened the phone that Proofreading and Encoding could utilize was at the HR head’s desk.

“Thank you Ma’am Trish, and sorry for the trouble” even though it wasn’t his fault that the phone he can only use is with the HR. Johny apologize anyway and took the call. “Yes, hello… James” Johny already had in mind what his brother wanted— and it wasn’t any brotherly love for that matter.

“John, don’t forget the support your suppose to give for Mom.” James said in his big brother sort of way.

“Don’t worry I won’t forget—“ his throat tighten at the irritation he was feeling “I’ll give it on Saturday at Dad’s gravestone. I don’t forget.” Johny mention the last part more as a fact than a promise.

“ Johny, lighten up I’m just reminding you… you act as if you’re the older of us two—“ pausing enough for Johny to guess that he was swearing with his fist again “sure, well I have to go. Be there on time. Bye.” And hung up.

“I’m always on time… always.”

********

The late morning sky was gray with clouds when he came at his father’s grave in the North Cemetery. It wasn’t easy going through the cemetery at La Loma. Rains from the previous day had turned the pathways into a muddy pool. The cemetery had never been properly cemented, the in-roads after the gates were all in its natural dirt state as the day the walls were erected. Not like its better half along the LRT track from R. Papa to Abad Santos station. Not to mention the cemetery appeared to be a labyrinth, not because of any fancy design the architect or engineer thought of. But because they never thought in the next thirty or forty years or so that the populace would multiply its ratio to that exceeding the estimated number of graves needed. Causing new graves to be erected even in some pathways or one cement box grave place over another for lack of space.

Anyway, he reached the grave at the precise time they had discussed before. His brother James was already there with their mother, something he never expected… because it happened before that his brother always came late. His mother was dress in a multi-colored blouse and maong pants. James wore a light blue polo shirt and black pants. His brother’s shoes and his mom’s sandals plus the lower portion of their pants were smeared with mud. Johny on the other hand decided to go in his favorite garb, a white tee, dark blue maong, boots, and his lucky leather jacket.

He gave his mom a kiss and greeted his brother in his own manner at which his mother scolded him for his lack of love to his brother. Johny let it slide because it didn’t matter anymore. James was always the preferred son between the two of them. And Johny didn’t want one of his mother’s melodramatic tantrums.

As he turn his head to check the time, he notice that his father’s tomb was remarkably clean. The cement casing was scrub off of mud down to the ground. The dirt around it had been uprooted indicating that the weeds had been remove. And the lettering was wet black. Mom must have insisted to have it clean for tradition’s sake. A candle was already burning and a bunch of orchids were place on the grave.

Sunlight fell on them from holes that appeared and disappeared as the clouds moved. Since the ground was still muddied they said they’re prayers standing up instead of kneeling. Which didn’t matter since they didn’t follow the usual procedure of praying because the only prayers they uttered were of their own wording, with a few Our Fathers, Hail Marys, and maybe a Glory Be… just to give it the holiness of an actual catholic ritual.

While they were praying, Johny spied on his mother and James. His mom held her eyes devotedly close and her mouth move with little action and utterance as if she was in a trance. His brother mouth a few words and waited for their mother to complete her contrition. Johny chuckled to himself at what was happening. Here they were a bunch of middle-class idle Catholics praying as if we were in church in front of the priest and reading the pabasa. In front of the grave of a man who he supposedly called father .

After her mother was through with her prayers and made the sign of the cross. Johny reach for the inside of his jacket and pulled out a white puffy envelope. His brother let out his hand in between him and their mother. Irritated by his brother’s lack of tack he drop the envelope in the hand.

“Are you sure this is complete?” his brother going through the bills with his fingers, checking for any deviation.

“It’s all there, you can check it if you want to.”, Johny gave stern look at his brother. His face stiff with the anger within him.

“No, no… that won’t be needed. Besides I have go somewhere.” as James place the bills in his wallet.

“And what about Mom?” the sky turn black again.

“I’ll drop her by Aunt Lorin’s place and pick her up later since she always wanted to visit her.” the fire of the candles was snuffled by the wind, carrying with it some petals of the orchids in its wake.

John gave her mother a kiss and a goodbye before his brother left off with her. She wanted him to come along as well but he decline the offer, saying his path was to somewhere else. He waited till he was sure they were out of hearing distance. When he was sure that they were gone. He turn again facing the grave of his father.

So it’s just you and me now, isn’t it? Everything’s gone and past now… you’re no longer in my life now. And I I can put you finally behind me. You’re not here anymore. I have my life now and I’ll shape it as I want it… and not by you. It happened some years back, they were at some social gathering hosted by a friend of his father. His father had again started rambling about how successful he was and how he had raise his family on and on. Johny couldn’t stand it at how his father would rant about something that was nothing more than a mere lie. He left the party and walked all the way home.

By near dawn, they found him sleeping at the door of their house in the mist of that cold morning. Johny had slept due to exhaustion at holding back the wave that wanted to break loose. He felt the big rock hand of his father grip his shirt and raise him up. Still partially sleepy, Johny heard him ironly rant at him as if he was some subordinate who had done a grave misconduct, “Don’t you ever, ever do that stunt again or else!”. Expecting the blow that habitually follows, Johny was thrown off to the side. No one else move to help him up least they incur his father’s wrath. Johny got up, out of fear that he’d receive a blow for not standing of his own volition. He went to his room and fell on the bed.

A month after his father died he went to the living room for the last time before they move out of their home in Quezon City. The house was to be sold since they had no way of keeping it. Their father had not considered a pension or an insurance plan in case he died and the money in his bank account was only a few thousands, because as much he was a heavy drinker he was also the heavy gambler… especially against his rich pals. He looked at the environs for the last time, but instead of the relief he thought he would find with his death. He felt his father had found another way to leave his mark on him.

He looked at the grandfather clock that stood in the sala and smiled. Right after the incident at the party, Johny had the clock fix through the help of the uncle of a friend of his who work before as a clocksmith. His mother was so surprise to find it running and shown it to her friends as another new décor piece.

According to what he heard from the doctor who got out the emergency room minutes after his father was rush in. John Henry Tiongson, succumb to a massive heart attack at exactly two-thirty-seven p.m. When they got home, Johny look at the clock as they all got in. The clock had its hands at two and seven— two minutes passed the time his father died.


—The End—