Anaconda Smile

Anaconda Smile

I met Jake through a beautiful neighbor. He always had a story to tell, and a smile which looked so natural, in spite of that thing in between the upper and the lower gum.

“Well I have a sister working in the Emirates,” he began with the many esses in his sentences, much interested in narrating as much as I was in leaving for his neighbor’s house whose occupant was a fine young lady, a classmate in high school, and who also sported a very captivating smile.

“She must be like the beauteous Sophia, your neighbor,” I said, with a smile.

“Oh, yes,” he snapped. “But not really. She has distributed her smiles to the Middle East, and for that she was already awarded. She’s earning millions, and she’s coming back next week.”

The conversation was getting lengthy, I supposed. But then I took the chance of saying goodbye when Sophia peeped out the window of their house.

“Hi there, classmate, good to see you!” she called me up, and I was saved from Jake. For years that we had not seen each other, I wonder why she could easily recognize me, at that distance. But no wonder, I was glad she was glad to see me.

And for all the missing years, Jake became the subject of conversation. They're not related though, except that their two cute houses were separated by a few guava trees, and both seemed to look away from each other.

Sophia was my amor (though she didn't know it). She was always here inside, and this time I got the courage to look and see her. But Jake got hold of me first, perhaps wanting us not to talk, or forbid the woman not to see any lover. I was a little thankful, instead of being disgusted, because I just didn’t have an interesting topic to talk with Sophia. It was my first visit, and she didn’t ask me of my excuses. She just talked and talked about Jake and the wonderful human trait required of them in the neighborhood - a smile. Now the picture would soon be clear; instead of I pursuing Sophia, I was interested of their story (not a love story, God forbid), or gossip?

“He has a captivating smile and personality,” she said. I know she was frowning; I saw it. I nodded, and was so happy about it. I interrupted and shifted, talked about the good 'ol days, when we were young, when by the sides of the school building, we climbed the fence (she went ahead, so I saw her); we reached to the other side, and under the coconuts, slipped from our memories, long sentences of lessons in class. That was a memorization so lasting; lasting because most were facets of world history. Jake was one of them. A history, I whispered. I went away without my saying anything, and without her asking why I visited her for the first time in our lives.

Sophia, Jake, our community, rising but traditional. People valued the art of smiling. No paved roads, perhaps nobody owned a car except a few who worked in a bank; we were like an agricultural people still rich with the culture of yesteryears. From the youngest to the oldest, from the smallest to the biggest family of ten or fifteen, from the farthest east to the dark west, we knew each other. We were like an ancient family, lost and a few remnants got together after centuries to relive the past, or hate one another.

The news of Jake, his own misfortune, his own doing and stupidity got me so quick. I said stupid, yes once more, because of Sophia who was always by his side. And for all the luck, she invited me. To help her? No, it was again Jake. For all the love in the world, everyone was invited to help Jake. To solve Jake's misfortune. We looked, waited, investigated.

Jake’s family lost their honest smiles. Nephews and nieces, and close relatives helped to look for this piece of denture which went missing one early morning as he was about to brush it.

I was in Sophia’s house when on one fine morn, they devoted their time marching here and there, searching the ground and up the ceiling, looking for something so important in a person’s smile.

“You must have misplaced it somewhere,” someone exclaimed. That added to Jake’s frustration.

“Here you are,” another one shouted. It was their dog’s.He got a punch in the stomach.

“Stop all this embarrassment!” Jake exclaimed.

And yet everyone tried to turn things around, every square inch inside Jake’s house was searched: the bags, any kind of bags, pockets of his pants, any pockets, the kitchen, everybody’s kitchen, the toilet (no, only their toilet), their backyard, everybody’s backyard.

Jake was the more frustrated. He refused to eat, turned pale and skinny, till he confined himself in his room, refusing to talk to anyone even his parents. Finally, we brought him to the hospital where Jake made his final stand.

The neighbors kept watch. For sometime, he was relieved, but then after a few hours, pain would reemerge like a monster tearing every bit of his stomach.

“He probably earned the ire of a vengeful witch.” Some folks commented. But the women and children, close relatives of Jake’s, welled their tears and words of affection.

A battery of tests. Ex-rays. The patient was grimacing, forbidding anyone to touch his stomach. And then the people saw it growing, and growing, and growing.

“Get the patient to the surgery!” The doctor finally became frantic. Jake's relatives refused. What if the thing in the stomach will come out and create havoc? The scene was an atmosphere of panic, with neighbors and relatives trying to get away from the operating room. What was inside Jake’s belly? A growing monster? A dinosaur which found its way in our age?

Within minutes the doctor opened his stomach and found Jake’s lost treasure. It was a relief for all of us. But, how did it get there? He must have lost it in his sleep. Or he dreamed of some fine appetizer after a shot of local gin, and swallowed everything.

Did Jake’s beautiful smile return to enlighten everyone with his “hi's” and “how are you’s”? Not anymore. He went away, settled near a river (now Sophia will be mine at last). If ever anyone from his previous community came to see him again, they'd see Jake smiling like Anaconda. He had finally gotten rid of his denture.