Safe harbor.

He strangled her?

That's what she texted.

When?

Just now. He just come home from that bar.

She needs to get out of there! The damned fool is just another drunk, like the rest of those expats down there. None of them are worth a damn. She is in danger.

I know. I ask her, where is she? But no answer.

Does she have family around here?

No. Just her and her two kids.

The kids aren't his, right?

Correct. They are from the Filipino boyfriend she had. He left her.

She's not married to this guy. Why doesn't she call the police?

I don't know. She not answering my text.

How old are the kids?

Elementary school age.

I don't want it to be permanent, but if she needs a place to stay, she can come here tonight.

I know, I text her that, but she not answer.

It's late. Will you hear it if she texts back, if you are asleep?

I think so. Good night Pogi. My pogi talaga asawa¹![giggle]

Good night, sweetheart.

§ § §

Mahal! Mahal!² Someone ring the gate-bell! I will look through the window! Be ready to go out please!

I put on a robe and some flip-flops, but hang back for my wife to indicate whether I need to allow someone in, or ignore the bell. There can be danger in opening the gate at night, if you do not know the person who is ringing the bell. It's two thirty in the morning.

Hala! She here! Go let her in, please!

I know Hala means 'watch out,' but I do not think Anabel means me. I think she is indicating that it is dangerous for a woman to be outside at this time at night. I hurry out to let her in. At the gate I find three of them. The two kids are with her. All three look frightened and very tired. I open the padlock on the manhole in the gate³ and get them through. They hurry toward the house as I re-lock. It is a warm night and being in a robe, as I finish the locking, is no cause for distress.

As I get back into the house, my wife is busy getting the kids settled in the back bedroom. Their mom, Kaysi⁴, is sitting bewildered, and seemingly in shock, on the couch. It is a miracle she held it together long enough to get here. The twenty-seven-year-old is a good looking female. Her skin color is darker than the ideal by Filipina standards, but she looks fine by mine. She seems like a nice girl, but then I do not really know her. She might be a real bitch but bitch, or not, does not give a boyfriend, or husband for that matter, license to assault a girl. Of course, I do not have first-hand knowledge that he did try to strangle her, but the marks on her neck look pretty real to me. I don't try to talk to Kaysi, but I do grab a glass and pour her a drink of chilled water from the water cooler. She takes it and drinks it down. I take the glass from her and refill it. Handing it back to her I get the faintest of smiles as she takes the glass and sips at it.

Anabel returns to guide Kaysi to the back bedroom. I turn off the lights in the Sala⁵ and go back to our bedroom. Minutes later, my wife returns. We try to catch a few more winks of shuteye.

§ § §

Ray, thank you for allowing us to stay here.

I think that may be the most she has ever said to me. She is in the kitchen this morning, when I enter. I gather she has been talking to Anabel, but, at the moment, Anabel is out in the dirty kitchen and Kaysi is sitting alone at the table. To my amazement, Kaysi begins talking anew.

Anabel is very lucky. You are a good man. A very good man. Not like the others. I am unlucky. I not find any good man. I only find mean and bad men. I wish you were my good man.

The next comments out of my mouth are meant to be facetious. It is not an invitation, or at least I don't think it is. As I am already married, you will need to convince Anabel to share me, if that's what you want. I say nothing more and nothing more is said at all. Anabel enters the room with a bowl of fried rice and a plate of tocino.

Did she tell you what the bastard did to her?

No, she was just thanking us for allowing her to stay here.

Ray, she has bruises in places she cannot show you! I tell her we should call the pulis⁶. He should be deported. He a bad man!

She will have to show the bruises and they will want to take photos. I agree with you, but, Kaysi, are you willing?

No. No. Just want away from him. Wala na⁷.

It's Saturday, so no school today. Where are the kinds going to school?

West, they go to West.

You need the rest of your stuff, right?

Yes, how I get it?

Anabel, can any of your friends let you know when Jack is at the bar? I suspect it will be safe, if we drive her down to the apartment then and she can get what she needs.

OK, I try.

§ § §

Anabel gets a heads up. Jack is at the bar by noon. My wife stays with the kids and I drive Kaysi to the apartment. The idea is that if Jack shows up, my presence will damp down any real potential danger for Kaysi. As it is, Jack never shows up and with the garbage bags we have brought with us, we have everything sacked up and out of the place in less than an hour. While Kaysi is sacking and I am loading everything in the back of my pickup, there is no talking other than the occasional 'thanks.'

On the way back to our place, Kaysi is silent for a bit and then, out of the blue, she asks, Ray, what do I do to convince Anabel to share you?

I am shocked, flattered and, at least for a bit, without any words. Finally, cluelessly, I ask, Kaysi, do you think I am coming on to you?

No. You have never done that. You are a gentleman. We all know that.

Who is 'we?'

All the girls! You know, all the girls of the expats. Some of the guys, they are always saying things. They touch you, but you not want that. You not do that.

So why do you want to be with me, if I do not flirt with you?

Ray, Sir, if you take me, then I am safe, my children are safe. You are handsome, and nice. Anabel say you never hit her and we all know you not a drunk. All the guys at the bar call you names because you will not join them. I think if they not like you, then you must be really very good.

You understand that I will never leave my wife?

Yes, I know this.

Kaysi, I love Anabel. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I do not want to hurt her.

How I convince her I not going to hurt her? How I convince her she need to share you?

This has got to be the weirdest conversation I have ever had. I never, and I do mean never, have given this female the slightest reason to assume I am interested in her. Granted, I find her attractive, but I find many females attractive here in the Philippines. I have made it clear that I love my wife and will not leave her, nor will I allow her to be hurt. What more can I say without hurting this young woman and without being cruel? I think I have the answer as I tell Kaysi, I guess you have to convince Anabel your love for her is so strong, that sharing me is the only way you can live with her the way you need to live.

Now, Filipinas do not understand bi-sexuality. To them, you are either a lesbian or you are straight. I figure that my answer will drive a stake in the matter. To the extent that the rest of the trip home is one of silence, there is nothing to prove me wrong.

Once we get back to the house, Anabel and I assist Kaysi in carrying the bags into the bedroom in which she and her kids are staying. As Kaysi disappears into the back bedroom with the kids, I sit down with Anabel on the lanai⁸. How long is she going to stay here?

Ray? She just got here! She doesn't know. Give her a few days.

OK, OK, but not long. OK?

Yes, OK.

§ § §

When I come in from the Lanai, I find the kids sitting in the Sala and watching cartoons. They seem nice and well behaved. The older one, about 9, is a girl. The boy seems to be a year or two younger. I am sure that I will get the full scoop soon enough. I retire to the bedroom and pick up a book I am reading, but don't get more than five pages read before I get a call. One of my friends has been taken to the hospital. I am needed.

For a guy who is supposed to be retired, this life seems to be anything but retiring. My friend has a subdural hematoma, but the subdural part is the problem, it is in the brain. He's bleeding internally into his cranium. His twenty-one-year-old wife is freaking out and it seems that I am the only one who they trust to give advice.

That's flattering but I am no doctor. Still, at least, I am not panicking and I do have my friend's best interest in mind. I guess that counts for something. I get to the hospital by about three in the afternoon. I leave eleven hours later.

The guy's going under the knife in the morning and there is nothing more I can do for now. The intervening hours have been a combination of sheer fear for the guy's life interspersed between long stretches of boredom as we just wait for tests, results and doctors to appear. There is little as dehumanizing as being an emergency patient in a hospital. It only gets worse when your brain, your ability to think, to reason, your emotional stability, and ability to remember, are dramatically impaired. God save me from such a personal experience.

I have been texting on and off throughout the evening, until Anabel went to bed a few hours ago. The house is locked up but the outside lights are on as I unlock the gate, park the truck and lock things back up. It has been a very long and weird twenty-seven hours. I am exhausted.

I get six hours of sleep, grab a quick breakfast after a shower, and am about to leave. I am needed back at the hospital. There is a snag about the surgery. Anabel tells me that the texting universe has exploded with questions about Kaysi's disappearance. It seems, the fact that she had left the apartment was no big deal the first night. But the fact that she returned, took her stuff and 'disappeared' has everyone of the bar group up in arms. They seem to think that she could not leave like that without assistance and they want to find out who the bastard is who has helped Kaysi. Oh fuck them, and the horses they rode in on! I have more important issues with which to deal.

What part of emergency do they, at the hospital, not understand? Jeez! I am gone another twelve hours, finally getting home at nine-thirty Sunday evening. What a way to spend a weekend!

Anabel feeds me a rewarmed supper as we talk over the events of my day. I ask her how her day has gone and I get an odd look, and a cryptic response of, Ray, that's something we need to talk about, later.

Later, it turns out, is when we retire for the night, behind the bedroom doors.

Ray, what do you think of women who love women?

I thought all women, love women. Don't you love all your friends?

No, bobo⁹! Not love like that! You know what I mean! Love, like I love you.

Oh, well, I guess I haven't given it much thought. Why?

Are you offended by it?

No... why, Anabel?

Just suppose that I loved you and I also loved a woman, would you be willing to share me?

You mean you live with me, Monday, Wednesday and Friday and you live with the girl, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday? No, that I would not like. I am not a part time husband.

I not mean that. No, I not want that either. Huh, I guess I not know how to ask it. Would it be OK if Kaysi stay with us permanently and I have sex with her?

Anabel, how would you like it if I asked you if I could sleep with Kaysi and you too? How would you feel?

I would feel like you were breaking your marriage vows.

And that is what you are asking me, right?

Oh! I never think about it that way! But you are right. I cannot do anything outside the marriage. I cannot have a relationship that takes my love away from our marriage. I not think of it, but yes I see that now. Ray, I have a problem. I think I love Kaysi.

You don't know her enough to really love her! Hell, I don't know her at all. How do you know she is not manipulating you to get to me? How do you know her real plan isn't to function as my second wife, without having to act like a wife or mistress to me, but getting the benefits, of food shelter, safety and a future for her kids? Have you thought about that?

Please, Ray! Don't be so angry! She is not like that?

So you know this?

Yes!

What if I can prove to you that you are wrong? What if I can prove that the one she really wants is me and that she is just manipulating you?

I not believe it?

What if I can prove it?

You can't!

Oh yes I can. You tell her that the only way she can have you the way she wants you is to also be my mistress. She can only have you if she gives herself to me completely.

She won't do that after what other men have done to her!

Oh yes she will, Anabel. But the problem is that you will be asking your lover to fuck your husband. What if you are wrong? Are you really willing to risk your marriage? What if I fuck her? What will you feel then? You are convinced she will not do it, but I am convinced you are wrong. I do not want to lose you Anabel. You don't know this girl very well. I don't know her at all.

OK, OK, I think about this.

Good.

§ § §

Monday morning requires me to return to the hospital. The good news is that the guy is out of surgery, out of recovery and is listed as stable. There is a hole in his head and blood continues to drain out. He is not out of the woods, and we do not know when, or even if, the bleeding will stop. The doctor is pretty sure we will see an end to the blood in the next three days. In the meantime, there are financial issues that need resolution. Once again, it falls on me to review the bills and sort out what needs to be done. I spend most of the day there before returning home at five-thirty.

Supper, and four souls, are evidently awaiting my arrival. The table is set a little more formally than the norm. Anabel rarely eats much for supper. She is constantly dieting, she tells me, but afternoons and late evenings by the TV seem to be enlivened by snack food. So it's not exactly a diet, but what the heck. She's a lovely, trim and attractive woman. I love her dearly and if that is what she wants to do, well then, OK. Most nights, she just puts a plate out for me, puts rice on it and a bowl of whatever she has made for me on the table. So it's quite different to see place settings for five on the table, along with pinakbet, a platter of bihon and the always bowl of locally grown white rice. Also different is the presence of a bottle of Sprite on the table. Anabel pours me a glass of water with my supper each night. Tonight there is no glass of water. Instead, Kaysi is pouring me a beer.

We all sit down and Kaysi asks if we start our meal with a prayer. I tell her we normally do not, as I am an atheist. She asks if one of her kids might say a prayer. I tell her to go ahead.

Sam2x¹⁰, say your prayer for Tito¹¹ Ray.

The child gets a very serious look on her little face, bows her head before uttering, just barely loud enough to be heard, Bless us Oh Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.

I do not say 'Amen' but all the rest do including my wife. Ah well, no point in fussing, they will be gone in a few days and we can return to normality.

The pinakbet and bihon are very good and I compliment Anabel. I am thinking, maybe I should have beer more often with these meals, if that's what is making them taste better! I have been eating my wife's cooking for a decade and while it is good, it sure tastes better tonight.

You like it? Yes?

Yes, it is very good.

That is because I not the one to cook. Kaysi cook for us. She is good cook, see?

Yes. Kaysi, this is a very good meal. Thank you.

You are welcome, Sir Ray. I want to do for you. You are so kind to my children and me. I will take care of your house and cook your food. It what I want to do. I will be your maid. OK?

§ § §

§ § §

Chapter 2