Singing the blues
Well, how about that? There wasn’t any way Jomar wasn’t going to sign, once Jecim caught up with him a few hours ago and told him she needed his signature so she could be an executor of the property for her unborn child.
Hells bells… according to Jecim, he just about broke land speed records getting to the attorney to sign.
So it’s done, and now, so long as there is a live birth, even if the court denies the separation, when I die, Charline can’t inherit the land. With my will, she was not going to be able to get the house, but now the land is out of her hands, too.
It’s a damned good day! Still, I want to get the separation before the birth of the child. I call the attorney and press her on pushing the separation through, the moment it can be done. She promises she will do it. We will see.
Tonight at supper, I inform all that the paperwork for the house and the land is complete and we have the final documents back. It is now official, as is the announcement of a pregnancy. There will be no party now, but there is a lot of playful stuff, a lot of laughing, a lot of happiness.
Once again, we have a period of calm. Man, do I ever like calm. This one lasts until almost the end of the school year. It’s a Saturday afternoon, a week short of that, when screaming from inside Jelou’s bedroom erupts, followed by Martia leaving in a damned hurry, with Jelou screaming at her, right behind her as she runs out of the house.
Once Martia is gone, Jelou starts crying. I go over to her and put my arms around her. It’s OK, honey. Couples have fights, but they get over them. I don’t know why you got angry with her, but she will learn and fix it. It’ll be OK.
She is holding me tight, crying, and shaking her head. I don’t say any more. I just hold her.
It takes a while, but she releases me, backs off a bit and asks, Rolie, tell me the truth. It OK if we not have sex anymore? You still send me to college?
Of course. Sweetheart, you never have to come to my bed. I thought you knew that.
OK… but this still my home, even with no sex?
Yes, Jelou. This is always your home. It’s OK. I understand. No more.
No! No you don’t! I want to be in your bed.
Huh? What’s this all about?
Her! Her! She want to trick you. She say, we can get what we want from you and dump you. I tell her she evil! Rolie, she want me to help her get into your bed so she can win you and get rid of the others. She want the house, the land. She want to trick you. I tell her to get out! Never come back. No one allowed to trick you! We love you. She confused. She say, why I protect you. You old. Why bother. You only good for what we can get!
Jelou is crying again. She grabs on to me, and, talking into my shoulder, she asks, See? I know you love me. You send me to college. It not matter if we have sex. Who do that if it not love?
We are surrounded by the rest of the household. They have said nothing, until now. But it is Jecim who asks, She right Rolie, who send us to school, give us children if we want, not require us to have sex if we not want? Who do that if it not love? How that, Rolie. Tell us.
I don’t know what to say. Is this love? I have been so sure that there is no such thing. I have been sure that it can’t be, that I set things up in a way it is impossible to see it in that way. They were getting things for staying. So it was in their self-interest to stay. But what if they have been telling me the truth. What if they will put my interest ahead of their own? It hasn’t been needed, so how can I ever know for sure?
Are they right about me? Do I love them? I have been steadfastly denying it. How many times have I said the only thing I can trust is the wood? But, regardless of that, have I done things that are out of love, or is it just out of decency? Fucking a fourteen-year-old is hardly a decent thing to do, so attributing decency to my actions seems like too far a reach. But, if it isn’t decency, it must be love… right?
Shit, I am lost, as lost as the day I was when Charline left me.
I don’t know what to think. I hold on to Jelou with one hand and reach out to the others with the other arm. I don’t know. I just need to be with them.
I just spend the rest of the day, sitting, my mind wandering down alleys of confusion and contradiction.
This house holds five girls, from pretty to amazingly beautiful. Each of them is a bedmate, a lover, a caregiver, a friend, and each swears to the Lord above that she loves me. So why do I feel so completely alone? It makes no sense. None at all, and yet, that is how I feel.
Eventually, I stand up and climb the stairs toward my bedroom, alone. Jelou asks if she can join me. Yes, but no sex tonight. OK
Yes, of course. We just hold, OK?
OK.
I don’t think I am depressed. There is no sense of hopelessness. No desire to die. I have no fear, no anxiety. I do not feel numb. I feel intense sadness, like I have lost something a while ago, and I need to find it again. Something has been taken from me. It needs to be regained. But what is it?
Maybe I will find my balance in the morning. I hope so.
The morning does come but the sadness remains, swaddled with young arms that seek to surround me with warmth and caring. I feel both, the closeness and the distance. The fleshy sweet warm contact and the cold isolation from all around me.
There is something else inside. It is a vague feeling, distant and yet precise, sharp edged. I know it is there, but it is far from close to the surface. Far too submerged to have a name, I know, I am sure, it is coming. I will meet it. Just not yet.
It is the first school day, of this last week of school and Jelou must get into gear to get to school on time.
As she leaves the bedroom, Jezryl and Jecim enter, both perching on the side of my bed as I go about getting ready for the day. They aren’t saying a damned thing. They just sit there.
Jecim? What do you need?
You OK?
I don’t know. Maybe. Yes, I’m OK. It’s nothing for you to worry about?
Why that? If you not OK, we worry.
Why worry? Nothing bad will happen.
We not worry about that. We worry about you. We all worry.
Why?
You sad? You act sad, we think. Why that?
I don’t know. But you have nothing to worry about. It is not about you.
Rolie, we know that! Really, we not worried for us. We worry for you. My baby want a happy father! And a big smile crosses her face.
I can’t help but smile back. How can I not?
Good! That better.
The two hop off the bed, coming to me and giving me hugs and kisses.
I am told that they will make a special breakfast for me, and then they depart.
Each time something like that happens, I feel an ache. I feel the sadness. I feel something sharp pushing up.
How long will I feel like this?
It has been three weeks. School is out until June. Martia tried to reconnect with Jelou, but got nowhere. The gal even came to our gate more than a few days ago, but Jelou, flanked by Jecim and Jezryl, told her to never come back.
I don’t think we will see her again.
As of yet, there has been no word, or resolution, regarding Marjune’s interest in placing her granddaughter with us.
On the legal front, we have a little less than three more months before I can get the judgment of separation. I did ask Jomar to convey to Ping that all but this final matter has been successfully handled.
The sadness is still with me, but maybe I am getting used to it. It is like my shadow. It follows me and all I do, a salty-bitter aftertaste, even when savoring something sweet.
That pointy thing inside me has a name now. It is anger. Anger toward Charline and for what she took from me. Not the fiscal loss, much of which I have recovered but, rather, of my belief in the thrall of true love. I had truly believed in and luxuriated in it. It was like a drug, in which I was insensitive to the harsh realities of our motivations. It was sweet bliss and I swam in a river of it, thinking that my life was blessed.
In her leaving, she both denied me that drug and forced me, cold turkey, to see the world as it truly is.
Like the child who believes in Santa Claus, only to discover that old Saint Nick is an old fart who lives at the local nursing facility and is moving to a hospice center next week. My foolishness, in my later years, has exposed me as the old fool I am. Embarrassment and withdrawal at the same time. It is a hell of a combination.
I had buried much of it, deep within, to protect myself. I denied the damage it had done to me, and soldiered on, bleeding but ignoring the wound.
Now… now I can’t ignore the wound. It is real. It is on display each time one of these five seek my acknowledgment, and confirmation, of a truth that is, in fact, nothing but the thrall.
I don’t want to break their hearts. I wish them to live a life, believing it and never being damaged by being forced to see the truth of it all. That is part of the sadness. I can see the thrall, but I cannot join them in it. That is the other part.
And as I come to grips with that, I more and more feel the anger towards Charline. She is the reason that I will never feel that again. It was beyond great to feel it. And now, it is gone, forever.
There are things to feel good about. Jecim is in her fourth month. She is healthy. I have sent her to see a doctor just to make sure all is fine. It is. She prescribed some vitamins but, nothing else.
Myra is in her second month, we think. An EPT has given us a positive result. She will go to the doctor next month. And so, I will be a foolish old man with kids.
The moms will likely never be US citizens, but these kids will be. They will be dual citizens essentially right from birth. I will have to contact the embassy, file paperwork, as well as provide DNA swabs for the kids and me, but that will be enough to prove what existed from birth. They will have two passports.
I am carving at the moment. It seems to be my manner of creating totems. Totems to my reality, my world. The process of creation is spiritual. Maybe not healing, but a salve over the wound.
It rained last night, and the winds blew hard, but today the sky is blue, the scattered clouds are white, high and fluffy. There is still a strong breeze as the tall trees bear witness, but there is little of it at ground level. I have a fan blowing gently on me.
A tricycle pulls up at our gate but I cannot see who is getting out.
I hear an Ay-Oooo! of an unseen young voice.
Opening the gate makes it all clear. It is Myra’s niece, Analiza, who is standing there, alone.
Good afternoon child. Are you here to see your aunt?
Yes, Po. And you.
Well, your aunt is working, but she will be back in an hour. Come in.
We walk back as far as the terrace. I point to a chair for her and seat myself after calling into the house for a glass of water for the kid. Analiza is sitting quietly. I have not a clue as to why she is here.
Vieve appears with the water, initially handing it towards me, before I direct her to the child. Once complete, I reach out to Vieve, pull her down a bit and whisper in her ear, Find out why she is here.
There begins a long conversation in Cebuano. It is taking long enough that Vieve eventually sits down on the bamboo bench as the conversation continues.
I have no clue what is happening and decide to return to the carving, as this talkfest continues.
It has definitely taken a while, but I gather they are done, as Analiza comes up to me and ‘honors’ me. I look at Vieve and ask the obvious question. Why?
Vieve motions for the kid to join her on the bench. Analiza does. Vieve’s arm is around the girl’s shoulders as I get the story.
She come here for the truth. She hear for a long time now many arguments. Almost every day between her mother and her grandmother. Sometimes they argue, what best for Analiza. Where Analiza to go. Grandmother scream that Mother is bad and child learn bad things. She yell, this fighting bad for the child. Better she go to live with Myra and you. … Mother scream back, ‘Not that! No. They do sex with her there!’ Grandmother say, you, Rolie, not want Analiza there for that same reason, but what the better option? This no good! This bad for Analiza! Worse than sex, maybe. Mother say, Analiza not want that, so Rolie say No anyway. Why argue about it? It not happen. Analiza say this argument happen a number of times. It happen last night again. She afraid to ask grandmother or mother what they mean, so she come here.
OK, and what did you tell her?
The truth.
No, Vieve, what exactly did you tell her?
I tell her how we live here. I tell her that sex part of adult life. But not to be part of child’s life. It wrong to make a child do sex. You believe this very much. That why you say she not to come here. She ask about Jelou. I tell her Jelou have a bad mother and she learn sex when she was very young. It change her and she want it now. She too young but no choice anyway. Analiza not that way and so no need to do sex yet. She ask, ‘We fight here?’ I say, no. We not fight. She ask, ‘We scream here?’ I say no. She ask, ‘We happy here?’ I say yes. We happy. She say she need to talk to Myra. She ask if I know what Myra think. I say, Myra think it wrong for you here. She and you agree. It wrong for her. She ask, ‘Does Sir hate me?’ I tell her you not hate her. You love her. That why you say this not a good place for her. That all Rolie.
That is a lot, and far more than, ‘I tell her the truth!’ Thank you. She still needs to see Myra, right?
Yes.
OK she can wait out here for her aunt. I do not want Jelou lobbying her to join us, so it is best she stay out here.
That produces a new protracted discussion in Cebuano. Evidently too much of my comment was provided to the kid and now she definitely wants to talk to Jelou. I relent and the kid is escorted inside with one codicil. Jelou is to be warned that there is to be no encouragement for the child to come here.
Three quarters of an hour later, Myra arrives, gives me a kiss, before her planned entry into the house. I stop her, tell her that Analiza is here and is waiting for her, but that before she sees her niece, she must get the scoop on the visit from Vieve. I get eyebrows and then she is gone.
The wood is still in my hands. It feels good. It is the one thing that carries with it no sadness and no anger. In its touch there is stillness, peace, and truth. It is the same truth today as it was yesterday and it will be the same truth in one hundred years.
There is nothing more satisfying than knowing that. It is the one thing in my life I can be completely sure of. If humanity can be unsettling, my time on the terrace is the cure.
I have a good hour before the sun sets. I put it to good use.
Supper is a board meeting of the ad hoc citizens’ council to protect Analiza. I am not a member. I just happen to be taking my meal at the same time.
Myra is the council chair, with Vieve the advocate for the child. It is proposed and seconded by all that our house is not suitable for Analiza. Even Jelou appears to agree.
Next, the position is proposed that, either Alida and Analiza need to move out of Marjune’s home together, or Alida needs to move out alone. But, in all cases, Alida and Marjune must be separated. However, Alida may not reside with us. The council discusses the matter for a few minutes before it is put to a vote and the measure passes unanimously.
Finally, the matter of how to convey the decision of the council is discussed and the conclusion that all members will leave after dinner, with Analiza, and inform the two women of the edict.
Being a bit of a pain in the ass, I ask, Why do you think they will listen to you?
And here I learn the one thing I most assuredly did not want to hear. Jelou turns to me and, in the sweetest of voices, exclaims, Rolie, it is simple. If they ever want to see Analiza again, they both must agree. If they do not do this, Analiza comes here, to my bed. And they not to visit, ever.
And Analiza agrees to this?
Yes.
Myra, do you agree to this?
Yes.
The rest of you agree to this?
Well, shit, they do.