Disappearing Acts

Stuck in an earth-colored left-handed armchair, I was wrestling with a seemingly endless set of questions covering an odd mix of current events and mathematics. I was wearing a white shirt under a yellow wind cheater and a pair of floral shorts, the kind that beach urchins wear in summer. Clipped between the bare parts of my thighs was a lightweight electronic notebook encased in a black leather bag. My examination proctor was the actress, Jaclyn Jose! On her was a traffic man’s see-through overall. Her face registered a dainty grin similarly to those of country lasses we only read about in local folklores. She stood facing me in a patented beauty pageant pose: her left foot planted before her right foot; her breast proudly pouted forward; her one hand cupping the other while pressed against her buns behind. Yes, even that I could see. The situation was bizarre. We were at the (point of) intersection of Pedro Gil and Angel Linao streets in Paco, Manila, neglectful of the erratic traffic of vintage cars; there were no jeepneys. The drivers of the cars were likewise unmindful of the odd situation at the intersection. Strangely, the actress’ lean figure covered the entire structure of the famous Paco Market. In this dream, I was aware that, in waking life, the structure stands in the second quadrant, taking that where I’m seated is the point of origin and the part of Pedro Gil St. from the origin to Makati is the upper y-axis. I was facing the actress; behind the actress was the second quadrant. Whatever was there in the second quadrant would have been hidden behind the actress’ opaque body in see-through overall. I wished I could have a full view of the structure, i.e., the Paco Market, since I needed to answer the question in the examination which, as far as I remember, read: Which of the followings equations represents the family of curves lining the canopy at the entrance of the Paco Market? This may not be the exact sentence. The only words that I’m sure I had seen written on the questionnaire were equations, family of curves, and Paco Market. This is the reason I supposed the examination questions were a mix of current events and mathematics. I was thinking maybe the structure didn’t exist after all since it couldn’t be too small to be completely covered by the actress’ petite body.

As I was contemplating on the answer to the question, I heard a thick voice call my name. I turned my head toward the third quadrant. Over my left shoulder I saw an old classmate and friend in college.

His name was D. This is how I remember him. He had so many family issues. He had not planned to study after high school but enrolled anyway - chemical engineering in Mapua. I can’t recall whether or not he told me why he did enroll after all. I’m not sure if he told me who convinced him to give it a try. But I remember that despite his ambivalence and lack of drive he attended his classes religiously. He attended even the worthless ROTC classes. He would be absent only a very few times. He did generally well during the two semesters he studied in Mapua, having failed in only one course during the second semester. It was either Physics or Analytic Geometry. Then after the second semester he disappeared. Did he continue to study in other schools? I didn’t know. I still don’t know what had happened to him between then and now, more than 20 years after.

There he was, waving his left hand. He was wearing that gray shirt which I thought I’d seen him wear several times when he was still in Mapua. His other hand was holding a swollen paper bag by the string handle. The bag was too short to conceal the whole of the black thing inside it. It was then I realized that the electronic notebook that had been clipped between my legs was gone. Without any warning, D, too, was gone. He disappeared for the second time. In one fell swoop, Jaclyn Jose, now in fireman’s full gear hurried toward the first quadrant, then I found myself inside the fish and meat section of the Paco Market. I was now holding something that I can’t recall now. Surrounding me were tables over which slabs of meat hung on hooks were in display. On just one table lie different kinds of fish, some still alive and gasping for air. No one was tending these stalls. The area was ironically so clean and dry for this section of a wet market and was deserted. There it was almost silent had it not for the buzzing sound courting my ears. I was certain those buzzes where those of flies’. I didn’t see any flies though.

I followed the buzzing sound. It led me to a door. The door was familiar - that of the bathroom’s in my apartment here in Taiwan. It didn’t have a knob, so I pushed open it and I stepped out. Inside my apartment I found three familiar kids – a girl and two boys – all in prep school uniforms. They were watching TV so keenly that they never noticed me walk into the living room. Then I snapped my fingers - in waking life I can’t do that. The snap was a prompt for them to absquatulate. They all sprinted toward the door which, all the time, was wide open. There they disappeared. A little later I heard a pair of hurried footsteps heading toward the still open door. The girl, now grown up, now clad in white blouse and a maroon knee-length pleated skirt, rushed back on barefoot. When her whole body was completely visible in the frame of the open door, at least in my line of sight, she tossed the TV remote control in a way softball is pitched. I failed to catch the thing. I was always a lousy catcher. It hit the TV monitor. The face on the TV display as the TV remote control hit it was Jaclyn Jose’s. I couldn’t be so sure though. But I heard her bawl in pain. Then she disappeared, leaving only a milky-white display of static.

Did the impact of the hit break the monitor of the TV? I don’t know. The thud had sent me back to waking life.

Who were the children? The girl is A, my cousin. She is 4 years younger than me. We went to the same high school. One of the boys is also a cousin, E: A’s younger brother. The other boy, same age as E, was their (our) neighbor in Tabaco City in Albay.

{March 9, 2009}

Comments

Popular Posts