She sits there discreetly on the sofa, the television on mute, flipping through the news and a pre-season basketball game. Isabella quickly changes the channel as Carlos enters the living room, humming to himself. He kneels in front of her and lays a blanket neatly on her lap.
“You’re not fooling anyone, I know you’re watching basketball.”
“ What? What was that?”
“ Don’t be coy with me. You really shouldn’t be watching sports. I know how you get all riled up watching a game. You get too excited.”
“ Well it’s only pre-season so I should be okay.”
“Still, maybe you should watch a movie.”
“ There isn’t anything good on anyway,” sighed Isabella, “ there hasn’t been for years.”
Carlos grabs her arm as she tries to stand up.
“You know what I hate?” she asks.
“What’s that?”
“That it now takes me almost twenty minutes to get from here to the bedroom.”
Carlos covered his mouth with his hand and tried to stifle a laugh. The journey to the bedroom was a long, and arduous one, with a couple of pit stops at a floor lamp by the edge of the living room and a painting in the hallway. By the time she reaches the bathroom the phone rings.
“ I’ll get that,” frowned Carlos, “ don’t go anywhere.”
“ But it’s for me,” replies Isabella.
“Hello?” said Carlos, “ Oh hey, yeah she’s right here.” Carlos hands the phone over to Isabella,” It’s for you.”
“ I know it is, it’s my phone.” She tears the phone away from Carlos with all her strength. “ Hello?”
Carlos is trying to nudge her to her bed.
“ Oh really? He’s says he feels fine? Did you ask him about the pills then?” Carlos sticks his head out a little closer to the receiver, trying to listen to the voice coming from the phone but he can’t make anything out. He tries to get Isabella to sit at the edge of the bed but she keeps shooing him away with her free hand.
“ Well why didn’t you ask him?!” shouts Isabella, reaching a wall. She braces herself against an almost life-size rosary hanging on the wall. The beads start to shake. “ Well about the note?” she continued. She looks over to judge the distance from the wall to her bed. How did it get way over there she thought. “ Carlos, help me to the bed.”
Carlos throws him arm up in disbelief. “ That’s where I was taking you!” Carlos retorts as he guides her to her bed. He helps her sit down at the edge. She motions her hand for him to lower his voice.
“ You didn’t discuss the letter?” asked Isabella, now clearly agitated. “ Did you talk about anything? Did he like the food?”
She nods her head in agreement. “Okay, I guess that’s okay. Well call me when you know more. Okay, salamat.”
She hands the phone to Carlos and slumps down.
“ So was that Analise?” he asks.
“Could you make me some tea?”
“ What did she say?”
“ Some hot jasmine tea would be nice.”
“ Why did Jay stop seeing his therapist?”
Isabella looks up at Carlos and smiles.
“ Why did Jay stop seeing his therapist?” repeated Carlos.
“ He says he feels fine.”
“ And?”
“ And he feels it’s not helping him,” she says wistfully.
“ It’s a little too soon, don’t you think?”
“ Maybe, but we’ll see.”
“ He’s a strong young man, he’ll be okay.”
“ He’s not but I hope you’re right.”
Amidst the early evening silence she lies in her bed, arms neatly folded over her comforter. November is a melancholy time for Isabella. Summer’s gone and the sun has fled for more inviting pastures. The darkness creeps in earlier and earlier, uninvited. The light on her night stand is a beacon. She shudders and feels like a child again, afraid to sleep alone in the dark. Although she can’t hear anything, she’s sure the TV is on in the living room by the flickering of light underneath her bedroom door. Her eyes turn upward towards the ceiling as she begins to drift in and out of consciousness. She forces herself to keep her eyes shut. This is the part of the day she hates the most, this waiting for sleep. Throughout her life she has always been a light sleeper, waking at the slightest hint of noise. It infuriated her beloved husband Lucio so, God rest his soul. Sometimes she would wake up gasping for air, her hand clutching Lucio’s wrist. She would listen to him snore, lay her head gently on his chest and that would put her mind at ease. She found herself missing the sound of his heartbeat, the roar of his awful snoring. But it’s been over thirty years since she has heard Lucio’s heart and she sighs. Has it been that long? Almost everyone has left her now. Yet she still remains. How much longer she wonders. How much longer can she go on?
Carefully placing his weight on his footsteps, Boy stumbles slightly out of the kitchen and into the living room. He braces himself against the back of the sofa, where Carlos is sitting.
“ Why do you do that?” Carlos asks inquisitively, “ You know she can’t hear you.”
Boy laughs, patting Carlos’ shoulder. “ True, very true. Old habit I guess.”
“ She’s fine.”
“ Do you think she’ll want some more tea?” contemplated Boy as he sat down next to Carlos.
“ Nah, hopefully she’s asleep already.”
“ I doubt that.”
“ Me too.”
“ I bought some herrings today at the farmer’s market. I put a one in the fridge for the morning.”
“ Thanks Boy.”
Boy straightens his back and sits up. “ Someone at the farmer’s market was telling me an interesting story about herrings.”
“ Oh really?” said Carlos distractedly.
“ Oh yes, apparently they fart.”
Carlos shifts in his seat and lowers the volume on the T.V. “ They w-what?”
“ They fart. That’s how they communicate.”
“ By farting?”
“ It’s a social tool,” continued Boy, “ according to Canadian researchers.”
“ They fart?” says a disbelieving Carlos.
“ They fart. Herrings have been known to have an excellent sense of hearing but for the longest time no one knew why.”
“ And now they know why.”
“ Now they know why,” said Boy, in a scholarly tone, “ They make these farting noises, at night, in the dark, and the farting noises also produce bubbles.”
“Bubbles?”
“Bubbles. That’s how they talk, by breaking wind and making bubbles.”
“ Boy, herrings don’t fart.”
“ They do! Researchers just proved it not too long ago!”
“ I can’t believe we’re actually having this conversation.” Carlos stands up. “ I can’t wait to tell your mother that in the morning.”
“ Don’t tell her,” says Boy, his eyes getting big. “ She might be reluctant to eat one then.”
“You think so?”
“ Maybe.”
“ So what do you think they’re talking about?”
“The herrings?”
“ Uh yes Boy, the herrings.” said Carlos, not knowing why he was staying on this topic of conversation.
“ I don’t know. Perhaps the same things we talk about.”
“ Well we’re talking about herrings right now.”
“ You know what I mean, they probably talk about their lives, their wants, their desires.”
“ Uh-huh.”
“ I’m serious. Why wouldn’t they?”
“ Oh I dunno Boy, maybe it’s because it sounds crazy. What could a herring possibly desire?” Carlos turns around to go the kitchen and quickly jumps back. He puts his hand on his chest and catches his breath. He quickly comes to his senses but for a second there he thought he saw an apparition.
“ What the...you scared me!”
“You two are too loud. I can’t sleep,” said Isabella grumpily. She makes her way to the sofa.
“I didn’t think you could hear us. I’m sorry.”
Boy gets up and walks toward his mother. “ So sorry mom.” He takes her hand, “ Come with me, I’ll make you some tea. That might help.”
“ Oh I can do it,” said Carlos.
“ No Carlos, we’re fine,” said Isabella, motioning her hand at him. “ Go out and have some fun. You shouldn’t be stuck here with us old people.”
“ Yes Carlos, go out,” adds Boy, “ we’ll be fine.”
“ Are you sure?”
“ Positive.”
“ I don’t know,” said Carlos.
“ Really, mom will be back in bed soon, I’ll be going to bed soon, we’re fine.”
Carlos looks at the two of them. The guilt begins to wash over him. Deep down he knows they’ll be okay but still, if anything were to happen to them he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
“ Go!” yelled Isabella.
“ Okay okay, I’m going. You have my cell number. Call me if anything comes up.”
“ If anything comes up I’m calling 911 first, but then I ‘ll call you,” she replies sarcastically.
“ Well good then. Okay, I guess I’m going.” He gives Boy a hug and turns to Isabella. “ Remind me to tell you a story in the morning.”
“ Tell me now.”
“ I’ll tell you in the morning.” Carlos smiles and grabs his coat. Halfway out the door he repeats, “ Call me if anything comes up, okay?”
“ We will,” said Boy, “ now go.” The door shuts and silence takes over for a few moments.
“ What does he want to talk to me about?” she asks.
“ Oh it’s nothing. Don’t remind him.”
Meanwhile, on another side of one’s world, Jay finds himself in the men’s locker room of his hotel, half-dressed, staring at his locker. His mind is drifting. He doesn’t hear a co-worker approach beside him.
“ Hey Jay.”
“ Oh,” said Jay a little startled, “ hey what’s up Mike?”
“ Nothing. You okay?”
“ Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just gearing up for tonight.”
“ Not much to gear up for, it’s been slow all night.”
“Yeah?”
“ Yeah, money’s been hard to come by tonight.” Mike takes out from his pocket an enormous set of keys on this plain but massive key ring. “ Here ya go.”
“ Gee, thanks.” Jay tosses the keys into his jacket pocket.
“ Alright I’ll talk to you tomorrow, have a good night.”
“ Thanks, you too.” Jay stands up, shuts his locker door and puts on his jacket. He heads upstairs to the lobby. This hotel lobby looks eerie at night. It’s a wide-open, empty space, cavernous, and bit off-putting. Jay makes his way to the front desk. He approaches a young woman, bored out of her mind. “ So how bad is it tonight?”
“ Pretty bad. The last group of folks for this convention arrived twenty minutes ago,” said Natalie, eyeing the computer screen, “ not expecting anyone else.”
“ Lovely,” says Jay sarcastically. “ Well if you get hungry or anything, let me know. I got the keys.”
“ I’ll do that.”
Jay starts swinging the rings around his fingers. Tonight Jay has multiple duties, doorman, bellman, and valet. And if the mood arises, short-order cook. But everyone is in for the evening, all the business people are here. For Jay, that meant not only a slow night, but a very lucrative night as well.
For a while now she sits there on the sofa, slowly sipping her hot jasmine tea. On the surface Isabella is quiet and still. But underneath her mind is racing, her heart is simmering. Boy is mindlessly flipping through the channels with the remote.
“ I saw how they were all looking at me today.”
There was no reply.
“ I saw them today. I saw how they were looking at me,” repeats Isabella.
“ Sino?” asks Boy finally, who?
“ Everyone at my birthday party. They all want to say something to me but they can’t.”
“ What do they want to say to you?”
“ Sumolangit nawa ang kanyang kaluluwa.” May she rest in peace she says.
“Oh mama, you know that’s not true.”
“ It is true!”
“ They love you.”
“ They are waiting for me to die.” Boy sighs loudly and walks over to her. He places his hand on her shoulder and tries to reassure her. “ You always say that mama.”
“It’s true Boy. Everything your father and I ever earned, everything we’ve ever saved, they want it now.”
“ Mama, you know that’s not true. Everyone loves you.” said Boy, kissing her on her forehead.
“ They’re waiting for me to die.”
Boy tries to change the subject. “What did Jay get you for your birthday?”
“Oh, he got me one of my favorite movies, the Hitchcock one.”
“ Rear Window?”
“ No, no, Shadow of a Doubt.”
“ Ah I see, that’s nice.”
“ Such a good boy.”
“C’mon mama, you’re tired. Let’s get you back to bed..” He helps her up, and walks her back to her bedroom.
“ They’ll have to wait.” she says sternly.
“ I know mama, I know.”
“ They’ll have to wait.” she repeats.
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