Many third year girls were disappointed for they lost the chance to dance with Amir in the prom. Still nothing was enough to dampen their spirit. They partied till the last minute they were allowed to, that is, until nine in the evening.
“We must hurry up, Usman,” said Constancia on their way home. “The lights will be turned off soon.” Mamaluba’s electricity was provided by a barangay-owned generator, which was operated from six to ten in the evening only.
“Don’t walk too fast, ma’am,” said Usman. “You might trip on your heels.”
Though the lampposts were few and far between, Constancia could be seen in the dimness a dozen feet away. She was wearing a silver gown, silver stilettos, and silver bangles. If one looked closely, one would notice that her lipstick and eyeliner were silver too, gifts from Usman.
They walked in curves as they had to avoid stepping on potholes.
“Do you know how those kids fight, Usman?” said Constancia.
Usman stared at her, surprised with the sudden topic.
“While the other students were having fun earlier, I couldn’t keep those boys in the mountains out of my mind,” she said, still walking briskly, pulling up the hem of her gown to keep it from the mud.
“The rebels lack guns,” she continued. “So there would be just one gun for three kids. One kid fires at the enemy while the other two wait behind him, one to take the gun when he falls down, the other to drag his body away.”
“How awful,” said Usman. “Those kids are so brave.”
“They’re stoned,” she said. “When they’re high, they get so brave they fight like fools. In close encounters”—she let go of her gown and posed as if she was holding a rifle—“they stand in front their enemy and fire like Fernando Poe.” She fired her imaginary gun to the imaginary enemy.
Constancia looked funny, but Usman could not bring himself to laugh.
“They are such an easy target,” she said.
* * *
A week had passed after Amir talked to Constancia. He had not yet returned to school. One week then became two weeks, and still no Amir. The news said, as Usman related to Constancia, that the military’s offensive had intensified. And no military plane had apparently been struck down by any anti-plane device.
“Odin should come back too,” said Usman. “You know, ma’am, that boy should not be in section C. He’s quiet in class, but he gets good scores in quizzes. His grades are low only because he’s frequently absent and he does not pass his homework.”
“When he comes back,” said Constancia, “supervise him more closely. If he gets good grades in fourth year, I’ll ask Mayor to give him a scholarship so he can go to college in the city. Well, that is, if I’m still here.”
Another teacher interrupted the conversation. She said someone had come to see the principal. It was Odin’s mother. Like her son, she was skinny and her hair was curly.
“Mrs. Aguak, come in,” said Constancia. “This is Usman, Odin’s adviser. We were just talking about your son.”
Mrs. Aguak broke down crying. In between sobs, she told them she had come to ask for the principal’s help. She needed to go to the poblacion but she could not afford the fare. Someone had told her the military had killed some young rebels and brought the bodies in the town plaza. One of the dead rebels was said to be wearing an old CAT uniform bearing the seal of DMNHS. Mrs. Aguak feared it was her son.
* * *
As the habal-habal was speeding through, Constancia couldn’t help note that she mainly had grim memories connected with the scenery. On one side was the azure sea, where her husband, a fisherman, perished in a storm. On the other were the verdant hills, where the boys had gone to fight.
When the two women alighted the vehicle, Mrs. Aguak shared to Constancia her remorse.
“I should have not consented,” said Odin’s mother. “But there was really nothing I could do. My husband had the last say. I’m just a woman, the third wife.”
Mrs. Aguak said someone had come to their house to recruit Odin. “The man gave my husband four thousand pesos, and he promised to give the same amount monthly while Odin is up there.”
All Constancia could do was pat her shoulder, “Let’s pray it’s not Odin,” she said. “Let’s pray.”
* * *
Odin’s mother began to cry again the moment she saw the swarm of people. Constancia held her by the shoulder and pushed their way through the crowd.
The dead rebels were laid down on the floor of the basketball court. They were lined up neatly that they looked more like members of a firing squad than casualties in a battle, and someone had made a feeble attempt at decency by covering their faces with banana leaves.
Constancia scanned the bodies, trying not to focus on the torn and purplish limbs. When she spotted the camouflage bearing the logo of DMNHS, she led Mrs. Aguak to it.
Mrs. Aguak made jumping movements as her sobs grew louder.
A military man was standing near the corpses. Constancia’s eyes met his. Without any word, he understood what they had come for. He crouched near the body and moved the banana leaf away.
Mrs. Aguak wailed and Constancia gasped upon seeing the familiar face.
(To be continued.)
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