It had been two weeks since Constancia and Mrs. Aguak went to the town plaza.
“I still can’t forget the boy’s face, Usman,” said Constancia. “He had been shot a couple of times in the head, and a bullet had grazed his cheek, exposing his teeth and facial muscles. He looked like he was smiling.”
Usman winced. “Mrs. Aguak must have been relieved to find out it was not Odin,” he said.
Constancia shook her head. “She would never be relieved until she sees her son.”
“Where could the boys be now, ma’am?” says Usman. He clasped his hands and whispered, “Oh my Amir, where are you? I’ll be waiting for you in the altar, er, in the mihrab.”
Constancia glowered at him, and Usman put his hand over his mouth, looking like a puppy kicked by his master. She tolerated, even encouraged, his flirtatious jokes about men, but not when it comes to the male students, and not this time especially.
To deflect Constancia’s attention, Usman asked, “The dead boy, ma’am. You must have been surprised to see him . . . I mean, aside from his hideous smile, he must have been the last person you expected to see.”
“Surprised is an understatement. I had always thought I would never see again that old student of mine, much more wearing a CAT uniform. It’s crazy. He disappeared one day and reappeared just as suddenly. If there are people who should be relieved, it’s his family and the family of the other student he killed years ago.”
“I really hope Odin and the other boys would come back soon,” said Usman. “But not in the same manner as that killer.”
“Usman,” said Constancia, “I’ll make a deal with God, and you shall act as the witness . . . If the boys come back, or even just one of them, I won’t leave this school. Your uncle be damned.”
* * *
The night after Constancia made her deal with God, Usman saw in the news that the military operation had reached its end.
One of the kidnap victims was killed and the other was rescued. The commander from Sulu was rumored to have escaped, back to where he came from. Kumander Hadjiri, Amir’s father, was killed, his lifeless body captured in video for the entire world to see.
Usman did not wait till morning to tell Constancia the news. He rushed to her house right after the TV program ended. “But ma’am,” he added, “it’s still possible the boys had escaped.
Constancia shook her head. “Do you want to buy my house, Usman?”
* * *
It had been forty days since the last time Amir talked to Constancia and more than a week since Kumander Hadjiri was killed.
Today was the start of the final exam. Two weeks more and it would be graduation. The superintendent would be the guest speaker, and Constancia would give him her decision on that day. In her home, she had packed most of her belongings. She was ready to move to Bacali.
Constancia’s voice rang out in the grounds. She was ordering the students to form their lines straight so that the flag ceremony could start. The students couldn’t help but stare at her quivering lips. She was wearing yellow lipstick, and she looked like she had eaten turd for breakfast.
She moved to the back and scolded those who were almost late. Then a familiar figure appeared in the gate.
“Amir, my son!” she exclaimed as she rushed to him. God wanted her to stay in this place, after all.
Amir was gaunt and was walking slowly, a hard-edged look in his face.
“You’re back,” she said. I want to hug you, but you look so frail.”
“Good morning, ma’am,” Amir said.
“Come to the office, have a rest there.”
“I’m fine, ma’am. I’d like to join them,” he said, pointing to the students in front of the flagpole.
“Okay, I’ll walk with you there then.”
They walked slowly, and all the students’ eyes were on them.
“Amir,” she said, “I’m so sorry for what happened to your father.”
Amir stopped walking. “Don’t be sorry, ma’am. They didn’t get Kumander Hadjiri.”
She didn’t understand, so she also stopped and looked at him.
“He made a sacrifice.”
“What do you mean?”
“He could have escaped if he wanted to, but he chose not to put the whole movement at risk. He knew the military wouldn’t stop until they got a commander’s head. That’s what the public wanted.”
“Amir, let’s talk about this in the office.”
The young man did not seem to hear her. He continued speaking in a calm voice. “I wanted to stay and fight with him, but he ordered me to leave.”
“Your father wanted you to have a different life, a normal life.”
Amir smiled. With the rays of the morning sun falling on his face, Constancia saw the same old Amir, the same old sweet smile.
“No,” Amir said. “Father said it was his battle . . . and I’ll have mine in due time.”
In that instant, the light on Amir’s face shifted. Perhaps he moved. Perhaps the clouds in the sky above moved. Constancia was not able to determine what happened. All she noticed was that Amir’s smile became that of the dead rebel lying in the town plaza.
She shuddered and remembered the other students. “The other boys,” she said, “where are they, Amir? Where’s Odin?”
Amir did not say anything.
“Please, Amir. If you can’t tell me they’re safe, at least tell me you don’t know where they are.”
The young man’s silence confirmed Constancia’s fear. She felt hot liquid welling up her eyes.
“In every family there’s a warrior,” Amir spoke as if in a trance. “He shall fight in the name of Allah. After he performs his duty, a white horse appears before him, to take him away, where he shall bask in the glory he deserves. His family shall not grieve, for his deed was not for nothing. He had saved the souls of fifty of them.”
For the first time DMNHS witnessed their principal cry. She cried just like the way she shouted in fury and laughed in mirth, in full volume and in full view of everyone.
* * *
Usman stared at Constancia in alarm. When a teacher cries in front of her students, she’s finished.
He came to her and led her inside the principal’s office.
When she was already inside and Usman was about to close the door, he flung it open again. He went back to the field.
The students had broken their queues and were whispering to one another. He shouted at them to be quiet and to form their lines again. He did not leave them until they were set to start singing the national anthem.
When he came back inside the principal’s office, he found Constancia sitting on her swivel chair, her eyes still red but her cheeks already dry. She was staring at a paper on top of her desk, a fountain pen poised on her hand.
“Ma’am, that’s the letter from the superintendent,” Usman said. “Are you going to sign it? Why, Amir has come back.”
Constancia was staring at nothing. “Amir has died in the mountains, with Odin and the other boys,” she said. “They are not my children, they are children of this land . . . And once they answer her call, they never come back.”
The End
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