“I’m sorry to be a bother Cin, but do you think we can roll the windows up a bit? The wind’s just too cold for me.”
Cindy glanced back at Alan through the rear-view mirror and gave a small nod. Rolling all of the windows up, she reached for a knob on the dashboard and turned the heat on as well. Meanwhile, Luis, the burly man dozing off in the passenger seat with his arms folded tightly against his barrel chest, shifted in his spot, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. He hated returning to the tropics, and if he only believed Cindy could manage alone, he would’ve stayed home in Texas. Jet-lagged and exhausted, a mix up at the rental company also meant they had to settle for a smaller car for the entirety of their visit.
The crease on Luis’ forehead hadn’t relaxed since.
The radio signal began to crackle and fade. Being this far up the mountains, the DJ’s voice shifted in and out, punctuating his reading of listener texts with harsh static swells. Cindy turned the radio off, leaving the engine’s vibrating hum as the lone provider of sound.
“Thank you, Cin…” Alan whispered from the back seat, “I appreciate what you’re doing for me. Coming all this way, I know it hasn’t been easy.”
“I made a promise, Alan,” she replied while passing a glance at Luis, “Don’t worry about us.”
“Thank you.”
Luis, half-asleep, mumbled. “Jesus, Cindy, it feels like a damn oven in here. Pop a window open will you?”
Alan gave Cindy a knowing look, and Cindy lowered the windows again. She kept the heat on if only to help keep Alan from shivering in the backseat.
As the wind rushed through the half-lowered windows, the sound of it ignited Cindy’s memories of teenage trips to the beach. It all felt like ages ago, another lifetime almost. She hadn’t seen the coast in such a long time, but her memories remained clear. Cindy gripped the steering wheel and let out a sigh. The last time all three of them had gone on a trip together, there were fewer sighs and more smiles to be had.
******************************
“Bauang road trip!!!” Alan screamed in his raspy manananggal impression. The old van was filled with their gaggle of college friends, and even back then it was Cindy who drove. Cindy, the always dependable one. Cindy, the ever responsible one. Cindy, who could have stabbed you with her stare if you crossed the line and went too far. Her parental role in the group was as defined as her steely, calculated expressions. Alan, on the other hand, was always the entertainer, the jester, and self-appointed DJ who swapped cassette tape after cassette tape.
“Will you at least finish the song?” Cindy asked.
“I did!… The good part at least!” he snickered, to the roars of the rest of their friends.
As opposites, it wasn’t immediately apparent that the two could keep their friendship going, years after college and well into their 30s. Even when Cindy got engaged to Luis—a half-American mestizo who spoke in broken Tagalog and twangy English—and moved with him to the states, the pair kept in touch through letters and postcards. As their other friendships faded, with life pulling everyone in different directions, the bond between both only grew stronger over the years.
Perhaps it was because Alan refused to settle down. And perhaps because Cindy had already done so—and found there was nothing more to settle into but lonely routines, and deadlines, and commitments.
Packages all the way from the Philippines would often arrive at their doorstep. Be it jars of strawberry jam, sachets of turmeric tea, or whatever product Alan would have from the random jobs he bounced around in. One day a quilted blanket arrived with a note containing a phone number.
“I think I’ve found my calling, Cin,” Alan said excitedly over the long-distance call. “Quilting!”
“I’m happy to hear it, Alan. I’m so happy to know you’ve found your place,” whispered Cindy, as Luis snored lightly beside her.
******************************
“Wake up, Luis,” said Cindy as the car’s wheels shifted from the concrete onto the unpaved access road.
Luis, finally awake, rubbed his eyes. “Is this it?”
Pulling into the dirt and gravel driveway, an eager uncle wearing a blood-stained apron swung the rusty gate open and directed the car in. The air around the house had a festive quality of sorts, mixed with the sharp scent of burnt pine kindling and pigskin. Far off towards the back, Cindy caught a glimpse of the men who were busy portioning cuts of pork from a newly butchered sow.
“Hey, guys!” greeted the uncle who opened the gate, walking up toward them. “You’re late!”
“I’m sorry uncle,” replied Cindy, stepping out of the car. “Our flight got delayed, and we had a mix up with the rental so…”
The elderly man smiled and waved it off. “No worries, as long as you’re here! Did you need any help with your things?”
“No,” said Cindy, as Luis began to unload their luggage from behind the car, “we’ve got it uncle, thank you.”
“Well then, get settled. You still remember where the rooms are, right?”
Cindy nodded. Turning her head, she saw Alan signal that he was heading toward the main house, probably to his old room. He did live here after all.
Cindy and Luis followed a few minutes later, settling in one of the guest rooms. Luis took out his airbed and began inflating it with the pump.
“Luis… we can share the bed, you know.”
“I prefer the floor.”
Cindy sighed.
“I know you don’t understand what this is, Luis. But I made a promise. And this is tradition. These dreams, they just keep happening—sometimes they feel too real. I can’t keep ignoring them.”
Luis took a deep breath and lay down on the still inflating bed, “If this is what you need to do, just do it Cindy.” He raised his arm up and rested it over his eyes, “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
And so later on that day, Cindy holding on to a quilted blanket, headed out to where the groups of men and women had gathered, and sat with them. When her turn came, she walked over to the center, where she knelt down to one knee and proceeded to gently wrap Alan’s bones in the blanket.
“I hope this keeps you warm, Alan. I’m sorry it took a while.”
Copyright © 2018 Cousin from Baguio