I’ve always hated haggling.
Bargaining.
Negotiating.
Whatever you call it.
So when Mia invited me to go “wagwag-ing,”—her term, not mine—I expressed reservations in the form of my signature crinkled brow.
“Ugh. You are such a killjoy.” Mia said, “How come that whenever it’s something I want to do, you make that face?”
“Well, because the stuff you want to do isn’t fun.”
“Oh, I see. And hanging around the bar, moping about Freddie and how he tricked you—even after we all warned you months ago—is more fun, right?”
I sighed. I did owe Mia one. True, she was a pain in the ass sometimes, but she was the only pain in the ass who had the patience to stick around a larger pain like me.
I would’ve gone nuts without her.
“Okay. Fine. Are we going now?”
**********
I’ve never understood the fascination with clothes. If it were up to me, I’d wear the same thing day in and day out. Not that I wouldn’t wash it, but what I’m saying is, I wouldn’t mind owning ten copies of the same outfit as long as I never had to stress about what to wear again.
I’ve heard people like Steve Jobs, and Mark Whats-his-name did that. Same shirt. Same shoes. Granted, they’re all so stupidly rich that whoever had problems with the way they dressed would probably just keep their mouths shut.
“Oh yes, yes, uhm, excellent outfit Mr. Jobs!”
“What marvelous taste! Such vibrancy in your gray shirt and black pants!”
I threw up a little in my mouth. What a life that would be.
“Hello??? Earth to Jay???”
I yanked myself from daydreaming. Mia was holding up a hideous denim jacket with bright rose patches sewn on.
“I asked you, what d’you think of this one?”
“Fine.” I couldn’t care less. “It looks fine.”
“Jeez, with answers like that, I should’ve invited my Lola Dely instead of you.”
“Wait, isn’t your lola dead?”
“Exactly.”
I shrugged my shoulders at her. I did tell her I was no fun at these things.
“You know what, why don’t we just do our own thing for half an hour or so, and then meet back here,” said Mia, “Sound good with you?”
I was walking away with my thumb up before she even finished her sentence.
**********
Sky World wasn’t always a wagwagan center. My mother used to say a condominium once stood here instead—at least, until the earthquake hit. Now, it’s just stall after stall, mountain after mountain of second-hand oddities and rejects.
I wondered if it was haunted. I mean, wasn’t that what most people said about anything the earthquake made crumble?
And if it really was haunted, I’d feel sorry for these poor ghosts. They must be sick of all these clothes.
All the same material.
Every stall.
Every direction.
Well… probably except for this one store.
At the end of the hallway was a stall, virtually empty except for a young man dressed in denim and flip flops, sitting quietly next to a rack with one single item:
A black leather jacket.
The man smiled at me as I peered into the odd space.
“Good afternoon,” he smiled, “Please, come in.”
A dingy, fluorescent bulb flickered overhead as I stepped inside. A part of me wondered if this was one of those overpriced, hipster “specialty” stores.
“Nice jacket,” I said, gesturing at the lone outfit.
“Yes, yes, it is a nice jacket, indeed.”
“Is it…” I looked around for signs that I was in an actual store, “for sale?”
The shopkeeper nodded.
“Interesting. Nothing else on sale today, huh?” I quipped as I walked closer.
“Nothing else. Just this item.”
I wasn’t crazy about leather jackets. All it made me remember were drunk uncles, pseudo-tough guys from high school, and 90s local action flicks where the protagonist always had one on, even if a scene was played out in the sweltering Manila heat.
No, I wasn’t a fan of these things.
But there was something about this jacket.
“So, how much is it?” I asked.
“Let us see… How much do you think it is worth?”
There it was. I knew it. This was one of those haggling tricks. Ask the customer what they thought the price was. Let them set the bar, give ’em the first move. It was just another sleazy wagwagan mind game—of which I was in no mood to participate in.
“P50,000.” I sneered, rolling my eyes.
The shopkeeper smiled again, unfazed.
“P50,000 it is. Your guess is correct.”
My brow creased as I waited for the punchline, but nothing followed. A ripple of annoyance coursed through me.
“Welp. I guess I can’t afford that.” I replied dismissively as I reached out to flick the jacket in protest. “Good luck finding someone who’ll pay even half of tha—.”
As my fingers came in contact with the leather, a blistering cascade of colors and lights flooded my eyes. In the span of a single moment, I felt as if I’d been shot from a supernova, blasted across light-years of the universe, and sent crashing into the gentle arms of a force my mind couldn’t comprehend.
I fell back onto the floor.
“What the—”
“Jay!” Mia called from the stall entrance. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”
As Mia came and yanked me out of the store, I couldn’t help but stare in disbelief at the smiling shopkeeper, who simply raised his hand and waved goodbye.
“What the hell were you doing on the floor?” asked Mia as she dragged me away, into another stall “Listen, I just found the coolest corduroy ever.”
I stood in a daze, lost for words as Mia handed a molted, raggedy brown jacket for me to judge.
I noticed my hands were sweating.
I’ve never had sweaty palms.
**********
“P50,000???”
“I know, crazy, right?”
It was a tradition for Mia and me to grab pizza after our escapades. I was hungry, but for whatever reason, the pizza didn’t taste as good tonight.
“No, I mean you started with P50,000?” said Mia as she flicked off a green pepper sliver from her slice, “Jeez, I knew you sucked at bargaining, but I didn’t know you were that bad.”
“It was a joke, alright? I didn’t feel like playing his game.”
“Crazy, though. For you to think a jacket is worth that.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“I’m missing the point? You just offered P50,000 for a jacket!”
I sighed and stuffed my mouth with pizza. Maybe the regular chef was out sick? Perhaps they had a trainee in the kitchen.
“I admit it was a nice jacket, though.” I said through mouthfuls of dough, “And that’s coming from someone who isn’t a fan of the whole leather jacket buzz.”
When the waiter came by with the check, I asked if they had a new chef in the kitchen.
“No ma’am, it’s the same chef.” the waiter said. “Why? Was there a problem with your food?”
“Oh, no, no. It was fine. I was just curious. Thank you.”
Mia raised an eyebrow.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing. You don’t think the pizza tasted a little off tonight?”
“It tasted the same as it always did.”
I shrugged. It might’ve just been me.
**********
The ability to control your dreams, and be aware that you’re only dreaming as it happens, is called lucid dreaming. I’ve always wondered how it was to wander in the infinite possibilities of the subconscious: entirely in control, in charge of what you want to see.
Last night, I dreamt I was in the stall again. The creepy shopkeeper was gone, and it was just me and the jacket this time around.
And the jacket was singing for me.
I couldn’t even tell whose voice it was. All I knew was how it made me feel. Like an ancient siren’s song, the melody drew me closer and closer. A part of me knew I was only dreaming, and that I could probably wake up if I wanted to—but I didn’t.
I wanted to be right there.
With the jacket.
As it sang.
And just as I reached out to touch it, I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart rattling like a machine gun, with a headache that throbbed like hell.
It was 5 AM, and I thought nothing of it.
Until I ended up having the same dream, every night, for the next week.
**********
“So, Mia, when are we going wagwag-ing again?”
Mia bobbed her head. Her eyes narrowed at me.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Of course.” I tried not to grit my teeth, “Don’t I look alright?”
“To be honest, you look like you haven’t slept in days,” Mia said as she sipped her coffee. “You look like a haggard mess.”
“Nah,” I began to itch. It felt like ants were running marathons on my neck. “Things have just been stressful at work. That’s all.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. It’s just work stuff. The usual.”
Mia leaned forward, her face filled with scrutiny. She jabbed a finger at my chest.
“Why are you suddenly so eager to go wagwag?”
I rubbed my palms against my knees as I tried to think of an answer. I knew the reason I wanted to go, but I couldn’t explain why it was the reason. I didn’t want to seem like a lunatic, craving to be around a jacket.
I took a sip of my coffee, but it didn’t taste or feel as good as it usually did. In fact, nothing had tasted or felt as good since the day I first saw the jacket last week.
It was as if some filter got plastered over everything, muting colors, and feelings, and ideas, and senses. Everything fell behind a blurry curtain—except for the one crystal clear thought in my head:
“Look, I just need to go.” I said, “Do you want to come or not?”
“Well, yeah, of course, I want to go.”
“Okay, so why don’t we go now?”
“Now?”
The tone of disbelief in her voice kickstarted the headache I’d been trying to keep under control. The throbbing pulses knocked against my skull, beating on it like a drum.
“Yeah, we can go now, and we can look at clothes and y’know, shop, and you can teach me how to haggle and all that, please.”
“Jay. Slow down. You sound like the energizer bunny right now.” said Mia, “Anyway, I can’t tonight. It’s Dave’s birthday, and I promised I’d meet him right after our coffee session.”
I took a deep breath. My foot began to tap under the table. I set my fist against my knee and bore down.
“Fine. Fine. That’s alright. Tell Dave I said happy birthday.”
Mia smiled at me.
“We can go this weekend, okay?”
“Okay, okay. This weekend. Yes.”
It would’ve been two weeks by then. My jaw wanted to gnash my teeth off.
God, help me.
**********
When Mia called last night saying she had the flu and would have to spend the weekend in bed, I felt as though I’d been dropkicked in the gut.
“Jay, I’m sorry. But I just can’t,” she whispered hoarsely over the phone, “Plus, have you looked out the window? With a storm this bad, none of the shops would be open anyway. Just give it a rest, we’ll go next time.”
I nearly crushed the phone with how tight I had gripped it. I couldn’t wait any longer. The dreams came every single night. And each time it ended, I found myself crying over the fact that I had woken up. The headaches have gotten worse. Crusty scabs from all the scratching covered my arms and neck. I’d lost all motivation to do anything else, except to follow the one thought, wailing at my spirit:
I needed that jacket.
It was 6 AM the next morning when I got myself dressed and ready.
Buckets of rain still fell from the skies and insane gusts of wind flurried through the empty streets.
“I guess it’s a good thing your grandma got admitted before this storm hit,” said Manong Pat, my cabbie neighbor, as he drove his cab past the storm-swept roads. “Damn near impossible finding a ride in this weather.”
“Yes, yes…” I nodded from the backseat, clutching my backpack close to my chest. “T-thank you for driving me, manong.”
“Well, to be honest, I probably would’ve said no if it wasn’t an emergency. These damn winds feel like they’d roll a bus over if they wanted to.”
I waited a few minutes after Manong Pat dropped me off by the SLU hospital entrance before making my move. When I was certain his white cab had long driven away, I dashed off for the only honest reason I came to town.
It was no use opening an umbrella. The rain came from all directions anyway, leaving me soaked by the time I arrived at Sky World.
The entrance was open, or at least, a portion of it just large enough to crawl through. Glancing around, it appeared all of the shops inside were shuttered and closed.
Except for this one store.
I lurched shakily to the front of it, and glared at the shopkeeper inside. It was unsettling that nothing had changed from last time, not even his attire. He still sat there, with a grin on his lips.
“Good morning.” he smiled. “Please come in.”
Clutching my backpack in one hand, I stepped into the barren stall. I was drenched in rainwater, dripping and shivering, but my eyes remained transfixed upon the object of my dreams: the leather jacket.
“I-I-I want to buy the jacket.”
The shopkeeper smiled.
“Well, how much do you think it is worth?”
The game. Here it was again. I wondered if he recognized me? The drumbeat in my temples began to pound again. The itch around my arms prickled.
“P500.” I stammered.
The shopkeeper laughed. A sinister, empty cackle that echoed across the desolate, shuttered hallways of the shopping center.
“Dear child,” he hissed as he slunk toward the jacket, “You know this is no ordinary leather jacket…”
And as he caressed the leather, the compulsion in me grew stronger. I wanted to feel it. I wanted to have it. I wanted it.
“I- I- I don’t know what you want for it.”
The shopkeeper’s gleaming eyes locked onto mine. A hazy, red glow burned from deep within them.
“You think I do not remember you, but I do. You once said P50,000. So why not P50,000?”
“I was j- joking… Please, just tell me what you want for it.”
“Oh, it is not about what I want for it. It is about what you are willing to give.”
I’ve always hated haggling.
Bargaining.
Negotiating.
Whatever you call it.
“Everything.” I surrendered, “I’ll give you everything I have.”
I opened my rain-soaked backpack and pulled out ziplock bags filled with all my savings, my phone, my laptop, jewelry, family heirlooms…
“I don’t know how much this is all worth. P50,000, maybe even more.”
The shopkeeper slithered over and seized the bags with his spindly fingers. He licked his lips, smiled, and took the jacket from the rack.
“Congratulations,” he muttered while holding the jacket open. “It is yours.”
I staggered toward him, my breath shaking from both exhaustion and excitement. As I slid my arms into the sleeves, the cavalcade of colors, lights, and feelings filled me like an atomic rainbow detonating in my soul. Vivid, geometric patterns careened past my eyes, and waves upon waves of bliss washed upon my senses. I felt as though I’d crossed onto the other side of space and time. I fell to my knees in ecstasy, tears streaming down my face.
“Now, if you will excuse me.” whispered the shopkeeper from behind, “I will be closing shop now.”
I wobbled to my feet unsteadily, almost unsure if I could still walk. I shambled back outside the building entrance, where I stood under the pouring rain with my eyes closed, basking in the tranquility the jacket had brought upon me.
Finally.
I took a deep breath.
In.
Out.
Again.
In.
Out.
Again.
In.
O—
“E-excuse me…”
I opened my eyes to a man trembling from the cold. He wore a drained, beaten look, and not even the deluge pouring overhead could hide the dark circles beneath his eyes.
I noticed the scabs around his neck.
“Please… Sell me the jacket…”
I turned my head and saw more people rushing toward us, charging into the rain, shrieking against the winds.
“No! Sell the jacket to me!”
“Give it to me! What do you want for the jacket?!”
“I’ll give you everything!”
Copyright © 2019 Cousin from Baguio