STAGE

I cleared my throat and brought my palms flat together. I opened them, pretending as If I'm unfurling a book. "Cypress, due to insistent public demand, I shall now tell the story of 'Lady of the Faithful'."

"Oh my! I bet this will be good!" She grasped the ends of her blanket tightly near her face.

"I demand you to listen, for this will be a spontaneous story and shall not be repeated. This story is bound only to be passed on first-hand accounts through speech. Are you ready to be bestowed with such responsibility?"

"Cut the chase. Let's do this."

"Ok, here I go.

"I and Claire have known each other since we were kids. Far earlier than I meeting Stella, 'The Lady with the Heart of Fire'. As childhood best friends, she knows me like the palm of her hand. That's how close we are. Even if there are numerous lost times between us due to her departures, she still returns here.

"Before we had an actual interaction, I've been observing her frequently from our yard. As you have known, she likes soccer. Imagine, an eight-year-old girl had been masterfully bouncing soccer balls using her head, knees, and feet—"

Cypress intervened, "She really is cool! I just want to —"

"Come on, Cypress. You're not part of the story. Wait 'til you're born." Her jolly suddenly shifted to tantrums. "I see the same spectacle each and every day of the summer vacation as I ride my bike towards the park. Soccer being a team sport, I imagined her playing this with her friends. Yet it seemed she knows no one in our neighborhood. There were many times I tried approaching her, curious of her, and a possibility of her sharing the knowledge and talent in soccer to me, but the days weren't fruitful. I don't know why but she was so avoidant of people, so aloof. That might be the reason she still had no one playing with her. She just rushed back to her house the moment I'm about a meter away.

"Until one day, it was a windy afternoon and the summer is nearing its peak heat. The clouds are thin and are almost to none and the sky is bluer than ever. To my surprise, it was the first day I haven't seen her practicing her soccer skills in front of their yard. I stopped and went down from my bike for a minute, waiting that she might just be late. I went near their house in hopes of seeing her, or even just to hear a sound of her practicing. There was none. I'm never used to be so inquisitive. My heart thumps from nervousness due to my thought of wanting to sneak into the house. Trespassing has never been good. And yet I'm already within their yard, technically, I've sinned.

"Compared to most of the houses in the neighborhood, their's looks very old. It looks like a loghouse within a forest. It has the usual overlaid hip design for a roof, a small elevated porch by the entrance, and square windows at each side of the house. Plain wooden planks comprise most of it. I bet they have tons of problems during the rainy season. The scent of damp wood became stronger as I tried to peep from a window. Even though ajar, the position of the windows is still far above my height as a young kid. I tip-toed and had my feet set on a plank of wood that has jutted out. I tried pushing the windowpane but it was to no avail. It seemed that it was opened a little bit because it was stuck and they can't do anything about it. Still, the view is enough for me to conjecture things as I observe.

"The inside looked big. It might be because there are no appliances or any sign of technology inside. Only a long wooden sofa and an abandoned rocking chair can be seen. I glanced through every corner from my uncomfortable position but, really, there is nothing inside. Though there is a closed room which I haven't inspected yet.

"Nothing caught my attention. A loud crack from where I was standing had made me decide to fall back for now and so I returned to my bike. I strolled with it rather than riding it. I occasionally glanced back as I walk waiting for something to come by. I just kept on going about the neighborhood, saying hello to some of our genial neighbors, waving to joggers that overtook me, and walked past some flowery gardens in which beauty persists like it is still the beginning of spring. Minutes past and I have finally reached Merritown Park.

"Though you can argue that vined arches, antique-looking signages strike a different beauty, its grandeur back then cannot be compared to what it looks now. It was fairly new and the metal fences still shine like silver. Near those rails are fully bloomed violets and daphnes. Hawthorns started to blossom as well. The benches were burgundy, not concrete, and the metallic edges were painted black. The bricked walkways were still cleared and not so slippery, unlike today due to the proliferation of mosses. There was not a mini amusement part at its center, just a playground, actually a rotund, and the rest an open space where children flock, chase each other, fly kites, and many other things. The park nowadays has not been frequented due to children playing videogames. The ponds before were of sapphire waters but now, leaves and other things float on its surface for it has been less maintained.

"I continue to stroll along with my bike passing through the jubilant children prancing about the park's center. Their dazzling eyes and bursting energies augments the liveliness of the rising sun. There are times when some of these kids will come near me and invite me to play with them. I am genuinely happy seeing them push each other around, be dirty as one falls on the soft soils of the grassy turfs, laugh at each other teasing remarks, but It doesn't make me hooked to the idea of being in a large crowd for it seemed to drain most of my energy. Don't get me wrong, most of them I know and some are good friends of mine. Now that I've mentioned it, I haven't seen John, Mary, Patricia, and Peter for years! I should send them a letter and have ourselves a reunion. I am contented seeing them enjoying and so I continued relishing the falling rays of the sun alone, along with the morning dew and the occasional humid breeze that somewhat smears your body with sticky glue. There are even moments where I thought a bug had stuck on to my nape but fortunately, it was just a leaf! Oh, the horror for I am vexed even just on the idea of a bug crawling onto your skin!

"As I reach the turning of the pathway I'm taking, I came upon an old man that has been feeding the birds with specks of bread that he evenly distributes. He's sitting at the far right of the very bench we were earlier, Cypress. Beside his bench was a wheelchair and so I tried glancing at the surrounding in search of the person he's with.

"' What seems to be the problem, young one?' he remarked.

"' Uhm, hello there.' I waved my hand invitingly. 'You seem to be with someone?'

"' Yes, I am with my granddaughter. She perhaps has been looking for her ball.' he replied.

"' Good to know, Sir. I'm just taking walks here in the park with my trustful bike. I'm very much relieved that you have someone to look after you.'

"' Are you saying that I look like I can't take care of myself anymore? Huh, young one?'

"I was speechless out of shock for that is not what I want to convey. There are twitches on my face here and there trying to avoid further conflict with the old man.

"I tried to continue past him but then he replied, 'That's kind of true. Why don't you join me while I wait for my granddaughter? I would love some company aside from these birds. You're quite eloquent for your age.'

" I bowed to the gentleman and walked towards the bench. 'That would be lovely, Sir.'

"So, Cypress, are you still listening?"

Cypress yawned and tucked herself more under the covers, "Sure I am."

"Why do you look so jolly, my dear? I can sense you're enthusiastic about Aunt Claire?"

"I just like seeing you happy, Dad."

There was a moment of silence.

"Ok, so going back…"

I became conscious of my face upon her observation. I suddenly felt that happy contraction of my lip muscles, have them relaxed, and then repeatedly contract and loosen them to wallow on this discovery. Cypress on the other hand feigns her focus with her obvious frequent eyelid dropping. Her yawning was subdued by her attempt to smile.

"Ok. So, going back," I repeated. "I parked my bike on the other side of the bench and I sat beside him. He immediately removed his shades and his straw fedora hat. What greeted me was his deep blue eyes. It's so captivating that I had stared at it until he commented on my reaction.

"'Many does say I have eyes as deep and mesmerizing as the ocean. It is a true gem that my daughter has inherited. Her eyes are far deeper, far bluer, far animated much like a clear river. I saw that same beauty with my granddaughter, though she only had one. Well, some rivers are green. You could say as well that the blues look better with greens. You can say that that this runs in our family.'

" 'A great gene if you ask me.'

" His face wrinkled more from my remark. Probably because I didn't get that running was a pun back then. We carried on talking about his life, how he met his lovely wife, and how he first held their only daughter. You can see in his eyes that he truly loved his family. Those crow's feet deepen with his wide smile as he continued narrating memories of his past. I only had my ears fixated on him during that moment.

"I guess that you become talkative as you grow older, Cypress. I would love for you to meet him if only he had been here in this world longer. His experiences, as told, are accompanied by his wisdom and eloquence that will surely captivate you far deeper than his eyes. I will tell you, at that moment, I was just like a rock dove being fed with great grains of the past. He was such an amazing man.

"It is quite unfortunate, though, that his daughter and son-in-law had been gone too soon. He never knew that he will outlive them in his life.

"That was the first time I talked to Claire's grandfather. With such guidance, it is of no doubt that your aunt grew as a fine and sophisticated lady that she is today."

"Moving forward, our lovely conversation had been witnessed by the sun rising to its peak at noon. The air became warmer and the skin feels stickier. I lent him my jug of water and had a pause for a moment.

Cypress yawned and stretched her arms, "I'm getting sleepy, Dad. How about you?"

"Do you want me to leave your room now? We're going past midnight and I wouldn't want you to have a lack of sleep for tomorrow's class."

"Dad, superstars always lack some sleep. They flaunt their eyebags with them on the red carpet. Look at Aunt Claire." she jested.

I smiled briefly. Come to think of it, Claire and Stella always had eyebags but those blend well with their pretty faces and, on stage, are inconspicuous due to their overwhelming confidence. It is quite true as well that I am feeling a little lightheaded and that my body demands me to have some rest.

"Do you like some milk instead, Dear?" I asked.

"Maybe I do."

She rolled her body sideways and rested her palms on my hand. I fixed her covers and went down to the kitchen to prepare her some milk.

"No milk?"

When was the last time I cleaned these filthy cupboards? I immediately asked myself as I open one and dusts spurted out of it. The corners are dusty and cobwebs are everywhere. There are even no jars inside. Where have I put them?

I grabbed a chair and stood on it to have a better view of these overhead bins but there were just familiar small containers. I went down and proceeded to the fridge. There are boxes of fresh milk; I just found myself scratching my forehead as I shake the empty packs. I rummaged inside and realized our supplies are almost completely consumed. The eggs that we ate for breakfast were the last of the food inside and yet I haven't noticed it earlier. When was the last time I shopped?

Cypress would understand if I'll only offer her a glass of water to drink. I took a pitcher inside and placed it on top of our kitchen table. Water spilled over my hand as it gently slipped from my grasp. My head continues to feel light and my vision a bit blurry. I took the chair again and sat beside it with my elbow on the table and chin rested on my clamped palms.

You were clumsier than me. Most of the time, it is you who spills water over, topple down jars as you try to reach them from the cupboards above, left the stove open until you rush back into the kitchen as popcorns start sputtering all over the place. You'll scream my name and I'll come running to you but with a pretentious irked face. I will continue to pick up those pieces with puffy cheeks and a piercing gaze.

Now, the place has not been any lonelier. The grogginess that I'm experiencing turns into a lethargy of source I can't fathom. I know it is easy to wipe this water off of the table and yet I don't have the energy to go get some rugs for it. There is just this thing, this indescribable thing in my chest that becomes heavier every night as the sun falls.

Do you remember those containers - which sugar, salt, herbs, and some of your favorite spices are stored - are neatly organized and lined up beside our stove? I still keep them in order. The calligraphy labels are still intact and have not been scraped off although they're grayer; I've covered them with transparent nail polish of yours. What about the times you baked some scallops in the oven? I would sprint behind you and hug you tightly as I could. If God whispered to my ears to warn me of the last time I can hug you then I would hold you in my arms so tight. I would never let you go. Why did you leave me? Why do you have to leave?

I know it has been years. I, since, wrote a lot of stories, novels, and poems to detach me from this reality of a world, but those words were mere ink. Those words had never really proven themselves to be of value. I weave stories and I made them as soft as cotton but I can't give you silk. I can't caress you anymore and hear the very words spoken out of your mouth which makes me come to life.

The loss of you had gotten within my head now far greater than before. Our memories are colliding with reality as I see our past animated within these rooms. The mere noise your feet always make as they trudge above our floor is coming back as if I'm hearing them once more.

Head down, I stare as the water above the table appears to ripple. May it be that I've also forgotten to seal holes above our roof? I looked up and drizzle trickled down my face. The droplets pierced and made my eyes ache. Ack!

I took the chair again and climbed with it to set my feet upon the table. The shakiness of my limbs had not failed me as I go. Above this table, I looked up to see the hole in the ceiling that's causing this outpour within our house.

The … th-the wa-water, the stage, the sh-shackles. No! The ghost of the mermaid perturbs the very core of my brain. Stella! Release me from this. I will release you from this.

"Dad!" shouted Cypress.

"Don't come near, Hon!" I raised my palms in her direction.

"You might fall!" Her eyes were like waterfalls as she dashed towards me.

"Dear?" I sat down at the table and jumped back down the floor. I had my fingers wipe her tears away from her face. "Why are you crying, Dear? I thought you were sleepy?"

"I told you to get me some milk!" Her arms wrung tight behind my back, her face becomes protruded as she blurts words from her mouth, "Why do you have to be like this. I've been waiting for like half an hour now."

"I'm sorry, Dear." I slouched forward and explained, "There was no milk. Mind if you have a glass of water instead?"

"You scared me. Please don't do this again!" She raised her voice but with a much calmer tone.

"It had been raining outside and we didn't even notice it. I was just trying to look for the hole —"

She held the hem of her dress and dried my face with it. "You might need the glass of water, for now, Dad. I'll have mine after you. Aunt Claire said that you need to drink it if you can't sleep. Should I get them for you in your room?"

"I'm fine, Dear. Thank you."

"You sure, Dad? I'm smart you know and it looks to me that you need it right now. You have a class by tomorrow." She turned her head and looked for the clock that is hanged by the dining table. "Today! I mean, you have a class today!"

"I should be the one speaking that to you, Cypress. Let's go get some sleep." I straightened my pointing finger emphatically.

"Why don't you stay by my side, this time, Dad. I'm a grown-up lady but sometimes I need my dad to sleep beside me especially during a heavy rain like this."

"Still afraid of the thunder?" I asked.

"You can say that." she smiled and then hugged me, "Please."

"Of course."

"We can continue talking about Aunt Claire again if you'd like that. I know I was half asleep but you haven't talked about her yet you know? You narrate so slow. Grown-ups only need six hours of sleep anyway. We still have two hours to spare."

She had been muttering inaudible speeches here and there of things that puzzled me earlier. But now, the way she embraced me assured me that I need not worry about how things are turning out to her as I can see that she is becoming a lady much like you.

"We can continue to talk about Aunt Claire later on the night of this day. You can't convince me now, you need at least eight hours of sleep, young lady."

I held her hand as we walked up the stairs towards her room.