CONNOISSEURSHIP

We glanced for a moment at the gates of the Merritown High to bid it farewell. The golden sun at this hour gilds the walls into a warm hue. The same events happen every year and I can't seem to find myself get over this sensation — a feeling likewise of that leaving a home.

Ever since high school, my whole life has revolved around this concrete world. I would have said the same for you, Claire, only if you would've stayed here in Merritown when your grandfather died.

Despite our short time together, the three of us made a perfect team. The two of you had been busy practicing while I give you feedback. You guys were great but as soon as I see mistakes and jarring movements, I will boldly point them out. The stage was our common ground. Diverting my eyes from the warm walls to your cool hues, the imperfection of my life story writes itself anew.

What would have I become if I weren't a teacher? I don't know honestly. We've talked about our dreams under the fig tree. I'll admit I was jealous for you have already made up your mind at such a young age. You wanted to become a famous actress. Claire's the same, her soccer is at a close second — she has talented feet with innate rhythm. Up until now, I still don't know what I'm happy about, or good at. But there has always been a feeling of comfort and stability within this second home of mine.

Months will easily pass by and I am sure I will see the same buildings once more. It will all be quick until I get my feet back here again, and hopefully, at that time, I'll have my play ready and I will be proud of it.

I nodded at Claire. We went inside the car. I've started it up and we let the cold air come in through the open windows. The winds roar with Claire whenever I hit that full-throttle. Claire can never control her adrenaline.

Driving beside the esplanade, I slowed down to have more moments of scenery with the golden light shining above the dome of my theater. The silhouette and the sudden benevolent shadows covered its scars making it as majestic as before. The outline of it remained like a silver lining everpresent when a cloud blocks the sunbeams.

Just like the sea of this calm afternoon, I felt relaxed. To spice up the mood, I played music from an old disc of mellow collection. The first tune reverberated with the incoming wind and the crashing waves. You were swaying your head with such gaiety, Claire. The music's loud and we're singing at the top of our lungs! Never mind the passersby and the people who'll shout back at us. Can our summer stay longer like this?

I raised my hands with hers during the rustles of the music, Our mouths sing our song which melodies transcend from the past. Her accompanied loud thumps not only overlay a powerful beat but also unearth a memory of our football practices.

Coconut trees by the shore swayed with the music, light posts with designs of the old English lanterns start to twinkle as the sun sets; ready to shine bright at the birth of the dark. Families holding their hands as they take long walks along the promenade. The quay appeared, telling us the Cypress's school is nearby.

Cypress was standing at the gate of the school. Her glaring eyes forebode an ominous outburst but I am no worried because I have an ace up my sleeves. The moment Claire alights the car, her scowl immediately turned to a joyous shriek! My daughter even forgot to bring her bag to the car and so I rushed to pick those up before I went back in.

We went back to the road. Stella would've been so happy seeing them have a lively conversation. So lively that the whole car was shaking! I would shout and she'd calm a little bit, and I mean a little bit as she continued to spew stories from her little mouth to her aunt Claire. Even if she's my daughter, I would have been annoyed with her hyperactivity, contrary to Claire's calm demeanor towards her.

The distinguishable salty scent of the sea is slowly yielding. Our escape to the city is marked by our car turning its back from the quayside. Cypress's head magnetized to the site captivates as if she wouldn't leave.

The ambiance shifted from an idyllic atmosphere to a busy one. The trees by the shore aren't the tall and erect things we see with our eyes, but juxtaposed buildings. Splendid shows of lights were perennial and more and more of the business stalls became alive with the night. Restaurants beside are setting up huts outside near their premises as an extension due to the expected surge of customers.

There were street performers with flutes and other musical instruments that provided a concert to unsuspecting passersby. Dancers of various genres showcase their graceful movements like a spell that conjures clanking coins in their hats. Fashion geeks also come by for new designs of autumn clothing that were exhibited behind clear windows.

It is the first day of school vacation and it has been a fancy of many to spend even a night in the inner city. Children still in their school uniform were prancing about the sidewalks while their parents observe them.

"Who are you driving the car?" shouted Cypress.

"What?" I looked at the rearview mirror.

With fist wrung she exclaimed, "Tell me who you are! Where are you taking us?"

"Is this another game of yours, Cypress?"

A pause transpired and her countenance turned perplexed, "Yes, Dad." She shook her. "I got permission from Aunt Claire, look at her she's giggling."

"Claire," I sighed.

And that wasn't enough. As soon as I had my attention on the road again, I heard an outburst of a laugh coming from the two. One thing that makes Cypress enjoy the company of Claire is because this lovely woman tolerates all of her idiosyncrasies!

A great increase in the number of people and open establishments was observed past the threshold of the city. The hustle and bustle that is non-existent in the countryside had made Cypress less energized and look like she's about to fall asleep. Claire offered her lap to Cypress, which she immediately laid onto. From the rearview mirror, the sight of Cypress having a smile before closing her eyes, and, added to that, also her unexpected silence, had made me at ease.

It is half-past six and we are still on the road. The restaurant I had in mind is still about a quarter far away but the hill where it stands looms. There are other amenities, even hotels there that took advantage of the beautiful sight of the bay. See, even if Merritown and Hillport City are two different jurisdictions, they are interrelated in one way or another. This kind of geographic relationship and mutualism can be a great idea for my play, though that might be hard to pull off since we've talked about how parasitic the creatures of the wood to the creatures of the fog.

What if they were historically in need of each other before? The ties had been unfettered ever since a ruler of the inner city, the 'protector' of the flaming tree become greedy of its light. Probably, there's synergy between the flaming tree and the hearts of the creatures of the fog exists because it was their property. Or maybe not by ownership but by physical remains? Their hearts are in fact seeds that grow to a flaming tree once they die. A conflict then between the two races might have erupted, resulting in the 'parasitic' creatures claiming the hearts of the creatures of the fog. A giver of energy and life vs the exclusive pollinator.

The conflict may have uprooted from the pollinator's fear of being unimportant, such creatures they serve can live without them. It's just a matter of which race realizes this first. The pollinators have harvested the hearts of the other race to ensure their progeny.

The air became thicker and less vivid as we ascend to the hill. The shift to a sudden pressure in my eardrums bid me a nice welcome to the hilltop restaurant. The road, or we call it a mountain trail, is aesthetically designed to have a garden-like landscape with flowering bushes at the side. Trees of hardwood complete the foresty ambiance. The scenery fully blooms with the sun but the night gives it a mysterious aura that is augmented by the tiny firefly-like lamps.

Hours of a road trip and, finally, we are right in front of the arc that says "Hillport Hilltop Park". The chain of restaurants forms an amphitheater having a spear-wielding monument of a man at their collective center. The restaurants here are supplied with premium catches from fisherfolks that dock at the Merritown quayside. The finest lobsters, tunas, and oily fishes have resulted in patronage from food lovers even beyond the city.

Cypress, still groggy, stopped as her feet emerged from the car. Her awe was expected as a first-timer.

"Wow!" exclaimed Claire as she restlessly scanned the entirety of the place. "How long has it been? They feel at home. What a view!"

"What a view?" I asked. "You sounded like this is the first time you've been here."

"Because it is!" her eyes became wide.

I was confounded by her answer. I swear I always bring her here every vacation after my mom had gifted me with a car. "Okay," a dragged reply of mine. "If you think this is beautiful, you should see the view deck!"

"I'm excited but there are lots of people. We might end up not even sipping good soup."

Cypress had her hands on her waist. "Yes, Dad. I am hungry now."

"I reserved a table for us at nine, my dear! Do not worry for we're still early."

With a nudge, Claire passed through me. She bowed with such modesty and formality. "I'd love to see the view deck! Would you guide me through this bewilderment you've introduced upon thee?" Yet with that, she rushed to the safety railings at the view deck.

"If only I'd be a little taller!" bellowed Cypress. I carried her by and had her stood upon a balustrade. "I was expecting to see nothing in the dark, Dad. But I can say this is beautiful!"

Claire turned her head to me. "Quite fantastic, the fleecy fog felt so welcoming no one would assume ghosts might be lurking. What did Cypress say?"

"What, Auntie Claire?" her eyes squinted from confusion, "I… was… expecting… to see nothing … in the dark? And —"

"That's it! That is a great addition to your play, Arthur!" She moved closer. "So you see, that is the same fear that your protagonist feels. For her, it was darkness beyond the blaze, but actually, it is just an undiscovered, unlit, unexplored part of the same world. We are about to cook some great story!"

"That is a good perspective."

"As an actress, I am curious about how you see your main characters. The only thing clear to me right now is that they are plant-like. And both are girls? Am I correct?"

"Yes."

"What if we change the one from the fog with a boy?" suggested Claire. "A contrasting gender will add a sexual tension. A form of sprouting love could be showcased in the subtext. What do you say?"

"That is a great idea."

Cypress crawled and settled between us, "What are you talking about, Dad?"

"I was instructed to prepare a play once the school comes back. It'll be a lot of preparation. Your Aunt Claire forced me to this."

"Thank you so much, Aunt Claire! Dad, I know you'll do great."

Her message had brooded butterflies in my stomach. There was a sudden pressure in my throat, but it isn't stifling. It feels as if an outburst of positive energy has been gathering. "I'll make sure you'll see this masterpiece."

"See, even your daughter thinks you'll do fine." Claire stepped slowly. "A cold, relaxing, and dark misty atmosphere yet a lively evening is an ambiance you should make use of. Tell me what your character feels, what she looks like, what made her pursue her goal, her background. I guess it is time to think about it technically for the story to progress naturally." Her lips contracted and her eyes widened, "Right? Character background? Characterization? … as a play…wright?"

I laughed upon being sprinkled with a pint of shame. "First of all, the race of our main character is a creature which forms a commensal relationship with the 'people of the fog'. They were pollinators that needed the light of the flaming tree."

"We are listening."

"Ok, I digress a little bit. We'll call the people or creatures of the fog 'Regias'. It comes from the scientific name of fire trees since they bloom into one if they die the right way, much like a seed complete with its husk. But since their race had been forgotten and they now appear as mindless roaming empty ectoplasms, ghostly beyond the halo, we can call them 'Seires'."

"Dad, you name them like pocket monsters."

Claire added, "I once read of a Philippine tribe belief that there are two souls of a human being. One at the eyes and one with its breath. The removal of the soul of the eyes causes malady and the separation of the soul's breath causes death. And, I think that's beautiful. The soul of the eyes can be comparative with the harvesting of the seeds of the Regias, which causes them to become mindless and ill. Nobody can't take away their soul's breath except their deity."

I nodded, "It is a relief to have an actress with such a broad background. I might use that reference to better style the story."

"Do you have a name in mind for the protagonist's race? Her name herself?" asked Claire. "You know since they are pollinators, we can ret-con them being wooden and make them insect-like? Or make them as colorful as birds of paradise?"

"But birds or insects don't need the light that the fire tree produces. I'll stick with them being crawling plants that can't make nourishment of their own. Perhaps, one of their ancestors had been entrusted with the seed of the deity of the Regias when it rested after extensive handiwork. That same ancestor discovered that the heart of the deity is powerful enough to be used and to last more than a million lifetimes and for that, had not returned the seed and had left the deity as an empty vessel waiting to be awakened. Maybe I'll just coin a word for them, maybe … 'Sinthers'?"

Claire, while digesting the thought in her mind, had her lower lips sucked into her petite mouth. I had my eyes instantly divert away as I feel my heartbeat skipped. Small stolen glances I incurred and her thinking face had lapsed for what seemed like minutes. "Sinthers?" she repeated. "It sounded like cinders, which are remains of a fire. 'Sinthers and Regias, the quest to unravel the secrets of the Seires'."

"That title sounded like one of the best-selling fictional novels. I'll probably turn this into a full-blown novel instead."

Claire smiled.

Cypress jumped, "Good going Aunt Claire!"

"Cypress! Be careful!" Claire quickly held Cypress by the waist before I even sense the foreboding danger. The skip of the heart that I felt once became a sudden leap. What a terrible moment! But the thing that annoys me a little is that the little troll had herself laughing like it was all planned!

"Cypress, never joke to us like that! I might have a heart attack!"

She continued with her laughter, "It was just because I see you guys too busy!"

"Never joke like that! You don't know what could've happened!"

Claire reprimanded her lightly, "Don't do that again, Little Welly!" And with that series of words my daughter had calmed down. But it wasn't the reaction I get when it is me who scolded her. The lack of smugness, repulsion, and the obvious rejection from her silent eyes weren't there. She was all ears and happily took the words with immediate obedience.

That will be a riddle for me. Her heart had always belonged to her Aunt Claire. I wonder what it could have been if you, Stella, were still alive. A loving aunt and a mother will make her happier, which I sometimes sense that I couldn't provide her with. I don't know, It feels as if I want to have a grasp of my daughter's heart just like how Claire does it. I may be jealous of Claire, but I'd rather think of her as an ally, a companion, someone along the journey to fully lit up a world for my dearest.

I, anew, had glanced in Claire's direction. Everything became silent after what transpired but her eyes, your eyes, Claire, shout light as you stare into the nothingness, into the sea of darkness beyond the quayside. The moon hadn't risen tonight and the stars hadn't shed their life's work, yet yours had filled the void that the world had seemingly lost. Audiences admire the blues and the greens that the darkness stole. The world is filled with the cold mist and yet it felt warm.

"You know," Claire broke her contemplation, "Look at this fog. It is like the realm of the Regias. This fog was never harmful, but if you are one of the Sinthers, the race that locked themselves up in what they believe was safety, you can never be free. You can never enjoy what life offers beyond the halo of the blazing tree. Your false sense of security by holding on to the tradition and beliefs of the past, when you haven't truly known, experienced, lived the lives of your ancestors, or let's just make it that, you never truly understood the past, there will always be a feeling of incompleteness within. There was never inner salvation. While that is necessary to move forward, you need someone, like your protagonist, to be bold and explore beyond the confinements set to be free, to have a grasp of the beauty outside, not minding the fear that held you back, not minding the fog and the uncertainty of the darkness."

"An enlightened one!" I remarked. "The protagonist is the rebirth of the Sinthers' enlightenment. Tres Magnifique!"

"An enlightened. So what shall be her name?" Claire asked.

Cypress, had her head tilted, "What did you just say, Dad? Is that another pocket monster?"

The alarm I set for nine had rung, obliging us to have ourselves seated for a fine dinner. The hot soup served was perfect to warm our cold tummies as we wait for the delicacy we have ordered. The room was filled with scents of freshly baked scallops, simmering lobsters, and grilled fish. The air was filled as well with the tones of slow country, reggae, and tropical music being played by a band at the far right recess, enjoyed by the customers alike.

The music had our head bob and we would burst out laughing as we caught each other. Even Cypress became hypnotized by the melodies. My daughter even had her hands sweep the air! Minutes later and the band shifted to play calmer music as the darkness envelops.

The energy that we had amplified Cypress'. She would stand on the wooden varnished chairs as she tells what happened in her day. She told us how happy their adviser was when they surprised him with roses, and how she stuttered when she was the first to be called in a surprise graded recitation for her last math class. A little glance and smirk from Claire immediately made her behave once more. Then, her eyes began to be teary as she spoke of her parting with her best friends. She said she knew they'll once see each other again but the pain, even of temporary separation, is hard for her to bear. She even told, with such amusement, of the rediscovered toys, treasures, that we hauled last night and had invited her friends to come by to our place if they happened to return to town early. A sudden guffaw emerged when she remembered how her face looks with so much goo running from her nose. A friend of hers even promised to give her a doll from their journey.

It appears to me Claire wants to say something but is very hesitant to do so. I would look at her directly at times but the nodding of her head and tucking of her lips signals me that I should not worry about things.

The night had been moments of great stories from my dear. She was beaming with exultation, peppered with a little bit of bittersweet flavoring.

"Shall we eat?" I smiled as the waiter finally served our food, not only for our starving stomachs but also for our olfactory's and sight's delight.