Chapter 17

Larry was watching patiently while I was running some repairs on the bike. Lubricated the chains. Checked the brakes. Pumped the tires. It had been a long time since it had human touch. It was my dad's old bike.

"How is it?"

"Good as new."

"You sure about that? You said it had been a long time."

"This bike is made to last." I assured him.

Nana came and handed us both our backpacks containing our lunch, bottle of water, and extra clothes.

We waved goodbye to Nana as we sped away on our bikes. I drove dad's old bike and Larry was driving mine. Down the hills, the bicycle tires glided gracefully against the concrete road. We passed by hectares of rice paddies and meadows blooming with wildflowers and colorful butterflies. The bucolic view of the countryside was bursting at the seams. The mountains felt so close we could draw the lines on its ridges with the tips of our fingers. We stopped every now and then so he could take photos of the scenic countryside. Larry would take clandestine photos of me when I wasn't looking. He always does. I got tired of calling him out for it. He said stolen shots were the best because they're unmasked. He's big about unmasking things. He said people were in a constant fear of revealing themselves and so he made it his life's mission as an amateur photographer to unravel that which was hidden. He told me to come closer which I did and just when were shoulder to shoulder he sneaked his camera and with one unsuspecting snap he took a photo of us.

I looked at Larry and he could barely keep his eyes on the road straight ahead. "It's beautiful!" He screamed at me. He was on his element. He belonged to the summer. Larry the sweet child of summer.

While I, cold as fuck, belongs to the rain. The sweet summer child and the rain boy. Nice combo!

The afternoon breeze started to feel cold on my skin. Damp moisture in the air. Flock of seagulls overhead. A vast blue ocean appeared after we came out from the foot of the mountains. From a distance, the blue surface shimmered like a myriad of diamonds as it reflected the rays of the afternoon sun.

We parked our bicycles under the shade of a coconut tree. I stretched my arms out and caught the revitalizing gust of the Pacific Ocean right in front of us. Larry stood by the white shore and stared at the infinite blue horizon.

"This place is sick!" He exclaimed.

"Come, let me show you something." We walked along the fine sand and let the waves of white foams touch the sole of our feet.

"Do you know who that is?" I pointed at the bronze statue that was marching towards the shore as though it were alive.

"Oh, my God! Is that what I think it is? The statue of the great general Douglas MacArthur?" He blurted out of astonishment.

"You've done your homework. That is indeed the statue of General Douglas MacArthur." I explained.

"No way! No effin' way!" I let him absorb everything before I continued.

"And where we are standing right now is exactly the place where he fulfilled his promise to return on October 20, 1944 and free our people from the Japanese empire in one of the greatest naval battle the world has ever seen; hundreds of soldiers have died on both sides right on this shores." I told him like it was a story that happened only yesterday.

"Do you know what he said before he left the Philippines in 1942?" I quizzed.

"No idea."

Standing stiff in a military stance impersonating the great general, I declared, "I SHALL RETURN!" Larry was dumbfounded for a moment then burst into laughter.

"How do you translate that in Filipino?" He asked.

"Ako'y magbabalik." I said.

"Akhoy mhababalake???" He said in his funny American accent.

We ate our lunch under the shade of a coconut tree where our bikes were parked. He did not say a word while we were eating.

"You've been silent. Tell me what are you thinking." I urged.

"Did our people believed him when he promised them, he will return?" He asked.

"Believed? No. What they held was far greater than that. It was hope. When all else failed and the world was far too cruel to believe even in the existence of God, what our people held onto was hope. Hope was their candlelight in the midst of the storm. Hope was their frail flower in the rain." I purported.

"I like how you say things." He said with a mischievous grin drawn in his face that sent butterflies in my stomach.

After we had our lunch, I took him to a hidden cave at the precipice. The cave was hidden below a small cliff that stood 7-10 meters above sea level.

"We're jumping off this cliff. There's still something I wanna show you." I told him. The sound of the waves smashing against the rigid rocks below was threatening. Larry looked terrified for a moment but the call of the sea was too hard to resist. We took off our shirts leaving only our boxer shorts. We held each other's hands by the cliff and stood side by side.

"I am gonna count up to three and then we jump, okay?"

"Okay."

"On my mark." I said.

He nodded.

1, 2, 3.

"Yoo-hoo!" We both screamed at the top of our lungs as we descended. We landed on our feet at the surface of the cold blue water. I tasted the salt on my lips. We paddled our hands towards the small cave below. I led him inside. We walked a couple of feet more from the cave entrance and had to arch our back and skip the gaps in the stones. Inside was a crystal-clear lagoon. Above it, hung a cluster of stalactites and equally beautiful stalagmites littered the ground below. An art crafted by the hands of nature itself. The light reflected from the surface of the blue-green lagoon choreographed a hypnotizing dance of white lights on cave walls.

Larry was in complete awe. I could feel him holding his breath.

"Do you like it?"

"I've never seen anything like it in my entire life." He cried.

"Good." I combed the loose strands of noodle-hair from his face back to his head.

This was my sanctuary, a place I ran to whenever I felt the weight of the world was crashing down on me. Bringing Larry down here felt like I was showing him a part of myself that was hidden for a long time. And it felt good revealing this part of myself to him.

"Come, let's write our names on the wall over there." We tip-toed on the sharp edges of stones until we reached the wall of the cave towering in front of us. I picked a sharp stone with a smooth surface and handed it over to him.

"Sign the walls." I told him.

"What do I write?"

"Anything."

He paused for a brief moment and pressed the sharp edge of the stone that he was holding hard against the wall of the cave and wrote; "Florante and Larry and The Last Days of Summer."

It was already dusk when we returned home. Nana cooked adobo for dinner. Larry ate like he had never eaten for days singing praises to Nana's cooking skills every now and then. In return, Nana assured him he could visit us anytime he wanted so she could cook for him. After we dined, I walked him to his car outside.

"I have something for you," he said.

He handed me a small box neatly wrapped in a red linen paper.

"Do you think I've forgotten? Happy Birthday!" He smiled.

It was a cassette tape for my Walkman with tracks from Red Hot Chilli Pepper's newest album Californication.

"You gotta be kidding me! This stuff is not even available in the stores yet!"

"I had my friends back home send it to me." He explained.

"Thank you." I said.

"Pleasure is mine." He said.

"Later then."

"Later."

I watched his car sped away and slowly vanished into the folds of the warm summer night.