Weight Lakambini A. Sitoy Mens Rea and Other Stories
Pasig City: Anvil Publishing Inc, 1998
TI
hat morning she had opened ihe of-
fice refrigerator {or some water and stumbled upon
a
white
cardboard carton squatting rather self-importantly on the upper shelf. lt was so huge it took LIp most of the tiny space. she drew it out carefully, laying it on the kitchen countertop to investigate. Itwas, she saw as she raised the lid, a hunk of leftover birthday cake. Daisy had turned 30 a couple of da)'s ago, and Nick 27 a few days before that, so there'd been a week'sworth of nibblingforthe office stafi, and once more her appetite had been the butt of their iokes. Pouring herself a Slass of water, she plucked thi last pink rose off the top ofthe cake. The glacing was smooth and hard, ofa brown so deep itwasvirtually black, and as she ate the candy blossom, delicately nibbling oif petal after petal, the glands along her jaw stung for more. She whit-- loop oi sugar, pried away a few crumbs from where a knife had sunk into the rich chocolate, and pinched off
a
then guiltily thrustthe cake back into the refriSerator That had been hours ago. Since then, she had gone again and again to thefridge, leavinBher comPuter,
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tospirit 155
off half-inchthickslicesof hertreasure, whichshecrushed with infinile slowness atainst the roof of her mouth. "Why should lstarve myself?" she challenged anyone who caught her at the refri8erator "Why sub,scribe to the Beaut'/ Myth?
o, the old airconditioner, followed by the slamming of a car door. ltwas the layoutguy, back from his other iobShe ran down the stahs to let him in. 'Night shift, " he grimaced as he entered, knapsack dan-
We're all feminists here, arcn'twe?' She was still nibblin8 miserably at half past six when the secretary pulled the blinds down and turned out most ofthe lights and the airconditioninS and gathered up her
gling from one skinny wrist. His name was Jayme and he
things. "You staying, Ami?"
had turned them into friends-under_pressure: neither of them had the resourcesfor a decent argument.
She nodded, gaze fixed on the blue-white screen
of
used English as little as possible, so maybe that was what
"Sorry l'm late," he said, PUshinE up his whe-frame glasses with the the tip ofone finger as he headed for the kitchen. She heard the slam of the frid8e door, water pour-
her monitor.
"OverniBht again?"
'Y"p. "lndustrious Birl." "Deadlines." The front door slammed and there was silence. Suppressinga yawn, she forced herselfto finish proofreading the article on her screen. Moonlighting- writingand edit-
ing-at a nongovern mental orga n ization was beginningto bore her But there was plenty of rnoney from some foF eign grant, enough for her to make the finalpayments on a
good computer, and the NCOworked for women's rights, which cheered her considerably. So she'd resigned herself to a routine of meals on the run and sleepless nights and plunBed right in, hoping that the person she'd be spending
the most time with {he layout artist-would be and dedicated and gender-sensitive as shewas. The layoutartist had turned
spoke mostly in TagaloS, which she would answer in En_ tlish or a mix of thewo. Her own Tagalog sucked, and he
outto
as sharp
be a man.
She was putting an article together
ing into a gla55"You're /are?" shesaid, glancing befudd led at her watch.
it was a quarter to eleven. Time worked in strange ways now; whole evenings could fly by unnoticed, measured only in ba85 of chiF and swi8s of Coke. She had been working more than twelve hours straight. Today had been her day off from her leSit job, which was ata newsPapet one ofthe invisiblejunior edi to6. She had onefree daya weelg and it was neady over. "Well, are you goin8 to stand there the rest of tie n iSlrt?" She couldn't believe it-
he called as he turned toward the stairs. His voice held a
trace of a grin she coLtldn't see in the dark. she followed him into the project room they shared; drc akconditioner was on and hesiShed in Sratitude. Drawinga chair upto the computer, he began {iddling with the
from five different pamphlets when a sound caught her attention, the murmur ofan engine, barely perceptible above the wheezing
mouse to see if itworked. Satisfied, he opened a file. She joined him to make sure he didn't erase herwork by mis_
156
weitht
Mens Rea
take. They were sittrng very close but she did not mind. 157
an upward inflection at the ends of his sentences, completely devoid of that American twant her old U.p clars-
notqllitegrinnin8, and said, "Don't worry, l've done it before." She knew he had; durinSone of their evenings he had told her of his excursions out of Mero Manila, sometimes on a Iour-cylinder bike that he was ridiculously proud ot sometimes in an old Galantthat he shared with a brother' It was his dream to see the whole of the Philippines on
mates would a{fe.t
wheels. She had laughed softly at that.
She liked sitting close to a boy, although strictly speaking he wasn't a boy anymore, just as she was too old to be a girl.
i{re you
staying the night again?, he murmured. His speech, she thoughE was a slow drawl, with just a hinr of
"Maybe," she replied.
Alone?" She nodded. ltwas a safe neighborhood; the NCO office was a house in one ofthe Quezon City projects; besides, what did they have for thieves to cart away? She keptatoweland aspare change of clothes ih a papersack in herdesk, and on nights when she was a,one, she would go out into the darkness of the second floor balcony, listening to the thrum often-wheeler truck on a thoroughfare a few streets away and staring up at the night sky, at the moon. A thought struck her "Aren'tyou staying up with me?,, "Not this tirne." "Oh," she said, disappointed. tt was much better ro workwith him around, knowing, as the clockticked steadily throu8h the wee hours of the morning, that he,d be there to swap tales with when her lids started to droop. Sometimes past midnight hewould drive several blockto a 24hour convenience store and come back with bags ofchips and, for her, sweet little Big Bob.s treats. "l'm going up to Baguio. A long, long \aeekend,', he said. "Oh. Driving? The whole night?" "lf I slept now I'd never wake up in time-" He looked 154
M€ns Rea
at her incred ulous face,
"So,"shesaid. "Will itbethe bikeorthecarthistime?" 'The car," he said, expertly guidingmouse, cursot over the document onscreen, his eyes fixed on the square of blue Ii8ht. 'My bike's in the shoP."
"what's in Baguio?" "Nothing this time of the Year'" "Then what are you toinB uP there for?" He shrug8ed. "iust felt like it." "Seems stupid to blow allthat money on nothin8," she said, She didn't know how much a single drive to Baguio cost in terms of gas but she was sure the figure was astro_ nomicil. At least he didn't have to worry about hotel rates; his foll(s had a house up there that they were thinkin8 of selling; it was silly to let it stand empty for the better part
of the year Once he had asked her, flipPantly, if
she
wanted to go upthere with him someday. She'd been too astonished to say anything.
'well, you know me,"
he was sayingnow. He reached
into his knap,sack and drew out a bag of chip6, which he opened with his teeth. "Want some?" She was hungry again, she realized with disgust. He poured a generous helpinB into her oPen palm. The chip6 were cheap and cheese flavored and very very 8ood.
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159
"One more time won,t hurt,,, she consoled herself. "That's what my obese female friends always say,,. he said. just beneath his breath, semi-smilingat her "l'm ,ofobese," she said, but she was more resigned than angry
"Hey, I was onlyjoking, OK? Don,t get mad.,, "l'm not mad. Why should I care?,,
"l can see it in your face., He rose, grinning. "l,m takint a shower You can use the computer if you want.,, tried to work, but her mind returned again and again to himand his smooth dark skin and too-lons hairand the relaxed and loose,lointed way he moved around the ofSHE
fice, ne\,€r
hurried;ndolent,
really. She had tiked him im
med;ately, while attaching only the barest importance to his presence. A few minutes into their first meeting shed began to chatter, the kind of flirtatious chit-chat she indulged in as a matter of habit with guys who didnl really attract her butwith whomshe could let her ha;rdown. He never flirted back, just seemed a little tongue-tied at her enthusiasm- He would lean back in his cha,r, eyes bouncing to her and then to the screen, as though half of his mind wercon som€thingelse. Hecouldn,tbe called hand, some, not bya lontshot, but he had a certain appeal, and the kind of mouth that seemed to be smiling even when he wasn'L His diffidence suited her just fine. She didn,t like it when men came on too strong. He had a nice way oftouching her, though, tapping her nape orthe sensitive area by her shoulderblades ever so gently, when at the close of an evening's work he hoisted his knapsack over one shouider and said goodbye.
1m
MAIOR ISSUES, she t)/ped. Underneath that, Lack ofsu!> port hom communities- Lack of rccognition of the rcality of domestic violence. Deafth ol laws favotable to women ar sensitite to their needs. Pervasive patiarchal attittides amonq judges, govemment prosecutos and law enforcernent agenB,
With the mollse she got the phrases down in a straight column. Click. Click. Bullet bullet bullet bullet. tt was a dandycomputer program. You could orderyourwhole life
with itifyou wanted. Sheyawned, barely conscious of the words. She had been typing phrases Iike those since colle8e, and that was a lon8 time ago. She wondered ifJayme
ever reao what he laid out. Probably not. lf you focused too long on your texts you eventually found yourself get-
ting involved. and politics, she supposed, was the worst thing thatcould happen to a freelancer outto earn a real living.
fhe screen was starting to blur. Too many sleepless ni8hts. Rolling her seataway from the computer, she situated herself at one of the cluttered desk. One minute, she promised herself, laying her head on her arms.
It seemed she had barely closed her eyes when she felta hand on her shoulder. 'Ami, Ami. Wake up. t.m leavitE." she forced her head up,Jaymewas bendingover her, a blur of black-jeans, t-shirt, and of course that skin. His hair was newly-washed and fellsoftly about his shoulders; he looked, she thought confusedl, like a black saint, a black resus.
"What time is it?" she said. Mens Rea
Wcitht
161
"Half past one." "Oh no," she groaned. He was peering sharply into her face. "You're in no condition to work. Come on, l'll take you home." 'l have deadlines.' 'You're half asleep." "Can't we go get some coffee?" she moaned"Alright then." He hoisted her bag to his shoulder. "Come on."
lined with trees on either side, which SraduallyBave way to neon signs. "Where are we Boing anyway?" she said softly. "To Aberdeen Court," iayme replied, his mouth set in that half-Brin of his, and she grinned too because people drove up to Aberdeen Court just to make love and it was
"7-11 or Dunkin Donuts?' he said. "Can'twe find a Mega,ink first?"
justthe kind of remark a 8uy like him would make. Why was it that he could always make her smile? No other guy could get away with ajoke like that around her. she sat back, p€rplexed, aware that she was enjoying his company, and the ride, though there was nothing novel about it. she had been over these roads a hundred times before, in college and in the years after. She knew every landmark by night as well as day: the Delta theater at the intersection where traffic from the four corners ofQuezon City merged, Rl Bistro immediately after the Timog turn, the rotonda with its frightful Boy Scout statues, Ozone
She looked sharply around for
bank with automatic teller machines, but there weren't any; they had to get out of this residential neighborhood fhst. They reached the end
where 160 kids nearly half herage had roasted on a pleas-
of Visayas Avenue, paused a moment untilthe light turned
she had never witnessed any ofthese thinSs. lf notfor the
8reen, and swept around the Quezon Memorial Circle's perimeter, where young men out to make a little money
ne\lspapers she would ne\er have known they'd happened;
from a casualfellatio glanced into their headlights, looking
a computer terminal and her editors and the malls where
away without interestwhen
their car did not slow. Then
she prowled relentlessly, in search of tlre perfect book, the
they were abreast of the Quezon Memorial; she scrunched down in her seat to catch a view ofthe stone angels atthe very top, their winSs cufting into the night sky like pale scythes. layrne was veering to the righ! running a red light, but it was OK, no one was there to stop them atthis hour and they swept down an avenue
pe{ect outfit. the perfect Ami. slowly she became aware of Jayme muttering underneath his breath. "Me8alink; we'\€ 8ot to Iind a Megalink." Itsounded like a mantra, a taunting little chant: "Me€alinlt Me-galink, ML-galink." Ateach automatic teller machine booth, he would slow
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Weight
QUrZON Clry in the wee hours of the morning was another country the buildings she saw every day from a jeepney obliterated byblackness, patches of neon and fluores(ence whizzing past on either side as the car sped over asphalt. She crossed her legs and shivered.
antsummer nighl And then Thunderdome, Crand
Bingwit-
bars where fat beer-bellied men pawed half-naked girls.
in a sense none
ofthem had really transpired. Reality was
16;t
and she would peer out, on the alert for the little Welcome sign that indicated it was in service, but then he would slam on the accelerator and barrel down the road before she could even be sure. And now they had leftthe bars and nightclutrs of Timog and were speedinS down East Avenue, back to where they'd started, to the great white memorialto Manuel L. Quezon: three marble spearseach toppcd by a hefty an8el. head bowed in mourning, perma-
nentiy flightless, frozen in stone.
pink-and-orange sign reflecting off the hood of the Calant they slewed to a stop.
as
The air was wet as they got out of the car- a warm sum, mer drizzle. A man moppingthe floor of the little establishment looked up without interest
they entered. Eraserheads
was fallingasleep on his feet. She and Jayme pointed to their
orders, too weary suddenl, to speak. He slapped a hundred on the counter and she too
"For8et the ATM," layme said suddenly. "l've got
as
noise poured irom the overhead speake6. The counterboy
ing
k
their tray o\r'er to a table, refus-
to look into hi' face as he fitted himsel, into the stool
opposite hers. The chocolate in her styrofoam cup was steaming
But it's not right to allow a guy to pay for your coffee, she wanted to say- lt's not feminist to allow a Euy to pay, period. But she kept quiet, lest she offend him. She had
and Sritty. She shut her eyes, savoring the feel of sutar tlacint melting on her tongue. His shn, shethoudt! was as darkand
smooth
as
the surface ofa chocolate doughnul
no idea what his reaction would be. She knew next to
When she opened her eyes he was studying her face.
nothing about him- Well, hecollected Sandmans; he played
"Why don't ltake you home. You locked up theoffice,
guitar; he liked ]ori Amos; he was 30. But none of that told her anything, really. "There's a Dunkin Donuts I know ot" he said. "Open 24 hours." They zipped down Kalayaan, Anonas, past '70s Bistro where he was a regular, where women and men who looked exactly like him congregated nights to swill beer and listen to the kind of alternative music he played. She had never been there. She'd never been anywhere. what would it b€ like, she thought, to travelwith him? Did he drive good at night? How fast did he go when he vr'as alone? He was glowing the car now; they were at the corner of Anonas where it opened out onto Aurora Boulevard, and there
didn'tyou?" "Well, yes. But I couldn't ..." "Oh, come on. You?e half-asleep. And l'vegotto to. I wantto make Nueva Eciia before sunri'e." She sat there looking at their tray miserably. 'l wish I were 8oin8 up to Baguio/ too." She didn't know what had p.ompted her to say that. "Or that you weren't going," she added hastil, covering up her embarassment. "lt isn't fair" The words seemed to amuse him. 'Ami," he said.
"l've
got to get out of QC. I need to see some mountains. l'm sick to death of this place."
ahead of them, on the other side of Aurora, was the dough-
l. I envy you." They rose. At the counter she caught him by the tail of his shirt- "Can I have another
nut diner, a hole in the wall, really, with its benevolent
douShnut?"
164
Wei6ht
Mens Rea
"So am
165
He gestured to the boy to put her selection into a pa' per sack.
"Youte always hungry aren't you," he said, touching her nape ever so gently. It was true, she thou8ht. Perhap6she was sick. Perhaps some secret disease--{he product of all those
m issed
meals,
binges, deadlines, bitter friendships, of herthick horrid fig-
ure in the mirror and all the right men she could never love-was eating away tissue and or8ans, heart, soul. Perhaps she was only half the woman she could be. "Where do you iive?" he said, in the cat "Yale." "Oh. Righl" He started the engine. "Show metheway; l've forgotten." Aurora Boulevard was a dismal place in the predawn darkness. Theysped through acanyon of broken windows and soot-blackened concrete. He knew the way to her
well ahead ofthe buses which at two in the morning still thundered over the asphalt. There was stillanother route home, she thought They could make a ri8ht at New York A\enue, leaving EDS , and dri\,e through the maze o{ streets
to her apartmenL And then she'd have herself a bath with whateler water \aas left in the communal drum and slip tjredly between her th in cotton sheets and Bo to s leep without havingtothinkoflaymeVera. Home. She had to get home. The New York turn, she thought- Take the New York turn. He had the same idea, for as they approached New York he slowed again, changing lanes to allow a couple of buses to surge past. "Here?" he said; they were now at a crawl. She tried to speak but her throat was dry, her tongue "Here?" he repeated. 5he felt a sound coming out of her throat. "No."
home, she was sure; he had, after all, lived in this city longer than she, but atthe intersection where they could
She said it again, feeling estranged from her vocal chords,
make a rightturnand be at her place in minutes, heslowed,
At the vast intersection ofAurora and EDSA he swung the car onto Metro Manila's main thoroughfare, keeping
iayme did not reply, on,y stepped on the gas; there was a momentwhen she thought they'd be rammed from behind by a speed ing Turtletop but he never lost his cool, just kept goin8, until they were clear "Tell me when to stop," he said. The speedometer needle was climbing; they were sweeping now onto the Kamias Flyo\er, farther and farther from Cubao. She.aught her breath as they rocketed over the stretch of elevated asphalt; they were flying. she thought, flying over a road rain-slicked and golden from the reflected lightofthe mercury lamps, hi8h up enough in the air to see the top ofthe Quezon Memorial and its three earthbound angels.
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weight
for some signal from her But she was silentand the car keptBoing. There was, she thought, a toothbrush and a spare set of underwear in her bag. "Tell me when to turn, Ami," he said, but there was no urgency in his voice. what, she thought, would happen if they just kept on as though waiting
drivinB?
She leaned bach her heart beginniog to thud.
Mens Rea
167
Thefoll(s at the newspaper, shethou8ht, would be frantic tomorrow and she still had Nvo articles to comPlete at
the NCO. Then the grade evened outand they were securely on earth and layme was speeding, beating a red liSht at an
intersection, slinging the Calant past car after car. Darkness rushed by on either side. The Quezon Memorial was behind them, growing smaller and smaller by the second.
he loved comic books, he needled
herabouther bagtage, her wei8ht--but nothing hesaid would hurther now. They were going ever so fast and she felt nothing, no guilu no tiredness, none ofthatterrible hunger, iusta strange light sensation as he tookone hand from the wheeland laid his fingers gently against her cheek.
It looked now like a warm little heart pulsing with secret life- They were passingvacant lots overgrown with weedsThe little golden heart glowed in the everwidenin8 dis tance. Up ahead was an SM mall, and beyond that the Balintawak lnterchange, the Sateway out of Quezon City. His hands rested liBhtly, comfortabl, on the wheel. She remembered the way he would move about the office, touching the papers she had been working on in that unhurried way of his, asthough his fingertips afforded him a delicious new way of perceivingthinBs.
Belond Balintawak, she thought, was the road to Baguio.
"Tellmewhen to stop," he murmured, but he was teasing her now sayintthe words again, and yetagain, like his Megalink mantra. Shearched her back. The airconditioner exhaled frigid air against her breasts. There would be moonlight, she thought, over limitless fields, and over rock and the pale lacework of tree branches as the car reached the mountains.
she thought of how sloppily he dressed and how he prefertd pictures to words, and how they never fought because they wouldn't speak earh other's language- He was
168
allwrong, she thou}ht, all wrong; he smoked joinE, Weight
1(9
