Alone (Short Story)

ALONE (a Short Story)

Suddenly I was awakened. Someone was calling me, shouting.

I looked at the window straight under our Chico tree. Saturday's tie was in the tree but there was no Saturday that was patiently sitting and waiting to feed him. Saturday was been my parents present in my tenth birthday. Brown furred and bulging eyes defines my dog. Saturday was living under our Chico tree on our front yard. Every morning we used to see Saturday sleeping at my mother's couch with scratches and feces on it.

 'It was disgusting'. 

Maybe being a naughty was innate to all Chihuahua. I remembered my elementary classmate who had told me that 'if you want to make your home miserable just keep Chihuahua in your house'. I love Saturday even he was frequently doing those misdeeds. I liked playing with him with his favorite yellow Tennis ball, his tricks, moves, energy and gasps.

I got up and went to comfort room fumbling with fright because my mother Helen was going outraged.

“Smarty!” She yelled.

I wore my favorite boxer's shorts then my red T-shirt with a graffiti printed at the back saying: 

"It starts with 

Capital S and 

          it Ends With 

   letter X" 

I loved red since then. I ended up in front of my mother at the kitchen yelling at me about Saturday. I admit I didn't tie him tightly last night. He slept again at the couch. 

"If you can't change the misdoing of that dog, Your father and I will decide to bring him back to the shop." She said. 

"Okay Mang, I will confine him every night starting this evening." I replied. 

Saturday was always a big deal for me. 

"Where's father by the way? I didn't see him this morning." I asked.

"His boss, Mr. De Leon, called him last night that a very important appointment with their client will be done this morning." She was frying a sunny sided-up egg and served it at the rectangular table. 

"Let's eat." She said smiling. 

I liked the way my mother served our breakfast, it was always special. She used to put three long-stemmed red roses at the side of the table together with a perfumed candle lighted up then suddenly the phone rang. 

"I’ll do it." My mother picked the phone up and listened to the person on the other line. 

I couldn't hear the voice on the phone so I just proceed eating my meal then after a while I heard a loud voice coming from our sala. It was my mother's voice but then I just continued my breakfast because I knew it was one of my mother's shocked reaction to the latest gossip from her bff (best friends forever) living next door. 

The light on the candle blew by the morning air from our opened window on the dining room.

 "Dress up Smarty." My mother called me that way but it wasn't my real name. 

I didn't know why she didn't ever call me in my real name since my first year high school but I was not bothered with it anyway. Sometimes I thought she had forgotten my real name. My mother was forty years old but who cares. For me she was still young, strong, and still kicking even though she had this illness I called "forgetfulness syndrome" because she always had this habit of asking father's company phone number. 

"Sammy, dress up!" She was now on her white colored pants and a madras shirt. 

I didn't know why she was hurrying up. "Okay! Okay! Don’t yell at me." I exclaimed. 

I went up stairs, change my boxer's shorts with a red one because I thought she had a special surprise for me, and dressed in polo and paired with Maong. When I got to our car my mother was already sitting there and trying to put the driver's seat belt. 

"Where are we going Mang?" I asked but there was no reply. 

I thought we will go to the mall because my mother was so eager to grab the big discounts on the mall. 

"St. Alexus Hospital." I read. 

"I thought we're going to mall? Like SHOPPING?" I added. 

"There's no mall this time Marty." She replied with her tears flowing rapidly. 

"Mamang, you're crying." My heart beat fast just liked the last time I had rode a roller coaster. 

I thought my blood would come out and spill all over the carnival while shouting. I saw my mom got inside the room spelled like M.O.R.G.U.E. 

"Morgue." I read. 

Then everything happened so fast. I didn't know what to do. I was frightened. Then my mother got out of the room and sat beside me crying. 

"Your father just died on a vehicle accident." With a crying voice of my mother I got inside and saw a man lying with his Tuxedo. 

It was him. I hugged him. He was iced cold. I couldn't feel the real father from this man. 

"I need you..." My tears just flowed down from my cheeks going from my father's corpse. 

With no other words I kissed him, crying and left the room running through our car. I sat inside and continued my crying. Looking at the street, listening to the people walking but I can't stop crying. An hour later I saw my mother talking with a white young man. 

"Mrs. Loyola? I am Dr. John." He asked. 

"Your husband died on arrival. A bus hit his car and his body found dead. A blood stream on the brain clogged inside and the skull was cracked. I am so sorry Mrs. Loyola." He added solemnly. 

"Is there anything else?" She asked while the tears still flowing. 

"Um..., the policeman gave me this. I think this was your husband's property. The policeman said that when they saw the body, Mr. Loyola was holding that picture." He handed the picture to my mother. 

My mother got then inside the car with reddish eyes just like the drug addicts who had taken Marijuana; then she told me everything about their conversation with the doctor. My mother was crying so hard while looking at our family picture. 

“Mang?” I called my mother in her room because I was curious what she was doing in her room for about four hours. 

“Mang, it’s Marco, can you open the door?” I repeated but no one answered me. 

It frightened me. I got the duplicate of the key and unlocked the door. 

“Mamang!” I ran towards her not knowing what to do.

“Mamang! Why did you do this, don't leave me like Papang did, please, please Mamang...” I hugged her but her eyes slowly, slowly, slowly closing until the heartbeat gone. 

I left our home together with Saturday and stayed at my mother's sister named Sallie. She was thirty years old and still single; she lived few blocks away from our home. I called her Tita Sallie and she was known to our place as a kind and religious woman but after a month her boss of an insurance company promoted her and directed her to Manila. 

“Marco, you must know by now that you must be independent, you are grown up now, boy. Don't worry I will send money for your needs and don't you ever forget to pray Mr. Marco.” She said while tapping my hair. 

“Yes Tita I won't,” I tried to show courage in front of her that I can do all she said. 

“I and Saturday will take good care of your house.” I added. 

Time went by and I finished my high school education. No one attended my graduation it was only Saturday and I who celebrated it. Though it really felt so painful inside I was always trying to hide it in front of many people.

I also learned to enter night clubs in our place. I felt so nervous in my first time. I met Synthia in that nigh club but she wasn't a prostitute or a GRO, in fact it was also her first time going in such place. She was sexy and her fair skin and well-structured face attracted my manliness. After a month of our meeting, Synthia and I became lovers. She said that she loved me and she wanted to live with me forever so I accepted it. I thought there's nothing wrong to have a girlfriend like her. Many nights Synthia slept at home. I enjoyed her company. At first I thought it was only an infatuation or lust but it came to an end that I totally realized that I loved her; I need her to be with my side forever. 

I was eighteen when Synthia and I decided to settle down. We lived together in my Tita's house with Saturday. I applied in a mall in order for me to support our daily needs and aside of it Synthia didn't know that I was having a relationship with some gays so that I could have an extra amount for our expenses. They were using me; I used them. 

“Happy anniversary hon!” I greeted her with my red polo holding the bouquet of roses for Synthia. 

We celebrated our first anniversary since we became committed. I made it special. I wanted it special just for her. I wanted her to feel that I deserved her. 

“Happy anniversary Marc! Thank you!” She replied. 

“I love you Synthia,” I said while looking at her eyes. 

Synthia just smiled while holding my neck and suddenly I felt her lips touched mine. 

“Nothing can describe how I love you,” Synthia replied. 

Then everything went too intimate. The touches, moan, and sweat, everything. The next morning I woke up as usual. I went to work while Synthia left at home and did the household chores. We were like a real husband and wife but we both had agreed not to have baby for we were not ready to have it that time but after a month everything changed, Synthia and I were shocked when her monthly period didn't come. 

She was pregnant. 

I started to save money and when she gave birth thank God everything went fine. We named the baby: Martha. I can't explain my feeling while carrying my first child. Her smile was telling me that I was a real father. Though young at age I did my best to be a good father to my daughter. I doubled my work but being a teenage husband didn't work to both of us, after a few months we started to argue in all things. 

I could always hear voices shouting every time I came late. Someone told her what I was doing with gays. We started to sleep apart. She became cold with our relationship. It was 9:30 in the evening when I went home from job. The lights were off. 

“Synthia? Synthia,” my voice echoed all over the house but no one seemed to be at home.

SOCOTECO had cut our electricity line. 

“Synthia? I'm home, I brought you something.” I said but still the same happened then Saturday licked my shoe. 

“Oh! Where's Synthia, Saturday?” I said while tapping his fur. 

“You are a good dog now,” I added. 

A paper on the living room got my attention and read it. 

“Dear Marco, I can't do this. I got Martha and please don't expect for us to come back. I don't want that our child will have a father who's having a relationship with gays. I am sorry but I think this is the best thing to do to protect our dignity. I am sorry.” 

“No!” I screamed and a sudden flow of tears followed. 

I didn't know what to do. That moment happened before; someone left me, why did everyone leave me alone? 

“Why?”I dropped the paper then my world turned around. 

Suddenly I fell on the floor and became unconscious. I remembered my parents' death; I didn't want to cry again. I loved them but why did they need to leave me...? Saturday licked my face and I woke up. I can feel the coldness of the cemented floor, I was lying on it. I can barely open my eyes in that morning. I smiled and decided to stand up but I felt a sudden pain on my head, it was aching maybe because my head hit the floor so badly that night but I forced myself to move on. 

I looked at Saturday; he was waging his tail. 

“Ikaw ha, don't leave me alone like other did for you're the only one I have now.” I carried him and walked a distance few blocks away from my Tita's house until we ended up standing in front of our old home. 

“We're home Saturday, it's been a long time since we were here, finally we're home,” tears flowed down from my cheeks while looking at our family picture I grabbed from my pocket. 

It was the picture that my father held when he died. to be continued...