Section: Background | Sample Chapters| Contact Information
chapter two - archie
I had a bodyguard and chauffer named Timo, this massive six-footer whose receding hairline complemented those Oakleys he always wore. He’d eat a whole damn cow and had ridiculously high tolerance for alcohol. When he was in the army, he killed over twenty men, mostly those NPA insurgents. Dad said he’d been in our family’s employ since forever. Although I vaguely recall Timo from my childhood, I’d never forget that one time in the late 90’s, during one of our vacations here in the Philippines.
Timo and I were driving around Manila one time, when some asshole cut across our lane. I got pissed off and told Timo to chase him down. He really went after him, cutting him off, sirens all over the place, eventually forcing the guy to the sidewalk. Timo then walked to his vehicle, pulled him out through his window, and started pounding on him like a baker whacking the morning dough. We soon drove-off and left the dude all battered-up and whimpering on the sidewalk. By then, I felt guilty. But not Timo. He was all cheery, like he’d just met his girlfriend’s grandmother.
Regardless, I’d say he’s okay, because he’s on my side. Besides, I liked his muddled-up English and thick Filipino accent. Then again, who am I to laugh; I couldn’t speak Filipino at all. I understood it when spoken to me—mom always talked to me in Filipino—but I never learned to speak it back.
IT WAS only my fifth day in Villa Nuñez and I was so miserable I wanted to kill myself. I was sick of my PlayStation, there was so much food everywhere I wanted to throw up, and dad was all like, “Let’s hang out son, quality time, just you and me!” So after lunch, I took the black Expedition with Timo and fled from the rest house. Timo suggested this place called Bangui, a small town up north.
During the trip, I thought about Bangui and pictured this backwater village of crude huts and bungalows. I’m sorry; that’s what rural sounded like to me. And when Timo said it was a fishing village, my imagination went wild! I thought of dilapidated rickety docks, dingy fly-infested markets, and shabby hovels with leggy fishermen inside them. If it were that bad, we’d be out of that sad little town in no time.
We began descending this hill. An archway etched with ‘Mabuhay! Bangui’ loomed ahead. I slouched back, lit a cigarette, and looked to these huge white windmills lining the distant valley bay. We soon entered the village proper.
The town wasn’t that bad, really. You had rundown shanties here and there, and a few dark and wrinkled locals walking around the place. But you’d also find these swank homes fit for some upscale district in the nation’s capital. I shook my head at what I saw and through my cigarette out the window.
Bangui didn’t seem like a fishing village. I didn’t see crummy docks, wet markets, or people hauling nets of dead marine life. Maybe they hid that stuff somewhere in town, away from the main highway, like some dark secret they wouldn’t show the world.
We reached this place called a poblacion—the town center, I figured—and there were these dudes hanging around this park. They were probably the local bums, with rural dreams spanning far as rural opportunity. There were also these provincial kids running around an amphitheatre, all giddy as hell with their little game of chase.
Timo pointed out the Municipal Hall, a white-walled, red-roofed building, and suggested I meet the mayor. I frowned at the thought of rubbing elbows with the local hotshot. In fact, I wanted the opposite, and thought of swinging around one of these wretched roadside restaurants. Just like an immersion trip—my little moment in Bangui. I told Timo to look for the sorriest looking place he could find.
We stopped by a small eatery and left car. I frowned at the name of the place—Memories Today. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
When we stepped inside, I realized Timo really did his job—this place was unbelievably sorry! It had a rusty tin roof supported by half-decaying wood and concrete block walls mashed up with dried chunks of cement. The entire place was dreadfully furnished with tacky plastic tables and wobbly plastic chairs. On one end of the eatery was a counter of gunk-filled pots—with probably some cockroach swimming in its stuff and drowning in the muck.
An old and wrinkly crone by the counter nodded at us and said, “Oy.”
We sat by a corner. Timo pulled out a deck of cards. “Play Pusoy Dos, Archie?” I nodded and told him to get beers. When our drinks arrived, we began our game of cards.
“Your papa,” Timo said, “sleeping well in the house.”
“Sure,” I replied. “It’s his vacation Timo, not mine.” I grinned. I was going to whack his deck with my diamond flush.
“It’s nice day for siesta,” he continued, “under coconut tree with mango juice.”
Honestly, the afternoon sucked. It was a hot day, and that useless stand fan wiggling by the wall wasn’t helping any.
I narrowed my eyes at Timo. “Well? What’ve you got?”
He dropped a straight flush and instantly won the game.
I frowned at him. “Bastard.”
He laughed and shuffled the cards. “So now you play Pusoy Dos and is new pastime.”
“I don’t know, Timo. I’ll find something soon enough.”
An hour later, we ran out of cigarettes. I walked to the old lady by the counter.
“Anya deta?” she said.
I paused. Anya? What the hell was that? It sure wasn’t Filipino. Maybe it was Ilocano, the local dialect.
“Filipino only, okay?” I said.
“Anya?”
I rolled my eyes. “Never mind. I want cigarettes.”
She frowned at me, like some kid working a messed-up math problem.
“Marlboro.” I made motions of puffing a cigarette.
She nodded, but said something else. “Mano ti alaem?”
“Mano what? Filipino, lady. Or English.”
“Di ka maawatan, ading. Mano ti alaem?”
Well jesus christ, I couldn’t understand a damn word she was saying! “One pack, okay? Marlboro. One pack!”
“Pak?!” she said, and frowned like I’d just insulted her.
And then, from behind came a woman’s voice:
“Sanga pulo tikayatna, manang. Sampung Marlboro.”
I turned—and saw this beautiful young woman behind me I was stunned!
She had long straight black hair that fell past her shoulders. Her gaze was silent, piercing, with those sly set of eyes. She had a small nose and mouth, perfectly matching her pretty face. She was dressed in a white baby-t, tucked neatly into a pair of denim shorts.
I could only stare at her for several moments. “Hey…” I finally mumbled.
She didn’t reply, and just looked at me. She withdrew a little, crossed her arms, and eyed me from head to toe. She then turned away and gave the old lady a very pretty smile. They hugged and exchanged words in that funky dialect.
I couldn’t take my eyes off this young woman! She was sleek and exotic like a damn Ferrari you just had to look, and take another look, and another, and so would everyone else! I was totally scoping her out—her body, her curves, her firm and sexy legs—but I suddenly realized I was staring too much.
She was frowning at me. “One pack of Marlboros—that’s what you wanted, right?”
Perfect English. Amazing!
“Right.” I grinned. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
She said nothing and simply looked at me. I was about to speak, but she nodded towards counter. “Your poison’s ready.”
I took the cigarettes and faced the old lady. “This,” I said, waving the pack in my hands, “is one pack of Marlboros. Got it?” I smiled dryly and put the cigarettes in my pocket.
I turned to the young woman. “So you mentioned you’re…”
She was already out the door.
“Wait!” I chased after her.
“Oy!” the old woman shouted, “Dika pay nakabayad!”
I ignored her, went past Timo, and said, “Take care of grandma, will you?” I hurried out the door.
“Wait!” I called out to the girl.
She turned and looked at me silently.
I finally caught up with her. “Hi,” I said, panting a little because of that poison I smoked. “I’m surprised seeing someone like you here.”
She raised her eyebrows slightly. “Why?”
“Because, you look so… out of place.”
She put a hand on her waist and frowned. “I look out of place?” She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe you look out of place, not me.”
Well, well. What do we have here.
I smiled. “Guess so. I’m not from here, obviously.”
“Obviously,” she echoed. “Where from.”
“New York.”
“I see.” A smile played on her lips. “An American.”
“I grew up in several countries, but… Sure; I guess you could say I’m American.”
“You guess? So you don’t know.” She grinned. “That’s a problem.”
I frowned. There was a moment of silence. She maintained the gaze.
I smiled once more. “I’m Archie, by the way. Archie Gallagher.”
She just nodded and checked her watch. “Look…”
“Archie?” Timo suddenly called out from the eatery. “You’re okay?”
I turned and raised my hand, signaling everything was cool—so far. I wanted to see where this was headed. I faced the girl once more.
And man, could she stare! That gaze of hers could strip through all your bullshit, leaving you nowhere to hide. I bet most guys would’ve avoided her eyes.
But I wasn’t just any guy. I stared back.
“Don’t go just yet,” I said. “Join my friend and me for drinks. What do you want, a coke, a beer?”
She didn’t reply.
I grinned. “It isn’t every day I meet the local heartthrob, you know.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth slightly opened.
I stopped myself from laughing.
“Your friend,’ she said, frowning again. “The one by the table with the cards? He doesn’t look friendly.”
“He’ll be friendly—if you hang with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Listen, Arnold, I have to go.”
“It’s Archie. And you are?”
She looked at me and paused. “Anna,” she then said.
“Anna,” I wistfully replied.
Suddenly, I had the strangest of thoughts. I began imagining how she’d be like in bed. Why did I get this raw, potent sense that she was awesome! Unlike Cher… all quiet, passive, never game for anything more than just…
“Archie, can I go now?”
I snapped out of my daydream. “No, wait. What about that sex?”
Did I just say sex?!
“What?!” she replied, and man was she pissed off!
Jesus christ. “The drink, you know? Sex on the beach. Or a margarita.” I turned to the eatery. “But I doubt Memories-whatever’s got that kind of stuff.”
She said nothing.
I cleared my throat. “My treat. I’ll even throw in some… food… If you want.”
“Like you can stomach it.”
“What?”
She grinned.
Who does she think she is? I wanted to laugh at her and say, “Whatever,” and just leave. Instead, I said something really stupid.
“I sure as hell can stomach you.”
Right after, I wanted to shoot myself. She was about to speak, but I didn’t give her time. “I mean, all this takes guts, so I’d… stomach it… you know… Stomach, guts…” Shit. Talk about a state of verbal panic! I’ve never thrown so many stupid lines in thirty seconds!
She replied, “I am not thirsty, I am not hungry, and I have to go—okay?!”
I narrowed my eyes at her and smiled. She frowned and said nothing. We stared at each other for several moments.
“What’s stopping you?” I then said, and nodded to the road behind her. “Go.”
Her expression faltered. I maintained the gaze. A smile played on her lips. She turned and walked away.
I watched her as she left, the breeze upon her clothes, her long black hair. My eyes moved from her slim waist down to her curves, her hips, her shapely legs.
She turned the corner, glanced at me, and disappeared from sight.
I went back to the eatery and sat across Timo.
“What was that?” he said as he distributed the cards.
“Timo, I just found my new pastime in the province.”
“What is pastime?”
I arranged my cards. “Anna.”
