Lacking Fragments: A Novel (Completed)

Maya's Favor for Secrecy II

In due course I prepared to leave the house. But first, I went to the bedroom to change my clothes. I decided not to take another bath again; I already did early this morning. When done changing I had descended down the stairs, directly out to exit the house through the doorway. I closed the door when I found myself out. I locked it even, just to make sure no strangers who own no permission would enter our concrete house. I kept the key in my wallet— simply for a reason that my wife told me not to leave spare keys, not anywhere near the doorway. I began walking by the side roads, toward where the passengers—commuters—were bound to wait in order to fare in a jeepney.

     At the elementary school's gateway.

     Around twelve-thirty, I saw Kiki exiting the school's gate. Along with my daughter were a hundred or two students, all of them in the elementary level, both boys and girls alike.

     The crowded area was filled with children, parents, as well as teachers. In the place, every weekday, around 12 to 2 o'clock noon, it is a normalcy to see a bunch of people gathering right here. Whenever I wait for my daughter here, it always looked populous. Packed. Parents like me, of course, were waiting; expecting for our children to be reunited with us once again. In addition to overall headcounts, students—from grade 1 to grade 6—were loudly exiting the school building. Some smiling, giggling, when they see their parents waiting for them; however, other kids looked gloomy to the point of unhappiness, as if they carry the heavens on their little shoulders. Teachers, in tertiary, turned to have the lowest count among the three. They were the most minimal at count compared to the students, who had an overflowing number of headcounts above everyone else.

     I could swear three years ago though, when Kiki was only six years old, that there used to be more teachers than how much of them I see now. So, split-second, I then wonder: 'Where did most of the teachers go?'

     Plainly, by the time I saw Kiki, my little one found me right away. She found me standing at the usual spot, kind of faraway from the school's gate itself. She located me where I was always expected to be in place. Today, Kiki smiled at me when our points had met. Contact. Along with many students exiting the gate, Kiki walked toward me, then she reached me with an energetic high-five. As always I took her heavy backpack; in an instant, I wore it securely in my right arm, then guided my daughter to escape the crowded place. Safe. A typical father and daughter stuff outside the school-setting. A mere act of service.

     "How's school?" I asked Kiki, the time we could exchange and comprehend words and phrases. "Good day or bad?"

     "It's okay," Kiki first answered in a manner of nonchalance. "Wait!" But then, as if the spirit of excitement passed through where we at, the next thing I knew, my daughter's face became jolly and giggling. I saw her eyes energized with power; I heard her voice rose up in volume. "Father!" she shouted, an enthusiast. "Oh, I'm gonna tell you something."

     As we walked, I had noticed. "Your lace."

     "Oh."

     "It's untied, wait a second." Kiki and I stopped walking first. I then lowered my body to tie her shoe lace, of her left shoe. "So," I said, started tying, "what is it you wanna tell me?"

     "Hear me!" Other parents meeting our points—mostly women—witnessed my daughter's shift of mood. While escorting their own children in the crowd, they watched us keenly as we passed through each of them. They observed Kiki from sounding almost lifeless at first, to her being thought-provoking and enthusiast's utterance. "Here me!"

     "Go on," I replied, "as I tie lace."

     My daughter then continued talking; well, you could say she's the most energetic nine-year old girl in the crowd. "It's about my classmate," she began. "About one of the boys who acted like a stubborn kid! What a rude boy! Early morning, our section adviser— she shouted at him for being pilyo. Yes, our section adviser looked so mad at him she's enraged! It's absurd! Father, I wonder why do schools have kids like him?"