🏆 LONGLIST - OPEN NOVELLA CONTEST 2022 🏆
Vincent Pareja longs for the day when his family won't worry about money and his siblings can go to school without skipping a meal. With his choices limited and with the wage, however small, promises to hel...
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I shoved my rumpled polo into my backpack, my hand knocking against a bottle of water and the container of my packed lunch. The jeepney lurched through the busy highway on the way to the restaurant Jessa said we'd meet at. I dug some coins off my pocket and extended my hand forward. "Bayad po," my voice bounced all over the thick, humid air surrounding the inside of the vehicle.
A hand belonging to a man in a printed t-shirt accepted my fare before passing it to the person two seats away from him. "Bayad daw po," he yelled almost as loud as I did, more to get the other passengers' attention than to inform the driver at the front.
My eyes traced my fare as it got passed forward until it reached the driver's outstretched hand. The wiry old man with thinning white hair and an even more rumpled polo shirt glanced at the cents before tossing it into the metal counter by the windshield.
I squirmed in my seat to have my back pressed to the jeepney's wall. Hot air from the outside blew through the open windows, barely doing anything to the strands of my hair sheared close to my head. My white shirt reflected the midday sun, giving me a little bit of relief from the oppressive heat. I blew a breath and wiped the sweat trickling from the side of my head.
It's been a few weeks since I went down from the academy and back to Manila and I still haven't gotten used to the heat, the traffic, and the general bustle of the metro city. A sense of longing settled at the base of my gut for the lush campus and the quiet being surrounded by nature. In here, there's always someone yelling, clamoring, and hurrying. There's always something that needs to be done. There's always something one has to be concerned about.
The streets have largely changed since the last time I was here, during the days leading up to my highschool graduation. From the jeepney's windows, my eyes followed the vehicle's speed, drinking in every detail as they could. The old karitons bearing and the sidewalk vendors were replaced by polished shops with sparkling new signs and glinting glass windows reflecting the traffic passing by them. Despite the bumps and the occasional holes, the road against the jeepney's wheels seemed much more polished. That wasn't the case just a few years ago.
I tapped my sandals against the metal floor, keeping the familiar landmarks which would tell me where I was. The rotunda came crawling from the horizon. Ah, I was close.
After being caught by the red light and forced to wait another cycle, I managed to shout "Para po!" and had the jeepney stop exactly where I was intending to. I hid my smile as I ducked out and headed for the restaurant Jessa told me to look for. It's a skill not everyone could master, certainly.
My footsteps scratched against the pavement overlaid by faded red bricks. When these pavements appeared, I had no idea. It's been a while since I made it back to this part of the city after spending most of my college years up in the mountains. I sidestepped other pedestrians carrying all sorts of frowns and downcast looks on their faces, whether dust with a light layer of powder and makeup or a fine overlay of grime from the smoke from the vehicles' exhausts.
