Heal the Heart

45.

A big truck stood in front of my apartment. I'd seen it on the way down to the basement to park my bike and thought it was a garbage truck. Apparently not. It was a moving truck from the likes of it (and it said MOVERS on the side along with some logo involving sunrays). Seemed like the empty penthouse suite could no longer boast that status. There went my far-fetched dream of one day saving up enough to rent that place.

"So, should we go for it?" my mother said from the other end of the receiver.

"Yeah, your wish," I mumbled in reply. I was too busy trying to locate the new occupant, but the truck was empty and only a few workers milled around, sharing a cig. Then, as I entered the lobby, the cool air from the air conditioners bombarding my face, I came to my senses. "No, wait, go for what?"

"Sending the proposal to the Fernandes family. I sent you the girl's photos. Did you see it? She's really beautiful, very smart as well. She's working in some software role in that big bank. Something with G—"

"Wait, wait, wait. What proposal? What girl? And who's this Fernandes?" I nodded in greeting to Walter, who was also on the phone behind the lobby desk.

"I just told you. Were you not listening? These days, you're not listening to anything I say, Neil. What has happened to your concentration? If you're like this even at work then—"

"My concentration is just fine," I snapped. This woman and her tirades never had an end, and anything I said in return all led back to the fact that I was unmarried and needed a wife to keep me in line. "Also, do you have nothing else to talk about? Every time, it's just Neil, get married. Neil, I found a girl. Neil, you need a companion. I already told you, when I want to get married, I myself will let you know. Just let me live."

"I let you live just as you wanted, and the outcome was you having a heart attack before me. I should never have let you leave the country."

I rolled my eyes. "Sorry, Mother, for defeating you in the whose heart fails first contest. Can I interest you in a rematch?"

The silence that followed was music to my ears. Only for that blissful music to end with an erratic, "Do you have no shame left in you?"

"Calm down. No need to work yourself to heart failure." And just to be cheeky, I added, "Trust me, I'd know."

After some more huffs and demands that I not joke about my condition any longer—"How can you tell me to calm down? My son is thirty and is still unmarried." She whispered thirty as though if anyone heard the number and unmarried in the same sentence, shame would befall upon our family. Meanwhile, I wanted to reply Be happy that I reached the big three o in the first place. But then that would bring forth the waterworks, and I had no patience for that. "How will I find a nice girl for you if you keep delaying? These days, the girls' families are insisting they don't want an age gap of more than two years. And the fertility rate of women reduces once they cross thirty—"

"Wait, wait, wait." If she started on the topic of grandkids, I wasn't about to get a wink of sleep tonight. She would talk my ear off, and that would be it for my sanity and patience. Unfortunately, I wasn't retired and didn't have the luxury of sleeping in the next day. "Ask Clarissa, na. She's already married."

"She's saying they'll think about children only after Abraham finishes that surgical training thing he's doing."

"Okay, tell me this. You and daddy are retired."

I could see her scrunching her eyebrows in confusion. "Yes?"

"Both of you are saying you have nothing to do at home."

"That's why I'm asking for nice, cute babies so I can play with them."

"When you two are free and have nothing to do, no one's stopping you from having them."