THE SUNSHINE OF MAY
-NIKKO J. LEGASPI-
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Love has many faces.
This tale is but one of them.
-:-
Her name was May. And she was just five years old when I first met her.
She was a little kid, petite and shy. Her black hair reached just past her shoulders, and her bangs
fell to her eyebrows in a smooth arch. I saw her at the funeral of a friend. Well, actually it was
the funeral of two friends.
I was twenty years old at the time. Compulsive, headstrong, and never really gave a thought for
others.
May was an illegitimate child.
Well, sort of. Her parents were on their way to get married when they had that terrible accident.
They were driving along a steep mountain road when their car lost its brakes, and they fell over
the edge. Calvin and Jessica's bodies were recovered and positively identified by the rescue team.
No doubt about it, May was an instant orphan.
Such was the whim of the gods above.
And so there May stood in her little black dress, the hem of her skirt barely reaching to her
knees, silent as a shadow and pale as a ghost. She looked at me once, her eyes full of emotion
threatening to burst forth, and then suddenly, she went outside.
As the ceremony ended I saw that little girl, her tiny hands grubby and dirty, clutching a full
Morning Glory plant; muddy stems, roots and all. She walked to where her parents lay, and
placed the flowers over their coffins, silent as a fleeting memory.
Silently, I nodded. My friends were well-known for breeding award-winning Morning Glory
flowers. It was a fitting tribute to them, and my eyes shed silent tears without my knowing.
As the funeral ended and I was waiting for some of my other friends to give me a ride home, I
overheard a conversation. Perhaps I shouldn't have butted in then, but that conversation was the
first ripple in the pond that became a tidal wave that changed my life.
"Who's going to take care of her," asks Albert, Calvin’s younger brother. "I've got three children,
and I can't afford another one!"
"Mama, my hands are full as it is with my twins,” piped Angie, the elder sister.
"And us? Your dad and I are too old to take care of a child, and an illegitimate one at that!" That
was their mother, Mrs. Viraa.
And so the conversation went on, with May being passed on to each of her relatives in turn like a
ball in some twisted, perverted parlour game of fate.
Nobody wants an unlucky child. No uncle, no aunt, nobody.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Taking a deep breath and gathering up my courage, I stood up.
I looked at her again, silent and haggard, sitting in a quiet corner of the room. All eyes on the
