CINCO (Five) [On Indefinite Hiatus]

Chapter 3: Fissures and Fragments

“CINCO”

 Chapter 3: Fissures and Fragments

 ***

Andres caught Emilio staring into nothingness. It was not a blank look; rather, it held an endless depth, which the Supremo slowly became familiar with over the few years of knowing the young man.

But this time, there was something distinct about it, and Andres could not fathom it. God knows what was going on in Emilio’s mind: the youth was a wellspring of ideas and restless thoughts, going this way and that, and he knew that Emilio’s thoughts would only behave themselves if he put them down on paper.

Only this time, the young man decided to speak them.

“You know the part from Noli Me Tangere where Crispin is first taken away from Basilio?” began Emilio, his voice suddenly filling the room. Andres looked up at the mention of two familiar characters from one of Jose Rizal’s novels. Emilio had read both Rizal’s novels probably more than twice. The young man read fast and he absorbed everything.

“Of course,” replied Andres, not certain where this conversation was taking them.

“Little boys. Two innocent souls, with only the desire to return home. And yet their only comfort is taken away from them, by the friar, by the head sacristan, for thievery Crispin did not even commit.”

Andres was silent; they sometimes talked about the things they’ve read, the treatises they’ve delved into in books. Emilio still spoke with a faraway gaze. The young man, only a few moments ago, had been sorting through papers, work he had left undone during his disappearance. They piled high, yet Emilio took on them diligently. What bothered Andres, however, was that Emilio seldom spoke. The lad labored through the days and nights, perhaps in silent frustration that he had been dropped out of law school because of his prolonged absence, and to replace that gaping hole in his heart, he dwindled his cares away with duties ascribed to him by the Katipunan.

It had only been a little more than a week since Emilio had been found.

While Dr. Pio proclaimed Emilio finally healthy and able, there was still something feverish that pulsed through him, something shadowed and tenacious.

“The little ones were afraid.” Emilio furthered. “They could not fight; they had been taught to be docile and subservient. They believed that they didn’t have a choice but to suffer.”

“Emilio—“ sputtered the Supremo. Slicing through his thoughts would be futile. He listened on.

“Not knowing that one has a choice—a most frightening thing. A disservice to oneself. Yet Basilio and Crispin had a choice.”

“What choice would that be?” asked Andres, simply not only to humor his friend, but out of genuine curiosity. He had hoped to ward of the gloom; exchanges with Emilio were seldom heavy-hearted and dismal, even with the impending revolution, but this particular exchange—it pressed on him, like a huge dark hand.

Emilio looked up, and Andres could not help but notice the youth's expressionless face, despite the emotion in his words. It was as though his young face were etched in stone and steel. “They would have walked out of the bell tower.”

Andres’ eyes narrowed. “And—?”

Emilio shrugged. “There is no ‘and.’ The friar could not stop them. The head sacristan could not stop them. Crispin really had committed no crime. The children had every choice and right to walk out.”

Andres could no longer bear the dissonance he saw in his friend. He tried to look away, tried to pry himself from Emilio’s seemingly cold eyes, but he couldn’t. To ease matters a little he breathed out a chortle, but the droll in it was somehow lost. “Emilio, this looks like a idea for a new article. We did plan to release a second issue of the Kalayaan, if you remember?”