Proclamation (1972)

The entire school was in a frenzy that day. Our teacher came into the room during our lunch period and said the words that every elementary schooler wanted to hear:

"Class are suspended. Please go home safely. Our quiz will be moved to tomorrow."

A loud cheer came from all the students of 4-Masipag while our teacher, sullen, looked on silently. She made a futile effort to calm the exhilarated children and urged them to leave maturely, weak against the excitable nature of fourth graders given freedom.

"Ernesto! John! I said leave quietly! Emmanuel, who said you could bring that basketball out of school?! You know it doesn't belong to you! Ursula, stop roughhousing with the boys and behave like a lady!"

Tia, our class president, laughed and tried to tell off the class tomboy too, but sneered and left with her friends when Ursula stuck out her tongue in response.

Lily and I were the last to leave as we didn't want to get hurt by the rowdy crowd. We walked hand in hand out the narrow door and said our goodbyes to teacher, who smiled in response. I craned my neck slightly and caught glimpse of a newspaper between her arms, though the headline was impossible to read from where I was.

We walked through the yard and started making plans on how to spend our day off when we heard a familiar honking. Mr. Felipe, Lily's father, was waiting outside for us with his fancy Japanese car. Lily ran off to see him then laughed as he carried her high up and spun around as if he were a helicopter. I kept my head down and greeted him the same way I had to greet my grandparents.

"Magandang hapon po, Ginoong Felipe."

Mr. Felipe smiled and put his hand on my head. I felt ashamed at him having to touch my oily and greasy hair and raised my head to apologize.

"Pasensy-"

"Smile, Audrey." He interjected. "You're named after one of the most beautiful women in the world, aren't you?"

A beaming smile spread across his face, and I too smiled at the thought of being more than what I was.

"Now that's the spirit!" He exclaimed.

I got into his car and sat beside Lily, mutely watching everyone else from our school leave in jubilation while she and her father excitedly chatted about going to an amusement park or a Jollibee.

It seemed nice to be carried around or receive a new Barbie every report card day. My mother always said I was too fat to lift even two feet above the ground, and that my grades weren't supposed to be rewarded. Lily always called her father "daddy" and got a laugh out of him; I had to call my own father "sir" and be scolded for wasting my time on frivolous things.

Whenever Lily gave me a toy or some apples from her family's garden, my mother shoved some bananas from our sari-sari store and made me give some in exchange. Even when Lily denied the offer and explained that they already had bananas at home, I had to insist on her taking them.

My parents tolerated our friendship. Even when they were too ashamed of meeting Lily's parents and made excuses for why they couldn't accept their invitation for dinner at their two-story villa, they let me go on alone in my communion dress. I would leave our barangay and wait for Mr. Felipe at the local waiting shed while trying to remember whatever reason my parents made up this time.

"Audrey?" Mr. Felipe called out, jolting me out of my thoughts. "I think your mother wants to see you."

"Mother?" I asked in confusion. Sure enough, I stuck my head out of the fancy car and saw my mother walking towards us. She carried around plastic bags filled with meat bought from the market, dressed in an ugly polka-dot dress that made me want to die of embarrassment.

Mr. Felipe left the driver's seat and made his way to the creature I wished I wasn't related to. They laughed together for a bit before mother pointed at me and said some things I couldn't hear. Lily's father soon came back to the car while mother stayed where she was, anxiously looking at me peering from the window.

"Listen, Audrey. Your mother wants you to go home with her. I offered to drive you both home, but she refused and told me she'd feel safer if you both walked home together. I'm really sorry, we can have fun another time." Mr. Felipe told me in a sad voice.

Lily groaned in disappointment and hugged me goodbye. I promised to see them both soon, then got out and slowly walked to the creature who spoiled all my fun.

Mother took my hand and we walked home in silence. I refused to look at her in anger for taking me away from my planned day of fun.

I was about to break a personal record for my frustrated vows of silence when a strange sight caught our eye.

It was a boy as old as my sister. A policeman dragged him out of a small brown Volkswagen while the young man yelled out words I couldn't understand. Another policeman took out a large signboard then broke it in half. Some lolos and lolas shook their heads in disapproval while other mothers pointed at him, their own teenage children looking on in confusion and bewilderment. My mother dragged me along to walk faster, but couldn't make it through the forming crowd. Letting out a frustrated grunt, she and I turned a corner to enter a small carinderia. Contrary to the circus forming outside, this place was quiet and barren. In a rare show of familial unity, we sighed in relief.

Mother ordered coffee. I asked for hot Milo. We didn't speak, understandably annoyed at each other's silent tantrums, yet scared of what we had seen a few minutes ago. I craned my head to see what else happened to the boy, but couldn't see anything past the crowds of tall grown-ups jeering and raising their arms. Mother still said nothing and merely looked down at her cup, still full of that black liquid forbidden to little girls like me.

The lady who'd served our drinks earlier stared out the window of her shop, her graying hair and narrow eyes fitting the image of a toughened lola.

"His parents died when he was five." She uttered, breaking the suffocating silence. "A priest from Mindanao adopted him. They took him away too when the boy was sixteen."

Mother said nothing and still looked at her coffee, the elixir of life now cooling with the air-conditioned wind. I merely looked up, my large eyes evocative of childish curiosity. Our waitress continued.

"He was fighting for orphaned children to know what happened to their parents. To know why they were shunted off into convents or orphanages against their will."

I matured for three minutes and forgot about my childish tantrum. "Why did the policemen take him? He wasn't hurting anyone, right?"

I asked a grown-up question. I wanted a grown-up answer.

Lola smiled and tussled my hair. This time, I didn't care about how oily or greasy it was.

"He was too scary for them, iha. They didn't want someone to talk about how bad they were, so they took him away because it was easier to do."

I got my grown-up answer. Mother nodded, then paid and left with me. I craned my neck to see lola one last time.

Her eyes were big and full of hope.

The rest of the time spent walking was silent. I kept my head down and merely listened to the songs playing on radios for sale or tidbits of conversations that other grown-ups were having. I made out the words "TV" and "Proclamation", thinking they were talking about boring dramas or books again. My mother never looked behind and kept walking, hiding whatever expression she was making from me.

I didn't care, she was always hiding stuff from me.

We got home, soon enough. I ran to my room and flipped through the magazines my sister gave me while mother went to make dinner. Nana and father weren't home yet, so I enjoyed the few minutes of freedom I had before people would start bossing me around again.

Before I knew it, I fell asleep and woke up to everyone's hushed voices reverberating from outside my room.

I couldn't figure out what they were talking about. Only that father said something about "Martial Law".