A Twist Of Time

thirty four

I woke up in a bed, a cozy one, with the laptop shut down and my things scattered on the floor. I was wearing a jacket, pants, and sneakers, with my phone stuck in my hands and the sky wide awake, greeting me a good morning.

And Mom did, too.

"You've been asleep," she said, happily. "What were you doing?"

"I-"

I couldn't continue. There was something in my head that kept budging me. What happened while I was asleep?

"Mom, how long was I asleep?"

"Uh, fourteen hours and thirty three minutes. I started to get worried. But I couldn't wake you up. You seemed so happy dreaming." She poured coffee in her cup. "What were you dreaming of?"

"Uh," I shook my head, trying to remember. Nothing. "I don't remember."

"Seemed deep, though. Oh, and I signed that letter you gave me, about the whole Presidential Museum field trip. Costs a lot, but I managed to do it. Here."

Mom handed me an envelope which beared the logo of my school and I stuffed it inside my bag. Glancing at the time, I took a shower, kissed Mom goodbye, and left for school, though I was a few minutes late because I woke up after the bus arrived.

"Valerie? Is that you? Are you really alive?" Alexis, one of my closest friends, asked.

"Yes, apparently," I responded, looking at my arms.

"You look so thin. You look like you haven't eaten in days. God, what happened to you?" Priscilla, another friend, asked.

"I don't know, but one thing I'm sure of is that I can't remember anything from that day-old nap."

"Is that why you were absent?" Alexis asked. "Because you were sleeping?"

"It's normal. Even I would do that," Priscilla replied. "Anyway, Miss Cruz has stocked us with a shit ton of homework. You need to get started because she gave you a shoutout while you were away."

Miss Cruz was our advisory teacher who taught History and maybe also her life. A grumpy, stubborn old woman she was.

"Miss Helfon, it's nice to see you after your beauty rest. Hasn't your mother bothered to wake you up?" Cruz asked.

"No, ma'am. She doesn't like disrupting my sleep."

"In that case, I'll have you leave and go to the library and read up on the topics we discussed as a class in the days your absence has occurred. Here's a hall pass."

She handed me the pink slip and I walked out, looking at Priscilla and Alexis.

History wasn't a fun subject. I didn't understand why we had to learn about dead people in dusty books during times we never cared about.

I was standing in the middle of the History section when I actually read what topics I had to read on.

Philippine Presidents: The 16 Heroes and their accomplishments that have contributed to the Filipino race.
The Commonwealth of the Philippines
The Martial Law era

There was a book up a shelf with the words "THE COMMONWEALTH AND HOW IT HAS HELPED US" imprinted on its spine, so I went with that, not bothering to care about what book it actually was. It said Commonwealth anyway.

As I was reading the book, there was a headache that struck through me like lightning; or like the Blitzkrieg (which I only found out the definition just now, since a book about World War 2 was conveniently open beside me.)

Page 562 was what made it worse. The page where a picture of Sergio Osmeña, fourth President of the Republic of the Philippines, was found. I didn't understand.

There was nothing I knew about him apart from the fact that he's been a president and a somehow cool guy who served for so many years in the government. But there was something that was telling me I knew more. I didn't.

Annoyed by my headache, I shut the book and put it back to its rightful shelf, leaving it there. It was probably haunted.

Three days after that and it was the Malacañan field trip. I had Alexis and Priscilla be my field trip buddies as we walked through the halls of the white building, enchanted and as royal as it looked.

Something was off. Like everything here was familiar. I didn't even notice that my hands were already feeling the walls, looking for something that could answer this feeling I've had about the whole place. But I stopped when a guard rudely glared at me and guided me back to the actual museum.

There's the Sergio guy again. He never fails to give me headaches. I was standing in front of a huge painting of him, observing and learning what was about him that gave me headaches and unnatural feelings.

"You're haunting me, aren't you?" I asked the painting. "It's not funny. Go back to... Cebu, or wherever you came from," I said, looking at a small autobiography of him near his picture. "You seem like a pretty cool person, though. I wish I knew more about you. Sadly, I do not care about History that much to know more about it."

He was still there, smiling shyly at the painter, with his posture proper and his hands stable. "Nevermind," I muttered. "Stop haunting me. I don't know you."

I walked back to Priscilla and Alexis, but I was stopped by two old ladies walking down the stairs, whispering to each other while looking at me. I pulled down my hoodie and continued strutting down the stairs. They were still following.

I glanced at my sides, looking for Priscilla and Alexis, when one of them touched my shoulder and called my attention. I turned around. They gasped.

"It really is her," the lady with her hair up in a bun sighed. "Valerie."

"It's like she never changed."

"I'm sorry," I started, "but who are you, and why do you know my name?"

The latter laughed. "Of course she doesn't remember that, Margaux. Neither of us do."

"Oh, please, Jane. I'm not the forgetful pop around here."

The lady in a white dress (which, apparently, was Jane) looked at me unbelievably, as if she was stunned. "It's you, Valerie. The First Lady."

"The what now?" I exclaimed.

"I told you she doesn't remember," Margaux (apparently) said. "I can't tell you anything but except that you were a friend of mine, and we love you so much."

"That's true," Jane responded. "And so did he."

She pointed at the picture of Sergio.

"I don't understand. Look, the both of you look like really nice people, but I don't think we've met before. I'm sorry," I said, once again.

They looked at each other. "Shall we?" Jane asked.

"Go ahead. She deserves to know."

"Valerie," Jane said, walking to me and holding my right hand up. "He wanted you to have this."

A brown box with the marks of dust and age was now on my hand, which she took out of the purse she was handling. There was gold engraved on it and the seal of the President embossed on the lock.

"You'll thank us later," she said.

And they left. Without a word. Leaving me with a heavy brown box in my hand.