THE WET PEOPLE
A SHORT STORY by Joey D. Bidan Jr.
Rizal Park has been wet for a few hours after the rain and the mass at the temporarily built church has just ended. Fely took out her purse and waited for her husband. He was smiling at her as he guided their son out. She smiled back at them, happy to see them having fun in this beautiful Sunday morning.
Her husband carried their son now and walked straight to the Rizal statue where a woman was overjoyed to meet them. Probably a friend Benjie had not mentioned yet, Fely thought. But still, why should he approach her first before me?
Fely was walking towards them now when she saw Benjie pass Ryan from his arms to the lady's - who was complete a stranger. She stopped when she saw her baby Ryan kiss that lady and ask her to go home already. The lady said something back to her little boy and took Benjie's arm gently as they casually walk towards the park's gate.
What in heaven's name are they doing? She thought. Is this some cruel joke acting like that in front of me, worse near the church right after the mass? Oh, the nerve of that woman! And Benjie! I could never forgive this insult!
But Ryan. Ryan my child. Where are they taking him? No. No!
With a face turning red, Fely marched hard to the gate pushing people who are blocking her way as she saw Benjie about to open the black Toyota Innova car. Then she slapped him.
"You shameless cheaters!" Fely said, breathing hard now. "Where are you taking my son?"
"What are you--" her husband said with wide-opened eyes looking at her then to the woman.
"--Mark, who is she?" the woman said shifting Ryan to her other arm. "What's going on?"
Fely could not believe it. Their acting was so good! Right here in public, now that everybody is looking at them. Denying on my face like I dont exist, Fely thought. Like we never left home and attended mass together!
"I don't care about you anymore Benjie" Fely said, tears streaming down her eyes. "But don't you dare take my son with your woman!"
"Mommy I'm scared. Let's go home now." Ryan said to the woman's face then hugged her.
Fely was surprised even her son denies her existence that fast. Embracing that stranger like she's the one who breastfed him since birth. Was this all Benjie's setup? She thought. Was my three-year-old brainwashed? Fely just placed her palm on her mouth in disbelief.
Benjie was speechless and just hurriedly opened the car's door. The woman was about to go inside when Fely ran to her and managed to grab Ryan's jumper who just started to cry hard now. Benjie began pulling her away.
"No! No! Don't you take my son! Ryaaan!" Fely was screaming as policemen were coming towards them. "Ryaaaannnnn!"
5 Days Later
Detectives Melencio Yao and Gariano Marcos just got out of their patrolcar after parking it at a corner in Phase2B of the V&G Subdivison.
"Have you heard of this 'Wet People' rumors going around lately?" Yao asked Marcos as the latter took out a pack of cigarettes. Both of them are looking at the Torrets Family's house. "You know. Dead people showing up after the flood; Jeepney drivers taking a ride for wet passengers who suddenly disappear night or day; employees seeing watery chairs, tables and typewriters of dead owners; soaking wet pale priests walking the streets--"
"--and wet children playing with their toys? yeah, I heard a lot." Marcos lnterrupted, puffing his smoke now. "Most of my friends from, Tanauan, Palo and in San Jose share morbid tales like that. I still stick to good old 'to-see-is-to-believe' mentality."
"And I've got a feeling you're about to prove that in this Torrets's Family case." Yao smiled to his partner as he knocked on the door.
A few minutes after, in the Torrets Family Sala the detectives are sipping on their mugs of black coffee.
"...as you know Mr. Torrets, your case is now closed. The lady now in our custody named Fely Dubasta who was and still claiming, you are her husband and your son is hers is suffering from Schizophrenia." Marcos was still explaining to the couple as he glanced to his partner Yao, who is still silently staring at the mirror for several minutes now.
"...we went to her house at Brgy. Baras in Palo and found her TRUE husband and son who were Mr. Juanito Dubasta Senior and Junior---"
"---so are they alright? Why were'nt they at the police station? Is Fely really crazy enough to confuse them with my family knowing that her husband and son are actually at home?" Mrs. Jane Torrets said, curious with the weird expression and behavior of the detectives.
"Ma'am. As you know, Mr. Dubasta Senior and Junior are dead. We found their clothed skeletons still in their bed and our forensics team confirmed they drowned in the storm surge of the Yolanda Typhoon--"
"--OH MY GOD!" Mrs. Torrets covered her mouth in shock as she sat back on the sofa.
"...I could imagine the impact of her trauma... keeping their decomposing bodies still in her house...convincing herself they're still alive...OH GOD..." Mr. Torrets was staring at the floor in horror then stood up to walk slowly away towards the kitchen.
An hour later, outside the house Detective Marcos is shaking Mrs. Torrets' hand. He glanced to the car and saw his partner pale as a chalk like he saw something scary.
"You sure you don't want to stay for dinner with us?"
"Nah sorry, maybe next time ma'am thanks for the time. I'll call you for a few more paperworks. I just gotta take my partner home."
"Yeah. He sure looks like he's not feeling well. You guys take care."
As Marcos went inside the car to start the engine he saw Yao shaking nervous, eyes bloodshot.
"...the mirror." He was breathing hard now. "I saw then in the mirror..."
Mrs. Torrets was in the kitchen pouring the last ounce of macaroni soup from the laddle to the bowl. She took the gloves and brought the bowl steaming to the dining room where her husband is telling a funny story to their son.
"Here's your favorite!" She said and was about to place the bowl to the table when she suddenly screamed, the glass bowl crashing loud on the floor. Her shout frightened her husband and her son who turned to her.
In front of them is their reflection on the mirror. Right there, staring at her with bloodshot decomposing eyes is a tall man in torn blue shirt and beside him a boy with black lips carrying a ball. Father and son. Pale as a chalk. Dripping wet.
Jane continued to shout, pointing at the mirror. But it was too late...
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