The Witness

Chapter 13 - Nazareth

The guest room was smaller than Rosa's old bedroom, but its door had a lock, and that was all she cared about. "You can't get it in without a key," reassured Mely. "You really have to knock or break the door down first."

For the hundredth time that morning, Rosa thanked her. Mely left. Rosa dropped her duffel bag on the floor, between the single bed and the window. Then she flopped on the bed and closed her eyes.

She didn't even realize how tired she was. She didn't sleep well last night, and she woke up very early. The bed, by contrast, ate her up with its soft thickness and warmth. She snuggled against the pillows, feeling secured. Her uncle was so far away now. She had no clue what was going to happen to her next, but right now, at least for now, she was safe.

A couple of hours later, Rosa woke up. So it's not a dream, she thought, sitting up on her bed and observing her surroundings. The window opened to the street, to the quaint windy little neighborhood outside. On her other side was a small desk with a tiny Santo Nino statue and a crucifix where several multi-colored rosaries hung. Numerous photographs were plastered on the walls, in thick old-fashioned dark brown frames with carvings. Rosa tried to look for Steven's face among them, but she wasn't sure. One of the men looked like him, as well as a young boy, but it could be his father or grandfather for all she knew.

Directly in front of the bed was a cabinet. Rosa did not want to open it. It was so soon, and it might be rude.

There was a knock on the door. "Rosa, are you awake?" Mely asked from the other side. "It's lunch."

After their simple meal of pinakbet, rice, and adobo, Rosa volunteered to wash the dishes. Mely insisted that she didn't need to, but Rosa was adamant. "Please give me a way to express how grateful I am," she explained, and Mely let her.

Mely spent the first half of the afternoon in the living room, watching soap operas, then folding and ironing clothes (with Rosa's help, of course). Then she continued working on a painting in her mini studio, tucked in a corner of the living room, which consisted of a medium-sized canvas and easel, a stool, and a long workbench. Rosa watched her for a while, but her attention was drawn to a tall glass bookcase near the mini studio. It was filled with layers and layers of dusty old paperback novels with brittle, yellow pages. Rosa mustered up enough courage to ask if she could pick a book or two. "I love reading," she said.

Mely nodded, not looking up from her painting. "Go ahead," she said. "Pick as many as you like, as long as you return them properly afterwards."

Rosa settled with two: an old-fashioned noir about gangs and molls which she wanted to save for later, and another book titled The True Cross. The latter was more gripping than at first glance. She initially thought it would be another boring Christian novel, but she was hooked from the first page onward. It was a spiritual journey, a mystery, and a quest. It told the legendary story of Empress Helena, who at the age of eighty was said to have found the relics of Christ's execution, including the cross and nails. She was then venerated as the patron saint of new discoveries.

Ambivalent as she still was towards religion, Rosa thoroughly enjoyed it. She could relate to St. Helena for some reason. And she noticed, with some amusement, that the saint's feast day fell on her birthday, the eighteenth of August. She wished that she had picked her as her confirmation saint years ago, even though she had, by fourteen, already stopped believing in anything.

Around five-thirty, Steven arrived home. Rosa looked up from her book, the last chapter of which she was just finishing, and watched his minivan park in the garage beside the front garden. Out of the minivan tumbled four children--two boys and two girls, between the ages of fourteen and five, Rosa guessed. They wore similarly-colored dark brown skirts, slacks, and ties along with spotless white collared tops. Together they all rushed to the doorway, where Mely hugged them one by one. Steven went out last, checking if the car was locked properly. He kissed his wife as he entered.

Rosa smiled at him in greeting.

"How are you, Rosa?" he asked.

"Very well," replied Rosa. "Thank you very much, again."

All four children stared at her, though more curiously than rudely, before looking at their parents for an explanation.

"Rosa will be staying with us for a while," Mely explained. "She'll be helping us with Sylvia's case. She's a witness."

"The only witness," added their father. "She needs to be protected. She'll cooperate with the investigation and speak in court in defense of Joaquin. And, for the meantime, she'll be staying at our guestroom. Which means no playing there for now."

The younger boy and younger girl frowned.

"You can play inside," reassured Rosa. "Just knock, and I'll leave the room while you play as long as you don't touch my things."

"Or you can play with us!" The younger boy suddenly brightened up. "We need at least three for hide-and-seek. Kuya Rico is too old, and Ate Ingrid thinks she's too old."

"Shut up," snapped the older girl. She smiled at Rosa and shook her hand. "We haven't introduced ourselves properly. I'm Ingrid. I just turned twelve, which is too old, Sean." She glared at her little brother.

Sean stuck out his tongue at her and grinned at Rosa. He held out his hand, and she shook it too. "Sean," he said. "I'm eight."

"Nice to meet you two."

The eldest followed suit. "I'm Rico," he said. "Thirteen."

Rico, Ingrid, Sean, thought Rosa, committing their names and ages to memory. Thirteen, twelve, eight. She turned to the youngest, who smiled bashfully and hid behind the eldest. "And you, little one?"

"Ella," whispered the little girl. "Five."

"Rico, Ingrid, Sean, Ella," repeated Rosa. "Interesting. The first letters of your names, in order, spell the word 'RISE.'"

The children's eyes widened. Sean and Ella gasped. "You're so observant," commented Ingrid. "I like that. I like you."

"Same," added Rico. "Maybe now, with you around, we'll no longer get death threats."

"Yay!" Sean clapped his hands. "We can use the phone again!"

"Not so fast," his mother cut in. "This is just the start of the battle. Rosa needs us just as much as we need her. I want you to help her feel at home here."

I already do, Rosa thought, too afraid to say it out loud in case this beautiful gift would be taken away from her.

They ate dinner after a while. Rosa sat between Ingrid and Rico, and the whole family held hands as they said the grace. "Thank you, Lord," began Mely. "Thank you for this bountiful meal, and for answering our prayers by bringing Rosa to us. Lord, please bless her and bless us in this fight for justice. Amen."

Then they ate. Rico talked to his parents about algebra and girls, to which his father and mother responded with sound advice. Sean and Ingrid teased each other, but offered each other the remaining piece of chicken, which told Rosa volumes about their relationship as siblings. In the end, the two agreed to give the piece to Rosa, who found it hard to refuse. Little Ella bounced up and down in her seat and proudly counted to a hundred. Hiding their boredom, the whole family praised her afterwards.

That night, after helping Rico with the dishes (it was his turn to do the chore), Rosa took her two books to the guest room and reread her favorite parts of The True Cross. Then, after turning off the lights, she stretched on her bed and turned to her side. She smiled. She slept without worries. She did not dream.