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Chapter 2: Town of Drifts

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Town of Drifts

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IF SOMEONE would ask me what I hate the most in the world, I would simply not reply and make that person wait for my response; because that's how infuriating it is to wait.

I remember it as clear as day: the smell of wet, worn socks, and rotten meat that engulfed the neighborhood of Lola Rosalina. Her wooden home was wedged between an old shack and an abandoned building that creaked the most during thunderstorms.

Pag tumingin ka sa labas, makikitang nakasampay ang mga damit ng kapit-bahay sa bubong nila, making it seem like it was a fiesta of poverty. Maybe it was.

Sitting by the window sill that overlooked the neighborhood was something I would never forget. Sa pwestong iyon, doon ko araw-araw na hinihintay ang pagdating ni Lola Rosalina na may dalang kaunting pagkain — minsan dilis, minsan tinapay.

She would constantly hug me when she arrives home from work, gently placing her calloused palms onto the blades of my shoulders. Titignan niya ako sa mata at saka tatanungin, "Eloise, may naaalala ka na ba?"

I would stare back at her gray orbs that are full of hope, only to see that flicker of light be washed away with sadness pagka sinasabi ko na wala pa rin akong maalala.

Eversince she claimed to have found me unconscious near the train tracks that bordered the regions of Therron and Castell, Lola Rosalina had become my mother figure; always asking me about that day — always trying to make me remember what was left of who I am. Kung sino nga ba ako bago maiwan sa lugar na yun.

So I did. 

When she'd leave in the mornings to attend to her job as a train conductor in one of Therron's railway stations, I'd sit by the window in her bedroom and wait. Buong araw kong hihintayin ang pagdating ng isang memorya, pilit na inaalala ang rason kung bakit ako natagpuan sa pagitan ng mga riles.

I try to find something familiar amongst the people in Lola Rosalina's neighborhood, but they seem just as confused and hazy as I am, always in a spectacle of trying to survive the day by not dying of starvation.

Everyday it was the same, always waiting for a memory to return; always waiting for the answers to arrive and come knocking at my door. 

And everyday, I had been waiting for nothing.

Eventually though, I grew tired of trying to remember and focused on other important things. Si Lola Rosalina nalang ang rason ko para mabuhay, so I always tried to help her in many ways I can. Sa pag-linis, sa pag-laba; sa pag-hanap ng makakain maliban nalang sa isda at tinapay na binibili niya.

May isang araw na naaalala ko pa, nag-iikot ako sa wet market para makahanap ng ibang pagkain. I caught eye of a woman who was buying a large, grilled fish with fresh lemons and parsley. "Anong klaseng pagkain 'yon Kuya Tadong, mukhang masarap eh," Bulong ko kay Kuya Tadong, isang kapit-bahay ni Lola Rosalina na nagbebenta ng tuyo sa wet market. Madalas ko siyang sinasamahan mag-benta lalo na pag walang magawa sa bahay.

Natawa ito. "Aba, limang-daan ang isang ganyan, El," Sabi niya sakin, calling me by the shorter version of my name. "'Di tayo pwede mag-ulam ng ganyan."

I frowned in disdain. "Ha, eh bakit?"

"Dahil mahirap tayo, Eloise. Drifts ang tawag nila sa atin. Wala tayong pera kagaya ng mga mayayamang 'yan. Ang mayroon tayo ay isang tuldok lang ng bigas para sa kanila." Mahinang sabi ni Kuya Tadong, natatakot na marinig ng matipunong lalaki na kasama ng babaeng namimili ng isda. Nakatingin na ito samin.