Fate In Ink

chapter 19

My first memory of death was when I was five years old.

I remember being told not to wear my pink dress that day. I was told to wear something white or black, because we were to visit my aunt's funeral.

I was nervous. At that point, my head was filled with blood, claws, and worms when I thought of 'death,' thanks to the graphic depiction of horror movies. I knew they put them in a coffin, but I didn't understand why they needed to encase a dead person in a white box with glass over it. Who would want to see a dead body, right?

But on that day, there was no coffin.

They said my aunt died at sea, drowned during one of her diving excursions, her body devoured by the very thing she sought for. But I loved listening to people talk about her. They say she was 'a woman of the sea' and that everything involving the water was her turf. For a brief time, I think I wanted to take up fishing as my profession because of that.

But I became confused. I watched people talk about her happy memories, yet their eyes were swollen of tears and their cheeks were red and puffy.

White flowers were everywhere and the candles they lit brought little to no light to the family she left behind.

It was the same now.

I watched a couple of people come into the house of the Mangubats, offering condolences and flowers to the mother and daughter who were left behind. I was clad in a black dress and veil, holding the sampaguita we reserved for them.

"Catalina, come." Mother held me by the shoulder and led me to Teresa and her mother.

I offered the sampaguita to Teresa. "I'm sorry," I said.

Teresa nodded and accepted the flowers, keeping them close in her heart. Tears moisted her eyes, while I scrunched at the smell of the flowers - I knew they reminded me of death.

I sat next to Solana, peering at the people coming inside the house. To be honest, I expected more people to come to the funeral. If Solana's words held the truth that he was, indeed, a gentle person, I deduced more people would come. Even my aunt had at least fifty people who came to her funeral - and she was one frightening gal, they said.

But the house was nearly empty. A few candles were lit, and I shivered at the eerie feeling that crept up my spine.

I leaned close to Solana. "There aren't many people here."

Solana glanced around us, then her eyes fell back to the crucifix in the center of the room. "Teresa's father is branded a criminal. They threw his body somewhere, without a proper burial. People don't want to be associated with that," Solana whispered. Her jaw clenched and her eyes sparked fire, but her eyes never left the scene in front of us.

I frowned and leaned back on my seat. "That's messed up," I sighed.

"We should go to a picnic," Solana suddenly said.

My head turned to her as she leaned her face onto her palm. It was one weird thing to say in the middle of a funeral.

She met my eyes and sighed. "We should invite Teresa to come with us to the mountains. To get her mind off... this."

My confusion twitched into a smile. I held back a grin in courtesy of this setting we were in, but I couldn't help the surge of excitement filling me to the brim. "Do we get to go to the mountains? Or the river?" I asked with a hushed voice, reminiscing the sight of Mount Banahaw in all its glory.

Solana bit the side of her lip and tilted her head. "Maybe?" she said and wiggled her eyebrows.

"Oh, please, can we go?" I said in a soft voice and shook her hand a bit too hard.