As the first episode of the Philippines Graphic Literary Workshop (PGLW) slowly came to its conclusion on February 28, we knew that we had one more thing that we can offer our bright young fellows: a starting platform for their creative endeavors. Here, we present one of their final outputs from the workshop. We also asked them to provide an artwork that they think best represents their stories. Read on.
Jia has no idea how she got to bed last night. At what time she dozed off, or who laid her there. All she knows is that she’s still in her party dress, a pale yellow to hint at her gentle nature, but short enough to entice men to unravel who she really is inside.
She closed her eyes to catch a few more minutes of sleep, but failed, listening instead to the soft waves crashing against the shore. It was much quieter, like a whisper from a lover who did not want to wake their partner.
The tide has lowered now. Jia sat up in bed and peeked from her window. Waves that threatened to enter her room last night were now a mile away. As she tried to stand, a sharp pain suddenly struck her head.
She didn’t grab the painkillers on her bedside table. It never did help her hangovers, anyway.
Her bare feet finally touched the ground, warm from the bit of sun that crept into the room. With all the strength she could muster, she stretched her arms as far as she could to let out a morning yawn.
As she pulled her arms towards the ceiling, her body revealed aching areas one by one. First it was her shoulders, then her lower back, then the most aching of all, her thighs—burning, as if she had run a marathon overnight.
She furrowed her brows as she remembered that she had used all the patches of Salonpas last week. Painkillers would have to do for now.
Jia’s toes drummed to an imaginary beat as she tried to recall last night’s events.
It was her neighbor who threw the party. As a close friend, it was only natural that she got invited. When Jia asked what warranted the celebration, her friend laughed in her face.
“Can’t I just throw parties because I want to?”
“I never said you can’t,” she replied, smiling. Before it got too quiet between them, she went straight into what she really wanted to know: “Who else will be there?”
“Just some friends from the Metro. I told them they could bring an additional guest, so I guess their friends too.”
And so Jia had seen last night: the friends of her friend and their friends, too. She asked their names as a formality but did not remember them. She had no reason to.
Like always, the party made its way to the shore. Drinks shared in the living room would first spill into the patio, and before anyone knew it, they were already at the mouth of the sea.
One of the guests brought a small Bluetooth speaker to keep the music going, but it proved useless. People talked over the music and each other, piecing together drunken bits of conversation. Guests who knew each other gathered in a small circle, and Jia knew not to join them. They were already too engrossed to welcome a new member to their discussion.
Jia, frustrated by her choice of wearing heels, finally kicked them off, letting them rest on the sand. She moved away from the guests and found a place by the shore alone, letting the cool breeze brush against her.
She wasn’t sure how she didn’t hear it: the alcohol and the crashing of the waves must have masked the sound of footsteps approaching.
“You forgot about these, Cinderella,” A man, who looked to be her age, had her stilettos hanging from his fingers. “You can’t let your pretty dress lose its partner, no?”
There was no way of telling under the moonlight that the color of her dress and shoes matched. He must’ve been eyeing her since he arrived.
The man moved closer, and Jia noticed that his shirt buttons were undone. He bent down and whispered an invitation in a tone Jia could not refuse: “Want to take the party elsewhere?”
Her body answered for her. The man dropped the shoes on the sand and responded to her touch.
Beer was all she could taste from his mouth. The bitterness of Pale Pilsen started to permeate hers, too. How disgusting, was all Jia could think about, but she kept going. She always had, even with the ones before him. Hands flew to places they weren’t at before, and his found their way to her waist, ready to lift her.
“My house,” was all she could mutter in between kisses. “Take me to my house.”
Jia shuddered and stopped her recollection there. She could already imagine how the night ended.
His name was somewhere in her memory. With how much she said it last night, it was surely etched into some corner of her mind, or maybe even her body. All she knew was she wanted to remember it, to say it in many more morning afters.
The barking of her neighbor’s dog snapped her back into the present. She caught a whiff of coffee brewing downstairs, stopping her train of thought.
“It can’t be…” Her man of the night actually making her breakfast? She usually never got to this stage.
Jia pulled her dress down and tidied her hair as best as she could. She could only do so much as someone who had just woken up.
Her heart thumped quicker with every step she took down the stairs. Morning discoveries of men who had fled were finally about to end.
As she reached the final step, Jia peered into the kitchen, checking if she could catch a glimpse of him making their breakfast. She carefully came closer, preparing to see a bare back bent over the counter.
It had been years since Jia had been taken care of by someone else. It was nice to know that it was still possible, considering she needed it; she was only getting older, and to leave the world alone would be a shame.
But as always, the fantasy dissipates. Only this time, it stretched into the early hours of the morning. No man stood in Jia’s kitchen. The coffee she smelled came from her neighbor’s machine, which she could now hear whirring like the big appliance it wants to be.
She turned around to look at the living room and frowned at the sight: empty beer bottles were scattered all over the floor. Pale Pilsen, her man’s drink of choice. He must have brought it over from her friend’s house after their own party upstairs. Jia never kept Pilsen in her home. Not even for the men who might enjoy it.
She sought to confront this man before she left. At least help me clean up your mess.
Still barefoot, she treaded the living room carefully, cautious of any shards that might dig into her skin. She tiptoed until she was at the front door, the soles of her feet coming into contact with the sand.
Her toes curled inward at the heat. The sun was becoming much hotter now.
Jia squinted while looking at the sea. With the tide so low, she could see the expanse of the sea floor. From a distance—and she could not be mistaken—she saw her yellow stiletto poking out of the surface.
Her feet itched to have their shoes back. She ran in a hurry to retrieve it, fighting against the mushy surface of wet sand. It was harder than ever to run, let alone step over rocks and shells to reach her shoe faster.
There were only a few meters between Jia and her stiletto. As she came closer, a smile began to form on her lips, but before it could fully realize itself, it turned into a frown.
While her legs wrestled with wet sand, she failed to notice her neighbor screaming. Their dog got out of its cage and caught up with her.
Its tail wagged in a wild manner, all too happy about the new toy it found. In a swift motion, the dog took her stiletto, oblivious to Jia’s frustration. The dog ran back to the shore with the shoe in its mouth, mocking the girl as it grew farther and farther away.
Jia stood where the water met the sand. From a distance, she could hear a car revving, making its way out of the area. If she turned around, she could catch a glimpse of a hand waving goodbye to friends, the same hand that had handled her hours before.
She could turn around now and scream for him to come back, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember his name; but maybe she actually didn’t want to.
Out of hunger and resignation, Jia sighed and came to a decision: the dog was not worth chasing after. Let the trash be someone else’s treasure.
Bettina Reyes is a second-year Literature major from the University of Santo Tomas and currently serves as a literary writer for The Flame. In 2018, her story, “The Love I See”, won the Communication Foundation for Asia’s “DO IT, DOCAT!” Short Writing Contest. Building on a foundation in English classes and campus journalism, Bettina’s passion for writing was fueled by the art of fanfiction. Drawing from Mieko Kawakami, she hopes to highlight the extraordinary within the seemingly mundane.
