Just a Pomelo Fruit

No, not again! Mayla heard herself complain when she saw the long queues. She could not make it on time for her favorite TV news program! There were several long lines towards the waiting buses bearing different sign boards: Monumento, Cubao, Sta. Ana, SM West, Better Living, Escolta.

“Can you tell me where the El Grande bus parks, Miss?  Or has it already left?” she turned to ask the schoolgirl with long braided hair wearing a red checkered skirt and white cotton blouse. The look in her eyes told Mayla that she had inquired from the wrong person. The student merely hunched her shoulders and pouted her lower lip.

Why couldn’t people be a little less arrogant? She was complaining to herself again. She graduated from one of the best girls’ schools in the south, but she grew up not bragging about it. Should she?

Mayla looked down at her wristwatch, and then up towards the sky. It was twenty minutes before six in the evening. She could not make it. The lovely sky was a contrast between wild amber and pale salmon.

It was at a time like this. Greenbelt Park was a Christmas scene even in February, where all of its trees glistened and every nook and corner was occupied. There would never be a time like that in all of her heart throb’s history. How beautiful it was to cherish yesterday! But painful.

Now she knew better.

Mayla found her line at last. There was no El Grande bus in sight yet, but the queue of waiting passengers was beyond description. Her stiletto shoes were not supportive enough as she stood up, making her uncomfortable and heavy. But like a well-bred individual, she stayed online, right behind the schoolgirl in the red checkered skirt! She was regaining her lost composure when all of a sudden…

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“Sampaguita leis, Ma’am, sampaguita?” asked the first boy.

“Look, this one is fresh, Ma’am,” said the second boy.

“No, this one is. Just one, Ma’am?” insisted the first one.

“She will buy from me!” shouted the second one.

“No!  From me!” shouted the first one.

The two boys started punching each other. Quickly, Mayla reached for her purse out of her handbag.

“Here, take this. Ten pesos for each of you. Please stop fighting.” It was more of a request than a command.

With each boy holding a brown bill in his hand, the fight stopped. They both handed Mayla the fragrant garlands which she refused. “No, no, I am not buying from either one of you. We do not have a ‘santo’ at home to offer them to,” Mayla told her friends, without sounding offensive. Then she smiled.  The two boys smiled back. They were threadbare. Almost of the same height. Barefooted. Bronze-skinned from the tips of their foreheads down to their toes. They looked like they had not been to a barber shop for ages. And their eyes—mischievous eyes with laughing irises. Almost yellow teeth. Shy. But they seemed friendly. 

“What’s your name?” she asked the boy to her right.

“Ma’am, my name is Andy. And my friend’s name is Lucas.”

“Hey, I like those names! So, why do you fight?” Mayla asked.

“Because he gets more sales than I do, Ma’am, with less effort, too. He does not need to shout to catch the attention of people,” Andy replied with a glint of jealousy while looking at his friend who got tipped on the head.

“You always hit me on my head, Andy!  I’ll go and tell Mother!” Lucas made a furious threat to the jeering Andy. Peace settled after a few minutes.

Mayla felt they were a duo of contrasting happy creatures. One was warm. The other was tepid.  Nonetheless, both exuded no hint of arrogance in their eyes.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Mayla asked. It was a silly question, but it was, at the moment, something handy and what she could afford to say.

“When we’re older and bigger, Ma’am,” the outspoken Andy replied, looking confident.

“How about you, Ma’am? Do you have a boyfriend?” asked the sweet Lucas.

Mayla was caught off guard. Nevertheless, the conversation was gladly lighting up, and she was enjoying the moment with her young friends.

“Yeah, I used to have one but he ditched me for another girl. Sad, no?” Mayla managed to say that part and looked away.

“How come? You are beautiful, Ma’am,” Andy complimented her in a voice of protest.

“And nice, too,” finished the other boy. This sent Mayla smiling.

The schoolgirl might have heard the exchanges and felt uneasy.  Very “corny,” as the elite would say.  Mayla heard the girl produce a willful hiccup. 

As she groped for a bright answer, Mayla preached to her little brethren, “Sometimes two people fall in love with who should not.” She received a blank response from them so she hastily added, “You wait until you get older and bigger, boys. You will know what I am trying to say.”

“We’re ten, and in the third grade. Almost old enough. When we grow up, we will be soldiers, Ma’am,” Lucas spoke timidly.

“We will protect the fallen and the oppressed. We will defend the country against the enemies,” quipped Andy.

How they made Mayla’s heart alive with their dreams! How surprising for two small boys to be talking this way to her—a stranger in their eyes. And in this odd, beautiful way.

“My father could have made it to the Army if he were a stronger man,” Lucas commented without being asked. “But he failed the training. It was too much for him. My mother said he should instead assist her in selling camote and banana ques in Pasay,” the boy Lucas spoke with pride.

“How about you, Andy?  What do your parents do for a living?” Mayla asked, without really meaning to be inquisitive.

“A lot of things. Sometimes Father rents a jeepney and drives it in the evenings. “My mother accompanies him while he drives. I have an older brother, Danny, who works as a jeepney dispatcher at the Rotonda. There are eight in the family. I have a baby sister, Tala, who has polio. Mother takes her to the Mantrade underpass when it doesn’t rain. Anyone can find all kinds of beggars in Mantrade. Father says that even little girls should earn a living. He shouts and throws away anything when he is drunk.  That is why Mother keeps him company when he drives at night.” There seemed to be a lot more to say, but Mayla noticed that the boy’s face fell with every word he uttered.

“Is that so?” was all that Mayla could say. What she felt was half pity and half wonder for her two friends. She was into many challenges in life herself, but as she counted her blessings, she considered herself not too bad from the rest. “Lucas, you would not mind if I give Andy twenty pesos more, would you?” she asked while she unzipped her purse and took out a twenty-peso bill.

“No, not at all, Ma’am,” came Lucas’s reply while also withdrawing something from his secret pocket.  “The elderly American and his wife gave me this five-dollar bill. He said I should buy myself a pair of shoes, but I will show this to my mother first,” he proudly said, showing us the clean, crisp bill.

At long last, the big blue bus arrived! The two boys who became Mayla’s instant friends bade her goodbye. Who knows, she might be seeing them again in this same spot.

“God bless you, my little friends,” she mumbled as soon as she got into the bus. It was a chilly evening, but her heart glowed with a special warmth. She gained two friends whose obscure yet significant stories tugged her heart.

“The traffic is bad,” Mayla heard the disgruntled driver as she paid her ticket.

What a relief it was to finally step on the bus’s ramp after an hour’s wait down the line. She wiggled her toes as soon as she found her seat.  They had gone stiff from too much standing, but sitting down beside the same schoolgirl in that checkered skirt made her even stiffer!

The brief encounter with her new friends found its way to the dining table as Mayla talked about it over dinner with her sisters. She enthusiastically introduced Andy and Lucas to them. It was the only time when they could gather themselves and share whatever unusual or interesting topics and experiences they had for the day.

“Any remarkable news on TV early this evening?” she inquired from the girls.

“Watch for the 10 o’clock replay of the news series. They promised to feature another freak baby,” Dyan announced as she shrugged her shoulders and headed to her room.’

Mayla waited on the couch in the living room. And she did watch. Stale news was still news for her, but as soon as she turned on the television, she was welcomed by two cognizable figures being flashed on the screen. The confirmation came when the reporter read, “Two sampaguita lei vendors in serious condition when mauled over by the store owner. The boys were caught stealing one pomelo fruit.  Details of this story and other fresh reports will continue.”

“Oh, no, not those two boys! They would never do it.  Not them.” Mayla uttered in disbelief.

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“Andy Nueva and Lucas España were caught at 8:30 tonight picking up a fallen Sunblest pomelo fruit beside a creek near his fruit stand when the store owner saw them.”

One rotten and stinking pomelo fruit, Mr. Vendor? Picking up, and stealing from, are two different things.  How could you? “God bless you, Andy and Lucas, my two little friends.” was all Mayla could say.  Then she cried.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Maria Evelyn Quilla Soleta
Maria Evelyn Quilla Soleta

Maria Evelyn Quilla Soleta is a poet/writer whose thoughts and subjects, especially on motherhood, are unadorned, truthful, and purposely warm. She started to write when she was six, wrote short stories for anthologies, and has published three poetry books—My Twenty Poems, Finding My Heart, and Chasing Sunsets with You. Evelyn’s husband Danny, her four girls Andrea, Guia, Daniella, and Laura, and grandchildren Tala, Mayla, and Lucas, are her inspiration to pursue this first love of hers—writing.

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