She’s a great little housewife
Though sometimes she talks like a fool
But she helps at the store in the holiday rush
And she picks up the kids after school
And she puts down the phone when her husband comes home
And she changes from mother to wife
‘Til she feels the words hanging between them
And she hangs by her words to her life
Half a day had passed, swiftly, flittingly, like a blur, leaving Eduardo Rodriguez dog-tired, desperate, exasperated. It seemed like little, trivial matter.
Not much, not major, actually, compared to the stressful daily demands of his calling as a surgeon.
He had been looking for something quite mundane, so ordinary, the old pair of garden scissors that was normally stored at the brown cabinet lining both sides of the garage. Last he looked, over and over again, it wasnβt there anymore.
The garden scissors werenβt the only tool, item, instrument or condiment, he was searching for hopelessly that Saturday morning when the sun shone fiercest.
Earlier, he was blowing his mind looking for something or other, a favorite sign pen, a bottle of patis, an old checkbook. None of these, he could ever find where they should be.
Wiping sweat off his dark, sweaty, yet still handsome face at 60, Eduardo sighed to himself, βHow I wish Lolit could help me settle these simple tasks like she always did.β
In deep thought, he seemed oblivious as the vintage transistor radio beside him blurted the 1974 Barry Manilow song, Sandra. He liked that song a lot it could make him cry.
She says, I swear I love my husband,
I love my kids
I wanted to be like my mother
But if I hadn’t done it as soon as I did
Oh there might have been time to be me
For myself, for myself
There’s so many things that she wishes
She don’t even know what she’s missin’
And that’s how she knows that she missed
In their upstairs room, darkened by thick, black curtain that wouldnβt allow the sun to shine on them, Lolita sat still on a Lazy Boy, eyes fixated on nothingness, mind wandering.
The past several weeks, she had not been speaking much. She would only look at you with a blank stare, like she didnβt recognize you. She had forgotten to dye her hair, now in salt and pepper, now making her look like Eduardoβs grandmother.
The past two years had been traumatic for the Rodriguez family. Lolita was earlier diagnosed with stage 2-C breast cancer, for which she was operated on, a full mastectomy. The medical procedure was quickly followed by a battery of chemotherapy sessions and radiation.
While the episode gave her a big scare and left her scarred literally, Lolita went on with her life, even humoring her condition.
βNow, Iβve got no more reason to feel insecure about being as flat-chested as the next homeless pigeon. This is how flat any woman could ever be,β she told her best friend, Rita Gomez, during one of their coffee breaks. Both laughed out loud as they shared an order each of chocolate and carrot cakes.
She’s a sweetheart, except when she’s moody
It’s hard to get through to her then
Depressed for a while when the youngest was born
Oh but that happens now and again
She might take a drink with the housework
Or when Michael’s kept late at the shop
A Martini or two before dinner
But she always knows when to stop.
Not long after the breast cancer scare, which sent her to pits of depression and anxiety, Lolita showed little signs of forgetfulness. It started with minor, ordinary, tiny things.
βWhere did I put my sunglasses?β
βI forgot where I placed the flour for making bread.β
βI know I ordered lunch from some restaurant. What could it be?β
βIβm so sorry I forgot to pay the electric bill.β
The forgetful lapses became more often until one day, Lolita almost burned their two-storey house down, a mansion by village standards. She was cooking chicken tinola when she suddenly felt sleepy and decided to go up to her room to sleep.
Moments later, Eddie came home to save the house from total extinction. When he arrived, the kitchen was already clouded with thick smoke.
βI think we need help,β Eddie, in his cool, suave bedroom voice, whispered to Lolita one night before they went to bed. Lolita didnβt say a word, but didnβt launch a counter-offensive also.
She says I swear I love my husband and I love my kids
You know I wanted to be like my mother
But if I hadn’t done it as soon as I did
Oh there might have been time to be me
For myself, for myself
There’s so many things that she wishes
She don’t even know what she’s missin’
And that’s how she knows that she missed
The next day, they went to see Dr. Nelo Nayo, a renowned neurologist, and Eduardoβs best friend and classmate from medical school. The diagnosis shocked both Eddie and Lolita.
Lolita was showing signs of early dementia.
βThis could progress into full-blown Alzheimerβs Disease in no time,β he warned after prescribing a few medications to delay the onset of the dreaded disease.
The disease raced against time and caught up with Lolita faster than she could remember the names of her five children: Vilma, Gina, Roderick, Snooky, and Beth.
She had forgotten how to turn on the stove, much less, how to cook. She could no longer run the washing machine, wondering what it was.
In the absence of their children, who now lived separate lives, Eddie was left to his own devices. Aside from being Lolitaβs caregiver, he was also now the chief cook, laundryman, house cleaner, handyman. He had to lessen his duty days at the hospital.
On mornings like these, he also had to bathe his wife, who had forgotten the bathroom knobs, shower, and switches. How he missed Lolitaβs multiple roles as the woman in charge of the house, from leaks in plumbing to repair of either roof, cabinet, internet connection or all of the above.
This morning, when he couldnβt locate the garden scissors, Eduardo tried to amuse himself, βLolit, is your ailment contagious? Why do I keep forgetting things also?β
A flood of search questions rushed through his head, inviting panic attacks.
βWhere is the matchbox?β
βWhereβs the organic fertilizer?β
βWhere do you put the soy dish?β
βI canβt find the thermometer.β
βWhoβs going to throw out the garbage?β
βSweep the floor?β
βPick up my clothes littered on the hallways?β
βClean the bathroom?β
βWhoβs going to pay the monthly bills?β
βMost important of all, whoβs going to cook our meals? Wash our clothes?β
βI miss the fresh hand towel in my bathroom every other morning.β
βI crave your cooking, especially that chicken curry.β
To while away the time, and to get his mind off the yearning-sighing mode, Eduardo set out to do a bit of gardening. He was moved by a quote that crossed his news feed earlier.
It said, “Gardening adds years to your life and life to your years.ββ Author unknown.
Armed with a huge garden cutter, he trimmed the lush bougainvillea with the big trunk standing like a burly security guard by the gate.
This plant is special, a gift from
his nurse-secretary, Marlene, on his 45th birthday.
He remembers Marlene, young and with seducing, soporific eyes, whispering in his ear: βEvery time you see its burst of flowers, you will remember how colorful our love affair has been. How resilient, too, as it stood against all odds.β
His lips parted into a tentative smile.
Eddie set out to fix the branches, trying to fashion a tree out of the maturing plant.
βI love this bougainvillea,β he tells himself.
Not only are their flowers beautiful to look at when theyβre in bloom, in an overwhelming burst of red, yellow, and orange. All colors.
Theyβre also inexpensive and easy to maintain, his simple pleasure.
Bougainvillea, which blooms in summer and practically the whole year round, is among the most resilient of plants. It can withstand extreme weather, whether hot or cold, dry or wet, and other conditions such as lack of water, or as in the case of Metro Manila, a polluted environment.
Because its branches are thorny, the bougainvillea can also serve as an efficient security measure, giving the plant a certain edge. Even homeowners like Lolita prefer them as a guard against intruders who are sure to hurt themselves by simply touching a twig or branch.
Holding a bunch of twigs with flowers, Eduardo remembers Amalia, the pharmaceutical rep, she with the thick, perpetually reddish, pouting lips and swaying hips, recalling an episode.
One time, after a typhoon, Amalia asked her gardener to bring down fallen branches of the tree that blocked their driveway.
As the guy went about cutting mercilessly here and there, the thorns also cut his arms and fingers that led to wounding and bleeding.
He never showed up again after.
When Eddie told Marlene this story, she laughed out loud, as if warning him, βYou canβt easily get rid of me. Iβm as thorny as can be.β
Marlene knew of both Lolita and Amalia, but she soldiered on in her secret relationship with her boss, who had an insatiable desire for women.
She knew of his callers by name: Liza, Rita, Pilar, Boots, Divina, Chanda, Elizabeth, Louise, whoever else. When she tried asking Eddie how she stood in the hierarchy of clandestine lovers, in his triangle of triangles, he assured her in that sweet, crooner, whispery tone of his, she was number one in the list of secondary sponsors. They would laugh out loud at this private joke of theirs.
Lately, Dr. Eduardo had changed. He no longer asks her out on dates. His latest advice to Marlene shocked her out of her wits.
βGo and find a regular boyfriend. I think that guy, Renato Robles, is a fine gentleman. Get married, raise a family.β
Marlene almost dropped her cup of coffee hearing this as they shared a meal at the hospital cafeteria. She wondered where all those enlightened words of wisdom came from.
βCould an angel have talked to Eddie in his sleep while he laid there at the ER?,β she asked herself.
The other day, Eddie was once more pruning his bougainvillea that had gone haywire. Unable to reach the tallest, uppermost branches, he stepped on a ladder and started lashing at the twigs and flowers. The thorns got back at his arms and fingers, hurting, wounding them. Before he knew it, he was bleeding.
Eddie went on with his cutting spree, unmindful of the harsh noonday sun. As he tried to reach the tallest branch that nested on the electric wires that connected to their house, he lost his balance and fell. A recurring vertigo got him.
His right arm landed on the cutter, bursting his wrist. He lost consciousness and had no more idea what happened next.
Eddie escaped death, thanks to the timely intervention of a neighbor who saw him lying unconscious by the gate. The episode left him an indelible mark.
βI could have died without thanking Lolit for having done all those things for me all these years, without saying a proper goodbye,β he confessed this change of heart to Nelo.
Eddie had invited himself to the Nayo residence in an upscale village in the south, where he was welcomed by his wife, Patria Plata. Eddie finds his friend dressed in his usual shimmering, regulatory robe, puffing a cigar.
After a few drinks, Eddie opened up some more.
βI feel so helpless with Lolitβs condition. I am also eaten up by guilt for having been unfaithful to her all these years,β he said.
This same guilt nagged him. It made him question if God had punished him by making Lolita forget what mattered most in life. It made him more guilty.
By now, Eddie was like a giant, unleashed faucet left to gush tears in the garden of bougainvilleas.
He spoke of realizations, of epiphanies. It was as if an angel had really touched him and gave him a vision of light in his sleep at the ER. Who knows?
He spoke of how Lolit had worked so hard to sustain their family on top of being a career woman herself. How Lolit sacrificed her vertically mobile career in finance to care for the house and their children.
How sorry he was that he couldnβt let pass certain quirks in Lolitaβs feisty character. She was tactless and spoke with no filter. She made little effort to connect with her in-laws. She was this and she was that.
How difficult it must have been for our wives, he thought, how they maintained a balance between work and home, being a wife and being a mother, on top of being a cook, domestic helper, laundrywoman, and lover.
He told Nelo, βAs a husband, weβd think running the household was simply a part of a womanβs tasks, her role in the marriage equation. Now that Lolit canβt do this anymore, and the role has become mine, I realize I am so wrong for taking it all for granted.β
Overhearing this, Patria merely raised her Etang Discher-eyebrows and threw an all-knowing, dagger look at Nelo. Patria knew of all the secondary sponsors in Eddieβs marital life: All the Marlenes, Amalias, Lizas, Ritas, Pilars, Bootses, Divinas, Chandas, Elizabeths, Louises, and whoever else.
She also knew, from Lolita herself, who was her close confidante, who gave Eduardo the by-now giant bougainvillea tree that almost killed him.
The evening ended with a few more drinks that got Eddie Rodriguez even more wasted yet born again.Oh they used to hold hands at the movies
Now it’s seldom if ever they go
Once you’ve paid for the sitter and parkin’ the car
There’s no money left for the show
She was doing the dishes
When a glass fell and broke on the tile
And she cut her wrist (quite by mistake)
It was real touch and go for a while
She says Oh God I love my husband and I love my kids
You know I wanted to be like my mother, my mother
But if I hadn’t done it as soon as I did
Oh there might have been time to be me
For myself, for myself
There’s so many things that she wishes
She don’t even know what she’s missin’
And that’s how she knows that she missed