THE ART OF REMEMBERING


Subic Bay

Seasons have passed and Lakan is standing on Mt Pinatubo. He stands on the lip of the volcano's mouth now clogged with boiling molten lava as it bellows steam; he sniffs and tries to remember  the smell...sulfur, yeah, sulfur isn't it? The first time he encountered sulfur, he was in college Chem lab.  That's the chemical  he failed to identify in his lab test, he had to repeat his Organic Chemistry. Again and again and again.

But that was long ago, he's now ninety years old, he has seen the world.  He has returned to things that would help him remember. He used to remember well, he used to write long sentences and long stories based on memory alone, he used to recall faces and mannerisms and voice timbres and tones in sharp details; he used to mimic different Tagalog accents. But time has erased all that gradually as his recallections today are limited to tiny echoes and blurry sights, and the men he had, the Filipino men he loved, aaaah, why can't he recall them ALL anymore?

Lakan recalls the day of the rain, the strong winds that sent metal sheets flapping and flying, windows banging against panes, glasses shattering; and there on the street, umbrellas were turning inside out, women skirts were flying high to the joys of men watching, the air was all white, as white as snow falling, and for a moment, he was thinking the world around him was heaven.

And Lakan was in heaven as he held the man he just caressed, the man  was drunk, Lakan picked him up in a cheap theater. The man was of a stocky build,  worked as a mason and was in the theater because the rain would not allow him to work. "You hungry?" the man asked Lakan.

"Yeah," Lakan said.

"Wanna buy me lunch?" the man asked and Lakan knew right away where this encounter was leading to. And the man moved closer to Lakan and Lakan smelled the San Miguel from the man's  lips. Lakan's heart palpitated and a sudden cold sensation ran up his spine. "You want me?" the man asked. Lakan smiled at this, he blushed. "Can you handle this?" the man pulled pulled out his penis.

That was twenty minutes ago and Lakan was sitting beside the man smoking cigarette, "You liked it?" the man asked him. ""Wanna buy me lunch?"

Lakan has a vaque recollection of the events afterwards, he knows they walked away from the theater looking for a cheap carenderia: the rain wouldn't stop, flooding the streets, the old canal water was being replenished, it was gushing, over flowing with transparent rainwater, the vendors have covered their merchandise with plastic sheets, their faces were all stricken with sadness...or maybe fear...there are so many losses on a rainy day like this, no customers, damaged  perishables...ah -

They found a small eatery, ordered tokwa't baboy, pancit and goto, they were both hungry. Then the man stared at Lakan with affection...started talking about friendship and love. Of course Lakan liked hearing this kind'a talk.

The rain kept pouring and Lakan saw the flood water rising higher on the street, the vendors began packing their merchandise, shaking their heads, some crying, but the Filipino is used to these types of calamities, it's a part of living.

Lakan and his man didn't pay the poor folk any attention, the man kept talking about himself - he lives alone in Manila, he said - he is from the province, he said - he's got a wife and kids, he said - and he likes to live with Lakan, he said.

The Manila streets were getting emptied, remnants of makeshift stalls now stood like rows of woods, now swayed with the monsoon wind, the coconut trees and the trees lining the roads were fallen or twisted or leaning.

They made love again. Inside a dry dilapidated old Manila house that sought to pass itself as a motel. The man slept on and off, on and off, allowing Lakan to do anything he wanted. From the lips of the drunken man love was being released. And Lakan was getting bored.

Lakan silently tiptoed out of the motel. He could never trust love from a drunken man. He could never trust himself with love. He could not afford love. Period.

He waded the flooded streets and walked home...the apartment he lived on along Espana Extension was crowded, he lived with his sister's budding family, he was taking care of her kids while he was going to college...NO, he could never fall in love and live with a man...