On JC's fifth day he was at the office working with the team when he heard the statement -the long-awaited denial from the Palace which was aired on the radio. On the wall, the air-conditioner was buzzing irritatingly and was giving little comfort to the large space the workers were occupying. After the statement, Louisa went to the little kitchen to prepare coffee for herself. The others went back doing their usual things and JC slipped back to his desk to finish the report he was doing. Nobody believed in what they heard. Some never cared.
"Do you believe in that?"
Everybody disagreed. One guffawed.
The telephone rang three times while Louisa was still in the kitchen.
JC picked it up and held the handset.
“Hello,” a muffled voice crackled on the other side.
“Hello, JC Martin,” he answered, still typing his report, the receiver tucked between his ear and shoulder. He listened.
There was hesitation at the other end. Then a litt
The television was on but General Ver's mind was far away, divided between the news and the storm he was facing, with him at the center. He saw Guion Bluford who became the first African-American in space aboard Space Shuttle Challenger on the STS-8 mission. General Ver thought it was a waste of money to send people to space. It was drowned out by the news of the assassination, however, by the footage of the Japanese tape which was aired over and over. A burst of anger was contained in that little office, which was filled with smoke. The General was pacing to and fro, snorting heavily. He knocked the chair down and his anger rose to the roof. Why did it go wrong? He picked up a book and launched it sideways. It thumped on the wall and crashed on the floor. Why did it go wrong? General Ver's mind kept repeating the phrase. "Why did his plan go wrong? He faced his subordinates and launched his verbal attack, “What kind of an operation was that, you nit head?”
The airport security office was small on the first floor of the main building. This was where images of lesser or greater import were seen first. More than twenty blinking close circuit screens, covering practically all corners of the airport was in front of three personnel in uniforms who were manning them. Smoke floated in the air. On their desk, the ashtrays were full of butts, for all of them were heavy smokers. Years of working, in the same way, made surveillance routinely ordinary, even important ones seemed insignificant. Colonel Follows and his men entered the building. They crossed the large area where passengers formed ten queues to the check-in counters. Ignoring the passengers, they took the escalator and landed on the first floor. He was a proud lot but today his pride had left him. Now, was his time to redeem what he had lost. He must erase all evidence that could be found at the airport. The storm was raging, his mind was in turmoil, and he was more concerned
General Ver was the right-hand man. He was the executioner, the one who follows every order to the letter. He also planned the bombings around the country, to make it sound that it was under rebellion and sedition. He made this chaos in order for the president to declare a state of emergency.After the fiasco at the airport, the General was holed up in his office thinking of ways to get away from the blame. His mind was traveling far away, although the television was on, divided between the news and the storm he was facing, with him at the center. He saw Guion Bluford who became the first African-American in space aboard Space Shuttle Challenger on the STS-8 mission. He thought it was a waste of money to send people to space. The space venture was drowned out by the news of the assassination. More particularly, by the footage of the Japanese tape which was aired over and over. The General had never been wrong. He rose up to that level becaus
That night in his room JC was uneasy, tossing and turning. Although the lights were out, his eyes were wide open due to what he thought was jet lag. The sheets smelled new. They felt comfortable on his skin after having been exposed to the tropical climate. In the middle of darkness, he found himself staring at the ceiling. Red and blue lights deflecting from a neon sign came in through the glass window. It was mesmerizing but sleep was long in coming for him. He lay awake and was thinking of the voice, weighing the consequences of her revelation. Who was she? Was she for real? If she was, then what she would be giving would be perfect evidence for the case. And our newspaper will benefit from it. Mr. Mc Millan will be happy. Perhaps, he would promote me to senior editor. A tape of the assassination would clearly show who the perpetrators were. Would she
Hope was Coronel Follow´s last card to keep his job. He was hoping he could stumble on a solution that could redeem his fate with General Ver. He was intelligent and had never failed the general before. So, he pondered deeply. He knew that the airport security depended on surveillance recording around its parameter. He let his mind travel from one point to the other. He examined the buildings, and indeed there were several cameras in-place for security. Immediately, he went to check the facilities personally. The airport security office was small on the first floor of the main building. This was where images of lesser or greater import were seen first. Inside, more than twenty blinking close circuit screens covering practically all corners of the airport was in front of three personnel in uniforms who were manning them. Smoke floated in the air. On their desk, the ashtrays were full of butts, for all of them were heavy smokers. Years of wo
After his interview with General Ver and two opposition leaders, JC asked his office to get a date for an interview with the Palace. He wanted to know what the president thought of the assassination, although he tend to be biased, he nevertheless wanted some facts from the other side. As he expected, there was a denial from the General- a denial of responsibility in all four corners. After a busy day, he proceeded to the department store at the corner to take home things he needed: a white cotton t-shirt, toothpaste, and a shave. He walked through the promenades of the mall. Then he headed to his apartment, passing through some shops to familiarize himself. His height and unique features always attracted some unsolicited attention from young girls. A handsome tall young man with glasses, he was a new sight. And it was expected of them to take a second look. This barely bothered
It was raining. The stream from heaven flowed down along the side of the mountain, dragging along branches, leaves of fallen trees, and whatever it found on its way. One isolated driftwood bobbed and rocked, slowly. It picked up speed, winding its way until it landed on a whirlpool at the mouth. In its moody disposition, the surging stream rambled to eventually become a torrent of angry waters, never letting up. The subdued opposition whispered and started mobilizing. There were condemnations of the blatant transgression of a person´s right to life. Scattered groups all over the country could not keep quiet. Little by little they raised their voices. One of these informal conglomerations was the Sulog or Breakfast Club. The Breakfast Club condemned the assassination through the media, still in their covert way. Their idol, hope, and last resort had gone, eliminated by the monster. Now the
Not so many nights were as tranquil and filled with merriment as this one in this ancestral house in Makati. There was soft music in the air, drinks were passed around and nice people mingled to celebrate Tommy’s grandma’s birthday. JC had been busy socializing with Tommy’s old folks, kowtowing to each and every one of them. It was a big family house in Forbes Park, a residential area in the center of town. Sergio Mendezwas playing from somewhere in the house. Tommy’s officemates were there, too. All of them. Tessa Lopez who arrived later hardly escaped everyone’s attention. She was the focus, the center of their admiring eyes, who looked gorgeous in a black Armani dress that revealed her sensuous beauty. It was an evening dress matched with black high-heeled shoes that emphasized the shapely form of her body, and this made JC’s heart skip a bit. He thought she was
The ambulance in the street was blaring. It was midnight and Gen Ver had no notion as to how this was coming to him. He sat alone in the shadows of his lonely apartment, in exile. No more men to order, no more leaders to follow. You were a loyal soldier . . . a great survivor. A voice came from somewhere inside his mind. Yes, he mused with a cynical smile. I've been a loyal one through and through - but loyalty turned zilch once I lost everything including the honor that I guarded so much. I'd rather die now with honor than to live in the shadow of disgrace. And disgrace hung over his head. He had bungled the plan to eliminate the senator in a very disgraceful way. There was no doubt he deserved to be hanged, to be ridiculed. His intentions had been patriotic, but nothing had gone as he had planned. There had been trials, accusations, and public outrage. He had served the strong man with honor
Hindu hermitage, Himalayas, Nepal. After the wedding celebration, when relatives and friends were preparing to return to their respective homes, JC found time to swing back to the Ashram. He hardly had the chance to talk with the raj guru when there were so many people around during the celebration. He thought that it would not only be a simple parting and saying goodbyes but to be alone with him for the last time. He went there the day following the party. Tessa wanted to be with him and he didn't want to leave her behind. When they stepped into the temple, a certain kind of awe struck him anew. There was a fresh and deafening stillness around. It was unusually strange to be in a place that had amazingly reverted to its usual silence and stillness after the raucous celebration. Suddenly he heard the murmuring of the waters in the river and the sound of silence. All memorie
Himalayas, Nepal. Having the civil wedding in the States was practically out of the question due to the paperwork involved and the visa processing which would have extended it longer. So, they went back to Makati to do it there in one of the courts, in a simple civil ceremony, witnessed by only two required relatives or friends. Then the religious imbroglio came to the scene. There was so much fuss over which religion they should celebrate their wedding ceremony in. Finding a common ground was contentious if not difficult. Tessa Lopez was Roman Catholic and JC's family went to the Evangelical church. To top it all, JC was agnostic. It was tough trying to meet in the middle. After several discussions and deliberations, they ended up having it on neutral ground. And that was to celebrate it in a simple rite in the Himalayas, Nepal. Tessa's parents had eventually given in to
His father's house was a two-story modern building in a classy part of Norwalk. On the ground floor was Doctor Martin's clinic, where he practiced his medicine. They lived on the first floor. The open concept living room was wide and painted white with Renaissance paintings on the wall. The armchairs and the sofa were expensively furnished with upholstery from Grand Rapids, Michigan. Protruding at the back was an elegant glass-covered veranda where the family could frolic in summer. They had dinner in the open air with French wine. Doctor Martin prepared barbecue while Joan was in the kitchen with the salad and dessert. Marinated meat had been taken out and laid for barbecuing. Jacky, Tessa, and JC were seated around the table, chatting and drinking red wine, waiting to be served their first plate. There was Dionne Warwick music from a stereo inside the house that accompanied their celebration.  
JC was triumphant when Tessa agreed to go out with him again. They had dinner and a little stroll. Without fear of any ramifications or punishments from the palace, now she was more confident that nobody would stand in their way when the reason for her rejection existed no more. After dinner, they promenaded along the bay freely. It was a beautiful evening; The sky was cloudless and the full moon shone brightly. The beach was calm and they were walking hand in hand as if they alone existed in the world. The bay was uniquely enchanting. “I used to come here with my dad and mom. We used to have picnics and they'd tell me stories. They called this place the 'Riviera of Broken Dreams'. They had secret names for every place we used to go. “Why the 'Riviera of Broken Dreams'?” he asked. “They said many disappointments in love are poured out here.
Most of the guerrillas in the Cordilleras laid down their arms and started moving back to the city. A handful of them was transformed by the episode, their lives redirected. The change had come and it was time for them to move on with their own lives. The monster had gone. Becky Roberts went back to her province. She might go back to the university and take up Political Science or try to apply for vacancies in the pharmaceutical sector. Celia decided that she too should come back. With Rosemarie gone, she lost hope of staying in the Cordilleras. Jeanie was the reason for her to continue. Tucked by her side, she appeared on Rosemarie's mother's doorsteps for the first time. Shy as she was to show herself, she gathered all her strength for Jeanie. She knew beforehand that there will be an emotional encounter in the beginning. “I am Celia, Rosemarie's sister-in-law and this is
At the hospital, they were all huddled around the bed, JC, Tommy, Carlo, Enlightened, Freedom, and Eloisa´s husband. They congratulated her for having a successful delivery. JC brought a bunch of roses, Carlo some chocolates, and Tommy a box of pizza. Then the nurse came in holding the baby in her hand. “She´s a baby girl,” exclaimed Carlo. “Then, what are we going to name her?” asked Tommy. “How about Voice?” retorted Freedom. “Let´s just make it simple and common, like Maria,” smiled Eloisa´s husband. All of them agreed to simplicity. They said that the child would probably have difficulties in writing it down. And her friends might have some difficulties in remembering it. Then, after a while another nurse came in, she announced, “Doctor Lopez gave this to me. It´s for Mr.
JC left at once, not knowing what would come next. He took the left-wing of the building and out onto the parking space. On turning the aisle to the left, his heart jumped when he sees her face. He asked himself, is this Tessa? Is she real? Yes, it was her. She was wearing a white uniform with a stethoscope hanging on her neck coming his way. She looked the same and was ever lovely. He stopped in his tracks. He was unable to take away his eyes from her demure face, wanting to watch her eternally, his joy matching his desire. She slowed her walking on seeing him and her face lit up. She stood there unmoving, not knowing what to do. As he gazed at her his longing shot through him in the same way as it always did when she was near. Three years had passed and he had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her. It seemed she was even more beautiful than ever. In that instant, she was all he had desired.  
The chief editor’s door was closed. Outside, the other workers were wondering about what was going on inside the office. Through the glass window, they could only guess what the fracas was about. JC jumped to his feet, paced then sat down again. He was firm in his stand. What they saw was his hand jabbing in the air to explain something. Even Kate couldn’t make out what it was all about. “It’s me who should go, Mr. McMillan,” he said, insisting. Mr. McMillan remained seated, calm, and cradling a pipe in his hand. “Look JC. There’s a group there who’s after you. And I don’t want you to be harmed.” “I assure you nothing will happen to me, besides the reason has already disappeared. More than two years had passed. Despite the evidence, all those responsible got an acquittal. What is there for them now to go after me?” He blew smoke