Love at the Cornhusk

make do at the Cornhusk Aida Rivera Ford Tinang stopped origin all toldy the Se noas gate and familiarised the ball ups cap. The leapers that came to bark at the gate were strange dogs, big-mouthed animals with a sense of superiority. They stuck their heads through and through the hogfence, lolling their tongues and straining. Suddenly, from the gumamela row, a shortsighted black mongrel emerged and slithered through the fence with ease. It came to her, head cut down and body quivering. Bantay. Ay, Bantay she exclaimed as the little dog laid its paws upon her shirt to sniff the frustrate on her arm.The bilk was horrified and cried. The big animals barked with displeasure. Tito, the young master, had controln her and was calling to his mother. Ma, its Tinang. Ma, Ma, its Tinang. He came caterpillar tread down to open the gate. Aba, you are so tall outright, Tito. He smiled his missys smile as he stood by, warding the dogs strike. Tinang passed quickly up the pictur e gallery stairs lined with ferns and many another(prenominal)-colored bougainville. On landing, she paused to wipe her shoes carefully. About her, the Senoras white and lavender onlyterfly orchids fluttered delicately in the sunshine.She noniced though that the purple waling-waling that had once been her task to shade from the hot sun with banana leaves and to water with mixture of charcoal and eggs and water was not in bloom. Is no atomic number 53 covering the waling-waling straight off? Tinang asked. It impart die. Oh, the maid result roll in the hay to cover the orchids later. The Senora called from inside. Tinang, let me see your baby. Is it a son? Yes, Ma, Tito shouted from downstairs. And the ears are large What do you expect, replied his mother the father is a Bagobo. plane Tinang hold backs like a Bagobo now. Tinang laughed and felt warmness for her former mistress and the boy Tito.She sat self-consciously on the black narra sofa, for the first time a vi sitor. Her eyes clouded. The sight of the Senoras flaccidly plump figure, swathed in a swooning waist-less house limit that came down to her ankles, and the faint scent of agua de colonia blended with kitchen spice, seemed to her the essence of the light world, and she sighed thinking of the long walk home through the mud, the babys legs straddled to her waist, and Inggo, her husband, waiting for her, his body stinking of tuba and sweat, squatting on the floor, fit out only(prenominal) in his foul undergarments. Ano, Tinang, is it not a cracking amour to be married? the Senora asked, pitying Tinang because her dress gave way at the placket and press at her swollen breasts. It was, as a matter of fact, a dress she had given Tinang a long time ago. It is hard, Senora, very hard. Better that I were working here again. There the Senora verbalize. Didnt I tell you what it would be like, huh? . . . that you would be a slave to your husband and that you would work a baby eternally strapped to you. Are you not pregnant again? Tinang squirmed at the Senoras directness but admitted she was. Hala You will chip in a dozen earlier long. The Senora got up. Come, I will give you some dresses and an old blanket that you shtup cut into things for the baby. They went into a cluttered room which looked like a huge closet and as the Senora sorted out some uniform, Tinang asked, How is Senor? Ay, he is forever and a day losing his temper over the tractor drivers. It is not the way it was when Amado was here. You remember what a good driver he was. The tractors were always kept in working condition. that now . . . I wonder why he left all of a sudden. He said he would be g champion for only two days . . . . I dont know, Tinang said. The baby began to cry.Tinang shushed him with irritation. Oy, Tinang, come to the kitchen your Bagobito is hungry. For the next hour, Tinang sat in the kitchen with an odd feeling she watched the girl who was now in possession of the kitchen work around with a handkerchief clutched I one hand. She had lipstick on too, Tinang noted. the girl looked at her briefly but did not smile. She set down a can of evaporated milk for the baby and served her coffee and cake. The Senora drank coffee with her and lectured about keeping the babys weather bound and training it to stay by itself so she could work.Finally, Tinang brought up, haltingly, with phrases like if it will not offend you and if you are not too busy the sloshed of her visitwhich was to ask Senora to be a madrina in baptism. The Senora readily assented and said she would provide the baptismal clothes and the fee for the priest. It was time to go. When are you advance again, Tinang? the Senore asked as Tinang got the baby ready. Dont forget the bundle of clothes and . . . oh, Tinang, you better stop by the drugstore. They asked me once whether you were still with us. You have a letter there nd I was going to open it to see if there was bad news but I t hought you would be advent. A letter Tinangs heart beat violently. Somebody is baseless I know somebody is dead, she thought. She crossed herself and after thanking the Senora profusely, she hurried down. The dogs came front and Tito had to restrain them. Bring me some young corn next time, Tinang, he called after her. Tinang waited a while at the drugstore which was also the position office of the barrio. Finally, the man turned to her Mrs. , do you want medicine for your baby or for yourself? No, I came for my letter.I was told I have a letter. And what is your name, Mrs.? He drawled. Constantina Tirol. The man pulled a box and slowly went through the pile of envelopes about of which were scribbled in pencil, Tirol, Tirol, Tirol. . . . He finally pulled out a letter and reach it to her. She stared at the unfamiliar scrawl. It was not from her sister and she could think of no one else who could write to her. Santa Maria, she thought maybe something has happened to my sis ter. Do you want me to read it for you? No, no. She hurried from the drugstore, crushed that he should think her illiterate.With the baby on one arm and the bundle of clothes on the other and the letter clutched in her hand she found herself walking toward home. The rains had made a deep throw of the clay pathway and Tinang followed the prints left by the men and the carabaos that had gone before her to keep from sinking mud up to her knees. She was deep in the road before she became conscious of her shoes. In horror, she saw that they were coated with thick, black clay. Gingerly, she pulled off one shoe after the other with the hand still clutching to the letter.When she had fasten the shoes together with the laces and had slung them on an arm, the baby, the bundle, and the letter were all smeared with mud. There essential be a place to put the baby down, she thought, desperate now about the letter. She walked on until she spotted a corner of a field where cornhusks were sca ttered under a kamansi tree. She shoved together a pile of husks with her rump and laid the baby down upon it. With a sigh, she drew the letter from the envelope. She stared at the letter which was written in English. My dearest Tinay, Hello, how is life getting on? Are you still in good condition?As for myself, the resembling as usual. But youre far from my side. It is not favourable to be far from our baskr. Tinay, do you still love me? I hope your soma and generous heart will never fade. Someday or someways Ill be there again to fulfill our promise. Many weeks and months have elapsed. Still I remember our bygone days. Especially when I was distraint with the heat of the tractor under the heat of the sun. I was always in hopelessness until I imagine your personal appearance coming forward bearing the sweetest smile that en fittingd me to view the distant horizon. Tinay, I could not return because I found that my mother was very ill.That is why I was not able to take you as a partner of life. Please respond to my letter at once so that I know whether you still love me or not. I hope you did not love anybody except myself. I think I am going beyond the limit of your empty hours, so I close with best wishes to you, my friends Gonding, Sefarin, Bondio, etc. Yours forever, Amado P. S. My mother died brave out month. Address your letter Mr. Amado Galauran Binalunan, Cotabato It was Tinangs first love letter. A flush spread over her face and crept into her body. She read the letter again. It is not easy to be far from our rooter. . . I imagine your personal appearance coming forward. . . . Someday, somehow Ill be there to fulfill our promise. . . . Tinang was intoxicated. She pressed herself against the kamansi tree. My lover is true to me. He never meant to desert me. Amado, she thought. Amado. And she cried, remembering the young girl she was less than two years ago when she would take food to Senor in the field and the laborers would eye her furtively . She thought herself above them for she was always neat and snowy in her hometown, before she went away to work, she had gone to school and had reached sixth grade.Her skin, too, was not as dark as those of the girls who worked in the fields weeding around the clumps of abaca. Her press down lip jutted out disdainfully when the farm hands spoke to her with many flattering words. She laughed when a Bagobo with two hectares of land asked her to marry him. It was only Amado, the tractor driver, who could look at her and make her lower her eyes. He was very dark and wore contaminating and torn clothes on the farm but on Saturdays when he came up to the house for his weeks salary, his hair was slicked down and he would be dressed as well as Mr. Jacinto, the schoolteacher. formerly he told her he would study in the city night-schools and take up mechanical engineering someday. He had not said much to a greater extent to her but one afternoon when she was bidden to take some bolts and tools to him in the field, a great excitement came over her. The shadows moved fitfully in the bamboo groves she passed and the settle down November air edged into her nostrils sharply. He stood unmoving beside the tractor with tools and parts scattered on the ground around him. His eyes were a black glow as he watched her draw near. When she held out the bolts, he seized her wrist and said Come, move her to the screen of trees beyond.She resisted but his arms were strong. He embraced her roughly and awkwardly, and she trembled and gasped and clung to him. . . . A little green snake slithered languidly into the tall grass a fewer yards from the kamansi tree. Tinang started violently and remembered her child. It lay motionless on the mat of husk. With a roar she grabbed it wildly and hugged it close. The baby awoke from its sleep and cries lustily. Ave Maria Santisima. Do not punish me, she prayed, searching the babys skin for marks. Among the cornhusks, the letter fell unnotice d.