Francisco Jose - The Samsons - Two Novels

Don Manuel stood up, a grin on his face, and placed an arm on Tony’s shoulder. “I like one who fights back,” he said, pleased with himself. “At least my son-in-law is going to stand up and fight.”

Before Tony could speak again, Don Manuel boomed: “You wonder why I can talk freely? I have influence and, more important, money. These give me a sense of true freedom. I see nothing wrong in appreciating money. Even priests appreciate money.”

Manuel Villa, the satisfied look still on his lean, handsome face, patted Tony paternally on the shoulder. “If the wedding will be next month — or any time you two decide — we can talk again. We may yet become very good friends.”

Speechless, Tony watched him disappear behind the sliding glass door of the terrace. A hundred things crowded his mind, a hundred important things that he could have said. The candor of Don Manuel both repelled and fascinated him, and yet the businessman had strength of conviction. Was Tony never interested in Carmen’s money, was he right in sounding so self-righteous and proud? The wedding, Don Manuel had said, would be next month and that was not far away.

Carmen appeared on the terrace, and when she drew near, her eyes were shining. “How did you like him, darling?” she asked, caressing the hair on the nape of his neck.

He stood up and smiled. They walked slowly to the driveway. He held her hand, squeezed it at the gate, and replying to her insistent “ Oye , tell me,” he gazed at her radiant face, and because he loved her and because she would be the mother of his child, he replied, “An admirable man. A most unusual father, too.

“Of course I like him, baby.”

* Bejuco: Rattan.

† Barong Tagalog: A loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt — the national dress of the Philippines for men — made from gauzy pineapple-fiber fabric, often embroidered on the collar and facing.

Tony came to know what a headstrong girl Carmen was the afternoon she picked him up at the university. She had parked under the acacias that fronted the main building and had apparently waited there, watching those coming out of the hall. The moment he stepped down the main stairway she drove up to him, opened the door of her car, and beckoned him to get in. A student had impudently whistled; blood spread warmly over his face and she was flippant about it: “At your age, darling, you shouldn’t blush when a wicked female like me picks you up.”

She shifted into first gear and they were off.

“You should have told me you were coming,” Tony objected weakly.

“It wouldn’t have been fun,” she said. They were slipping out of the campus into the broad avenue lined with acacia saplings. “I wanted to surprise you.”

They drove quietly. After having known each other for so long, there did not seem to be much to talk about.

In a while the ancient obsession returned. “I wish I really could take a breather from school,” he said. “Not a long breather, just a month or so, so I could go to the Ilocos. You with your excellent Spanish — you know how poor I am in the language.…”

“Oh, no, not again,” she said in mock disappointment. “No more of that crazy old man who walked to Pangasinan.”

He placed an arm on her shoulder. “Yes, that old man,” he said.

She turned to him briefly and he saw the cool, laughing eyes, the patrician nose, and the full lips parted in a smile.

“I wish you’d believe me when I say it’s important,” he said softly.

But she was Carmen Villa, self-centered and secure; she would never understand his inner tumult, and there was no way by which he could impress upon her the tenacity of his dream.

The afternoon shed a pleasant warmth and a light that was spread like tinfoil on the bay. At the right, etched white against the blue waters, was the naval base of Cavite. She had stopped talking and he saw a secret smile crinkling her eyes. Then she laughed — that quiet, contented laughter of women used to having their way, as if she did not have a care, although she had told him there was one, the life embedded in her belly that would someday betray her sin.

She turned at a corner to a church and stopped on the asphalt churchyard before the entrance to the sacristy. She pressed his hand: “Darling, you won’t run away, will you? You wanted to elope — you said so — and I have shanghaied you.”

He had, at first, thought of the whole thing as a joke; he had already given his word that they would be married in a month’s time at the most, after routine had settled in at the university and he had found them a house.

A flush colored her cheeks; her white pumps, her white lace dress, the happiness written all over her face — all these marked her, indeed, as a bride. “You are all roped and branded, darling,” she said.

As they stepped out of the car, a matronly mestiza was upon them, gushing: “Carmen, how really romantic! I was talking with Mr. Soler in the sacristy, and with Father Brown. I’ve never seen anything like this. Darling, you have imagination.”

The introductions were hurried; the stout woman was Nena de Jesus, a friend of Carmen’s from convent school, who was married to one of Don Manuel’s junior partners. She was of Carmen’s age, but the leisurely life or a surfeit of sweets had spoiled her and she was now twice Carmen’s weight. “You look the pretty bride — slim and fair. Oh, Carmen, keep your figure that way. Look at me.” And then there was Godo, too, shaking a finger at Tony and grinning, and Carmen telling him, “I’m glad you are on time,” but he was not listening for he was pumping Tony’s hand and exclaiming, “Tony, I didn’t know you would do it, but boy, you are doing it.”

“Who brought you here?” Tony asked and Godo turned to Carmen. “I couldn’t say no to her.”

They all fell to laughing. “I wanted Charlie to come, too, but only Godo was in the office when I went there,” Carmen said. The two women left them in the churchyard and went to the parochial office where the priest was waiting.

Godo was pleased. Everything had been taken care of. Carmen had been very thoughtful and precise, and had polished off the smallest detail. “I had to take this barong Tagalog out of mothballs,” Godo said, explaining his clothes. “I never thought I’d see a wedding like this. She is some girl, Tony. A lot of spunk — that’s what she has. She came to the office five days ago and swore me to secrecy. How can you say no to a girl like her? Boy, you sure got yourself a classy female.”

Tony laughed inwardly and slapped his friend on the belly. “I’m glad you like her,” he said. I like her, too, he reassured himself. But the surprise had waned and for a moment he had a chance to think soberly. How would his sister take the news? She would surely be disappointed; she had long ago taken on the role of guardian angel, and now she was being left out of this most significant event in his life. She would not understand what Carmen did; in spite of her having stayed in the city for a long time she was provincial and still had all the peasant attitudes of Rosales. She would never believe that a woman like Carmen Villa would literally drag a man to church. But he could take care of his sister — they were blood relations and, in the end, he would appeal to this infrangible fact. But where would they go after the wedding? He could not take Carmen to Antipolo to share that narrow, unpainted room and to awaken in the night when the trains roared by. They could not possibly live in a hotel, not on his meager savings of one hundred and fifty dollars (that would bring more than five hundred pesos in the black market — the thought was of little solace). And her parents, particularly her mother, they would never let him step into their house, and worse, Don Manuel might yet disown her. But Don Manuel seemed to be a reasonable man and, besides, this was Carmen’s doing, not his. You silly girl, you unpredictable, impulsive woman, look at what you have done to me, but I love every hair, every single pore of you. Carmen, I worship you.…