Francisco Jose - The Samsons - Two Novels

Tony visited Antipolo almost every week but was not quite successful at reconciliation with his sister. He usually went there in a cab, and on the way, he would stop at a supermarket and buy groceries — sugar, rice, vegetable oil, candy for the boys, and a lot of canned goods because his sister could not afford a refrigerator. His income was, of course, more than what he thought his father-in-law would give him. In addition, he had a representation allowance and could obtain even more cash from the cashier anytime he needed some. His signature on the voucher was as good as cash, and the feeling that he had ready money brought to with it a higher sense of responsibility. He did not want his father-in-law to think that he was taking advantage of the Villa coffers. He meticulously kept the receipts of his expenses until the auditor told him that it was absolutely unnecessary. One of the office cars was also assigned to him, but he used it sparingly, taking a cab when he was on his own. Carmen did not bother him for money, for she had her own bank account plus a generous monthly allowance from her father. To this Tony added his monthly pay, which he gave to her with the simple statement that this was a matter of custom and Carmen accepted it with good humor.

The first public relations survey that Don Manuel assigned to Tony was not difficult. Tony had had experience in public-opinion sampling. In his undergraduate days he had worked on a paper on the non-Christian tribes of Mountain Province. He used the same technique and gathered a fairly representative sample of opinions from varying levels; he talked with taxi drivers, business acquaintances of Don Manuel, students and professors, and salesgirls. He was amazed at what he found. The pervasive resentment against the Japanese had dwindled. Only a few — those with extremely bitter memories of the Occupation — were pathologically opposed to more business contact with the Japanese. As for the steel mill, it hardly mattered that the Japanese had a big hand in it. As Don Manuel had said, if the Japanese were not in it, the Chinese or the Americans would be there and the result, the economic tentacles with which these aliens would encompass the country, would be just as stringent.

It was this observation that Tony wrote in his report and handed to the board. It seemed that the last war was relegated to some forgotten eon. The men around him brimmed with goodwill. His report was actually no more than a confirmation of what Don Manuel and the other directors expected.

Don Manuel was kind, even gallant. He did not gloat over what he had expected all along. But even if Don Manuel did not do this, Tony began to feel that there was little justification for his presence in the Villa organization. He often brooded, and this uneasy feeling disturbed his placid routine. He would then ask Fely, his secretary, to bring out his press releases, measure the clippings, and calculate how much they would have cost Don Manuel if the clippings were paid advertisements. To make his job important, he had an order relayed to all the departments that there would be no press story released — not even a story on a marriage or a baptism of anyone connected with the Villa organization — unless he had put his imprimatur on it.

Mrs. Villa took advantage of Tony’s new function and she always had a story about her in the society pages. Neither writing Mrs. Villa’s press releases nor ghosting occasionally for Senator Reyes, however, gave Tony the justification he sought. Somehow he had to achieve something dramatic and spectacular, to make not only Don Manuel but everyone in the organization look up to him and say: That’s Antonio Samson, and he is earning his money as Antonio Samson and not as Manuel Villa’s son-in-law.

To do this he would have to ask his close friends to assist him. Someday he would have a good story not only on Don Manuel but on his operations as well, and he would have this story featured in Godo’s magazine. He weighed the possibility, the arguments to buttress the soundness of his proposition. Name any five leading entrepreneurs in the country today and you will have Don Manuel among them. Isn’t that enough reason?

Maybe Godo would write the story himself, but if Godo would do that the credit would be Godo’s, and he hesitated, for he remembered that Godo had a set of values that could not be easily eroded. In the end, Godo might even loathe him for having broached the idea at all. Godo had not camouflaged his loathing for the Villas and all those “filthy merchants” who were not creating new industries for the country. An approach to Godo was, indeed, compounded with the subtlest of problems. Still, Tony would have to make the pitch sooner or later, and he would naturally lean on the good old college days and all that mushy sentimentalism as the basis for the favor. He justified the strategy with Don Manuel’s definition of friends: they were not friends if they could not help.

To Tony, a friend was someone who could offer sanctuary. To Don Manuel, a friend was someone useful. But values change as the social stratum rises. Now Tony must look at friends, too, in this utilitarian fashion. They must no longer be the ones to whom he was emotionally tied by youthful references, by common problems, and, perhaps, a common past.

There was Ben de Jesus, for instance, who could be useful to him. He seemed likable enough, maybe because he was in the employ of Don Manuel. He seemed to be a regular fellow and not the stuffed shirt Tony had presumed him to be. And this afternoon Ben had tried to be amiable.

He was, of course, a mestizo like Don Manuel, but his skin was darker and his arms were hirsute. His thick eyebrows gave him a rugged look, but his cleft chin, which needed a shave twice a day, imparted to his very masculine face a certain softness.

Ben had sounded patronizing: “I’ve been married longer than you, so that makes me an authority. Let Carmen come home late once in a while. Like tonight. My wife called up — she is with Carmen. They are in a beauty parlor or clinic or something and they will have supper together. If I were you, Tony, I’d step out occasionally, too, and vary the menu. Carmen wouldn’t mind — if she doesn’t know.”

Ben had laughed, but in his attempt at casualness Tony noticed a tinge of nervousness. Ben’s comment was an attempt to ingratiate himself into Tony’s personal domain, and Tony understood that; understood, too, the gamble Ben had taken. If his wife was a good friend of Ben’s wife, did that mean he must develop Ben’s personal friendship, too? Quickly he decided that it would not be bad to know Ben better, to appear friendly. He was a part of the organization; this was now the primary consideration.

“That’s a good idea,” Tony had said, smiling. “I’m sure Carmen wouldn’t, but I’m so out of touch that I need someone like you to show me around, to help me with the window-shopping.”

“That shouldn’t be difficult for someone who has lived for some time abroad.” Ben flattered him. “You have taste and there’s a lot of class around this establishment or down the boulevard.”

“Having taste can be different from having an acquisitive talent,” he said.

“You tell me that after you got Carmen?” Ben had laughed. “You should be teaching me tricks.”

They parted on this light note and Tony, feeling kind of wonderful, told Fely, his secretary, to finish typing the article on steel and have the clean copy ready on his desk the following morning.

It was almost midnight when Carmen came home. Tony was still at work when her car stopped in the driveway below their room, and he paused at the desk and rearranged the research materials he had been collating.

The moment she came in she started to gripe about her busy day. “Sometimes I envy you,” she said in a strained voice. “You just sit in the office and never worry about tomorrow.” She planted a dutiful peck on his forehead and went straight to the bathroom.