Francisco Jose - Don Vicente - Two Novels

“But you know, Tio,” Trining said. “That is why he wasn’t able to get his diploma.” She was apparently enjoying herself, and she started laughing.

“A fighter like his father, then,” Don Vicente said, his lips quivering. “Tell me about it sometime, hijo . I don’t remember the story very well. It must be in the files Santos keeps.”

Luis felt relieved that the old man had not shown any desire to muddy the niceties of welcome, but his uneasiness was not easily dispelled. For four years he had not returned to Rosales, and here he was again before this man he called Papa, this man whose face his mother said she could spit at without blinking. He had loathed coming back to this town, this house, five kilometers away from a village where his mother, his brother, and his grandfather still lived in great need, while here he was, secure and never wanting.

Don Vicente rubbed his chest. “And what about affairs of the heart?” he asked, a smile flickering across his face.

Trining turned to Luis and said gaily, “Tio, his score is zero. He rarely comes to see me in school, where I have so many pretty friends all waiting to see my handsome, intelligent cousin. And when I introduce him to them he becomes an ice cube.”

Don Vicente grunted again, but from the light in his eyes Luis knew his father was pleased. “It’s about time you started getting more interests, hijo ,” he said.

“I don’t have to look for more,” Luis said, feeling miserable and piqued with his cousin. He crossed his legs and studied the interlocking hand-embroidered design on the bedsheet. “My work, it’s so demanding and really keeps me busy.”

“Don’t let your work do that,” his father said. “Visit Trining every week next school year, even every day if you can. I think you should live together, so that you can meet her friends.”

“It’s once a month he comes,” Trining complained, “and he doesn’t even want to take me out unless I beg him. It’s so embarrassing. I would like to do some shopping and see some movies — but he won’t let me.”

Don Vicente laughed, and as peals of his laughter burst out, Luis imagined that they gathered in his belly and belched out of his mouth with the sharp crack of splitting bamboo.

“ Hijo ,” he said, “try to understand how difficult it is for a girl to be cooped up in that convent school. And you don’t have to work all that hard.”

“I have no specific working hours, but we do have to exert extra effort all the time.”

“But your health — look at yourself, frail as a toothpick.” Don Vicente sounded alarmed.

“I sleep well, eat well.”

“But is your allowance enough? I can give you another opening in the bank,” Don Vicente offered.

“It’s more than enough, Father,” Luis said firmly. “You know that.”

“And the house, nothing needs repair? New furniture?” Don Vicente pressed on.

Luis shook his head. “I live like a sultan, Father,” he said. “I cannot ask for more. Besides, I am earning a little now.”

“Starvation wage!” Don Vicente roared, and then fell into a fit of deep coughing. After a pause, “All right — remember this — no one asked you to work. It is my remotest desire. But if you want to die slowly …” His coughing stopped, and leaning forward, he said softly, “You know I am always interested in your welfare, and I’ve told Simeon and Santos to look after your needs even if you don’t want to tell me …”

A gap of uneasy silence.

Then, turning to the girl, Don Vicente said, “Run along to the kitchen and see that we have a good supper.” Trining stood up, and as the door closed after her, Don Vicente beckoned to his son to come closer. “Listen, I do not want you to go astray. But you should have women — that is natural. Only, do not let your sexual urges confuse you about the real purpose of marriage, which is the formation of a home. Marriage is a social contract, not just for children but for your future.”

“You seem to have forgotten the most important element, Father,” Luis said. “There has to be love.”

Don Vicente smiled patronizingly, his nicotine-tinted teeth showing. “Young romantic love! Yes — you must know the feeling, the experience. But don’t forget what marriage is for. You can have mistresses, Luis. But marriage must be for more than love. Politics, economics, stability. Now, look around you, at your own publisher. Dantes — he married his cousin, or did you not know that? The politicians that I knew — the powerful men in government — they married not for love. So, keep your romantic notions and do the right thing just the same.”

Don Vicente looked at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Young people,” he continued, “they waste not only time. But then, I was young once, too. And I enjoyed life — my wine, my gambling. Do you gamble, son?” He turned briefly to Luis.

The young man shook his head.

“What are you so sensitive about?” the old man asked. “I am a man, I understand. Nothing like gambling or risks to temper the soul. But even here, you must keep your head. And you must know how to lose. I did lose a bit — on the tables, but I gained a lot away from them. Do you know what I am talking about?”

Luis would have to hear it again, how the old man had played poker with Quezon and all those who gravitated around Malacañan, the big men, the mestizos who blabbered in Spanish and bludgeoned the Indios just as their forebears had done. “I almost had a street named after me in Quezon City,” Don Vicente was saying, “but Quezon forgot — and I was too proud to remind him about it. And as I was saying, you must also choose your gambling partners — not just any riffraff, and don’t patronize just any gambling den. Politics is total, son. Total. And even women should be tools in it. If you ever go to a whorehouse, don’t forget to look after your health; use condoms. Be protected always, by insurance, by connections. This is what I really want to tell you. Have you considered taking up law, Luis?”

Luis shook his head again.

“You are still very young,” the old man continued. “You can take up law in the evenings. You don’t have to become a lawyer, or if you pass the bar, you don’t have to practice law. Four years — and the knowledge of the law is a good form of preparation. With it, you can be a surer, more skillful politician. Then run for public office, for Congress. This is how I see it. Times are changing, Luis. I did not have to go into politics because I knew the best politicians in the country. Wealth — you cannot keep it, nor will it grow if you have no political power: I am not too sure that you know the men who are in power now, or those who are coming up. Be a congressman, then, from this district. Not mayor, that is much too low for you. I have supported so many of them, and they — Nacionalistas and Liberals — they owe me favors. So you will have not just a name or wealth but real power. You understand, don’t you?”

Luis nodded. There came quickly to mind the parade of politicians in the Ermita house, the gregarious talk and the handshakes, the government clerks meekly seeking audience with his father, the carefully coined phrases of corruption, the undertones and the exultant “ areglados .” So, he would be a politician, too, but the prospect did not attract him. “We have such a surplus of lawyers, Father, and noisy politicians who do nothing but cheat.” He had not intended to argue or displease the old man.

“But am I asking you to cheat?” Don Vicente raised his voice. “When did millionaires cheat? I am asking you simply to understand what power is, more than I can give you, with my name, my properties. I am thinking of the future — and just between us, hijo , you have made a very good start. The people know now that there is an Asperri who is intelligent. And with your pen, you have influence — which is also power.”