Apart from the names I used for the characters, this is in no way related to Illusion. I wrote this short story for a contest at school, I know I know, seems highschoolish that I joined, but I didn't have much of a choice about it coz my professors wouldn't hear about my reasons why I didn't wanna join. Ended up quite a bit as a good deal coz I got 1000php out of it as first prize ^^ That and this story was published in our school organ.
Warning: super cheesy mushy corny plotline, hey... what can you expect? I wrote it for Valentine's Day ^^0 Or at least it was writen in February, I just kept forgetting to post it here.
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Every day I attended the five a.m. mass at St. Peter's Parish. I went with David who loved the crisp morning air that raised goosebumps on his skin. We would walk in companionable silence, his arm slung over my shoulder, drinking in the fresh cool air. This had become a ritual for the two of us.
We had been going out for over a year. David was a co-worker at the hospital where I was employed. He was a pediatrician; while I, a humble nurse, worked the geriatrics unit. We would meet every morning at St. Peter's before going to work. The church was a mere few blocks away, making it an ideal meeting spot, and every time we attended the mass, I would see them.
They walked with lumbering steps, the old woman holding her husband's arm as they inched their way to their usual seat. Both of them were very quiet, only mumbling soft words to each other if they needed to say anything or to answer the priest's words during the mass. I enjoyed watching them for they symbolized a life I wished I could have. They were just so wonderful to observe.
At one time, the priest hailed them during his sermon. He announced to the congregation that today was Mr. and Mrs. Castillo’s 50th anniversary. He told them to stand and give each other a kiss, which they did with little hesitation and with appreciation from the clapping crowd of mass-goers.
“Isn’t that wonderful?” I elbowed David and gestured towards the old couple sitting in front of us. He grunted, smiling from the corner of his mouth, saying nothing in response. “Wouldn’t you want to be like them?” I asked, insisting for an answer from him and wanting to know what he was thinking.
“Old, bent, and wrinkled?” He teased, giving me an answer I did not like. “You really want to be like that, Tin?”
I frowned, peeved with his response. He just could not possibly misunderstand what I meant. I tried again, “Don’t you think it’s sweet that they’ve been together for so long and still are in love with each other?”
David shrugged, “Guess so.”
Since then, I never tackled that topic with him again. But I continued to observe the old couple; watching them from afar, noting their gestures and movements, and secretly hoping that I would enjoy the same as theirs.
Then one day, they did not come. Their usual seat was occupied by a balding fellow who turned out to be a beggar, pestering churchgoers for alms. I waited each day for a glimpse of either of them, fearing the worst.
“They’re abroad,” mentioned the priest when I asked if he knew how they were. “They left about a week ago.” I nodded, relieved that they were alright. Several months passed by before I saw them again. It was not in a place I expected.
I was on my way back from checking on my patients when I passed by a room with its door ajar. I happened to glance in and saw them. They were still holding hands, still very much together, but the difference was that Mr. Castillo was on his back, lying on a hospital bed, his eyes closed to the world. Mrs. Castillo was sitting on a chair next to the bed, her hand combing his hair back from his face with smooth even strokes.
I must have made a sound because she looked up and saw me looking in. She made a gesture for me to enter the room, and after a second or two of hesitation, I reluctantly did.
“Can you help me with my husband’s sheets?” she asked in that voice I only heard inside the church while singing hymns.
“Of course, ma’am,” I smiled. “I’ll just get some fresh change…”
“No need, nurse,” Mrs. Castillo said, shaking her head. “I’ve brought some of ours. Could we use those instead?”
“Sure, ma’am!” I answered.
We changed the bed covers while Mr. Castillo slept on. When we finished, Mrs. Castillo sat down again and told me, “He always liked the smell of jasmine. That’s why I wanted to use these sheets.” She ran her hands on the crisp blanket covering her husband. “At least he could feel life he’s at home if he smells these. He’ll know I’m nearby.”
I let her continue. “We haven’t gone home yet, you know. We went directly here. I miss our house.” I nodded. “But I didn’t want to stay there without him. It just didn’t feel the same. You understand?” I smiled, somewhat knowing the sentiment she was trying to explain. “Did you know, I was a nurse too. My James was a doctor and we met at work. You probably have someone like that here, right?” I told her about David.
“Yes, we were just like that!” she smiled, her face full of nostalgia. “Tomorrow would be the anniversary of the day we met. Yes, tomorrow would be our 53rd valentines together, wouldn’t it dear?” she asked, nodding benignly at her husband. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. He was just like my David, I realized. He didn’t need to respond.
The next day, I dropped by to find the room empty. The head nurse informed me that they checked out. Mr. Castillo did not wake up, but they went home. It was not long after that when I head that he died. I saw Mrs. Castillo attend mass by herself. For once, she ceased to capture my attention. She looked old; and it did not seem right that she should be alone.
Then a few months later, she stopped coming. I head that she died in her sleep, clutching a picture of her husband.
“It’s just sad,” I told David, crying on his shoulder when I learned of her fate. David rubbed my back companionably. “I wanted to be like them,” I said crying, “because they were sweet, so good together, and so right for each other.”
He said nary a word, only made comforting sounds. His presence was palpable; it was enough, more than enough. So it surprised me when he admitted in a whisper, “Me too.”
Our eyes met and we smiled, knowing exactly what was being left unsaid. Sometimes, I realized, we don’t really need any word or sign to know what is in one another’s hearts.
~fin~
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So, what do you think? Told you it's sappy ^^
