Past In The Spotlight (SUNSET TRILOGY #1)

Chapter 11

[Capítulo Once: Clara del Rosario]

The area’s atmosphere shifted, crackling with the intensity of their unspoken conflict. Marianne's eyes, ablaze with defiance, locked onto Clara's unwavering gaze. A palpable tension hung in the air, like an invisible force pulling them closer to the edge of confrontation.

"Hala, si Ate napaka-bossy (Oh, she's quite bossy)," Marianne groaned, the words escaping her lips with a mix of frustration and rebellion. Clara, standing tall, met Marianne's challenge with a confident response.

"Ate, hindi ko po gustong makipag-away, ha? Kilala mo ba kung sino ako (Sis, I don't want to argue, okay? Do you know who I am)?" Marianne's voice, assertive and unyielding, echoed in the room. Clara, equally resolute, crossed her arms, her stance a silent declaration of her unwavering stance.

Even though I had no idea what they were talking about, I had a strange feeling that a fire was being formed between the two of them. The subtle gestures, the charged looks—they spoke louder than words. Sensing the escalating tension, I intervened, stepping between the two of them.

"Let us just all calm down, ladies!" I urged, my attempt to diffuse the situation like a feeble gust trying to extinguish a growing flame.

"Jong, step aside! Huwag kang bastos. Nag-uusap pa kami (Don’t be rude. We’re having a conversation)," she growled, attempting to sidestep me and draw nearer to Clara, her frustration etched across her face like a storm brewing on the horizon. Yet, I positioned myself firmly, an unyielding barrier between the two.

"Sino ang tinatawag mong Jong, Binibini (Who are you calling Jong, Miss)?" Clara's voice cut through the charged air, her gaze narrowing in suspicion.

"Yung asawa ko, Ate (My husband, Miss)! Bakit (Why)?" Marianne's hands enveloped my waist, a possessive grip pulling me into her orbit.

"What are you doing? Stop!" I protested, my attempts to break free met with the unyielding strength of Marianne's hold. The room became a battlefield of emotions, the physical struggle mirroring the underlying tensions that had erupted into the open.

"Asawa mo si Joaquin (Joaquin’s your husband)?" I heard Clara ask, her tone undergoing a sudden shift, carrying a mix of surprise and disbelief, the words hanging in the air like an unexpected revelation.

A sudden, forceful shove disrupted the space between us. Marianne, fueled by an unyielding resolve, propelled me away with a determined push. The energy in the room shifted as she redirected her strength, closing the gap between her and Clara. The physical act spoke volumes, echoing the emotional turmoil that surged beneath the surface.

"Wala naman akong magagawa doon, e (I couldn’t do anything about it anyways)," Marianne replied. "Pero kung gusto mo, sa iyo na lang siya (But if you want, you can have him)."

"Kakaiba ka talaga, Binibini (You’re really different, Miss)," Clara spoke. "Hindi ko mawari kung nagsasabi ka ba ng katotohanan o hindi (I can't tell if you're telling the truth or not)."

The exchange unfolded like a delicate dance of words, leaving an ambiguity in the air, a mysterious veil shrouding the truth behind their spoken sentiments.

"Teka, are you calling me a liar, Ate (Wait, are you calling me a liar, Sis)?" said Marianne as she took another step closer, her pointer finger aimed accusingly at Clara, who stood her ground.

"Will you please stop?" I shouted, stepping between them and gently moving Clara away from the seemingly annoyed Marianne.

"Ugh! Magsama kayong dalawa (You two should be together)!" Marianne spoke, frustration lacing her words as she turned her back against us, heading towards a nearby tree to sit down. The air buzzed with unresolved tension, each word and movement contributing to the intricate tapestry of the unfolding conflict.

Clara's words brushed the air in a hushed whisper, the weight of her inquiry echoing the unraveling threads of confusion and uncertainty, each syllable revealing the intricate layers of their complex relationship.

“No (No),” I replied. “¿Porqué preguntarias eso (Why would you ask that)?”

“Me lo dijo cuando le pregunté quién es Jong (She told me when I asked her who Jong is),” she replied.

“That crazy girl! I knew that she was really a lunatic!”

I witnessed Marianne's outburst, her fists colliding with the mango tree in a burst of frustration. The blows echoed the turmoil within, each punch an expression of pent-up emotions. After a while, she abruptly ceased, her back still turned away from us, the aftermath of her fury lingering in the air.

“Tal vez necesiten presentarse el uno al otro (Maybe you need to introduce yourselves with one another),” I suggested.

Silence enveloped the scene as Clara's gaze shifted towards Marianne. With purposeful steps, she closed the distance until she stood in front of the silent figure.

Marianne remained motionless, an unspoken tension lingering in the air. Clara, undeterred, began to unveil a piece of her identity. "Ang ngalan ko ay Clara del Rosario. Ang aking ina ay si Gabriella Martinez at ang aking ama ay ang isa sa mga sundalos ng Katipunan na si Martin del Rosario (My name is Clara del Rosario. My mother is Gabriella del Rosario y Martinez, and my father is one of the soldiers of the Katipunan, Martin del Rosario)," she disclosed, her words delivered with a calm demeanor that belied the complexity of the shared history between them.

“K- Kayo po ba yung may… yung may-ari nung bahay na tinulugan namin kagabi (A- Are you the one who owns... owns the house where we stayed last night)?” Marianne asked softly. The vulnerability in her voice revealed a newfound understanding as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

“Ako ang anak ng may-ari ng bahay na iyon at isa rin ako sa mga nagbantay sa iyo kagabi (I am the daughter of the owner of that house, and I was also one of those who guarded you last night),” Clara replied.

If I only knew how to speak the language that they all understand, I could ask them the question about what was going on back at that part. I was just near them, yet I didn’t understand what they were stating. The barrier of language added a layer of frustration to my proximity, leaving me on the outskirts of comprehension as the conversation unfolded in a linguistic landscape foreign to me.

"Naku, salamat po, Ate (Oh, thank you, Sister)," Marianne's voice carried a hint of gratitude as she finally turned to face Clara, a smile playing on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of their shared understanding.

“Walang anuman (No problem),” Clara replied, her own smile radiant, the unspoken connection between them woven through the language of gestures and expressions.

“Sorry na po, Ate. Sorry na (I’m so sorry, Sis. I’m sorry),” said the crazy girl, slightly bowing her head in front of Clara.

“Hindi ko alam kung ano ang iyong binanggit subalit kapag mayroon kang gustong sabihin tungkol sa akin ay makikinig ako sa iyo (I don’t know what you mentioned, but if you have something to say about me, I’m willing to listen),” Clara stated. The apology and the open invitation for communication hung in the air, creating a fragile bridge between the two, transcending the earlier tension.

“Wala naman po akong masamang ibig sabihin. Nagsasabi lang po ako ng ‘Sorry’ (I don't really have anything bad to say. I'm just saying 'Sorry’),” Marianne added.