There Once was a Boy Named Juancho

Part 1

There once was a boy named Juancho. He was 15 years old. Before he was born, his mother got raped, resulting to her unwanted pregnancy. Ever since he was a baby, his mother kept on blaming him for no reason why; she shouts at him, hits him, abuses him physically and verbally. But despite that, all Juancho wanted was for his mother to be happy. Eventually, Juancho’s mother got into an accident while she was working on the streets, causing her to have a disability in the legs, making it hard for her to walk. So every day for the past few years of Juancho’s life, he has been selling bottles and papers on the streets of Manila. He pulls these around with a rope tied to a kariton. He doesn’t earn much, usually ₱5-30 a day, but it was enough to provide everything he and his mother needed. When he gets home late in the afternoon, thinking that it would make his mother happy, it doesn’t.  She continues to shout & hurt him for no reason.

Although he and his mother are poor, he still manages to earn enough money to provide everything they needed: Food, water, clothes, and materials to build a small home in the slums of Manila. He also was accepted to learn in one of the government’s projects with no charge at all. Regardless of his general disposition, you could say that Juancho was one lucky kid.

One day, on the morning of his mother’s birthday, Juancho was about to leave, but then his mother said to him, “I would be the happiest person alive if you weren’t here”. That, of course, hurt him. But since it was her birthday, he went out with the goal in his heart to make his mother happy. But before he left, he said to his mother, “Mama, I love you.” There was no reply from the mother.

A few hours after he left, Juancho’s mother pondered and thought about what she said and did to him in the past. She finally realized that it wasn’t right to treat him this way. She felt guilty for all those times when he tried to cheer her up, but yet she let out all her anger on her son. So she decided to prepare a meal of sardines, canned soup, and unleavened bread for dinner that night; not because it’s her birthday, but because it was a way of her saying sorry to her son.

After preparing the meal, she waited. She waited for her son to come back from his work. But soon enough, she fell asleep. She woke up a few hours later, finding out that her son wasn’t home yet. She went outside, finding that the kariton was there, but the rope tied to its end was gone. She started to worry. She asked the neighbors if they had seen Juancho, all they said was that he took the rope from the kariton and went inside their house, rubbing his neck with a sad but determined look on his face.

Once she heard this, she immediately ran inside, stopping right in front of the doorstep, hesitating. She called out with a shaking voice, “Juancho? My son, are you there?”

There was no reply.

She walked slowly into the hallway, heading towards her son’s bedroom. Her breaths were getting heavier with every step she took.

“He’s probably just asleep.” She thought to herself. But her doubts were the ones that were dominating in her head, knowing that it probably isn’t true.

A few feet left before she reached the door handle, she stopped and listened; there were no sounds coming from inside his room. It was so quiet; you could hear a needle pin drop.

Afraid but curious, she wrapped around the cool, rusted metal of the door, separating her from what truth lies behind it.

With short, quick breaths, she turned the knob of the door, hesitating to look at what sight confronted her.

She eventually looked up and immediately dropped to her knees; what she saw is an image that would leave a deep and permanent scar for the rest of her life. She couldn’t believe what was in front of her, the whole scene felt like the climax of the scariest nightmare in the history of human kind.

She could hear her heart as if it was right beside her ear. And soon enough, her disbelief faded, forcing her to accept what she was seeing. Sniffles turned into tears, tears turned into sobs, and sobs turned into screams of regret and disappointment; her son was dead.

Dismayed by the truth, she approached his body. His eyes were still open, still showing signs of sadness and a very small part of life, but it had faded already.

Juancho’s mother touched his cheeks, caressing them as she continued to sob. Eventually her knees weakened and she broke down, hugging her son’s lifeless and cold body, strangely missing his arms around her, though she never really accepted a hug from Juancho when he was alive.

She hugged her son tightly, that if he was alive, he would’ve probably already choked. But he’s already gone.

She heard the sound of something that hit the ground. She looked down and saw that there was a piece of paper, looking like it fell from his left hand.

She picked it up; her face still wet with tears, and found that there was writing on the paper.

She read,

“Dear Mama,

Today is your birthday; it should be all about you. It should be all about your happiness, because you are turning a year older. I didn’t want you to spend another year with the problem of my existence.  Like what you said earlier: You would be the happiest person alive if I wasn’t here.

I’m sorry that I have made your life worse. I didn’t want that for you, so I did this.

I also have an extra birthday gift. I’ve been saving it for 4 years in hopes that it’d get us somewhere better. In my closet, there is a drawer there. And in that drawer you will find about ₱7000. Please use it in a good way.

I hope I’ve made you happier, mommy.

Happy birthday, I love you."

    -        Juancho