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Chapter Fifteen

Celia once said that our grandfather had the happiest face that she saw. "He's like continuously smiling. But not in scary way like Joker, more like a human smiley face." Those were my sister's exact words, and I completely agree.

"I'm going to check on the chickens," he said. "Do you want to come with me? You can harvest the eggs."

"No," my grandmother said, shaking her head emphatically. "Talia's coming with me to the market. That's the most exciting thing to do around here. Never mind the chickens."

I laughed. My grandfather left, shaking his head with a smile on his face.

"Do you always get your way around here?" I grinned at my grandmother.

She nodded. "That's the reason why we're still happily married, I think. Your grandfather's tolerance is truly remarkable, if I may say so myself." I could not tell if she was serious or not.

When my grandmother and I left the farm, my mom and sisters were still asleep.

"There are clear signs," my grandmother said. Her voice was gentle as she decided ten minutes ago that a lesson in how to spot the best products in the market was deemed much needed. We have covered the basics in how to choose the best slab of beef at the meat counter. Color was important. My brain ran through the reminders in my head — meat should have a rich color and the fat should be wispy white not yellowish.

"But a fresh catch should never have a fishy odor. It should have the scent of the sea." She held up a fish for me. I stared at the fish that my grandmother put in my eye level.

I leaned in close and sniffed. "It smells like fish, Lola."

"Of course it smells like fish. It is a fish. If you can't tell with your nose, look at the eyes. They should be translucent, not cloudy."

I examined the bulging eyes of the fish. "It's clear."

My grandmother gave me a proud smile and purchased the fish. For lunch, my grandmother would steam the fish while she would teach me how to make the simple dressing to go along with the dish.

The market was bustling with people. My grandmother knew most of them. We bought a variety of things that our basket was almost full to the brim. We bought plump red tomatoes, a bag of onions, some ginger and a few yellow and green peppers. We also bought rambutan. The vendor gave me a taste test and they were juicy and sweet. I liked the texture of the bristly red outer shell. We also bought some pungent jackfruit which my mom loved. Finally, we stopped at a store to get some coconut strips cooked in brown sugar called bukayo.

"It's your grandfather's favorite dessert," my grandmother explained. "We have to keep most of it away from him or else he will devour all of it in one sitting."

I sat on a bench as we waited for a tricycle to take us home. I bit on a tiny piece of sweetened coconut.

"What's on your mind?" My grandmother gave me a questioning smile. The crowd had thinned down. Most of the vendors were also in the process of putting their goods away. Market Day was over.

"I want Mom to be happy but I want her to be happy with Dad." I shuffled my left foot and kicked at a small stone with my rubber tsinelas. "I know that sounds ideal but I can't help it. That's what I want, Lola. I want Mom and Dad to be together. There's nothing wrong with wanting that and wishing for that, no matter how impossible it may be. Especially now. There must be a method to make that happen."

"Talia, science may play a significant role in unlocking the secrets of a happy marriage and good relationships in general but that's not always the case. Science and all these theories, studies and research can help but they will not be of utmost effectiveness if people do not concur. Humans, by nature, are not very cooperative participants and can be very stubborn if they want to."

She sat next to me and put the basket on the ground.

I did not understand our current circumstance as a family entirely, and I feared that I may never will and I will fail to move on from constantly wishing and wanting and waiting for a false hope to come to life.

It was as if my grandmother sensed the truth because she said, "One day, you will learn that it's not enough to want what you want to happen for it to happen. But you will be fine." She put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug. "You will be okay," she whispered to me and kissed the top of my head. Just then, a roaring tricycle with an extremely talkative driver stopped in front of us and asked if we needed a ride.

I spent the rest of the day with Mia after we had lunch. We watched the chickens lay egg and then we fed them with some corn. Mia chased dragonflies while I sat on a tree stump, making flower necklaces out of red and white santan flowers. We ran around the farm with the three dogs. When we got tired, we sat by a pond with water lilies on its surface. There was a small wishing-well next to the pond so Mia and I dropped coins and made wishes, most of them were silly. Mia wished for a yellow wheelbarrow full of all kinds of ice cream while I wished for a cake vending machine. Celia joined us with that activity. She did not share what she wished for though and immediately went inside as soon as Mia suggested that we should go and search for some bugs and worms.

Late in the afternoon, we rode a tricycle and went to the nearby beach. We could have walked but we wanted to catch the sunset. Mia was awestruck. Admittedly, the view was fantastic. The local beaches were truly something else, the horizon a picture of vivid purples, bright oranges, warm yellows and soft reds. It felt like a cozy blanket for your insides that you never knew you needed. Talia stared at the sun setting and felt a confusing blend of immense joy and unexplained melancholia.

Celia took a lot of pictures—of Mia's hair flying freely in the ocean breeze as she ran perpetually, her curls shimmering in the light of the waning sun, to me drawing in the sand with a stick, to Mom sitting on the shore with a smile, her shiny engagement ring reflecting the light of the golden hour.

We came home to find my grandmother handing the whole bag of bukayo to my grandfather as they sat on the porch, waiting for us to arrive back home and have dinner together.

I smiled and made a mental note to playfully tease my grandmother later.

The next day, we left before noon because the morning news said that there might be a heavy rainfall by late afternoon and Mom did not want to be caught in the middle of that.

Mia was crying because she did not want to leave the dogs. Celia and I hugged her and told her that her cat was awaiting her return.

Our grandparents waved goodbye at us, reminding us to come back any time.

Image Source: Fine Art America

"Fruit Pickers Harvesting Under The Mango Tree" by Fernando Amorsolo