When the Fireworks Begin

Chapter XXVIII

Three days.        

Three days have passed and James still sits on the same spot on the hill. The only time he would go home was to take a bath and change his clothes.

Every dawn, before the sun rises, he will drive back to their apartment.  After taking a quick and changing his clothes, he’ll grab whatever it was on the kitchen table or in his refrigerator and take it with him.   He would be back at the hill before the sun emerges from the mountain peaks.

One thing is certain, James doesn’t want Devon to see him in his worst.  He wants to be in his best appearance every morning, as he patiently waits in the hill. But by the time dusk settles in, he would look distraught, crumpled and tired.  By night time, he already looked defeated. Defeated but still in denial.

She will come back,  he would often assure himself. 

And then after a quick sleep, he will wake up at dawn and go home to take a bath again. Trying to look his best for someone who won’t be coming.

****

It was the last night of the wake in the local memorial chapel.  The room is overflowing with people, funeral bouquets almost covered the entire room walls, the flowers’ scent overpowering.  Over sad murmurs and whispers, a faint sob will be heard, a soft mournful wail which will eventually fade into huddled silence. 

The mass has just finished with tons of family, relatives, friends, colleagues, and workmates attending.  People have been constantly approaching Aling Linda, Mang Tony, and the rest of the family, expressing their condolences, sharing their grief, offering prayers and support. 

The Rocafort family was there, as well.  They haven’t missed a single night.  They were even there during the days. Aling Linda and Mang Tony were grateful for their help.  Malcolm and Jacqueline, efficient as ever, coordinated with the sisters regarding the family wake.  They have tried to make-up for the fact that James refused to in his wife’s wake.

The stream of people approaching the family has finally thinned.  But the memorial chapel remained thick with grievers. 

In the front pew, Mrs. Rocafort was gently holding the tear-stricken Aling Linda. 

“Is he coming tonight, ” Aling Linda asked.

Mrs. Rocafort sadly shook her head.  “All of us tried to talk to him.  But he refused to believe that Devon has already...” she struggled to finish the last of her sentence.

Aling Linda squeezed her hand.

“It’s hard for him,” Aling Linda sadly explained.  “My daughter is really fortunate to have somebody like James.”

“It is my son who should be grateful,” Mrs. Rocafort disagreed.  “Your daughter has managed to change my son and our family for the better.”