To Hold Your Hand

Do you remember the first time we met? She said. It was my sister’s wedding. And there was this party...

I remember so well. I was seventeen. Don Alfredo, the man who lived in the mansion two towns away, he was throwing a party for his oldest daughter’s wedding. He was known for his wealth and his good will, and for that one night he opened his house to everyone who wished to celebrate with him. There were rich and influential people everywhere. They were wearing suits and ball gowns. Everyone was walking around, noses up high, looking all important and expensive. And then there she was...

..And then there you were. You were wearing this...white shirt and black chinos. It was easy you tell you were not one those snobby rich boys I hated so much. There was this...honest look in your eyes. I couldn’t look away.

...I couldn’t look away. She was wearing a yellow frilly dress that covered her knees. Her hair was down in delicate curls. There were little white flowers on them. Her lips were painted a less flamboyant shade of red, her cheeks rosy pink. She wrinkled her nose and sighed out of boredom. But she was so beautiful...

...You were so beautiful. I didn’t want to admit it back then, but it could easily have been love at first sight. You came up to me, all confident, and held out your hand. The band was playing this song... And I took your hand...

***CUE MUSIC ON THE SIDE PLEASE.  =)*****

...And I danced with her the whole night. If I could have freezed up that moment, when her hands were onto mine and I was just looking at her infinite brown eyes, I would have. I kept my firm grasp on her. She informed me, politely, that the piece was over, and if I could just let go of her hands, because they were getting sweaty. And then I said...

...And then you said, “I don’t care if your hands were sweaty, or wrinkly, or dying. I would never let it go. Soledad laughed softly. Seventy five years to this day, and you still would not let it go. She said, and raised their locked hands. He squeezed it, as hard as the pain in his joints would let him.

 She coughed, one more time. This one was hollow, cruel, and it hit him right in chest, evoking a jolt of pain. She loosened her grip to him, and inhaled deeply. She let out one long breath. Then silence.

Soledad. He called out her name, but no answer. Soledad... He said, his voice echoing from the silence that seemed to have hands that cut through his chest and squeeze his lungs so he could not breathe anymore. Soledad... One fat tear escaped his eye. He took Soledad’s unresponsive hand, and held it tight in the darkness.

He was then transported to that time when he first met her, Soledad in her yellow dress, and the flowers in her hair. Soledad with the serene smile that made his heart ache. Soledad with the soft hands that he grasped almost arrogantly, pumped up with the foolishness of youth and the pureness of his boyish love. He tilted his head to his good ear, his mind mentally playing that one song...

I don’t care if your hands were sweaty, or wrinkly, or dying. I would never let it go.

I kept my promise, Sweetheart. He said. I never let it go.

He drew one last breath. And he closed his eyes.

Selya got up slowly, groggy from the night’s sleep. There was a lot to do today, what with tending to Nanay and making sure Tatay takes his pain meds on time. She stretched her arms and rubbed her eyes. She tied her long hair to a tight bun and headed straight to the kitchen to cook breakfast.

She didn’t think either of the two got enough sleep last night. She woke up in the middle of night and caught Tatay walking to the kitchen without his cane, insisting that someone better give their Nanay some water. She knew he could feel Nanay’s suffering, although he could not see it. Seeing him like that, trying his best to be helpful yet looking so helpless, it breaks Selya’s heart. Her parents are old and sickly, and it drains her. It drains her to watch them deteriorate slowly before her eyes. It’s a pain she had to deal with every day, because there was little she could do about it.

 Wake Nanay and bring this to her, she instructed to Salome, her young helper. She handed the tray to her, a cup of hot tea and warm soup, because it’s easier to the stomach. Be careful, she called out.

She took the other tray and went into Tatay’s room. Tatay, your breakfast. She said as she opened the door. But Tatay wasn’t there.

Salome! She called out.

Manang... Manang... Salome was running towards her, panting Nanay and Tatay...you have to come see.

Salome took her hand and led her to the next room. Her heart started beating wildly in her chest, feeling a strong sense of doom she could not even begin to explain as she walked towards it.

Her hands were shaking as she burst the door open and looked.

And she cried and cried. 

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Now I know the song may not be time-accurate, but I love it so much I have to use it. 

Thanks for reading.

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