The Virus

Chapter Ten

It had become a race against time, a fight for survival. We disembarked the plane and walked into the drizzly night. The Philippines hadn’t changed much since the last time I was there. We hailed a cab and rode to Manila, the capital city. I told Carter about my parents’ house on the outskirts of the city and that’s where we headed. I watched as the lights of the city slowly started to disappear behind us. The house was just as beautiful as I’d remembered. I hoped the key was still in its hiding place. Carter paid the cab driver and hauled my bags to the door first. I found the key in the same place it was years ago. It was strange no one had found it. I unlocked the door and walked in, leaving Carter to get our luggage. The house smelled dusty but it was nothing a little cleaning and scented candles couldn’t fix. I’d make it feel just like I remembered it did.

            I went straight upstairs to my extremely old bedroom. I pushed aside the curtains, heavy with dust, and looked out. My room had the most spectacular view. It overlooked the nearby beach. The waters were clear and calm. It comforted me just standing there. I felt like my mom was there with me telling me how we’d go to the beach on Saturday and have a bonfire. We’d invite everyone we knew and sing karaoke. I smiled. Footsteps behind me made me shut the curtains and turn around.

“What are you doing?” asked Carter.

“Nothing,” I said, taking my bags from him. “I’ll sleep here.”

            He nodded.

“I’ll go to the store and pick up some cleaning supplies. We have a lot of work to do,” I said.

            Without waiting for an answer, I left.

            I was browsing the shelves of a local grocery store and suddenly remembered that my mother used to shop there. She was well known by thee people who owned the store. I fancied they knew nothing about her passing or my father’s. I didn’t feel like talking about it. I held up a hand and covered my face. I didn’t want to be recognized. I was almost out the door when someone called my old name. I froze for the slightest second and instantly regretted it. If I didn’t stop they would’ve thought they were just mistaken.

“Adriana is that you?”

“I think you have the wrong person,” I said, edging towards the door.

“Always a jokester,” she said, gently smacking my arm. “I haven’t seen you since you were seven! How’ve you been?”

“Fine,” I said.

“And your parents?”

I gulped. “Dead.”

“What?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard correctly.

“They’re dead,” I repeated.

            Sympathetic stares, the worst kind of stares. I looked away, feeling a lump in my throat. Her hand was on my shoulder. I didn’t want it there but I didn’t move. She changed the subject.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m fine,” I said, clearing my throat.

“Nonsense! Come on. I’ll get you some food.”

            Mrs. Golladay never took no for an answer. She was a good friend of my mother’s. Her husband was like my dad’s best friend. They were all so close and it hurt for me to be around her. Her house wasn’t far from the store so we walked. It looks exactly the same, I thought, admiring her home. Mrs. Golladay piled pansit (Filipino noodle dish) and lumpia (Filipino eggroll) onto a paper plate and covered it with aluminum foil.