CHAPTER FOUR
PENELOPE
"LOG IN first before touching any book," said Miss Aurita with her thick voice. She had blonde hair, was small, pudgy, and had a round face. She was also quite big in the middle. Miss Aurita was the university librarian, very strict like Sir Guvat, but not as professional as him, as she was always seen sleeping at work.
The moon around her neck never failed to catch my attention. I stared at it for a minute or two until I realized I looked like a maniac staring at her jewelry. I averted my gaze.
King called her "Miss Buckish" whenever he's out of her earshot. He said it was a word play for bookish and buck (because Miss Aurita had a bit of a buck tooth). I didn't know their past nor the root of his indifference towards Miss Aurita, but he never set foot inside the library as far as I could remember. Pedre told me Miss Aurita once ordered King to oversee the library while she slept. The experience repelled King from going here forever.
The smell of wood, oh so refreshing, danced through my nostrils. It was addicting. All around me were books in varying volumes and sizes. Most of them lined up the walls on their shelves, while some stacked up on the floor. Miss Aurita didn't even bother to organize them in their respective shelves.
I nodded at her, and proceeded to log in - my name - the date - the time. My hand had slipped while I was doing my signature so the line that should have been straight was a little crooked.
She squinted at me, maybe trying to make my face out without her glasses. Then I saw something beside her lips, and I assumed she just woke up. I must have woken her up. I recalled I was no gentle when I opened the door.
Not wanting to stand before Miss Aurita any longer, I went deeper inside the library, away from the lobby, away from her. I made sure to check every table. No Ame in sight. I turned to the right, then left, now I was completely hidden from Miss Aurita's vision because of the tall shelves.
He definitely said he would be here.
Ame stood at the far end, inspecting a row of books. The height of the shelves didn't even become a problem for him, because he was too tall. When he retrieved a book from the topmost part of the shelves, he didn't even extend his hand that much. He flipped the book from front to back, pouting at the words on it. I wanted to call him out for holding the book with just one hand, without no care, but I came here for another reason.
"You shouldn't have done that," I told him, my voice sharp to which he winced at. But how else was I to sound? "Thanks to you, Sir Guvat threatened to fail me in his subject."
"What?" His eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth, only to close them again. He did it so many times that my head already cooled down. "I'm sorry," he said finally.
"Nevermind," I said. He fell back against the shelves, all energy drained out.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us, a kind that threatened to suffocate us. He flipped on the pages of the book he was holding. One after another with only a minute interval that I doubted he was really reading it.
"Have you read this book?" he asked, handing it to me. I accepted it and held it like a china in my hands. "I was surprised to see a copy here."
It was the story of "The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse." What appeared to be a children's book at first glance was actually a book of wisdom.
"When the dark clouds come . . . keep going," I quoted what the Boy said in the book. That was enough of an answer that I had already read it.
He chuckled at that. "That's very you to remember that particular line."
He fell silent again. If I wanted to leave, now was the chance, I thought. But then he spoke, and without even trying, he had me glued to my spot, hanging on his every word.
"Now that I saw it again, I wondered . . . . were you always quiet because like the Fox, you also feel like you have nothing interesting to say?" he said wisely.
"Are you going to tell me that being honest is always interesting like what the Horse replied to the Fox?" I asked. "Don't. Weren't you hurt when I told you I hate rain?"
"I'm hurt, yes," Ame replied, "but I understand you. You don't have very good memories with it."
"Why do I feel like you know everything?" I asked, but I didn't really expect a reply. I was happy he didn't reply. Because I was afraid of what he would say.
"I didn't know," he said after a while, and I thought it was a reply to my question. But it wasn't. "I still don't know what I'm doing now. So, I'm sorry. Everything feels out of control . . . everything that's happening makes me out of my mind. I'm still not ready and I want an out. I could only forget it when I'm with you."
"What is it? What is it that you want to run away from?" I said. "How did you do that . . . back there . . . about the puddle? Who are you?"
He didn't look like he would answer any of my questions. In my head, I was like "Whatever. I'll just find the answer myself," and proceeded to tell him instead, "Don't you ever try to sit in on my class again. Not on Sir Guvat's."
"Can I try on others, then?"
I looked at him and he surrendered.
"How can you even pass through the guard?" I asked.
"Perks of being charming," he said, winking at me.
MY FATHER was still the same heap of blankets when I checked on him. I sat by his shoulder, and shook him lightly.
"I think it's best for you to go to the hospital," I said gently.
"I don't want to. You know I hate there," he managed to say.
"You are making us worried."
"I'm fine. Stop worrying. I just can't sleep is all."
"You can't sleep because you are not fine. Stop insisting you are fine because you don't look one bit to me. I know you aren't comfortable there, that you hate being there, but you have no choice. You should have known what you got yourself into when you paraded yourself in the rain. We won't stop worrying just because you say so."
"I'll be fine. I promise I'll be fine tomorrow." He smiled weakly.
"Alright. But if I see there's no improvement at all, you will go to the hospital. Deal?"
"I'll be fine."
"I need your word."
"Deal."
I took his pinky finger and twisted it with mine.
"I'm sorry for pushing it on you. But we are just as scared as you."
"I hate being there, but it's different when I have your mom beside me," he said genuinely.
"Then you are lucky, I'm old enough to handle myself for a week. No, you wouldn't take more than a day, would you? After the doctor sees you, he would just probably prescribe you some meds and let you go immediately."
"Of course. As if I had intention to drag my stay there for too long," he said, then added quickly, emphasizing every word as though he truly meant it, "as if I would be needing that place."
"Then, I shall see you fine tomorrow. Good night, Dad."
I closed the door behind me gently.
~*~
I COULDN'T see anything aside from a cliff. Then everything became absolutely blinding, because of the light that came out of nowhere. Last second I realized I was in the middle of a road, and the light came from a car that had attempted to avoid me, only to hit against the barricades and hang by its back part on the edge of the cliff. They could have avoided me better if the road weren't slippery from the rain.
I knew this was a dream. But it was so vivid I couldn't help but act on my emotions. I ran towards the car but I couldn't get near enough, afraid my presence would push it off completely. Hopeless, I watched the people inside ask for help. I watched my grandmother beg a man who looked exactly like Ame to save the five-year-old Penelope who wailed like crazy.
"Please, save her! Please, I am begging you! S-save her!"
Actually, I wasn't really sure if it was just a dream. I had this weird feeling that it had indeed happened. But it was impossible for two Penelopes to exist at the same time, was it?
"I saw you!" shouted my grandmother at the man. "I always saw you watching my granddaughter! You always played with her! So, please! Please save her!"
The man looked conflicted. My grandmother was trusting the five-year-old Penelope through the window towards the man, all the while keeping the balance that would yet leave the car. The car jerked forward, and I thought my grandparents' will was the only thing that hooked it on the cliff.
"Please." Now it was my grandfather's turn to beg. I hated the man for making them beg, when saving a life should come naturally to us. "I know you love her."
The man bit his lower lip, and nodded. He reached out to take the kid, the same time the car lost the equilibrium and rocketed down against the sea. The man looked up and found me. He was covered in rainwater and tears and snut. He looked like a disaster, but I knew very well I wasn't any better.
I woke up, tears streaming down my cheeks. It was Ame, and that was what happened before I started to hate the rain. I felt stupid, because I knew it couldn't be. How on earth was the same Ame I knew was there? How on earth two Penelopes were there?
In my past dreams, the man was always faceless. I thought I unconsciously put Ame's face on the man's so it would be more real.
When my grandparents died, I was only five years old. We were on our journey back home from our rest house. It was raining hard. I recalled my grandfather struggled to avoid a frantic girl. I couldn't remember her face, but it couldn't be me, could it? I didn't kill my own grandparents, did I? I laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Then a crippling fact struck me. When I was awake, I was seeing the same event through the five-year-old Penelope's eyes. When I was asleep, it was through the frantic girl's eyes, like it was a distant memory.
THE NEXT morning (still raining), my father's condition didn't improve at all. As per agreement, he left for the hospital. He stubbornly showed he was fine, but then he was spoiled by a fit of coughs. My mother and I almost packed him inside the bag along with his stuff.
I packed my parents' things lightly at first, but my mother, looking over the bag, began to add more and more items. I felt bad for my father when I saw him watching us, his eyes brimming with tears. The prospect of staying there for more than a day must be killing him inside. But there were things we needed to face in order to get okay.
"I think this is enough, Mom," I said, stopping her from dumping nearly the entire contents of their wardrobe onto the bed and into the bag. I thought it would somewhat put my father at ease. "You'll just consult the doctor, and see what their decision would be. Confinement isn't confirm yet. You wouldn't be confined, Dad, right?"
"Of course," he choked out, offering me a grateful smile.
I relieved the bag off some more clothes. "Then this much would be enough - just in case."
"I'll not be confined, Penelope," my father said determinedly.
"I know," I replied, heaving the bag up around my shoulders. My mother nodded tentatively, because we both know what would happen, kind of. I brought it inside the car, then assisted my father inside too. His body was so light, only heavier by a bit than the bag. He instantly closed his eyes the moment he was seated.
I turned on my heels to face my mother. The rain would muffle our conversation so I didn't bother whispering. Dad wouldn't hear it. "Message me if everything goes alright. If I don't receive a message, I would know what it means, and I'll stop by after school to drop additional clothes off."
"Are you sure you are okay alone?" She tucked the stray hair behind my ear. "You can invite your friends over."
"That's unnecessary," I replied. "You drive safe."
She knew the weight of those words. Fortunately, my mother was a decent driver. She could drive to save a life. I watched them until the car became an ant to my sight.
I WAS already at school, and there was still no message from my mother. That meant the doctor had decided to confine my father. Maybe after some observations, they found several symptoms of mild pneumonia. People with a strong immune system could stand it until they healed, but my father always needed delicate care.
"Fritz," I called her, but she was spaced-out. "Let's go. The class was over."
I reached out, but she trashed her hands around, jumping away from me as though she was scared I would spit her poison.
"Don't touch me!" yelled Fritz. Fear was layered over the usual twinkling of her eyes, but after a moment, recognition showed across it. "I'm sorry. How long I've been out?"
I dismissed her apology. "A while," I answered. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"
She started walking towards the door, joining the swamp of students heading to their next class. "Nothing. Just . . . bad dream."
"I always have them, too," I said, careful not to walk too close to her, because I was afraid it would put her back to that frantic state. "I always ask if I'm living a bad life that I couldn't be spared even in my dreams. Then I realize that maybe . . . maybe it is meant to remind me. The past doesn't die, and it's rude to run away from them."
"I'm not running away," Fritz said, her voice had hard edge to it, "I'm disappointed. It's a bad dream, because I know it won't happen - it's impossible to happen."
"What is?" I asked, and I was scared of what her reply would be. I chewed on the inside of my cheeks.
"My father to disappear," she answered boldly, looking at me with contempt in her eyes. My heart fell, hearing it shattered as it hit the ground. She laughed a dry laugh. "I'm joking. Well, maybe, I'm just disappointed he doesn't allow me to do some things. Sometimes I just want his authority over me to disappear."
When I saw Pedre among the crowd, I excused myself. "You go first. I'll just talk to Pedre." Then I wedged my way towards Pedre. He was with King and Eirone.
"That's not true." I heard Eirone said to King. "I think Pedre has a chance. He's really pretty."
"Tell me about it," said Pedre, a little bit too confident it sounded arrogant.
"Being pretty doesn't mean you are also beautiful," countered King. I was hesitant to interrupt because it looked like it was a serious conversation. "I told you he likes girls - those who are beautiful inside and out. Pedre has no chance on him."
Eirone noticed me, and for the first time I was thankful he was attentive to me. "Hey, Penelope!"
A small smile then, "Pedre, can I talk to your grandparents?"
Pedre's nostrils flared up, and I realized right then that it wasn't very good of an opening remark. But I'd never been good at this, so I shrugged it off.
"What's your business with them?" he spat out, crossing his arms above his chest. He snorted, "Don't tell me you're up for a full discussion of non-existent gods and goddesses?"
"I'm actually here for that," I said.
"I didn't know you believe in them," exclaimed Pedre, his eyes wide with visible betrayal. "I thought we said they aren't real."
"I didn't," I said, pausing in favor of swallowing the lump that suddenly gathered in my throat, "I didn't know if I believe in them. But there is something I want to ask your grandparents about it. I shall decide then."
Pedre leaned away, obviously unwilling to help. "I didn't peg you for a fool."
"Look," I said, sharper than I had intended it to be. But I was frustrated. "You don't need to accompany me. You can hide all you want here, run away all you want, but I needed answers." I breathed in, trying to compose myself. "Just tell me if they can entertain me now."
"Oh, well, great," he huffed out, "they have a lot of time to spend with weirdos such as themselves."
"Thanks." My voice didn't sound grateful at all. "Give yourself the chance to show them they are wrong - you deserve it," I added. In the corner of my eye, I could see King and Eirone having a hard time thinking whether or not to step in. "We've already seen how great you are. Your grandparents couldn't because you keep hiding from them."
"Easier said than done," said Pedre, his eyes bloodshot. "You are not the one whose grandparents hated you."
"Of all the people here, I am the one who knows rather well how hard it is to put words into action. Because I am weak, and I could only talk, often times I could just only think," I said. "That's the reason I'm saying this to you. Because you can. Facing them is not easy, but staying here hating them is harder."
"That's . . ." Pedre seemed to find it hard to string a sentence, now that he had been hit close to home. I realized I had overstepped. Blushing, I left them to catch up to Fritz who, by this time, must have already been sitting pretty.
AFTER CLASS, I intended to separate from my classmates. But Fritz and Eirone followed me outside the gates. I saw Ame across the street, ducked under the awning of a printing shop, his hands shoved inside his pockets. He had no umbrella, my brain told me. This meant I needed to let him share mine.
"Do you have a group project?" he asked, peering over my shoulders where Fritz and Eirone stood. He was a bit out of breath after crossing the street in strides.
"No. They are my friends. Fritz and Eirone, this is Ame. Ame, this is Fritz and this is Eirone," I said, gesturing who was who. I tried not to care when Ame's eyes cast upon Fritz and stayed there for a while, with an intensity I couldn't bear myself. I mentally praised Fritz because she was able to stand under such a gaze, and, yes, I was also envious.
"Oh, I remember you!" he exclaimed.
"Pen!" a voice said, which made all of us wheel around. It was Pedre's. He beelined for us, along with King who scrambled to keep him under his umbrella. Ame offered him a kind smile. "Oh, I think I just swallowed my tongue," Pedre said. And before he could make yet another move, a glint of recognition showed in his eyes. "You are that dumbass - sorry - but correct me if I'm wrong: you were that handsome guy who tried to sit in on Sir Guvat's class, are you not?"
"That handsome guy, yes," replied Ame, sticking out his hand. "I'm Ame. It's nice to meet you."
Pedre gladly accepted the handshake. "It's really Penelope that's amazing, not the class, correct?" Ame only chuckled at that. Pedre continued, "I'm Pedre. This is King. The pleasure is ours."
I wanted to blush, but there was a more pressing issue I needed to address. "Pedre, why are you here?"
"Someone has to tell you where my grandparents' house is, you know," Pedre said, now aware of King's struggle to protect him from the rain. He stopped moving instantly.
"Isn't it at the shrine at the foot of the mountain?" I squinted my eyes at him. "You don't have to come, Pedre. We will be fine."
"Not exactly at the foot, but yeah," he answered, "I still want to go, though. After what you said to me, you can't expect me to stay here."
My ears felt hot. "I'm sorry."
"You are not sorry, I know," Pedre laughed out, "You don't feel sorry because you know you are right. It's okay, Pen. Thank you."
"What's this all about?" Ame stepped in the space between me and Pedre. "What did you two talk about?"
"Nothing," Pedre and I said in unison, making Ame glare petulantly at us. King patted his back in a brotherly way, whispering something in his ear. Ame pouted, mumbling something under his breath.
And then off we went. It was still four o'clock in the afternoon, but it was already dark. It looked relatively bright at the market though, at least from what I could see at this distance.
"Where are we going exactly?" Ame asked, and I supplied it with a simple, "Anitun Tabu."
"What?" he said, eyes popping out, and he looked deeply scandalized. He stopped in his tracks, and so did I. "What are you gonna do there?"
"Beg her to stop this nonsense, I guess," came Fritz immediate response, earning a genuine glare from Ame. She didn't waver. "If she was still there, that is. What if this rain is like this because no one is there to control it?"
"You knew?!" Ame snapped, still looking daggers at Fritz.
"Knew what?" the latter said, chortling. "Well, it wasn't the first time Anitun Tabu left her responsibilities for a mortal."
"She didn't turn her back on her responsibilities, not even once," said Ame through gritted teeth.
"Right, it's not considered "left" when she returned a few days after, after she married a mortal," Fritz said condescendingly. "Still crazy though. Still crazy to choose some stupid love over immortality."
Fritz laughed, and I wanted to tell her stop because Ame was clearly upset now. But I couldn't get hold of my voice. The aura emitting from them was so strong, so superior, and I couldn't do anything but hear the exchange of words.
"Choosing love over anything else is the wisest thing anyone can do," Ame said. "Everything under the heaven is useless without love."
"If you put it that way, many would scramble for love," said Fritz, "when it is just nothing but a cycle of sacrificing yourself, a constant pain, an eternity of waiting for a promised future. Love is disguised agony."
Ame and Fritz stared at each other, neither of them willing to back down. I felt awkward to be stuck between them. I cleared my throat, once, then twice, but it still wasn't enough. At some point, I resigned to my fate and waited until it was over.
"Why don't we buy some fruits?" Pedre butted in, hoping to diffuse the tension. "My grandparents always offer fruits to, er, Anitun Tabu."
"That sounds like a good idea," King awkwardly replied, beckoning me to follow. But Ame stayed rooted in his spot. I nodded at Fritz to go first, and she did, with an eye roll. I lingered around Ame, my muscles burning from having my hand up to umbrella him for too long. He noticed it, apologized, and held the umbrella himself.
As we got closer, it seemed as though the people at the market talked constantly as feeble attempts to stay warm (I heard sound waves really generated heat). Since it was cold, the sound was amplified, making it hard to understand, and making it kinda hurt in the ears.