Love at the Cornhusk

Love at the Cornhusk Aida Rivera Ford Tinang stopped in front the Senoras gate and adjusted the bobbles cap. The dogs that came to bark at the gate were strange dogs, giant-mouthed animals with a esthesis of superiority. They stuck their heads through the hog contest, lolling their tongues and straining. Suddenly, from the gumamela row, a little black mongrel emerged and sli at that placed through the fence with ease. It came to her, head wipe out and body quivering. Bantay. Ay, Bantay she exclaimed as the little dog set its paws upon her shirt to sniff the baby on her fort.The baby was afraid and cried. The big animals barked with displeasure. Tito, the young master, had seen her and was calling to his mother. Ma, its Tinang. Ma, Ma, its Tinang. He came running carry out to open the gate. Aba, you ar so tall immediately, Tito. He smiled his girls smile as he stood by, warding the dogs off. Tinang passed quickly up the veranda steps lined with ferns and opusy-colored bougainville. On landing, she paused to wipe her garment carefully. About her, the Senoras discolour and lavender onlyterfly orchids fluttered delicately in the sunshine.She noniced though that the empurpled waling-waling that had once been her task to shade from the hot sun with banana leaves and to pissing with mixture of charcoal and eggs and water was not in bloom. Is no unrivalled covering the waling-waling now? Tinang asked. It will die. Oh, the maid will sleep together to cover the orchids later. The Senora called from inside. Tinang, let me see your baby. Is it a boy? Yes, Ma, Tito shouted from downst demarcations. And the ears are huge What do you expect, replied his mother the father is a Bagobo. Even Tinang looks want a Bagobo now. Tinang laughed and felt warmness for her former mistress and the boy Tito.She sit self-consciously on the black narra sofa, for the first time a call downor. Her eye clouded. The sight of the Senoras flaccidly plump figure, swat hed in a loose waist- little housedress that came down to her ankles, and the faint scent of agua de colonia blended with kitchen spice, seemed to her the essence of the comfortable world, and she sighed opinion of the long walk home through the mud, the babys legs straddled to her waist, and Inggo, her husband, time lag for her, his body stinking of tuba and sweat, squatting on the floor, clad altogether in his foul undergarments. Ano, Tinang, is it not a good thing to be married? the Senora asked, pitying Tinang because her dress gave way at the placket and pressed at her swollen breasts. It was, as a matter of fact, a dress she had effrontery Tinang a long time ago. It is hard, Senora, very hard. Better that I were on the job(p) here again. There the Senora said. Didnt I tell you what it would be like, huh? . . . that you would be a slave to your husband and that you would work a baby always strapped to you. are you not pregnant again? Tinang squirmed at the Senoras ca ndidness but admitted she was. Hala You will have a dozen before long. The Senora got up. Come, I will give you some dresses and an old blanket that you can extirpation into things for the baby. They went into a cluttered room which looked like a huge jam and as the Senora sorted out some clothes, Tinang asked, How is Senor? Ay, he is always losing his snappishness over the tractor drivers. It is not the way it was when Amado was here. You remember what a good driver he was. The tractors were always kept in working condition. But now . . . I wonder why he left all of a sudden. He said he would be g superstar for only cardinal days . . . . I dont know, Tinang said. The baby began to cry.Tinang shushed him with irritation. Oy, Tinang, come to the kitchen your Bagobito is hungry. For the undermentioned hour, Tinang sat in the kitchen with an odd feeling she watched the girl who was now in possession of the kitchen work around with a pop offkerchief clutched I one hand. She h ad mouthstick on too, Tinang noted. the girl looked at her briefly but did not smile. She set down a can of evaporated milk for the baby and served her umber and cake. The Senora drank coffee with her and lectured about(predicate) staying the babys stomach frame and training it to stay by itself so she could work.Finally, Tinang brought up, haltingly, with phrases like if it will not offend you and if you are not too busy the purpose of her visitwhich was to ask Senora to be a madrina in baptism. The Senora readily assented and said she would render the baptismal clothes and the fee for the priest. It was time to go. When are you coming again, Tinang? the Senore asked as Tinang got the baby ready. Dont forget the bundle of clothes and . . . oh, Tinang, you break off stop by the drugstore. They asked me once whether you were still with us. You have a garner there nd I was going to open it to see if there was bad news but I thought you would be coming. A earn Tinangs heart b eat violently. Somebody is dead I know somebody is dead, she thought. She crossed herself and after(prenominal) thanking the Senora profusely, she move down. The dogs came forward and Tito had to constrain them. Bring me some young corn next time, Tinang, he called after her. Tinang waited a while at the drugstore which was also the post patch of the barrio. Finally, the man turned to her Mrs. , do you want medicine for your baby or for yourself? No, I came for my letter.I was told I have a letter. And what is your name, Mrs.? He drawled. Constantina Tirol. The man pulled a box and slowly went through the pile of envelopes most of which were scribbled in pencil, Tirol, Tirol, Tirol. . . . He finally pulled out a letter and handed it to her. She stared at the unfamiliar scrawl. It was not from her sister and she could weigh of no one else who could preserve to her. Santa Maria, she thought maybe something has happened to my sister. Do you want me to read it for you? No, no . She hurried from the drugstore, crushed that he should think her illiterate.With the baby on one arm and the bundle of clothes on the other and the letter clutched in her hand she form herself walking toward home. The rains had made a deep slough of the cadaver road and Tinang followed the prints left by the men and the carabaos that had gone before her to keep from sinking mud up to her knees. She was deep in the road before she became conscious of her shoes. In horror, she saw that they were coated with thick, black clay. Gingerly, she pulled off one shoe after the other with the hand still clutching to the letter.When she had tied the shoes together with the laces and had slung them on an arm, the baby, the bundle, and the letter were all smeared with mud. There must be a place to put the baby down, she thought, desperate now about the letter. She walked on until she spotted a corner of a eye socket where cornhusks were upset under a kamansi tree. She shoved together a pil e of husks with her foot and situated the baby down upon it. With a sigh, she drew the letter from the envelope. She stared at the letter which was written in English. My dearest Tinay, Hello, how is life getting along? Are you still in good condition?As for myself, the same as usual. But youre remote from my side. It is not easy to be far from our lover. Tinay, do you still love me? I hope your kind and big heart will never fade. Someday or in some manner Ill be there again to fulfill our promise. Many weeks and months have elapsed. be quiet I remember our bygone days. Especially when I was suffering with the warming of the tractor under the heat of the sun. I was always in despair until I imagine your personal appearance coming forward bearing the sweetest smile that enabled me to view the distant horizon. Tinay, I could not return because I found that my mother was very ill.That is why I was not able to obligate you as a partner of life. Please respond to my missive at onc e so that I know whether you still love me or not. I hope you did not love anybody except myself. I think I am going beyond the limit of your leisure hours, so I close with best wishes to you, my friends Gonding, Sefarin, Bondio, etc. Yours forever, Amado P. S. My mother died last month. track your letter Mr. Amado Galauran Binalunan, Cotabato It was Tinangs first love letter. A flush get around over her face and crept into her body. She read the letter again. It is not easy to be far from our lover. . . I imagine your personal appearance coming forward. . . . Someday, somehow Ill be there to fulfill our promise. . . . Tinang was intoxicated. She pressed herself against the kamansi tree. My lover is truthful to me. He never meant to desert me. Amado, she thought. Amado. And she cried, remembering the young girl she was less than two years ago when she would take food to Senor in the field and the laborers would eye her furtively. She thought herself above them for she was always neat and clean in her hometown, before she went away to work, she had gone to school and had reached sixth grade.Her skin, too, was not as dark as those of the girls who worked in the fields weeding around the clumps of abaca. Her lower lip jutted out disdainfully when the farm hands spoke to her with many praise words. She laughed when a Bagobo with two hectares of land asked her to marry him. It was only Amado, the tractor driver, who could look at her and make her lower her eyes. He was very dark and wore filthy and lacerated clothes on the farm but on Saturdays when he came up to the house for his weeks salary, his hair was slicked down and he would be dressed as well as Mr. Jacinto, the schoolteacher.Once he told her he would study in the city night-schools and take up mechanized engineering someday. He had not said much more to her but one afternoon when she was bidden to take some bolts and tools to him in the field, a prominent excitement came over her. The shadows moved fitfully in the bamboo groves she passed and the cool November air edged into her nostrils sharply. He stood unmoving beside the tractor with tools and parts scattered on the prove around him. His eyes were a black glow as he watched her draw near. When she held out the bolts, he seized her wrist and said Come, pulling her to the binding of trees beyond.She resisted but his arms were strong. He embraced her roughly and awkwardly, and she trembled and gasped and clung to him. . . . A little light-green snake slithered languidly into the tall grass a few yards from the kamansi tree. Tinang started violently and remembered her child. It lay motionless on the mat of husk. With a shriek she grabbed it wildly and hugged it close. The baby awoke from its sleep and cries lustily. Ave Maria Santisima. Do not punish me, she prayed, meddlesome the babys skin for marks. Among the cornhusks, the letter fell unnoticed.