When the Elephants Dance (12 page)

“I want to go home,” I said, standing up.

He continued to look out his window, at the clouds that were culminating in the distance. “I forgive you, Carlito. I know that you love her, too.”

His words embarrassed me. I stood with my fists clenched.

He looked at my hands, then my face, and smiled sadly. “Maybe someday you will be a stronger man than I. Take no offense, Carlito, but you have done enough damage. Do not come again, unless it is a matter of life.” He sighed, and I was surprised that I felt his sorrow. As I walked to the door he added softly, as if to himself, “Or death.”

The evening before Esmeralda’s disappearance was the eve of Tearso’s wedding. It was also Good Friday. The engagement had been announced, and then
the wedding date was rushed. This was at Catalina’s insistence. I think she was afraid, and rightfully so, that Tearso might give in to his heart. The entire town was invited to the wedding, and that night was the dress rehearsal for the ceremony.

I watched Esmeralda from my bedroom window. All morning, the preparations for the wedding were visible. The wagons that carried the floral arrangements—orange and red orchids with streaming banners of gold congratulating the bride and groom—drove by our house. The equipment for the musicians, the tables and chairs for the banquet to be held outdoors, taunted us from the beds of the
karetelas
. In every house, the chatter of what to wear for the next day drifted in the warm breeze. Little girls sat giggling outside their houses, weaving together a large wreath of white
sampaguita
flowers to put on the church door.

I suffered soundlessly with Esmeralda. She never left her room. She would stand, then sit, then stand again. She dropped her magic bottles. She wrote letters as if she had to mail an urgent message, and then she tore them. When she was finished, she fell to the floor, crying among the broken glass and scattered letters.

My aunt, who had never wasted one glance toward Esmeralda’s room and rarely came to visit ours, did both. She came in the guise of visiting my father. Then she came to crouch beside me.

“You do not even tend to your father. You waste precious moments watching that whore,” my aunt snorted. “Her time has come. I knew it would, entertaining such men. Why, even your uncle cannot keep his eyes off her. All this talk has only served to further excite the men, even you, a mere boy.”

I did not answer her, for I knew that was what she wanted. Suddenly my aunt gasped.
“O, itó na,”
she said. Here it comes. “Get away from that window. What comes next is none of our business. Draw the shades, and do not repeat what you see. Dante,” she called to my father, “order your son to mind his business.” My aunt hurried downstairs to watch from her bedroom window.

I almost choked at what I saw next. Catalina’s lapdog, Gabriel, was at Esmeralda’s door. I moved from side to side, unsure of what to do, of what would happen next. I had a bad feeling. It happened like lightning. Esmeralda opened the door. Gabriel shoved her aside and locked the door behind him. He leered at her. He told her who he was. Then he slapped her down and told her his mistress wanted to ensure there would be no interruptions for the wedding. Esmeralda fought back, but Gabriel pulled out a knife.

My aunt came back up and pinched me. She whispered in my ear so that my father could not hear, “Stay away from the window, Carlito. I am warning
you. If you bring shame to this family, I will throw both you and your father out. You will be the cause. Do you understand?”

I jerked away.

My aunt gasped, “Ay, ay.”

I ran for my father’s bolo knife. It had a long curved blade, with a brass handle and short chain-linked tassles. It was sheathed in a bamboo case and hung from the doorknob. It was a gift long ago from my mother’s family to my father. I took that knife and stumbled down the stairs. The knife was heavy and reached my ankles. I had to be careful not to trip over it. Before my aunt could stop me, I ran outside to Esmeralda’s house. I kicked her thin door open with my good foot.

My aunt was stuck to our window, watching me from our house. “Carlito,” I heard her say in alarm.

Gabriel turned in surprise at my entrance. He glanced at my heaving chest, the large knife in my hand. “What will you do with that? Slice me a piece of roast pig?”

“Carlito, run.” Esmeralda grabbed for Gabriel’s arm.

“I will slice a pig tonight, but it is not for roasting,” I answered, my voice as deep as I could make it. Then I found my real voice, and I shouted at the top of my lungs for my father. I forced that entire section of town to open their shades and listen. “Father, he wants to kill her!” I screamed. “Father, help me.”

And do you know, my father somehow found the strength to rush to our side?

“Is that my son calling me?” Father asked, repeating the question, until he came to stand beside me. He took the bolo from my hands and waved it at Gabriel.

“Tito …”
My cousin Eduardo followed my father into Esmeralda’s house with an ax.

“Eduardo, stay away from there,” my aunt called, following my cousin.

As my father struggled to pull Gabriel from Esmeralda, Eduardo jumped on Gabriel from behind.

People gathered outside of Esmeralda’s house. The men of the village hovered near her door. They came to help my father.

I untangled myself from the colliding bodies, ducking out of their way. I glanced back once as Esmeralda fought to scratch Gabriel’s eyes out. “I shall bring back help,” I promised. Then I rushed to town.

I went straight to the church. Tearso was rehearsing for his wedding. People stared when I entered. I did not need to say a word. Tearso saw my face and
followed me out immediately. His future in-laws and his entire family called for him to stay. Catalina stomped her foot in a tantrum. She pulled at his arm, insisting that he stay. Tearso pried her fingers off gently but firmly.

We rode his coach back to my house. His fists clenched and unclenched. I was afraid that I would come back and Father, Esmeralda, and the rest would be dead from Gabriel’s knife; but, amazingly, they had held the big man at bay. Father was wielding the bolo knife, and cousin Eduardo was holding a chair before him, the way a lion tamer would do. Other men had gathered and were blocking the doorway. These men would not lift a finger for Esmeralda, for fear of their wives, but helping my father was another matter. My father had helped many of them at different times, and they had what we call
utang na loób
, a “debt of the inner soul.”

Tearso brushed past the men, and I followed behind.

Gabriel sneered as we entered. “Ah, the Catalina’s pretty boy. She will not like that I must kill you, but it is in self-defense.” He laughed wickedly. “See what I have done to your whore?” He gestured to Esmeralda, unconscious on the ground.

Nothing chilled me more than the smile that appeared on Tearso’s face. He stared at Gabriel with deadly intent. I was frightened for everyone. After all, Tearso was Golden Gloves boxing champion of Blanco Negros.

Gabriel moved forward in wide steps, reminiscent of Japanese sumo wrestlers. Tearso leapt forward like a cat. Gabriel swung heavily with his right, Tearso ducked it and weaved to his left. Gabriel swung again, his body lurching forward, chin first. It was just in time to meet Tearso’s fist, on his jaw. Tearso threw three quick jabs with his right hand, lightning fast,
pow, pow, pow
, and then gave an incredible wallop with his left. There was a loud crack as Gabriel’s head snapped to the side. He landed on the floor with his eyes still open. It was such a hard hit, I knew immediately Gabriel was dead even before he hit the ground.

It was in defense of innocent people. Everyone witnessed this. There was no argument. The
policía
came and took Gabriel’s body. Father embraced me and told me for the first time, “I am proud of you, my son.”

In the end, I could remain silent no longer. I could not allow myself to be just like the others, like my aunt. I could not be that which I despised most.

The crowd dispersed and I went to my window to watch Esmeralda and Tearso, but again my father surprised me. He said, “Step away from there. Give them their last moments of privacy. Come. We have much to speak of ourselves.”

~

T
HE WEDDING OF
Tearso Batongbukol to Catalina Marquez was still to continue the following morning, my aunt announced to us. I dressed in my best shirt and short pants, for those were all I had. I combed my hair down with Father’s pomade, but my curls fought back. I was the first to arrive at the church. I watched as people filtered in. The evening had a sense of gaiety and laughter in the air. I had never seen such clothing. Many of the guests, I later learned, wore imported clothes from France and Italy. Some were designed locally with silks from Thailand and Burma. Catalina’s gown was from Paris.

The ceremony began with no sign of Esmeralda. I watched as Tearso, standing in the front of the altar, searched the pews for her. Everyone was seated. Padre Ramirez had just finished a long discourse on the merits of a good wife when the doors opened and Esmeralda walked in.

She wore a sleeveless ivory dress made of stiff silk that fitted her body and fell just short of her ankles. The simple V neck of the gown emphasized her golden skin. It showcased the amber necklace I had seen Tearso give to her when he first made promises of marriage. She had no other adornments than her beauty, and that day she took our breath away. The guests looked from her to Tearso and back again. Even the padre stumbled over his words.

Tearso said his vows just as he had promised. He looked over his bride’s shoulders at Esmeralda when he recited the words. The guests whispered viciously back and forth. Esmeralda’s face was calm and serene. At that moment the sun passed through the stained-glass windows and she was bathed in a halo of gold. She looked like an angel. She was at peace amid the accusing whispers.

“Look at that gown. Only the bride should wear white.”

“Look at how it fits her body. Indecent.”

“How dare she come. Was she invited?”

“Why, even the padre is upset by her presence.”

“No shame. She has no shame.”

Their words began like a small tremble, a minor disturbance, but as they grew, the chattering became so that the priest had to shout over the whispering. That was when the ground began to move.

The vows were almost completed when the floor jolted and rolled. People began to scream, “An earthquake!”

I fell over onto the pew before me, then slowly I felt the floor moving downward. It sank whole, without any of the walls collapsing. We were covered
in darkness. Next came the loud splintering of the wooden support beams overhead and the sounds of screaming as the beams fell.

When the rolling stopped, candles were lit. Everyone appeared miraculously to be in one piece. It was later, after everyone was pulled out, that the rumor began to circulate. Esmeralda was trapped below. Tearso himself went down to look for her. It was not until several hours later that they had to call an end to the search. In the morning they searched again, but the structure was unstable, more of the beams began to fall, and they pulled Tearso out. He struggled like a madman to stay below.

In the daylight the church was an eerie sight. It had sunk completely into the ground. It was nothing more than a mound of rock. The crucifix set atop the church was the only part exposed. It looked like a big grave.

I
NEVER SAW
Esmeralda again. It was concluded that she died in the disaster. One evening as I was sitting at my window reminiscing, her door opened and my heart leapt with joy, but it was only Tearso. His face was haunted. He touched her things, her silk scarves, her candles. He picked up pieces of her torn letters. He slept in her bed, his face swollen from crying. He had been true to his words. He had honored his obligations to his family, and he was miserable.

I waited until he was gone, and then I too was drawn to her house. I entered timidly and gazed at her bottles. I read the labels on each one, thinking of all the cures and potions they contained. But as I held these bottles in my hands, I came to see that they were nothing more than coconut oils and petals in water. I came to the same conclusion as Tearso. There was no magic in these bottles without Esmeralda.

After a week, Esmeralda’s customers began to visit her home. I was appalled at first; I wanted to chase them away.

“Let them,” my father said gently. I watched as the senator’s wife came and stole away with the bottle that had the stopper of the two snakes entwined. The gambling man found the bottle Esmeralda had prescribed to his wife, the one that had given her courage. He smashed the bottle with his cane. The padre came and took the heating oils, then stole away in the night. And ever after, these people remained the same. They walked our town of Blanca Negros like ghosts, searching for guidance.

Only Father and I changed. His illness, which had been misdiagnosed as tuberculosis, was as Esmeralda had hinted, only a broken heart. It healed the
moment we spoke to each other, and he found his strength again. He told his sister how unkind she had been to us. He took on two jobs. He went to a new church and prayed for my mother and sister himself. And me? I was at Bonita beach with my friends, learning to be a child again.

No one questioned that Esmeralda was buried somewhere in the rubble of the church. But I was not so sure. When I returned home the night of the earthquake, I noticed that someone had opened the birdcage and her two yellow birds were gone. It was something, I knew, no one else in the village would have been considerate enough to do. Only Esmeralda herself. I once asked my father about those birds long ago, when she first received them as a present from Tearso.

I asked, “Father, what makes those two birds different? We have the very same ones living in the trees. I feel sorry for them, locked away like that.”

Father had answered, “Ah, but they are the lucky ones. They are always assured of being fed. The others must fly day and night searching for one piece of bread.”