Love at the Cornhusk

Love at the Cornhusk Aida Rivera cross e preciseplace Tinang stopped before the Senoras doorway and adjusted the tykes cap. The dogs that came to utter at the gate were strange dogs, big-m come to the forehed animals with a sense of superiority. They stuck their heads through the hog turn over, lolling their tongues and straining. Suddenly, from the gumamela row, a micro black mongrel emerged and slithitherd through the fence with ease. It came to her, head drop and automobile trunk quivering. Bantay. Ay, Bantay she exclaimed as the little dog primed(p) its paws upon her tog to sniff the despoil on her arm.The baby was afraid and cried. The big animals barked with displeasure. Tito, the little master, had seen her and was commerce to his incur. Ma, its Tinang. Ma, Ma, its Tinang. He came caterpillar track down to dissipate the gate. Aba, you are so t only nowadays, Tito. He smiled his girls smile as he s tood by, warding the dogs hit. Tinang passed speedily up the veranda st propagates lined with ferns and umpteen-colored bougainville. On areaing, she paused to wipe her office carefully. roughly her, the Senoras white and lavender squeeze orchids fluttered delicately in the sunshine.She noniced though that the purple waling-waling that had in one case been her t affect to ghost from the hot sun with banana leaves and to irrigate with mixture of charcoal and eggs and weewee was not in bloom. Is no maven covering the waling-waling now? Tinang asked. It will die. Oh, the maid will come to cover the orchids later. The Senora called from inside. Tinang, permit me see your baby. Is it a boy? Yes, Ma, Tito yelled from downstairs. And the ears are huge What do you expect, replied his m some other the father is a Bagobo. Even Tinang looks trust a Bagobo now. Tinang laughed and felt warmness for her cause mistress and the boy Tito.She sat self-consciously on the black narra sofa, for the first prison term a visitor. Her eyes clouded. The sight of the Senoras flaccidly plump figure, swathed in a untie waist-less house come that came down to her ankles, and the faint scent of agua toad 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 save, waiting for her, his body stinking of tuba and sweat, squatting on the floor, clad only in his distasteful undergar ments. Ano, Tinang, is it not a good amour 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 emergence of fact, a dress she had practicen Tinang a long time ago. It is hard, Senora, very hard. divulge that I were working here again. on that point 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 perpetually str apped to you. Are you not pregnant again? Tinang squirmed at the Senoras directness just admitted she was. Hala You will view a 12 before long. The Senora got up. Come, I will give you approximately dresses and an old blanket that you peck cut into things for the baby. They went into a cluttered means which looked like a huge clo practice and as the Senora sorted out some garment, Tinang asked, How is Senor? Ay, he is unendingly losing his temper 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 constantly kept in working condition. tho now . . . I wonder wherefore he left all of a sudden. He said he would be g unmatched for only two age . . . . 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 near hour, Tinang sat in the kitchen with an odd feeling she watched the girl who was now in p ossession of the kitchen work some with a handkerchief clutched I one hand. She had lipstick on too, Tinang noted. the girl looked at her briefly but did not smile. She set down a can of evaporated make full out for the baby and served her coffee and cake. The Senora drank coffee with her and lectured near keeping the babys get bound 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 provide the baptismal clothes and the fee for the priest. It was time to go. When are you approach again, Tinang? the Senore asked as Tinang got the baby ready. Dont forget the bundle of clothes and . . . oh, Tinang, you break in stop by the drugstore. They asked me once whether you were steady with us. You nurse a letter there nd I was discharge to open it to see if there was bad word but I thought you would be coming. A letter Tinangs tender sprightlinessedness beat violently. Somebody is dead I know somebody is dead, she thought. She crossed herself and after(prenominal) thanking the Senora profusely, she hurried down. The dogs came fore and Tito had to restrain them. mould me some young corn next time, Tinang, he called after her. Tinang waited a epoch at the drugstore which was also the slur office 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 pot of envelopes most of which were scribbled in pencil, Tirol, Tirol, Tirol. . . . He last pulled out a letter and pass it to her. She stared at the unfamiliar scrawl. It was not from her babe and she could think of no one else who could keep open 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, embarrassed 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 found herself walking toward home. The rains had make a deep slough of the form road and Tinang followed the prints left by the men and the carabaos that had gone before her to keep from drop down 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 c demean. Gingerly, she pulled off one shoe after the other with the hand unagitated clutching to the letter.When she had tied the shoes in concert 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, terrible now about the letter. She walked on until she spotted a corner of a firmament where cornhusks were scattered under a kamansi tree. She shoved together a pile of husks with her foot and laid the baby down upon it. With a sigh, she move the letter from the envelope. She stared at the letter which was indite in English. My dearest Tinay, Hello, how is life getting along? Are you still in good condition?As for myself, the aforementioned(prenominal) as usual. But youre re move from my side. It is not late to be outlying(prenominal) from our lover. Tinay, do you still love me? I forecast your kind and generous heart will never fade. Someday or somehow Ill be there again to put to death our promise. Many calendar weeks and months have elapsed. Still I remember our at peace(p) days. Especially when I was suffering with the change of the tractor under the heat of the sun. I was always in despair until I call back your personal appearance coming forward bearing the sweetest smile that enabled me to view the hostile horizon. Tinay, I could not return because I found that my mother was very ill.That is wherefore I was not able to take you as a partner of life. enthral respond to my missive at once 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, and so on Yours forever, Amado P. S. My mother died last month. Address your letter Mr. Amado Galauran Binalunan, Cotabato It was Tinangs first love letter. A flush spread over her baptismal font and crept into her body. She read the letter again. It is not easy to be far from our lover. . . I guess 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 true 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 preceding(prenominal) them for she was always neat and clean in her hometown, before she went away to work, she had gone to develop and had reached sixth grade.Her uncase, too, was not as swarthiness as those of the girls who worked in the fields weeding or so the clumps of abaca. Her lower lip jutted out scornfully when the farm hands spoke to her with many flattering 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 torn 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 metropolis night- schools and take up mechanical engine room someday. He had not said often more to her but one good afternoon when she was bidden to take some bolts and tools to him in the field, a great 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 part scattered on the ground around him. His eyes were a black ray as he watched her draw near. When she held out the bolts, he seized her wrist and said Come, puff her to the screen 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 atomic number 19 snake slithered languidly into the tall boob 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 s opor and cries lustily. Ave Maria Santisima. Do not visit me, she prayed, searching the babys skin for marks. Among the cornhusks, the letter fell unnoticed.