Right now I live in the slums, of my own intention. I pray a lot in the staggering heat, and I dig wells. I am still a phlegmatic person, a little morose, but it doesn’t matter, because I have something to work for. I have a friend who is now dying: her name is Therese. I think of her as I begin to dig the second well today, and for some reason my mind goes back to that one day, when Therese and I were sitting by a well, having one of our more brittle conversations. The well wasn’t here though, it was in a place that was much colder and greener; where the sun was always dim behind the clouds.
* * * *
I remember that Therese’s hair danced about in the wind, as it gushed up again over the hill. My bangs would make their way between my teeth as the wind blew in cool gusts. It began to die down into little wisps, and then left altogether. Finally Therese could tell me the news, my curiosity was eating at me from the inside. Therese however, begin to muse on the wind, telling me that where she had come from, wind would have been a lovely relief to the sitting heat, but now she could appreciate it for its beauty alone. I had never understood how the wind would be beautiful.
Therese had been picked up from the Southern slums when she was eleven (I was four at the time) and yet she could still remember her old home as clearly as if she had left yesterday. She never spoke about it in detail, even where exactly it was beside the general southern direction. My parents wouldn’t tell me either. She told me she could never go there again. She has scars on her two arms that run a foot down from her shoulder blades, she never told me where she got those.
I’d been told we are distant cousins, but I had no idea why my parents of all people are her guardians. I actually looked a lot like her, which I’ve always thought was strange. She stayed at my Grandma Mary’s guest house ever since she came: twelve years then, that day by the well. She was like a sister to me, the one I never had.
My parents seemed to have an enmity towards her, but they were nice enough to her in front of company. I don’t know why they didn’t like her. Honestly, I didn’t know my parents that well anyway: they worked at the office for so many hours, so I didn’t see them often. I mostly stayed with Grandma Mary. Nobody told me much, and I was used to it. Luckily, I was not really a very curious person, or very active.
Although Therese and I got along pretty well somehow, she was pretty much my opposite. She was involved in all these prayer groups and missionary organizations. I went to one of her meetings, and the topic was so depressing I left early. I just was not strong enough to handle all that. Other people are meant for that job, I guess; Therese being one of them. But if she used to live in those slums, how could she be constantly thinking about them and praying about all that? I never understood it.
At the moment, that day I was remembering by the green well, the day of the wind, Therese had a broken arm, for the second time. I was hoping she would get the cast off soon, there really wasn’t much I could do with her with it on. Therese would be leaving to teach again, and I wouldn’t see her until Christmas. Perhaps she had to tell me she would be getting the cast off and would be leaving sooner; it was usually something like that. I expected her to hurry up with the boring explanation, but instead she hesitated, stared at the ground, and twiddled with grass shoots as though they were the most important things on earth. I coughed a little too loudly, and finally she began to mumble a little: “family...vis...visiting…”
“Could you please use articles?”
“My family is visiting.”
“What does that mean? What family?” There was silence.“Are you trying to play me or something. It doesn’t sound like you…”
“No, you know, it’s complicated.”
“Well, you know me, if it has to do with your prayer group thing I’m lost...the world is your family right?”
“Haha. umm, no Miel, I mean my real family...my parents.” I was shocked, but it didn’t show. More silence.
“From…”
“Yes from the slums, just say it…”
“But I thought they were de-”
“I never told you they were dead.”
I got up and paced up and down, fidgeting. I knew that Therese could spot the indignance in my face. I had always been annoyed she had never talked about her birth-parents, and now she told me out of nowhere that her parents were still, in contact...and visiting.
“Miel?”
“Have you told my parents? I mean how are they getting here?”
“Um...we need to keep it from your parents, it will only be for a day, and then they will go back…”
“What do you mean? You will just let them go back to the slums...I don’t understand it.”
“I am giving them money, enough to get a better house.”
“Enough to buy a house? That’s like all your savings.” Theresa nodded without hesitation.“Well, you don’t need me to add to the sum...do you? I mean I do have to send to the islands every year.” Therese just nodded; I couldn’t follow her expression. A disdaining silence followed from Therese, and I obliviously interrupted it.
“Well, how about my parents? Haven’t they been supporting your parents?” I wondered why my parents had never let Therese’s family live with us, I assumed mom and dad didn’t know they were still alive, and the idea was too ridiculous anyway. The government probably wouldn’t allow it without a lot of contracts and binding legalistics.
Therese ignored my question. I assumed the answer was too obvious, my parents didn’t know her family was still alive-it was blatant. Still, this left a lot unexplained: Therese’s cold attitude, my parent’s dislike of her, why exactly she had to come to our family. In truth, I didn’t really want to know, I was sure getting involved would be too much for me. Therese interrupted my thoughts abruptly: “I need you to drive me to the meeting place. Grandma Mary still isn’t back from her trip-she still has the car, and plus...” She lifted her arm slightly in explanation.
“Why can’t you just tell my parents?”
“I’d just, prefer not to. Please don’t tell them-I know I am asking you a favor, but just don’t. I’ll keep you out of trouble.”
“I don’t know…” I decided I had better stick to my usual rule and not ask questions, besides, I owe her lots of favors. Anyways, it always works out when she’s in charge.
“Alright, I will drive you.”
“We’ll go after Mass, when your parents are busy socializing.”
“..O..K”
Therese smiled. She kissed me on the forehead, looked at me apologetically, and walked off. I felt a little dumbstruck. Were her parents really coming? I guess I should go with her, surmise the situation, and then maybe tell my parents. Perhaps Therese was acting a little whimsical again, and it would be for her own good.
* * *
We were riding in the car in silence, just reaching a mile from the church. Little hills surrounded us, with rings of trees wrapping themselves like a necklace around them. The sun was soon to set, and the dim light shone through the tresses of the branches in soft rays. Therese was gazing at the horizon in contemplation, and I was getting very impatient. She spoke suddenly: “Listen, I need you to leave right away. Right when I get there, promise me!”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Therese just held out her hand for me to shake it. “Wow, the old fashioned way.”
“Those are usually the more reasonable.” I didn’t get what she meant, but she was making me uncomfortable, and I shook her hand.
“Ok so, why do I have to leave?”
“Because if you don’t you will wind up in trouble.”
I saw a kind of guilty look on her face, and it puzzled me. Therese had never given that expression in her life...well, maybe once or twice. She is a normal human being after all.
“Did you hear the sermon today?”, she said.
“I was kind of thinking about your family. It’s a pretty shocking thing for me.”
“Hmmm. Well, Fr. Frederick was saying that we need to see Christ in everyone.”
“Yep.”
“But people often misunderstand it, you know. People in the slums, they look after themselves in the most fundamental ways, because they have to. They know what’s necessary. But it’s a part of them to look after others. But then there are other people who...” She stopped. I couldn’t believe she was talking about the slums. I could see her arms had goose bumps though, and she glanced at her visible scar absent-mindedly.
“I don’t know, it’s too much to think about all this in detail. We just psychologically can’t, we have to take small steps, you know.” Therese didn’t have an answer in any way, shape or form. Of course, I couldn’t sympathize with her, I couldn’t understand what she had been through.
“Have you ever suffered that much Miel?”, Therese said almost absentmindedly.
“That much? As what?”
“Ten times than what you usually suffer.”
“Yeah yeah, I know, but ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit’.”
“And ‘Blessed are those who mourn’ Miel, ‘Blessed are those who mourn’.”That one went right over my head.
Therese directed me to the left, and we approached a run down neighborhood: no one seemed to be around. It was rather eerie. I was surprised I had never seen the area before. Then I remembered, it was a district that was evacuated because of the mine collapse and the council refused to fix it: ‘too small of an area’ apparently. Now it’s uninhabited. I saw a run down van on the outskirts of the town and two hispanic-looking men. What were those people doing there if they weren’t Therese’s parents? I pointed out to Therese: “Oh my gosh, those people look like rogues from Zorro. Why do evil people always look Spanish?” Therese shook her head in artificial sophistication and giggled, but then she realized I wasn’t joking. When she saw the two men she took the wheel with her left hand and veered to the right, she made me put on the gas and we skidded about ten ft., driving as quickly away from them as there as we could.
Amidst her heavy breathing, she managed to say, “You know Miel, those people may be awful, but the worse people are under a cover, a cover that has the most power.” That one also went over my head.
She quickly thrust an odd piece of clothing at me from the back seat.
“Wait what is-You have a bulletproof vest? Well, where is yours?”
“No time to explain.” That was definitely ‘movie-talk’. We were far into the forest outside the rundown district when I got the vest on. Another smaller van was there, with a timid-looking dark-skinned couple sitting on the ground beside it. Therese told me to stop and we got out quickly. I just stood there dumbfounded as Therese embraced her parents hastily, but sensitively. She ushered them into our car; I think she was whispering in a different language. There are so many things she hasn’t told me. Her parents were suspicious, and hesitated. They were asking Therese questions, probably to make sure it really was their daughter. Therese started shouting at them. Then they finally saw me and scrutinized me, then they stared at me with very shocked expressions and asked Therese another question. Then they started to tear up. I felt a little strange after that. It must have been a cultural thing. For a few moments there was silence except for the wind, which seems to follow me wherever I go. Then Therese motioned for me to get in the car, and tried to drag her parents toward the van. But as I opened the door I heard, clearly, a gunshot. More followed and I started to run without thinking. Therese shouted to me, but still I kept running. I was getting thicker into the forest, and it was only half a minute before I heard the van start: Therese must be coming after me. Then I realized how stupid it had been of me to run, now I had no idea where I was. I stopped and caught my breath. Of course, I was sure it was just a cannon firing for some festival, or maybe there was a shooting range somewhere near here. My hands went to my sides as I thought about what to do next. Then I felt something in the vest. In the pocket there was a little box, and at the bottom it said my name: Miel. Therese must have stuck it in there as a gift to me. Suddenly I felt ashamed, how much of a coward I had been towards her all these years, yet Therese was more of a friend to me than anyone I had ever known. I slowly opened the lid, but before I could see what was inside the box, I felt a searing pain in my head, and there was nothing more.
