Alona’s Quest for the Golden Tree

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Alona’s Quest for the Golden Tree

Chapter 18: Hospital

THE HOSPITAL was a joke of a medical building.

Bare of medical equipment and apparatuses, the whole place was a canvas of imprisoning whiteness. There was but one nurse. He was cleaning the wound of another patient. This one was a poor soul, encountering a lunatic who had one too much beer. He was mangled, pitiful, his body hacked by a powerful bolo. But, he was surviving. Barely.

I averted my eyes.

Kuya Habagat shared a bed with a choleric old man. The man was so thin that he looked almost dead. He was coughing outrageously.

Kuya Habagat was sleeping peacefully. His little face was closed. A trace of a frown lined his forehead.

I sat down beside the bed.

Something caught in my throat. Looking at him, I felt like someone stabbed me. My eyes were tearing up. I didn’t really understand why.

He looked peaceful, even kind.

I saw that Nanay was crying when she came home, a day after they went to the hospital. She immediately wiped it with an impatient hand when she saw me coming.

“Nay?”

There was a question in my voice.

She refused to answer it.

Instead, she told me, “ Oh y-you’re home. G-good.” She cleared her throat. “That’s good. Listen, I need to go somewhere. I’m going to visit our land in Uson” – Uson was the adjacent municipality where Nanay used to own a piece of land she inherited from Lolo. She pawned it and lost her rights to the land. However, she still got to get money from the new lessee from time to time. She just got money last month, I doubt if she can still get more – “and I need you to take care of your brother. Can you do that? Can you help Nanay?”

Nanay was holding a golden locket in her hand, taken out of its vintage sanctuary. She was clutching it so tightly.

It was the last memory of her life as a princess.

I wanted to ask her why she brought it out. Somehow, I couldn’t make myself to say so.

“Did you hear me, Alona?”

I blinked.

“Is Kuya Habagat serious?”

Nanay blinked back her tears.

“He’ll be o-okay,” she answered, like she was convincing herself more than me.

As I saw Kuya Habagat today, I wished that Nanay was telling the truth. Because I just couldn’t face the alternative.

“Hey,” whispered my brother, his voice as weak as a kitten, “where is Nanay?”

It was my turn to blink back my tears.

“Out,” I answered. “She’ll be back.”

Soon, I guessed. I hoped.

He nodded, slowly.

“You okay?” I asked, almost casually.

Again, he nodded.

Silence…

It was depressing here. The acrid smell of Zonrox and strong scent of medicines were making me dizzy. The pain and agony were seeping to my core. It smelled like vomit and illness and despair.

“Kuya Habagat, isn’t there supposed to be a doctor here?” I asked, frowning.
He shrugged.

“I haven’t seen the doctor,” he replied.

“Are you kidding? You’ve been here since dawn yesterday.”

Kuya Habagat just shook his head.

At that time, the nurse came forward. I inched away from him so he could check Kuya Habagat’s pulse.

“Where is your Nanay?” he inquired.

“Out,” I answered, watching him. “Why? Do you need to tell her something?”
He frowned. Done with the pulse, he bent forward to check Kuya Habagat’s temperature. 

“Your father? Where is he?” he asked, ignoring my question.

“Not here,” I answered, almost automatically.

I answered that for years already.

His frown deepened.

“Your brother has a fever from his swollen glands. Has he taken ibuprofen and paracetamol yet? He looked like he had pneumonia as well. What has he been doing to catch one?”

Swim in the middle of a wild storm, I wanted to answer.

There was reproach in his voice, as if it was my fault Kuya Habagat was like that.

“You shouldn’t be here either,” he said, “you’re too young.”

There was no one to be here. Of course, I needed to be here. 

“When is your Nanay coming?”

“Soon,” I answered. “What should I tell Nanay when she comes?”

“Tell her your brother needs medicines. And a surgery. ASAP.”

Kuya Habagat blinked at the nurse’s words.

“Am I serious?”

The nurse looked at him, in a quiet condescending way.

“No,” he answered, his lips pressed together. “You just need to rest for a bit.”

I blinked.

“I’ll tell Nanay,” I said in a weak voice.

I KNOCKED, hard.

When Ate Rachel opened the door, she was carrying her little brother at her hips. 

“What?” demanded Ate Rachel.

“Can I talk to you?” I asked.

She shrugged and opened the door wide. 

There was barely any room left there. Ate Rachel’s other siblings were sleeping. Two of them were playing. Or fighting. I couldn’t really differentiate since they looked a whole lot alike with these two.

“Er –” I said, “can we talk outside?”

Ate Rachel grimaced. She set her little brother down, rocking him softly. She straightened up and, at the top of her lungs, yelled.

“Marsha!”

I swear I noticed the house lizards jumped.

“Come over here! Take care of Junior!”

From behind the door came a protesting voice. 

“I’m busy!”

“Doing what?” 

“Wala kang pakialam!”

 “If you don’t come over, I’ll tell Mama you kiss Buboy! Get over here!”
Marsha was her older sister. Buboy was Marsha’s boyfriend. Marsha was 13. So was he.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Ate Marsha snarled.

“Try me!” Ate Rachel retorted.

Throwing her younger sister dark looks, Ate Marsha stomped in.

Ate Rachel led me out before Ate Marsha had any chance to stop us.

“Where is your Nanay?” I asked, frowning.

“Went to the Mayor’s house. She was doing their laundry.”

Curiously, she refused to look me straight in the eye when she was saying that. 

“Your Tatay?” 

Ate Rachel snorted in derision.

“Out,” she answered. “Drinking. Maybe. I don’t care.”

“Does he still drink much?”

Ate Rachel did not answer.

 “Does he still hit you?”

Ate Rachel still did not answer. 

“I saw your brother at sea. What is he doing there?” she asked instead, effectively changing the subject.

I grimaced, remembering.

“He joined Joseph’s father’s boat, to catch fish. He wanted to earn extra. Kuya Maliksi can’t deal with it, though. Vomited all morning afterwards, he did.”
“What?” asked Ate Rachel incredulously. “Why?”

“Seasickness,” I answered. “Terrible, really terrible, seasickness.”

“Oh,” she hissed in sympathy, imagining the mess Kuya Maliksi must have made. For a minute, we looked like we smelled something sour and foul ourselves.

At that point, I remembered the reason I went to her place in the first place. From my pocket, I took a yellow parchment and pressed it in Ate Rachel’s hands.

Ate Rachel looked up, puzzled.

“That’s a map,” I said, an air of determination in my face.

“So?”

Ate Rachel spread out the yellow parchment, looking dumbly at its X’s, marks, and figures.

She still couldn’t get it.

I took a breath.

“Let’s do it,” I said.

“Do what?”

“It!” I insisted, bristling, annoyed at her slow pick up.

Finally, she caught on. And she smiled.

“You bet we’ll do it!” she said triumphantly, tracing the tall big tree figured in the middle of the parchment. “Golden Tree, here we come!”

For a second there, I felt excited. And afraid, a little bit. But mostly, I’m excited.

This was going to be so much fun. 

Or would it?

(c) 2016, Herbel Santiago

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