A Father’s Heart

Sneak Peek

Fernando and Tiling waited for a jeepney ride but stood so far apart someone passing by might not take them for husband and wife. As Fernando watched Tiling holding the hand of their youngest child, he fingered the last cigarette in his shirt pocket.

Should I smoke it now?

When Tiling scowled, he withdrew his fingers. 

A limp banner stretched across the street above them, announcing the festival of St. Joseph. Fernando whispered a prayer to the guardian of families. After all, St. Joseph was a carpenter. He understood a poor family’s situation. Fernando struggled to keep their fish stall open, pay rent, and buy food for their brood of children, but the strain dragged him down dark corridors that narrowed and trapped him. 

I need a smoke.

Each day, Fernando stopped at the church, placed a hand on the saint’s foot, and asked for protection and provision before opening their stall. But today, instead of their circuit of prayers and heading to the market, they planned to visit Tiling’s older sister, Ate Carmen.

Loaded jeepneys barreled down the street, belching black smoke. Tiling raised a handkerchief to her nose, while Fernando pulled a balled-up, thinning towel from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his face.

Tiling surrendered to the heat years ago, chopping her hair against Fernando’s protest. Her hair had captivated him at a barrio fiesta, flowing about as she spun in a native dance.

Their neighbor, Zeny, interrupted his reminiscing. She stopped and said to Tiling, “You look as ripe as a watermelon!”

Tiling laughed and stroked her stomach that caused the hem of her dress to rise higher in front. Fernando’s chest swelled and he nodded to the wife of his former drinking partner, Mon.

Zeny smiled.

Hmm, she’s still pleasant!

Until recently, she and Tiling could have been twins—sour as Kamias fruit and possessing sharpened tongues that could split a Narra tree. However, Zeny and Mon became like young lovers again when Mon stopped drinking, smoking, and womanizing.

How do two people change so much?

When Fernando’s eyes settled on Tiling’s stomach, his smile faded just as quickly as it arose at Zeny’s comment to Tiling. Another child meant an extra mouth to feed, a kid who could get sick, and additional fare to pay for going to school.

Fernando’s youngest boy held Tiling’s hand and peeked at him from behind her skirt.

Fernando frowned. Why does this boy follow her about the house but hide in the corners when I’m around? 

He closed his eyes. 

Perhaps Tiling was right. Slapping the boy’s hands for not washing them before supper was a bad idea.

Tiling had flown into Fernando like a mother hen—feathers spread and ready to fight.

He jumped just out of reach and shouted, “I’m teaching him a lesson!”

At least the boy obeyed today when Fernando ordered him to bring the coloring book given by the parish priest about the Holy Family. Fernando didn’t need another disturbance before visiting his sister-in-law. Pictures in the book included Joseph knocking on the door of an inn while Mary waited on a donkey, Joseph fleeing to Egypt with the family to escape King Herod, and Joseph teaching carpentry to Jesus. The coloring book, though a minor detail, presented a better image than the usual reports his sister-in-law probably heard about him.

The boy coughed and Fernando felt his stomach clench. The coughs had come in spasmodic hacking spells. And they occurred more often now. He and Tiling planned to take the boy to a clinic today if Carmen lent them money. Otherwise, Fernando would take a loan from the Indian fella circulating among the market stalls—charging ten times the amount borrowed.

Fernando stretched his back. If only I could close my eyes, open them again, and find myself elsewhere.

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