Where’s My Shotgun?

forget me not series 2 – The Romance of Ayin & Will

CHAPTER FOUR

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In his younger years, Ayin’s father was the official bugoy in his hometown.

The only son among four siblings of a prominent chief prosecutor or fiscal, he was known to be short-tempered and spoiled. Nobody dared to mess with him, especially when he had an entourage of backup boys.

But while he might have butted heads with more than a handful of people, his consistent public enemy number one weren’t humans, but rather, wild stray dogs.

So it came to pass that one day, he went out for a morning run, bringing with him a 2×2 wooden stick as a precautionary measure to ward off rabid dogs.

As he passed by the houses along the village, one after another, his boys would call out, “Boss, where are you going?”

Not hearing very well from the road, he would just wave at them and go on running.

Without him knowing, the village boys were agitated by the sight of his stick and thought, “Hala, bossing is going to a fight, let’s go!”

Then, one by one, without him knowing still, the boys followed him on the run, some of them even bringing their own sticks. Despite his short temper, her father was one to inspire such loyalty for he was a kind and generous man to his own people.

As they passed the village, the group of running boys just grew bigger. Everyone thought, including those in the houses, that a big fight was definitely coming.

After some distance, he finally came to a stop. He turned around and, much to his surprise, saw the large group before him.

“Why are you all here?!” he demanded, panting from the run.

“Where’s the fight, boss?” they asked, scratching their heads when he stopped at the edge of a quiet field.

“Fight? What fight?” he scowled.

They pointed to his stick.

His face cleared. “Ah, this? There’s no fight. I just bring this along in case there’s a crazy dog.”

Facepalm.

And so, bewildered as they were, they went back to their houses, all healthier from the morning run.

People who know him would say her father was a man of many contradictions. He was both funny and fierce, brutal yet kind. He could be loyal yet very unforgiving.

After moving some time in the city, her father eventually met his match and married the love of his life, her mother. She was quite a contradiction too – soft and gentle and yet with nerves of steel, strong enough to handle such a difficult man.

Through the years, while he was still short-tempered, Ayin’s father could be the softest of men when it came to his family.

He had a pet name for his wife and each of his children. Ayin, being the youngest, was called his ‘palangging’. And it seemed like no matter how old she got, she would always be a little girl in her father’s eyes.

It wasn’t a secret in the family that Ayin was their Popsy’s girl.

Her earliest memory of her father was of him reading her bedtime stories every time they put her down for a nap. She would be so fascinated with the man as he changed voices according to animated characters, taking her to different wonderlands.

Growing up, she witnessed how her father had always loved to drive.

Every weekend, he would drive his family to their favorite go-to dimsum place for their usual Sunday lunch out after church.

During her school days, her father would often pick her up or drive her to school events. He was her official chauffeur during prom nights. Then, on school breaks, they would go on fun long drives to visit his hometown, Medellin.

And even when her parents had officially transferred to the province, he would continue to drive them. Whenever she and her sister came to visit, he would always be waiting at the bus stop to pick them up with his spanking purple multi-cab or beloved white Pajero.

Then, just a few weeks before she enrolled at Will’s school, Ayin’s father became her first driving instructor.

“I bet you and my father will like each other. You both love driving,” Ayin told Will confidently as she drove and navigated the 120 – kilometer distance to their home near the northern tip of Cebu. There were only two towns left before they reached Medellin.

They were on their longest drive yet and she was both anxious and excited for him to meet both her parents for the first time.

Him, “Does he know I’m coming?”

Her, “Yep.”

Him, “Slow down. You went too fast on the curve.”

She frowned but heeded his instruction.

Him, “Who else is going to be there?”

“My brother’s not here, so it’s just my sister and nephew. They’re already there since yesterday.”

“Will I be sleeping beside you?” he teased.

“You wish.”

Then, after a beat, she realized he was right.

“Actually, we will be sleeping on the floor at the sala. It’s a small house with just two bedrooms – the main one for the parents and another small one, already occupied by my sister and nephew.”

She stole a glance at him, “Are you okay with that?”

“Of course. I can sleep anywhere. During military training, I even slept directly on the ground.”

She smiled, grateful that this guy wasn’t high maintenance at all.

An hour later, her ever sociable mother warmly welcomed them by the garage.

Upon seeing Will, she included him in the standard kiss and hug greeting that her family always does.

Ayin silently chuckled at his initial look of surprise. The man wasn’t used to such affectionate displays of affection.

But then, just as she expected, he quickly recovered and began to talk animatedly with her mother. Again, not a shy bone on his body. Her mother was already interrogating him with her 101 questions as they went inside the main house.

Meanwhile, she, the real child, was forgotten outside. She slowly followed after them.

“Hi, Teacher!” her sister May called out. She was lounging with a paperback on their favorite bamboo day bed at the sala.

Also a previous driving student, “Teacher” was her sister’s nickname for Will. They exchanged friendly waves. They’ve already met a number of times at their house in the city.

Ayin walked over to her sister and promptly lay down beside her on the daybed. Her butt and knees were still a bit numb from the long drive.

“Where’s Popsy?” she asked her sister.

“Out drinking at a neighbor’s house. It’s fiesta in the sitio,” her mother answered from the kitchen.

Inside their small house, anyone could hear each other’s conversations, even in the bedrooms when it’s loud enough.

Theirs was a cozy, round beach bungalow, with ivory walls hugged by a long arm of potted garden blooms. Ayin always looked at it as something like that of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’ cottage in the middle of the woods, just that this one had the sea on one side and the forest on the other.

Upon hearing her mother’s answer, Ayin made a face. In the province, it seems like there is always a fiesta for some saint every month, and even every week during summer. She suspected it was mainly an excuse for the townsfolk to drink tuba (coconut wine) and be merry.

Suddenly, a door banged open, followed by, “Where’s my palangging?”

There were three doors around the house and their eyes went to the green one which opened to the beach side.

Her father stood there, obviously tipsy and trying to keep his balance as he managed the two steps down.

Ayin stood up and went to kiss and hug her father. He reeked of tuba, tobacco and whisky.

Before she could complain, his voice boomed. “Who is that? Why is he in my house?”

She looked to where Will was, already half standing from the kitchen table, where her mother had laid out a few snacks.

“That’s Will, my boyfriend. I told you on the phone I will be bringing him, remember?” she said.

“Who said you’re allowed to have a boyfriend? I’m gonna kick him out,” her father growled.

Her mother, shaking her head with a resigned smile, went to her father to hold his arm and help balance him. She tried to lead him to the bedroom. Her father won’t budge.

Ayin instinctively moved in front of Will and put herself in the middle, facing and frowning at her father.

She had never seen him this drunk. Was he just pranking them? Sometimes her father did love to fool around and play tricks on them. And to his credit, no matter how drunk he was, he had never laid a hand on any of them.

She heard Will clear his throat from behind, then move forward with an extended hand. “Good afternoon, Sir. I’m Will –”

But he was cut off as her father abruptly turned and walked towards the bedroom, asking in his loud booming voice, “Mumsy, where’s my shotgun? I’m gonna shoot him. Where’s my shotgun?”

She stared at her father’s back in astonishment. She was mortified at how rude he was being.

She’s now more convinced that her father was not joking. She had seen that shotgun with her own eyes. It was real. It looked like the thing that men in hats in the Wild, Wild West used for hunting or killing each other.

She glanced over to where her sister was, silently seeking backup.

May was softly chuckling by the daybed, seemingly not surprised or alarmed by their father’s ridiculous behavior.

Suddenly, Ayin recalled her sister’s own experience. How could she have forgotten?

She was there when May’s first boyfriend came to court her one night in their house in the city, carrying a big bouquet of flowers.

Unfortunately, their father was also there at that time, lounging on his personal chair right in the middle of the living room.

When May’s suitor bravely and properly introduced himself, their father wouldn’t even acknowledge or answer him. He just went on watching his TV show, and refused to budge from his seat even when they knew it was already way past his usual bed time.

She gave her sister’s former boyfriend some points for stubbornly staying even with the icy reception. But the poor guy couldn’t even talk freely the whole time, with their father just about three feet away.

She jolted from the memory as her father’s voice boomed again right outside the bedroom door. “Why is he still here? I’m going to beat him up. No, I’m gonna shoot him. Mumsy, get me my shotgun!”

Her mother, bless her, just pushed her father inside the bedroom and shut the door. They could still hear bellows of “Where’s my shotgun?” from inside.

Not quite meeting his eyes, Ayin grabbed Will by the arm and pulled him outside, down by the beach.

She took a quiet moment to cool down her anger. She looked at the pinkish streaks on the sky, dotted with clouds. It was going to be a beautiful sunset, she thought. She stared at the water for awhile and breathed in the salty air. The sea always calmed her down.

She finally looked at Will. He was sitting with his legs comfortably stretched out, and his arms anchored behind him on the sand.

“I am so sorry about my father. He was just too drunk. I have never seen him like this,” she apologized.

He let out a big grin and played with her hair.

“Your father’s cool,” he said with admiration in his voice.

She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me? He wanted to kill you!”

He burst out laughing. “I don’t think so.”

She considered and narrowed her eyes. “Really? You’re not offended?”

He shook his head with a smile and said, “No. I imagine if I had a daughter, I would probably do the same.”

She stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook her head.

Maybe, it does take one bugoy to understand another one.

Suddenly, he stood up and wiped the sand from his arms and pants. “Come on, let’s go back inside. I left my coffee in the kitchen and I’m hungry.”

She took his offered hand and, standing up, hugged him.

The next day, they didn’t see her father until late in the afternoon. While they were night people, her Popsy was usually up and about at 4 or 5 in the morning. He was already off to somewhere by the time they woke up, and didn’t join them for brunch.

Which was fine by her, since she was still a little mad at her father’s behavior the day before.

The house was busy preparing for a kiddie party for her nephew, May’s 7-year-old son. Every year, it was tradition to invite the neighborhood kids, also his playmates, to celebrate his birthday.

While there were children, of course, it was also a party for the adults.

There were fruit juices along with beer, rum and tuba. Finger food and pastries were laid out on the tables outside by the garden near the beach.

Her father was hosting a drinking session on the side with his friends – most of whom were parents to the kids present – under the huge Palua Maria tree.

Just then, he called out to her, “Ayin! Tell Will to come here.”

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, trying to read her father’s face if he was sober. If he’s not, and he puts on another show like last time, she’ll…

She was distracted as she saw Will from the corner of her eye already approaching his father’s table. Apparently, he had heard the call and went before she could even tell him.

As he reached the table, she saw Will take her father’s hand and bring it to his forehead as a sign of respect and request for blessing. Her father let him.

Then, to her amazement, her father stood up, slapped him on the back and introduced him to the group with a smile, “This is my son-in-law.”

No need to jump the gun here. In the province, they normally use son-in-law as a generic term, both for boyfriends and husbands of their children.

And then, her father promptly gave Will a glass of tuba to drink. She saw Will laughing as he gamely took the glass and drank it bottoms up.

She turned to look at her sister beside her with an incredulous look on her face that said, what the hell was happening here?

Her father and Will were acting like they were buddies, like yesterday’s wild scene never actually happened.

Crazy, that’s what they were.

Her sister hooted beside her. “Congratulations. Popsy just accepted Teacher.”

Just then, Will turned and met her eyes. He gave her a big wink and a secret thumbs-up near his hip as if to say, “I’m in.”

He then grabbed a chair and joined the big boys in their tagay or drinking session. He was seated beside my father.

She sighed in relief as she watched two of her favorite men bonding.

From time to time, curiously, she would go to their table and hear them discuss about guns and cars. Or during lulls, they just sat there and let the drinks do the talking. Most of the time, they ignored her.

After a while, she got the hint and just went back inside the house.

She shouldn’t have worried too much.

Apparently, men – strange creatures as they are — know how to settle things on their own.

They have their unspoken rites of passage, unique rituals and sometimes secret language that women would never quite understand.

Moments like this, whether they choose to act like cavemen or be civilized, you learn to give them space and just let them be.

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