Thursday, September 25, 2008

The Blues of Opiates

September 10 2008 6:22 pm

For Martin Villanueva, as said.



The door opens, R.Q.A. walks into the room with J.R.D. and he places his palm on my neck, “That’s like the same as the other night, Darling!”


Before that other night, I had presented myself to them once more and R.Q.A. had said, “Beautiful! Good God, when did you start wearing red high heels? Just look at those!”


I had laughed, “They’re my fuck-me-Dorothy-heels. I’m older, you know. Something to shock you oldies. How about if I say I’m about to be married soon?”


And he had laughed, in horror.


I had laughed, “Now that we’re all here, who knows, maybe I’ll sing again, hmmm?”


They had laughed.


His wife had asked, “Do your students know how lucky they are that you taught them?”


I had grinned, “They do. Institutions don’t. And I like it that way.”


R.Q.A. had laughed, “Bravo!”


That other night, I had been taken to 2002 as I was teased, “Ah, don’t tell elders about being sots! You’ve had your own share, Darling! Oh our beautiful wild doll!”


I used to study in their house. And once it was for a final exam: R.Q.A. had led me to the air-conditioned attic, placed juice and cigarettes and said, “No wine for you until you’re done!” And to J.R.D., he said, “Do not disturb that girl until she’s done.”


After, I had come down from the attic and over red wine R.Q.A. had questioned me about English Literature texts from Beowulf and so on, La Morte D’Arthur, Milton and Faust and so on. And where was really Utopia? And after that, it was then questions about English history from the very beginning, even debating the facts of Agincourt.


R.Q.A. laughed, “Talk about the carrot stick! And she calls after and says she aced the damn thing!”


J.R.D laughed.


I laughed, “I haven’t been this drunk since then! And that was nothing compared to Indian history!”


R.Q.A. asked, “And why aren’t you allowing J.R.D. to drink like an Emperor tonight, Darling?”



J.R.D. looked at us, shrugged and left the conversation alone.


I answered, “It’s his kidneys. Did you know that I consented to come back right after I heard about his eye operation? He almost went blind. Nobody was really taking care of him and you know how obstinate he is. After that, there was his shoulder. He was so scared that he wouldn’t be able to play the guitar or golf again. After that, his teeth, and everything had to go. That’s why he lost a lot of weight. Then I was worried about the heart. And each time I can’t go inside the hospital. I just can’t. So he tries to prevent it.”


R.Q.A. asked, “And what of Joey, Darling? Why can’t he drink, too?”



Joey looked up from his laptop and smiled.


I laughed, “He drinks when he wants but he has kidney problems, too. He said to me the first time we had to take him to the ER for that, Beh, I think I know now what dysmenorrheal feels like. And womankind said Hallelujah!”


R.Q.A. laughed and said, “I remember that time when J.R.D called me and said that you were walking somewhere at some ungodly hour. And he said She’s walking from Libis to Katipunan in those deadly boots! She’ll bleed again! And I said to him, Good God what are you waiting for man! Go get our girl!”


I wailed, “Oh god! You remember that? And I had thrown my phone at Joey’s windshield that night! Crazy!” Then I laughed, “And where were you during that first book launch in 2006! You’ll like the editor. Es muy simpatico!


R.Q.A. laughed and said, “Ah, you know how it is in my business, Darling!”


I laughed, “I know, I know. I’m not complaining. You did tell me why you couldn’t come.”



Then I smashed the pot from the percolator in my mirth. I said, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Here---”


R.Q.A. laughed, “Put your feet up, Darling! Don’t touch those! We don’t want them cut…Mazaltof!”



And J.R.D. roared laughter, “I haven’t heard that calling of my name in years. Can’t help but say Coming!”


I laughed, “That’s it! I’m going to bed! I’m drunk!”


And I remember that I was led to the bed by Joey and voices no longer with laughter were talking above me, a palm placed on my neck--- Darling, do you need Advil? And I better sleep near the windows; she’s in one of those moods again, she has to step over me first…Our wild doll…I promised not to be drunk when I’m playing. I saw her face--- she looked at me and then she simply looked away. That face. And I said, Oh no. Oh no. I didn’t know that she was coming! She says my music when I’m like that is not touching her, that I’m not there. I don’t want to see that face again. Blind, the lot of them---


I went into deep sleep.



I woke up with J.R.D. watching over me.


I asked, “Where’s Joey?” And I glanced to the foot of the bed, he was there, sleeping. I rubbed Joey’s back.


J.R.D. said, “I was telling him to sleep beside you but he just shook his head.”


I said, “You know that nobody is allowed to sleep with me unless invited. Did he finish what he was writing? That one’s tricky.”


“Almost.”


I smiled, “He has a gift for me, he said, for my birthday.”



I saw a tear falling, “What is it?”


He said, “I---We don’t want to lose you…”


I said, “Silly, I may be sick but I’m not going to die.”


The door opens, R.Q.A. walks in with J.R.D. and he places his palm on my neck, “That’s like the same as the other night, Darling!”


R.Q.A. and J.R.D. play their guitars and sing for me. They are not drunken mumbling--- it’s the blues, darling.


I say, “Go on…Go on…It’s unlocking something…”


R.Q.A. sings, My girl…


I hum---- remembering when Katitang had sung that for me in City Jam--- lost in breaking form. They stop to take two portraits of light--- of me in the dark. They fuss over the portraits and it makes me laugh.


R.Q.A. opens the white rum, “An opening salvo for the house!”


They play more blues, their guitars sing.


I quietly laugh, sober, and I say, “I’m a beautiful young woman looking after the piss of three old men.”


They laugh.


R.Q.A. says to J.R.D., “Give me the other guitar. Un poco de flavor!


They play.


J.R.D. says to me, “In Mehico, wives and lovers who are loved are called Carnal.”


I mumble, “Como se dice en EspaƱol, tsk, no puedo mas hablar in quella lingua. Da vero? Pensato che sia Amor?


R.Q.A. says to J.R.D., “Dame savor! Dame savor!


They sing.


J.R.D. says, “No, Carnal. Guapa, you’re switching.”


I say, “I was?”


They laugh.


J.R.D. says, “Someone from your business was asking how I knew you.”


R.Q.A. asks, “Asking after our girl? Who?”


J.R.D. answers and R.Q.A. laughs.


I say, “You should have said that I was your unofficial third wife.”


They laugh.


I say, “Well, not a while back in China, loving wives and husbands called each other Comrade.”


They laugh.


R.Q.A. says, “What is wrong, Darling?” feeling my neck once more.


I just smile.


I close my eyes and raise my face and sing.


They play and I sing Wild Horses.


I am in Manila.


In this room, I am in 1978.


Then---


R.Q.A. sings…Well I left her…At the station…Suitcase in her hand…Train’s moving away…My baby has a suitcase in her hand…Hard to tell…When your love’s all in vain…Don’t let that train get away!


The song ends and I laugh, clapping.


R.Q.A. laughs, “And that’s the blues, Darling!”


I ask, “How long have you two been friends again?”


R.Q.A. answers, “When Dad died in 1981 or 82, we were friends already…”


I am in 1978, perhaps years before. Not many people know that we are friends: I am almost two decades younger than R.Q.A and almost three decades younger than J.R.D.


I had once asked them a long time ago, “What happened to the two of you?”


They had said, “Too much money, too much power, too young…”


R.Q.A. says, “Look at my fingers---” seeing them raw.


He hasn’t played the guitar in years--- years.


J.R.D. says, “Ah, that guitar is a skin-eater. Pero ganda ng tunog ng gitara ni Grace, no?”


I remember when my fingers bled from plucking staccato in banduria. I feel my fingers tingling--- they haven’t bled in fifteen years.

I am in 2008.


We speak of an underpass in a city named after Q in R.Q.A.

We speak of titles meaning less named after D in J.R.D.

We speak of how we’ve always known all these things.


J.R.D. says, “My father, before he died, he opened his eyes and told Brother Raff…Raff, do not forget the people…We have to help the poor…Educate them…Do not forget…And now Brother Raff is dead…”


I say, “When am I going in for that program?”


J.R.D. says, “I’m just making sure you get paid and not do it for free.”


I laugh.


R.Q.A. says, “Eh tayong mga Pilipino, nangyayari na sa harap natin ang kasaysayan at walang nagtatala!”


We shake our heads and laugh.


We sing of the Supercollider.


27 km radius, 100 meters into the Alps? Which one’s in meters or kilometers? Recreating the Big Bang, Darling! Doll, do you want to explain the math in that? Simple, we have just built the anti-matter into matter. 30 years of working human hours: a nanosecond in God’s Time. The end of the Earth’s core begins.


J.R.D. laughs and says to R.Q.A., “You should see this piece she wrote translating this mathematical equation into words!”


I laugh, “Hey, hey, I’m an idiot in the perfect language, remember?”


J.R.D. scoffs, “Bah! Just play!”


R.Q.A. says, “Now the lepton, Darling! The lepton!”


I say, “Well, there’s something smaller than a lepton.”


J.R.D. asks, “What?”


I say, “The thingie.”


They laugh.


R.Q.A. says, “In the world of colliding leptons, we cannot look back, Darling! But look back, we must, even for a nanosecond! And then we move on!”


They fuss over the portraits of light once more---me in the dark.


They are looking at my soul.


J.R.D. says, “She cannot stand…”


R.Q.A. laughs, “…Let us be away then! Lest we upset her sensitive nature!”


I laugh.


J.R.D. says, “You know, I moved here tomorrow.”


I smile, “Heard what you just said? Time. What a beautiful syntax.”


J.R.D. laughs, follows R.Q.A. out, and closes the door to the room.

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