The Past Three Days

Tuesday, three days ago, we visited an electric fan repair shop. My kuya’s bedroom electric fan nearly exploded after having been used 14.5 hours without stop, when his friends came over Monday night.

The repairman was this guy, must be around my kuya’s age. Just got off e.f. repairman course from a nearby state college. Funny on occassion. His skin had the color of the slippers I used to wear when I was 9. On three occassions I tried pointing this out to him, but mother stopped me. And besides, he was busy.

The fan was in really bad shape. The plastic fan blades had basically melted and hardened after cooling, so that it wouldn’t come off in the normal manner. The r.m. had to break it off—something that was both painful and unnerving to watch. I nearly made a scene, if not for mother’s assurance that it was ok, the fan motor wouldn’t take any damage.

In fact, it hadn’t taken any damage from overheating—and for this we were glad. Had the motor been damaged, the r.m. would have asked for a new motor, and that would be stupid. Better to buy a new set than replace the motor—or so the r.m. said. He said it was one of the finest fan motors manufactured in the last decade.

We believed him.

Wednesday Humprhey came over. As usual, with Skidd. Skidd had grown so much since last I saw him 48 days ago. Must be the fur. Humprhey said he’d bought a new shampoo for Skidd, and used it, for a change.

I said, “Uh, OK.”

Mom and Kuya showed Humprhey the newly repaired fan. Then we told him what got the fan broken in the first place. Humprhey also said, “Uh, OK.”

No sooner had the front gate banged close after Humprhey and Skidd had left, had the phone rung. Neena it was. She asked if I would be passing by the Drugstore on my way to work, and if I would, could I please, please, get for her contact lens solution. Her “genius of a husband” knocked it over again while shaving, nearly spilling it all over the bathroom floor, “the idiot. And he nearly flushed my contact lenses down the t.b., too, if I hadn’t stopped him.”

Those were her exact words.

I said that was too bad, but sorry, I wouldn’t be passing by any drugstore at all on my way to work. I did tell her, however, that I could lend her kuya’s, if that was all right with her.

No thanks, she said. She sounded gravely disappointed that I couldn’t do this microscopically small favor for her.

It disturbed me the entire day. Even when we were at work. She worked 3 tables to my right, Neena, and every time I looked at her direction, I would see her wearing this crushed, eye-glassed look on her face. And I felt that it wasn’t so much as her not wearing the vision enhancing apparatus of her preference, than it was of the discovery that she was born in a world where her friends couldn’t even do a small favor for her.

And so I decided to patch things up with her dinner time.

“Nice coat,” I began. She was wearing again the coat I saw her wear on 18 different ocassions, one of which was the Christmas party of the past year.

“Well, thank you.” In a sign of genuine appreciation, she let her right canine tooth stick out in between her smiling lips. She used to wear retainers¹ once, but stopped because her husband had one time accidentally flushed them down the toilet bowl.

“I can personally handwash it for you if you want,” I offered.

That was when she really lost her temper. She stomped out of the mess hall, without even seeing her dinner get cooked and served. I followed her. When she was near the door, she took off her pair of glasses, broke it at the bridge, and tossed it right into the trashcan. “I don’t need this,” she said for the entire mess hall to hear. Indicating me, she said, “And I don’t need you to personally handwash my coats for me!”

Yesterday nothing happened.



_____________________________
¹ originally, braces, until the author had a pair installed on him, and learned one can't just take one's braces on and off, much more, accidentally flush down toilets.

© Jay Santos 2003.