CHILD
WIFE
Delfin Fresnosa
There
were eight of us in the family, including grandmother who could hardly do
anything any more because she was so old. Father was in his forties, but from
his boyhood up his life had been one of toil and he looked like an old man:
slow, taciturn, grey. He worked very hard but it was time for planting again,
we would have no more rice left in the house. Mother and sister Carmen, the
eldest, made abaca slippers but at most they could finish only four pairs a day
between them and each pair sold for not more than three centavos. The other
children were still too young to be of help on the farm, except Tino who took
care of our carabao and the pigs and the hens. He came after Mameng and was
only twelve years old.
Then
things took a turn for the better.
As
I remember, it must have been a month or two after we had planted the rice that
Mang Julio began coming oftener; he had been in our house before, as he and
father were good friends. I know it was a month or two after the planting, for
I remember we had hardly a thing to eat in the house. Everytime he came, he
brought fish and a ganta or two of rice for us. At first my folks were ashamed
o take the things he brought, but Mang Julio insisted very nicely. After that
we hardly lacked anything.
Mang
Julio brought many dresses for Mameng. Some were of imitation silk, but you
could hardly tell the difference; some were of cotton that had pretty designs
of flowers and leaves. He also gave mother yards of cloth that she made into
skirts and pillow cases and handkerchiefs. We boys got only undershirts but wore
them at the first opportunity. Sister Carmen did not at first want to wear the
dresses, but father and mother would coax and scold her until she would finally
put one on. She looked very pretty in any of them.
Father
and mother were more than usually kind to Mameng. They would ask her what she
would like to eat and what she would like them to bring back to her when they
were going to town. They told her not to work too hard because she might tire
herself, and they did not allow her to make any more abaca slippers. They also
said that she did have to cook or wash clothes or even the dishes if she did
not want to. All this embarrassed her, for she had never received so much
attention before. There were times when she would suddenly run away from them
and go to grandmother. Grandmother would ask her what she was crying for, and
would pat her head and say” “Poor child, poor child.”
For
almost a month, Mang Julio came uninterruptedly at least three times a week. He
always stayed a long time, talking to father or mother and his eyes would
follow Mameng as she moved about the house. Sometimes he would try to talk to
her, but she would only answer him in monosyllables, eyes everted and trying to
show her desire to run away. He often spoke to her pleasantly, smiling and
trying to gain her confidence, but then she would leave on some pretext or
other and he would resume his conversation with the older folk. After he left
the house, our parents would reproach her for not being nice to Mang Julio, but
she would not say a thing, and so they would add that the next time he came,
would she please try to be more agreeable to him?
And
Mang Julio would come again with more presents. He would be wearing a new suit
of clothes, but as it was in the rainy season, he carried an umbrella and came
barefooted. The older folk had to entertain him, but he did not seem to mind;
his agreeableness seemed without bounds.
Then
one day, as he was leaving, he said that perhaps he would not be coming as
often as usual. It was after mother had told him, haltingly, that Carmen was
still too young. She had just turned fourteen. Mang Julio said that he would
send men to repair the house, and he himself would drop in now and then.
Our
house was a poor sight – something which the old folk had casually mentioned.
Mang Julio had said that they could get all the necessary things or repairs at
his store in the village and he would also send men to help do the work. So
then three men came to repair the house and they brought with thyem nipa,
bamboo, and wood from Mang Julio’s store.
It
was while the repair work was going on that mother told sister and Tino and to
me to go to the village to borrow a few gantas of rice from Mang Julio. Mameng
said that she was ashamed to go to his store where he might see her, but mother
said that if Mang Julio would lend us anything, he would give it to her rather
than anybody else. Mameng put on a green dress. She turned around several times
before mother and asked how she looked, and mother replied that she looked very
pretty. Mother also arranged Mameng’s hair and touched her face and neck with
powder. Then the three of us started for the village.
We
did not find Mang Julio in his store, but his wife was there and asked us what
we had come for. Mameng was in a panic at first and she turned red and seemed
to shrink away. She must have had only a vague idea that Mang Julio was a
married man and had perhaps never thought of meeting his wife face to face. She
must have felt how far away was pur house and father and mother. Everything in
her seemed to want to escape.
Mang
Julio’s wife was struck with a sudden thought and asked: “Are you Carmen?” and
sister nodded her head dumbly. The the elder woman made haste to offer her
services. She was thin and very ugly, and her face was marred by a distorted
mouth that was constantly twitching. She was already an old woman; her face and
neck and hands were wrinkled, and her hair was all white. Mang Julio was very
much younger than she was; ,maybe he had married her for her money, for they
said she was rich.
Carmen
was much surprised when she found the woman fussing about her, very amiable and
all the solicitude. With a dumb-like expression on her face, Mameng listened to
what she was saying. By that time we had already made to sit down. The two of
them sat face to face at a small table, and Tino and I were some distance away
eating what the woman had given to us. Now and then snatches of their
conversation reached our ears.
She
told of how she and her husband had been married for more than twenty years and
that they had never had a child. That was why they wanted to have a child and
Carmen was to be its mother. The old woman spoke of many other things, and as
she talked her eyes remained on Carmen’s face, watching her every expression and
taking in her youthful freshness. Carmen listened with an impassive face, and
now and then nodded her head in assent or pronounced an almost inaudible yes.
All the time she was nervously twisting a handkerchief in her hands. Then the
old woman adjured her to take care of herself, and gave her much other advice.
After a while we went away with Tino carrying the rice in a sack. Sister
brought up the rear and sometimes we would stop a while and wait for her, for
she walked very slowly and was sniffling most of the time.
While
the work on the house was in progress, Mang Julio dropped in now and then and
stayed to chat with the old folk and inspect the work done. A lean-to had been
added which was made into a room for Mameng. The workers went away and we we left
alone with a remodeled house, and new chairs and tables. Mother hung curtains
in the windows and we children were not allowed to play inside the house
anymore because we would dirty the shiny new floor.
Harvest
time had passed, the rainy season had set in, and the farmers began breaking
the soil. Father now did not have to go out so early in the morning with the
plow and the carabao, because Mang Julio had made him his overseer. All that
father had to do was to go around to Mang Julio’s farm and to see to it that
the renters or other workers did not neglect the planting. The months passed.
Mother often went to the village, and sometimes when she came home, she would
complain to father of something that had happened to her there. But father
would shrug his shoulders and say: “Let them talk; what do we care?” Most
often, however, she came home with a smile of satisfaction on her face which
she would try to hide in a meeker expression.
When
June came, tino and I went to school because father did not need our help any
more on the farm. We did not lack anything in the house and we children had
clothes and plenty to eat. Carmen grew prettier with her body filling out, and
she grew taller, too. Even grandmother was not neglected, and sometimes reeived
presents from Mang Julio. At mother;s urging, she discarded her rags, bathed
more often, and came out of her dark corner.
One morning, when I woke up earlier than
usual, I saw Mang Julio leaving. I believe it was the first time he spent the
night at our house. Mameng was with him, and he stayed for some tine at the
door. He had an arm around her shoulders and she was shivering slightly, for
she had on only a thin cotton dress. She did not say a thing to him but did not
move from his side; she just stood there silently and resignedly with head
bowed down. He was a rather tall man and he looked big and strong beside her
girlish body; her head did not quite reach his shoulders. For some time they
stood thus, scarcely moving, while he bent his head and spoke to her in a low
voice. As the mountains stood suddenly strongly outlined against the red dawn,
he gave her a hurried squeeze and held her tightly for a moment; the he went
away.
When
he had gone, Mameng suddenly seemed to give way and to be very near to crying.
She did not look at his retreating figure, and after a moment, she turned in
and went to grandmother’s room. When Mang Julio glanced back, and was about to
raise her hand to wave to her, she was no longer at the door.
Mameng
stayed for a long while in grandmother’s room. She talked excitedly, sometimes
sobbing, and grandmother quieted her and murmured reassuring words. Mameng was
calmer when the other children were waking up and mother began preparing
breakfast. The younger children went down into the yard and began to play and I
joined them. Mameng watched us for a while, and then she shouted that she was
coming down to play with us. In a moment she came running down the stairs and
into the yard. She was very much excited and she romped and laughed and we were
very happy together. It had been quite a long time since she had played with us
because she had always had many things to do in the house, and when Mang Julio
began coming mother told her that she must not play too much with us now
because she was already a big girl. But now she was free and wild and she
laughed and chattered and ran around the yard with our smallest brother riding
on her back and the others clinging to her dress.
After
that day, Mang Julio came to the house very often. Sometimes he came in the
night and left in the early morning. Sometimes he stayed the whole day and we
would go out and have a sort of picnic under the tall trees by the river. He
was always considerate of Mameng’s slightest wish and would talk to her slowly
and in almost a whisper, and when walking he would take her by the arm of the
slightest rise of the ground. She talked to him now and even laughed a little
at his jokes, shyly and guardedly watching his face. And she grew prettier
everyday it seemed. There was always a flush on her face and her skin became
fairer and she had tome to arrange her hair. Mang Julio still brought her many
things; dresses, creams and powder, and after he had given her a bracelet, he
brought her a necklace. They were not costly, he said, but they were very
pretty just the same. And she wore them because mother told her that Mang Julio
liked her more when he saw her wearing the things he gave her.
We still had the outings when
the weather was fair, and sometimes, on special occasions,
we went to town. We had many sacks of palay
and father even sold some. We were well-fed and well-clothed and the children
looked healthy and strong and happy as the months rolled on.
But
sister Carmen did not play with us anymore. She went about in the house silently
and mother warned us not to bother her. Father and mother treated her lovingly,
but now, unlike before, she was not embarrassed any more; she seemed hardly to
be aware of anything. She was under spell of something greater than the things
that happened around her. Mother, counting the months, said that her time
coming near, and watched Mameng very closely, hardly letting her do anything
that might tire her.
All
the dresses that Mang Julio had given her had become too tight, sohe brought
her new dresses, loose and comfortable. He still came very often, bringing her
delicate things to eat, and all the time he was in the house he would hardly
leave her side. Sometimes of an afternoon, he would take her out for a short
stroll, and they would walk very slowly, he giving his hand to support her.
One
Sunday morning, Mameng told mother that she would like to go out for a little
walk. It was a very fine day, with not a trace of a cloud in the sky and it was
not yet very hot. Under the trees, the sun had penetrated just enough to dry
the dew on the grass. Mother said that she should not go out alone, and warned
her again that her time was very near. Mameng said, “Please, mother, it feels
so close in here inside the house; I want to go out for a little fresh air.” So
mother told me to go with her, and said, “But you must not go far from the
house.”
Mameng
flung an arm around my shoulder and I could feel a little of her weight as we
started out. She looked around at the green countryside and at the blue
mountains in the distance. The grass that grew rank beside the path brushed our
legs and the smell of the flowers and the earth floated lingeringly. Even at
our slow pace, she soon breathed hard. I told her we should stop a while if she
were tired already, but she told me that she was not tired at all, so we walked
on farther. For the most part was remained silent. She just looked at the
grass, and at the trees growing tall and green.
When
we were quite far from the house and we could not see it any more because of a
rise of the land and the trees,s he began all of a sudden to feel differently.
She became more cheerful, and laughed, and it seemed as if she wanted to play
with me again, to throw off her weight and be as light and free of foot as
before.
We
stopped for a while and she asked me to help her sit down, and when she was
seated, she told me that I could play. So I lifet her side and gathered some
stones and threw them into the river which was not far away. Little by little I
had walked quite a distance away from her, absorbed in what I was doing. Then I
heard her shriek. She shriekd several times and kept calling for mother. I ran
back to where I had left her, and when I caught a sight of her, she was already
running. She ran in short, sudden burst, and all the time she ran, she kept
calling for mother.
When
I reached her, she had fallen to the ground. I helped her to a sitting position
and when she looked at me, I saw that her eyes were wild with fear and her
face, covered with dirt and tear stains, was contorted in a grimace of pain.
She kept sobbing, “Oh… Oh… Oh…” and her mouth kept twisting as she tried hard
to stop from crying out loud.
For
a time the pain must have eased, for her face became clearer and her breath
came more regularly. Then she got up suddenly and ran again. I ran after her,
shouting to her to stop, but she wouldn’t heed me, and so we ran wildly up the
path to the house. Mother ran to meet her, and afterwards father came and took
her in his arms and carried her into the house. She had already lost
consciousness.
Word
was sent to Mang Julio and he in turn sent for a doctor, but when the doctor
came he could not do anything any more. Grandmother and the other children were
in the room, and the old woman kept saying to herself: “Poor child, poor
child…”
Originally published in Philippine
Magazine, June 1940
