Another Mrs. Smith?
I am not used to lighting cigars here at my own bedroom, not, until mother died. Cigars make me calm in ways I do not know. I treat it as a bosom friend. It is my only companion. I love it so much; I do not mind if it KILLS me or what for this lit cigar reminds me of my mother.
Oh mother… she was my opposite in many ways. She hates smoking. She used to throw at me anything that she holds in her hands whenever she catches me lighting up one. I remember one time, when she caught me smoking while I was in bed, she quickly drew dad’s Mako Knife (made from hi-technology stainless steel alloy blade carefully crafted for maximum cutting performance…) from under her cooking apron and threw it straight – not to me, but to the pillow near my right.
SPLAT! Bull’s eye! A shooter indeed! She hit the pillow with so much precision that the pillow went half-mutilated. She shocked me, terribly. I theorized then, was mother a former secret agent, just like Mrs. Smith from that movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith? What am I thinking? Gee… I will never know.
She is four days dead already. She died from a heart disease.
Yes, dead. Heck, I cannot keep recalling another trait of her – whenever she can help, she will help. She carried that trait even now that she passed out. Proof is that on the very same day she died; she requested our doctor to donate some two or three of her body organs to the hospital near here. I can hardly recall what organs she donated except for her eyes, because of her line, “Hey, find the one who will get my eyes, and befriend him for he will look for you the way I do, always”.
What was she saying? I could not really comprehend. I am slow at picking up things like this. One of mother’s weird thoughts, perhaps. A riddle or something, I cannot tell. I cannot even say it was a joke (why would someone give a joke before he dies?).
“How in the world will I find that one?” I thought deeply, “Mom is making me confused, again.”
I took a deep breath, with the cigar’s burning sensation, and closed my eyes. My last cigarette is done.
I jumped out from bed and put on a tidy shirt. I will buy a cigarette pack at Tita Anne’s stall. However, it is a very, very sunny day today. Very sunny indeed, that it makes me lazy, even to move. But, I must go out, anyways.
“Good morning Tita Anne,” I greeted with a smile, “a sweaty day, isn’t it?”
“Good morning Wiwit,” Tita Anne, the stall’s owner, cashier, closer, opener, etc., replied, “yes, too hot indeed.”
“Stop calling me Wiwit you old age!”
“Your head is as hot as the sun, young boy.”
“Just stop. I’m going to buy cigarettes. And… young boys… never light cigarettes.”
“Whatever… Wiwit.”
“You! Be thankful you’re old!”
I left the old woman and went straight to the cigarettes/liquors section that is close to the snacks stall, beside an AC unit.
“Lights without a drink”, I thought, “won’t be fun.”
I made up my mind. I bought two blue-sealed cigar packs, and a bottle of Mucho. I picked some foil of peanuts at the snacks stall.
“Nothing can dissolve a crappy feeling but a couple of nice drinks and some lights stuck in my mouth,” I concluded quietly, “now, this heat is going to be down the line.”
I picked up some more peanuts. Suddenly, a girl, I think of my age, bumped me hard. The girl is somewhat familiar to me, I just cannot recognize when or where did I know her – maybe because of how she stared.
I told her I am sorry. We both regained our composure. I looked at her with a grin. She returned a sight.
“What… are… those?” she replied, innocently.
“What…?” I answered with a puzzled thought, “are there dirt in my face?”
“I… err… don’t know if there’s dirt… eh,” she continued, “What… are you… holding?”
“Huh?” I am perplexed. Early this morning, mother gave me this kind of maze, now this girl.
“Are those… peanuts?”
“Yup.”
“Those? What… are…?”
“What? Lady, if you are up to something, don’t involve me, OK?” I interrupted, “Today is so hot that it makes my mood bad. You wouldn’t want to be hurt, do you?”
“Well… I’m not…”
I picked up some junkies, “here, have these, go waste your time with these.”
“P… I… A…,” the girl looked at me, “this must be my fav… P… Piattos!”
“Silly bitch…” I whispered as I left her in that section and went to the cashier’s counter, “Hey old one, who IS SHE?”
“She’s Anne,” The woman replied merrily, “she seems to like you.”
“ANNE? Another crazy Anne, eh,” I laughingly answered back, “Like me? Are you dog-bitten or what?”
“Shut up. Their family transferred here just yesterday.”
“Just… yesterday?”
“Yes, just yesterday. Four days after her operation.”
“What operation…?” I curiously asked, “Why is she like that? Four days?”
“SHE USED TO BE BLIND.”
Then, my tears started falling.
I am not used to lighting cigars here at my own bedroom, not, until mother died. Cigars make me calm in ways I do not know. I treat it as a bosom friend. It is my only companion. I love it so much; I do not mind if it KILLS me or what for this lit cigar reminds me of my mother.
Oh mother… she was my opposite in many ways. She hates smoking. She used to throw at me anything that she holds in her hands whenever she catches me lighting up one. I remember one time, when she caught me smoking while I was in bed, she quickly drew dad’s Mako Knife (made from hi-technology stainless steel alloy blade carefully crafted for maximum cutting performance…) from under her cooking apron and threw it straight – not to me, but to the pillow near my right.
SPLAT! Bull’s eye! A shooter indeed! She hit the pillow with so much precision that the pillow went half-mutilated. She shocked me, terribly. I theorized then, was mother a former secret agent, just like Mrs. Smith from that movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith? What am I thinking? Gee… I will never know.
She is four days dead already. She died from a heart disease.
Yes, dead. Heck, I cannot keep recalling another trait of her – whenever she can help, she will help. She carried that trait even now that she passed out. Proof is that on the very same day she died; she requested our doctor to donate some two or three of her body organs to the hospital near here. I can hardly recall what organs she donated except for her eyes, because of her line, “Hey, find the one who will get my eyes, and befriend him for he will look for you the way I do, always”.
What was she saying? I could not really comprehend. I am slow at picking up things like this. One of mother’s weird thoughts, perhaps. A riddle or something, I cannot tell. I cannot even say it was a joke (why would someone give a joke before he dies?).
“How in the world will I find that one?” I thought deeply, “Mom is making me confused, again.”
I took a deep breath, with the cigar’s burning sensation, and closed my eyes. My last cigarette is done.
I jumped out from bed and put on a tidy shirt. I will buy a cigarette pack at Tita Anne’s stall. However, it is a very, very sunny day today. Very sunny indeed, that it makes me lazy, even to move. But, I must go out, anyways.
“Good morning Tita Anne,” I greeted with a smile, “a sweaty day, isn’t it?”
“Good morning Wiwit,” Tita Anne, the stall’s owner, cashier, closer, opener, etc., replied, “yes, too hot indeed.”
“Stop calling me Wiwit you old age!”
“Your head is as hot as the sun, young boy.”
“Just stop. I’m going to buy cigarettes. And… young boys… never light cigarettes.”
“Whatever… Wiwit.”
“You! Be thankful you’re old!”
I left the old woman and went straight to the cigarettes/liquors section that is close to the snacks stall, beside an AC unit.
“Lights without a drink”, I thought, “won’t be fun.”
I made up my mind. I bought two blue-sealed cigar packs, and a bottle of Mucho. I picked some foil of peanuts at the snacks stall.
“Nothing can dissolve a crappy feeling but a couple of nice drinks and some lights stuck in my mouth,” I concluded quietly, “now, this heat is going to be down the line.”
I picked up some more peanuts. Suddenly, a girl, I think of my age, bumped me hard. The girl is somewhat familiar to me, I just cannot recognize when or where did I know her – maybe because of how she stared.
I told her I am sorry. We both regained our composure. I looked at her with a grin. She returned a sight.
“What… are… those?” she replied, innocently.
“What…?” I answered with a puzzled thought, “are there dirt in my face?”
“I… err… don’t know if there’s dirt… eh,” she continued, “What… are you… holding?”
“Huh?” I am perplexed. Early this morning, mother gave me this kind of maze, now this girl.
“Are those… peanuts?”
“Yup.”
“Those? What… are…?”
“What? Lady, if you are up to something, don’t involve me, OK?” I interrupted, “Today is so hot that it makes my mood bad. You wouldn’t want to be hurt, do you?”
“Well… I’m not…”
I picked up some junkies, “here, have these, go waste your time with these.”
“P… I… A…,” the girl looked at me, “this must be my fav… P… Piattos!”
“Silly bitch…” I whispered as I left her in that section and went to the cashier’s counter, “Hey old one, who IS SHE?”
“She’s Anne,” The woman replied merrily, “she seems to like you.”
“ANNE? Another crazy Anne, eh,” I laughingly answered back, “Like me? Are you dog-bitten or what?”
“Shut up. Their family transferred here just yesterday.”
“Just… yesterday?”
“Yes, just yesterday. Four days after her operation.”
“What operation…?” I curiously asked, “Why is she like that? Four days?”
“SHE USED TO BE BLIND.”
Then, my tears started falling.
