MAURICIO, Omar Kareem V. | 2007-63289 Eng1 THU5 Dependence Reflex I had nothing to do back home.

August 20, 2009 Mr. Raymund Vitorio

So instead of sulking in my paper-crowded bed and file swarmed laptop, I decided to hit the road with my boss and a few friends from work. I would normally choose to bum or sulk around given that it was the only day I was permitted to do so; but my usual, normal choice was maligned by an atypical monopoly of the remote control which, usually, was my only companion in the family sofa. The T.V. boomed with second class dance and song numbers of local celebrities. It would have made me thrilled that when commercials came, the T.V. screen would flicker; indicating a new channel with a new program. But it didnt. It was another channel, alright, but it was just another flood of second class performances; only this time, a heart-shaped logo flashed on the upper-right part of the screen instead of the colored rings surrounding a vertical line. An hour later, I decided I had enough.

I woke as the vans engine suddenly roared to life. My watch indicated that it had been an hour since I left home to a destination I was only half-aware of; it has also been an hour since I closed my eyes to pass the time as we waited for a few people who alighted to buy us resources for the trip. I didnt mind. This was, I thought, better than having to watch dulling performances on T.V. or sulking in my room. This way, I had something to do. Anything to do. As people loaded the van, I half expected chuckles and hangovers of different unfinished conversations but I was surprised to hear an exchange of yells instead. What took you so long? You spent a whole hour buying a pack of medicines and ice cream cups?! shouted Ronald. At least I did something! You, on the other hand sat there, comfortably feasting your eyes with sexy lady over there, not minding that I was already signaling that you come and pick us up! replied Clare with the same agitated voice. Everybody else in the van was silent. No one had the guts to shush either of the two. Clare is, after all, our boss; and Ronald, besides being the only capable driver in the group, owns the van. So I did as everyone else did I kept my mouth shut.

With nothing else to do, I drowned myself with the view outside, It was unusually dark for a mid-afternoon and the wrapping cold was something new as well. Grey clouds were starting to blanket the city my stomach churned at the first hints of rain. The sign at the gate read Home of Joy. Besides that the place was an orphanage ran by nuns of the same congregation as Mother Theresas and that it was a haven for abandoned children, I had no other prior knowledge of the place. Clare opened her window and shuffled thru her things. She flashed her company I.D. which read: C.M. Tutorial Center Dr. Clare Garcia Head Instructor , to the man standing by the deck just beside the entrance. The gate opened and I quickly surveyed the yard. There were a number of people running around the front porch but none of them were children. Where are the children? I asked. Its an orphanage, right? I continued. Clare beamed a gentle smile in my direction and replied, Theyre inside. They cant stay outside the shelter. Cant? I hesitantly blurted back. Youll see, and she beamed that smile at me again. We alighted from the van and went inside. The shelter would have been spacious if not for the beds and strollers that flooded it instead of the usual facilities an orphanage ought to have. It had a small hall in which visitors and the children could gather. The hall was surrounded by four rooms each windowed and well lit such that anyone could see into the rooms as soon as one enters the hall. Inside, were small beds just enough for the size of a child; each looked like a crib. In them were children, ranging from ages five to nine. Now I understood why they cant leave the shelter. After giving the ice cream and medicine supplies to the volunteer-in-charge, we singly entered each room to see how the children were doing. When I entered, I flinched at the strong stench of disinfectant. Even my eyes started to swell. I was quite sure about myself it was just the disinfectant. There was nothing else that could have caused my eyes to water. Besides, all that was in the room were children in wheelchairs or strollers or cribs and beds.

This is Luigi, a volunteer announced when she noticed I was intently looking at the boy she was tending to. He has cerebral palsy. Ow. Uhm. Whats he eating? I replied, unsure of what to say. Processed vegetables and mashed potato, she answered. She surveyed the place as if looking for something and continued, Uhm, do you mind if you feed him for me? I just need to finish a few things first. Ow. Uhm. Okay, I responded. The volunteer left and handed me the bowl of mashed potato topped with a green and orange paste. Since Luigi lay on his crib, it was easier and harder at the same time to feed him. It was easier compared to if I had to carry him in one arm and feed him with the other. It was harder because although I had both arms free, I had to keep the food from running down his mouth since he wasnt reclined. When I finished, I set the bowl aside and had him cleaned up. All the while, Luigi stared at me with eyes bright and intent. I didnt know what else to do. All that was on his bed with him were a few plastic key toys and a yellow ball. With nothing else to do, I played the toys with him. Shortly, Luigi yawned and started to droop his eyes. I sat motionless and caressed his head. A new splash of disinfectant filled the air. My eyes swelled and dampened with its stench. Which brand were they using? It had an awful stench. I gazed out the window and looked into the hall. There was Clare and Ronald. They were talking and laughing as Clare cradled what seemed to me a few months old baby. All traces of ferocity in their faces, gone. The magic of children, I whispered to myself. I stared at the now more evident hints of rain building outside. It would seem as if the sun was setting. Heck, it never seemed to rise in the first place. But I was sure. The second class performances of local actors I so loathed back home must be finished by now. The idea made me smile.

Tap, tap, called a gentle knock from the window outside the hall. It was leave.

Clare. We had to

It felt bad that I had to leave Luigi while he was asleep; so I kissed him on his forehead and whispered an almost inaudible goodbye to his ear. Luigi jerked. His eyes swung open and they intently looked for mine; the brightness which I saw in them earlier, dimmed. All its intent turned to a relenting protest. I caressed him once more and held his stiff hands. My chest trembled with his reaction. Almost instantly, Luigi grabbed the fingers that did not manage escape from my caressing him. It reminded me of dependence reflex. It is that same reaction you get when you put a finger on a babys open palm, and almost instantly, the baby clasps your finger as if saying I need you. Clare tapped again. Reluctantly, I unclasped Luigis grip with my other hand. I leaned down and hurriedly kissed him on the head once more. Then, I dashed out of the room, into the hall and out of the shelter door. I heard a whimper, then a cry, then a rage. I did not look back. Outside, a blizzard started falling and so did the tears I so helplessly fought. They rolled down my cheeks and mocked me of their triumph.

Which brand were they using? It had an awful stench. Damn disinfectant.