Weight

Lakambini A. Sitoy
Mens Rea and Other Stories
Pasig City: Anvil Publishing Inc, 1998

TI hat morning she had opened ihe of-

fice refrigerator {or some water and stumbled upon a white
cardboard carton squatting rather self-importantly on the
upper shelf. lt was so huge it took LIp most of the tiny
space. she drew it out carefully, laying it on the kitchen
countertop to investigate.
Itwas, she saw as she raised the lid, a hunk of leftover
birthday cake. Daisy had turned 30 a couple of da)'s ago,
and Nick 27 a few days before that, so there'd been a
week'sworth of nibblingforthe office stafi, and once more
her appetite had been the butt of their iokes.
Pouring herself a Slass of water, she plucked thi last
pink rose off the top ofthe cake. The glacing was smooth
and hard, ofa brown so deep itwasvirtually black, and as
she ate the candy blossom, delicately nibbling oif petal
after petal, the glands along her jaw stung for more. She
pinched off whit-- loop oi sugar, pried away a few crumbs
a

from where a knife had sunk into the rich chocolate, and
then guiltily thrustthe cake back into the refriSerator
That had been hours ago. Since then, she had gone
again and again to thefridge, leavinBher comPuter, tospirit

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off half-inchthickslicesof hertreasure, whichshecrushed
with infinile slowness atainst the roof of her mouth. "Why
should lstarve myself?" she challenged anyone who caught
her at the refri8erator "Why sub,scribe to the Beaut'/ Myth?
We're all feminists here, arcn'twe?'
She was still nibblin8 miserably at half past six when
the secretary pulled the blinds down and turned out most
ofthe lights and the airconditioninS and gathered up her
things. "You staying, Ami?"
She nodded, gaze fixed on the blue-white screen of
her monitor.
"OverniBht again?"
'Y"p.
"lndustrious Birl."
"Deadlines."
The front door slammed and there was silence. Sup-
pressinga yawn, she forced herselfto finish proofreading
the article on her screen. Moonlighting- writingand edit-
ing-at a nongovern mental orga n ization was beginningto
bore her But there was plenty of rnoney from some foF
eign grant, enough for her to make the finalpayments on a
good computer, and the NCOworked for women's rights,
which cheered her considerably. So she'd resigned herself
to a routine of meals on the run and sleepless nights and
plunBed right in, hoping that the person she'd be spending
the most time with {he layout artist-would be as sharp
and dedicated and gender-sensitive as shewas.
The layoutartist had turned outto be a man.
She was putting an article together
from five different
pamphlets when a sound caught her attention, the mur-
mur ofan engine, barely perceptible above the wheezing
156 Mens Rea
o, the old airconditioner, followed by the slamming of a
car door. ltwas the layoutguy, back from his other iob-
She ran down the stahs to let him in.
'Night shift, " he grimaced as he entered, knapsack dan-
gling from one skinny wrist. His name was Jayme and he
spoke mostly in TagaloS, which she would answer in En_
tlish or a mix of thewo. Her own Tagalog sucked, and he
used English as little as possible, so maybe that was what
had turned them into friends-under_pressure: neither of
them had the resourcesfor a decent argument.
"Sorry l'm late," he said, PUshinE up his whe-frame
glasses with the the tip ofone finger as he headed for the
kitchen. She heard the slam of the frid8e door, water pour-
ing into a gla55-
"You're /are?" shesaid, glancing befudd led at her watch.
She couldn't believe it- it was a quarter to eleven. Time
worked in strange ways now; whole evenings could fly by
unnoticed, measured only in ba85 of chiF and swi8s of
Coke. She had been working more than twelve hours
straight. Today had been her day off from her leSit job,
which was ata newsPapet one ofthe invisiblejunior edi
to6. She had onefree daya weelg and it was neady over.
"Well, are you goin8 to stand there the rest of tie n iSlrt?"
he called as he turned toward the stairs. His voice held a
trace of a grin she coLtldn't see in the dark.
she followed him into the project room they shared;
drc akconditioner was on and hesiShed in Sratitude. Draw-
inga chair upto the computer, he began {iddling with the
mouse to see if itworked. Satisfied, he opened a file. She
joined him to make sure he didn't erase herwork by mis_
take. They were sittrng very close but she did not mind.
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She liked sitting close to a boy, although strictly speaking
he wasn't a boy anymore, just as she was too old to be a
girl.
i{re you
staying the night again?, he murmured. His
speech, she thoughE was a slow drawl, with just a hinr of
an upward inflection at the ends of his sentences, com-
pletely devoid of that American twant her old U.p clars-
mates would a{fe.t
"Maybe," she replied.
Alone?"
She nodded. ltwas a safe neighborhood; the NCO of-
fice was a house in one ofthe Quezon City projects; be-
sides, what did they have for thieves to cart away? She
keptatoweland aspare change of clothes ih a papersack
in herdesk, and on nights when she was a,one, she would
go out into the darkness of the second floor balcony, lis-
tening to the thrum often-wheeler truck on a thorough-
fare a few streets away and staring up at the night sky, at
the moon.
A thought struck her "Aren'tyou staying up with me?,,
"Not this tirne."
"Oh," she said, disappointed. tt was much better ro
workwith him around, knowing, as the clockticked steadily
throu8h the wee hours of the morning, that he,d be there
to swap tales with when her lids started to droop. Some-
times past midnight hewould drive several blockto a 24-
hour convenience store and come back with bags ofchips
and, for her, sweet little Big Bob.s treats.
"l'm going up to Baguio. A long, long \aeekend,', he said.
"Oh. Driving? The whole night?"
"lf I slept now I'd never wake up in time-" He looked
154 Mns Rea
at her incred ulous face,notqllitegrinnin8, and said, "Don't
worry, l've done it before."
She knew he had; durinSone of their evenings he had
told her of his excursions out of Mero Manila, sometimes
on a Iour-cylinder bike that he was ridiculously proud ot
sometimes in an old Galantthat he shared with a brother'
It was his dream to see the whole of the Philippines on
wheels. She had laughed softly at that.
"So,"shesaid. "Will itbethe bikeorthecarthistime?"
'The car," he said, expertly guidingmouse, cursot over
the document onscreen, his eyes fixed on the square of
blue Ii8ht. 'My bike's in the shoP."
"what's in Baguio?"
"Nothing this time of the Year'"
"Then what are you toinB uP there for?"
He shrug8ed. "iust felt like it."
"Seems stupid to blow allthat money on nothin8," she
said, She didn't know how much a single drive to Baguio
cost in terms of gas but she was sure the figure was astro_
nomicil. At least he didn't have to worry about hotel rates;
his foll(s had a house up there that they were thinkin8 of
selling; it was silly to let it stand empty for the better part
of the year Once he had asked her, flipPantly, if she
wanted to go upthere with him someday. She'd been too
astonished to say anything.
'well, you know me," he was sayingnow. He reached
into his knap,sack and drew out a bag of chip6, which he
opened with his teeth. "Want some?"
She was hungry again, she realized with disgust. He
poured a generous helpinB into her oPen palm. The chip6
were cheap and cheese flavored and very very 8ood.
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 "One more time won,t hurt,,, she consoled herself.
"That's what my obese female friends always say,,. he
said. just beneath his breath, semi-smilingat her
"l'm ,ofobese," she said, but she was more resigned
than angry
"Hey, I was onlyjoking, OK? Don,t get mad.,,
"l'm not mad. Why should I care?,,
"l can see it in your face., He rose, grinning. "l,m tak-
int a shower You can use the computer if you want.,,
SHE tried to work, but her mind returned again and again
to himand his smooth dark skin and too-lons hairand the
relaxed and loose,lointed way he moved around the of-
fice, ne\,r hurried;ndolent, really. She had tiked him im
med;ately, while attaching only the barest importance to
his presence. A few minutes into their first meeting shed
began to chatter, the kind of flirtatious chit-chat she in-
dulged in as a matter of habit with guys who didnl really
attract her butwith whomshe could let her ha;rdown. He
never flirted back, just seemed a little tongue-tied at her
enthusiasm- He would lean back in his cha,r, eyes bounc-
ing to her and then to the screen, as though half of his
mind wercon somthingelse. Hecouldn,tbe called hand,
some, not bya lontshot, but he had a certain appeal, and
the kind of mouth that seemed to be smiling even when
he wasn'L His diffidence suited her just fine. She didn,t
like it when men came on too strong. He had a nice way
oftouching her, though, tapping her nape orthe sensitive
area by her shoulderblades ever so gently, when at the
close of an evening's work he hoisted his knapsack over
one shouider and said goodbye.
1m Mens Rea
MAIOR ISSUES, she t)/ped. Underneath that, Lack ofsu!>
port hom communities- Lack of rccognition of the rcality
of domestic violence. Deafth ol laws favotable to women
ar sensitite to their needs. Pervasive patiarchal attittides
amonq judges, govemment prosecutos and law enforce-
rnent agenB,
With the mollse she got the phrases down in a straight
column. Click. Click. Bullet bullet bullet bullet. tt was a
dandycomputer program. You could orderyourwhole life
with itifyou wanted. Sheyawned, barely conscious of the
words. She had been typing phrases Iike those since col-
le8e, and that was a lon8 time ago. She wondered ifJayme
ever reao what he laid out. Probably not. lf you focused
too long on your texts you eventually found yourself get-
ting involved. and politics, she supposed, was the worst
thing thatcould happen to a freelancer outto earn a real
living.
fhe screen was starting to blur. Too many sleepless
ni8hts. Rolling her seataway from the computer, she situ-
ated herself at one of the cluttered desk. One minute,
she promised herself, laying her head on her arms.
It seemed she had barely closed her eyes when she
felta hand on her shoulder. 'Ami, Ami. Wake up. t.m leav-
itE."
she forced her head up,Jaymewas bendingover her, a
blur of black-jeans, t-shirt, and of course that skin. His
hair was newly-washed and fellsoftly about his shoulders;
he looked, she thought confusedl, like a black saint, a
black resus.
"What time is it?" she said.
Wcitht 161
 "Half past one."
"Oh no," she groaned.
He was peering sharply into her face. "You're in no
condition to work. Come on, l'll take you home."
'l have deadlines.'
'You're half asleep."
"Can't we go get some coffee?" she moaned-
"Alright then." He hoisted her bag to his shoulder.
"Come on."
QUrZON Clry in the wee hours of the morning was an-
other country the buildings she saw every day from a
jeepney obliterated byblackness, patches of neon and fluo-
res(ence whizzing past on either side as the car sped over
asphalt. She crossed her legs and shivered.
"7-11 or Dunkin Donuts?' he said.
"Can'twe find a Mega,ink first?"
She looked sharply around forbank with automatic teller
machines, but there weren't any; they had to get out of
this residential neighborhood fhst. They reached the end
of Visayas Avenue, paused a moment untilthe light turned
8reen, and swept around the Quezon Memorial Circle's
perimeter, where young men out to make a little money
from a casualfellatio glanced into their headlights, looking
away without interestwhen their car did not slow. Then
they were abreast of the Quezon Memorial; she
scrunched down in her seat to catch a view ofthe stone
angels atthe very top, their winSs cufting into the night
sky like pale scythes. layrne was veering to the righ!
running a red light, but it was OK, no one was there to
stop them atthis hour and they swept down an avenue
162
lined with trees on either side, which SraduallyBave way
to neon signs.
"Where are we Boing anyway?" she said softly.
"To Aberdeen Court," iayme replied, his mouth set in
that half-Brin of his, and she grinned too because people
drove up to Aberdeen Court just to make love and it was
justthe kind of remark a 8uy like him would make.
Why was it that he could always make her smile? No
other guy could get away with ajoke like that around her.
she sat back, prplexed, aware that she was enjoying his
company, and the ride, though there was nothing novel
about it. she had been over these roads a hundred times
before, in college and in the years after. She knew every
landmark by night as well as day: the Delta theater at the
intersection where traffic from the four corners ofQuezon
City merged, Rl Bistro immediately after the Timog turn,
the rotonda with its frightful Boy Scout statues, Ozone
where 160 kids nearly half herage had roasted on a pleas-
antsummer nighl And then Thunderdome, Crand Bingwit-
bars where fat beer-bellied men pawed half-naked girls.
she had never witnessed any ofthese thinSs. lf notfor the
ne\lspapers she would ne\er have known they'd happened;
in a sense none ofthem had really transpired. Reality was
a computer terminal and her editors and the malls where
she prowled relentlessly, in search of tlre perfect book, the
pe{ect outfit. the perfect Ami.
slowly she became aware of Jayme muttering under-
neath his breath. "Me8alink; we'\ 8ot to Iind a Megalink."
Itsounded like a mantra, a taunting little chant: "Mealinlt
Me-galink, ML-galink."
Ateach automatic teller machine booth, he would slow
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and she would peer out, on the alert for the little Wel-
come sign that indicated it was in service, but then he
would slam on the accelerator and barrel down the road
before she could even be sure. And now they had leftthe
bars and nightclutrs of Timog and were speedinS down East
Avenue, back to where they'd started, to the great white
memorialto Manuel L. Quezon: three marble spearseach
toppcd by a hefty an8el. head bowed in mourning, perma-
nentiy flightless, frozen in stone.
"For8et the ATM," layme said suddenly. "l've got
But it's not right to allow a guy to pay for your coffee,
she wanted to say- lt's not feminist to allow a Euy to pay,
period. But she kept quiet, lest she offend him. She had
no idea what his reaction would be. She knew next to
nothing about him- Well, hecollected Sandmans; he played
guitar; he liked ]ori Amos; he was 30. But none of that
told her anything, really.
"There's a Dunkin Donuts I know ot" he said. "Open
24 hours."
They zipped down Kalayaan, Anonas, past '70s Bistro
where he was a regular, where women and men who looked
exactly like him congregated nights to swill beer and listen
to the kind of alternative music he played. She had never
been there. She'd never been anywhere. what would it
b like, she thought, to travelwith him? Did he drive good
at night? How fast did he go when he vr'as alone? He was
glowing the car now; they were at the corner of Anonas
where it opened out onto Aurora Boulevard, and there
ahead of them, on the other side of Aurora, was the dough-
nut diner, a hole in the wall, really, with its benevolent
164 Mens Rea
pink-and-orange sign reflecting off the hood of the Calant
as they slewed to a stop.
The air was wet as they got out of the car- a warm sum,
mer drizzle. A man moppingthe floor of the little establish-
ment looked up without interest as they entered. Eraserheads
noise poured irom the overhead speake6. The counterboy
was fallingasleep on his feet. She and Jayme pointed to their
orders, too weary suddenl, to speak. He slapped a hundred
on the counter and she too k their tray o\r'er to a table, refus-
ing to look into hi' face as he fitted himsel, into the stool
opposite hers. The chocolate in her styrofoam cup was steaming
and Sritty. She shut her eyes, savoring the feel of sutar tlacint
melting on her tongue. His shn, shethoudt! was as darkand
smooth as the surface ofa chocolate doughnul
When she opened her eyes he was studying her face.
"Why don't ltake you home. You locked up theoffice,
didn'tyou?"
"Well, yes. But I couldn't ..."
"Oh, come on. You?e half-asleep. And l'vegotto to. I
wantto make Nueva Eciia before sunri'e."
She sat there looking at their tray miserably. 'l wish I
were 8oin8 up to Baguio/ too."
She didn't know what had p.ompted her to say that.
"Or that you weren't going," she added hastil, covering
up her embarassment. "lt isn't fair"
The words seemed to amuse him. 'Ami," he said. "l've
got to get out of QC. I need to see some mountains. l'm
sick to death of this place."
l. I envy you." They rose. At the counter she
"So am
caught him by the tail of his shirt- "Can I have another
douShnut?"
Wei6ht 165
 He gestured to the boy to put her selection into a pa'
per sack.
"Youte always hungry aren't you," he said, touching
her nape ever so gently.
It was true, she thou8ht. Perhap6she was sick. Perhaps
some secret disease--{he product of all those m issed meals,
binges, deadlines, bitter friendships, of herthick horrid fig-
ure in the mirror and all the right men she could never
love-was eating away tissue and or8ans, heart, soul. Per-
haps she was only half the woman she could be.
"Where do you iive?" he said, in the cat
"Yale."
"Oh. Righl" He started the engine. "Show metheway;
l've forgotten."
Aurora Boulevard was a dismal place in the predawn
darkness. Theysped through acanyon of broken windows
and soot-blackened concrete. He knew the way to her
home, she was sure; he had, after all, lived in this city
longer than she, but atthe intersection where they could
make a rightturnand be at her place in minutes, heslowed,
as though waiting for some signal from her But she was
silentand the car keptBoing.
There was, she thought, a toothbrush and a spare set
of underwear in her bag.
"Tell me when to turn, Ami," he said, but there was no
urgency in his voice.
what, she thought, would happen if they just kept on
drivinB?
She leaned bach her heart beginniog to thud.
At the vast intersection ofAurora and EDSA he swung
the car onto Metro Manila's main thoroughfare, keeping
't66 Mens Rea
well ahead ofthe buses which at two in the morning still
thundered over the asphalt. There was stillanother route
home, she thought They could make a ri8ht at New York
A\enue, leaving EDS , and dri\,e through the maze o{ streets
to her apartmenL And then she'd have herself a bath with
whateler water \aas left in the communal drum and slip tjredly
between her th in cotton sheets and Bo to s leep without hav-
ingtothinkoflaymeVera. Home. She had to get home. The
New York turn, she thought- Take the New York turn.
He had the same idea, for as they approached New
York he slowed again, changing lanes to allow a couple of
buses to surge past.
"Here?" he said; they were now at a crawl.
She tried to speak but her throat was dry, her tongue
"Here?" he repeated.
5he felt a sound coming out of her throat. "No."
She said it again, feeling estranged from her vocal chords,
iayme did not reply, on,y stepped on the gas; there
was a momentwhen she thought they'd be rammed from
behind by a speed ing Turtletop but he never lost his cool,
just kept goin8, until they were clear
"Tell me when to stop," he said. The speedometer
needle was climbing; they were sweeping now onto the
Kamias Flyo\er, farther and farther from Cubao. She.aught
her breath as they rocketed over the stretch of elevated
asphalt; they were flying. she thought, flying over a road
rain-slicked and golden from the reflected lightofthe mer-
cury lamps, hi8h up enough in the air to see the top ofthe
Quezon Memorial and its three earthbound angels.
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 Thefoll(s at the newspaper, shethou8ht, would be fran- he loved comic books, he needled herabouther bagtage,
tic tomorrow and she still had Nvo articles to comPlete at her wei8ht--but nothing hesaid would hurther now. They
the NCO. were going ever so fast and she felt nothing, no guilu no
Then the grade evened outand they were securely on tiredness, none ofthatterrible hunger, iusta strange light
earth and layme was speeding, beating a red liSht at an sensation as he tookone hand from the wheeland laid his
intersection, slinging the Calant past car after car. Dark- fingers gently against her cheek.
ness rushed by on either side. The Quezon Memorial was
behind them, growing smaller and smaller by the second.
It looked now like a warm little heart pulsing with secret
life- They were passingvacant lots overgrown with weeds-
The little golden heart glowed in the everwidenin8 dis
tance. Up ahead was an SM mall, and beyond that the
Balintawak lnterchange, the Sateway out of Quezon City.
His hands rested liBhtly, comfortabl, on the wheel. She
remembered the way he would move about the office,
touching the papers she had been working on in that un-
hurried way of his, asthough his fingertips afforded him a
delicious new way of perceivingthinBs.
Belond Balintawak, she thought, was the road to
Baguio.
"Tellmewhen to stop," he murmured, but he was teas-
ing her now sayintthe words again, and yetagain, like his
Megalink mantra. Shearched her back. The airconditioner
exhaled frigid air against her breasts. There would be moon-
light, she thought, over limitless fields, and over rock and
the pale lacework of tree branches as the car reached the
mountains.
she thought of how sloppily he dressed and how he
prefertd pictures to words, and how they never fought
because they wouldn't speak earh other's language- He
was allwrong, she thou}ht, all wrong; he smoked joinE,

168 Weight 1(9