The Last Working Day of the Year: Part Three - Booksale

Photo by Tom Hermans on Unsplash

Finally, after a couple of hours procrastinating, I left and went to PGH. Because we were allowed to leave earlier for work, I clocked out around 5 PM. The walk from the office to the jeepney stop-over felt like a journey. Time stood still. My bag grew heavier by each step. My heart followed suit. 

When I alighted the jeepney I almost lost my balance. Regaining what little composure I could, I ambled on. A few strides and I stopped. I'd been dropped on the same spot every time that it surprised me how I kept missing Booksale. Shrouded among displays of preloved clothes and colorful school supplies, its green overhead logo kept on waving at me, beckoning me inside. But with the shadow of my step-father’s message trailing behind, I continued walking. Reaching the hospital’s ER, I searched for my mother and found her laying on a metal bed along a corridor, her husband seated beside her. The ER was brimming with patients that many were forced to stay outside. My mother was rushed earlier that morning. Days after, my mother and I would still be in the ER waiting for a ward.

The first thing I noticed was the NGT. If the mental image of her with the tube unnerved me, imagine how despondent I felt when I saw her.

“Nakit-an nimo ang tabo sa lababo?” my step-father's question greeted me.

I nodded.

“Naay dugo diba?”

“Naa, gamay,” I replied weakly.

He later explained what the NGT was for. The doctors were trying to rid the bleeding from mama’s stomach.

I looked at my mother whose eyes were shut. “Hi ma.” 

Unable to speak, she fumbled for my hand and squeezed it gently.

“Paunsa man makakaon si mama?”

“Bawal pa sya mukaon. Huwaton pa nato nga ipatangtang sa doctor ang NGT,” my stepfather explained.

He pointed at the transparent pouch attached at the end of tube. Nakita nimo na?”

I nodded, noticing a trail of blood stuck midway through the tube.

“Basig unya pa gabi-i na ipatangtang. Kaganina buntag pa baya mi diria,” he added.

Spending Christmas at home really made a difference, at least for me. Because after a few minutes, I felt my heart clenched. I almost forgot how---when you're in the hospital---invisible weights attach themselves to you. Day by day, these clumps of weights become heavier, soaking in your anxiety. And if you're lucky, they would build a camp in your heart. Feigning my shock from the recognition, I went over my bag and took out my wallet. Thank god for distractions!

It was quarter to 6 PM when I entered the claustrophobic Booksale store. With the lack of vacant beds, the waiting might take longer than expected. What better way to pass the time than to read? After all, it was fitting to buy a book or two as a gift for myself. The day had given me my fair share of bad news, purchasing a bunch of cheap books would really lift my spirits. 

That afternoon, I returned to the ER four books heavier. However, those books would remain unread to this day.