For this exercise, I was asked to pick story elements at random from a set of index cards. On these index cards were written short descriptions of various characters, locations, objects, situations, actions, and themes, that I have compiled from my daily observations. I was given the option to work with Toting again, which I took.
Story Elements
Character 1: JOSELITO or TOTING (or BUNGAL) is a pedicab driver who plies the Vito Cruz-Taft area. He is 38 years old but looks older. He is thin and dark skinned, with unruly brown hair and almost no front teeth. He has a wife, Marina, and three kids: Josephine, Marian, and Marijo.
Character 2: ALFONSO MIGUEL, whom nobody calls by his name anymore, is a culinary arts student at Benilde. He is instead referred to as BUTCH, a childhood moniker that originated from “botchog” and “tabatchoy”—epithets for his girth. At 18 years old and in second year in college, he packs 350 pounds on his 5’7” frame. He is good at making pastries. He dislikes public transport.
Location: The story takes place on the CORNER OF ESTRADA STREET AND ARELLANO STREET in the Vito Cruz-Taft area, where pedicabs and taxicabs often line up to wait for passengers from the nearby Benilde campus and hotel. It was a sweltering lunch hour.
Object: A white COMFORTER BLANKET, soiled with a small pool of blood.
Story Outline
1. Butch is standing on the corner of Estrada Street and Arellano Street, on the sidewalk of the CSB Hotel, trying in vain to hail a cab in the sweltering heat. On his left shoulder hangs a heavy-looking backpack, and on his right palm, he is balancing a box with plastic sides that show a small two-layer cake with white frosting. Several empty cabs pass him by. A few slow down, but their drivers, upon seeing him on close inspection, change their minds and speed on.
2. On his left side, across the street, is a line of pedicabs waiting for the next rush of students. They are staring and laughing, no doubt at his vain attempts, though he cannot hear most of what they are saying. Some of them shout out epithets like “hebigat” and “overweight”, but he ignores them. As this is his usual spot for hailing cabs when his car is on coding, he is used to their attention.
3. Minutes tick by. He begins to sweat profusely. Getting out of his uniform is not an option, as he still has class up to 6:00 in the evening. He is late for his next class in the Benilde campus in Taft, a five- to ten-minute walk away, but he no longer has the energy for more than a few steps. He has spent the previous three hours on his feet in baking class. Besides, his bag and the cake are heavy.
4. Toting is unusually quiet in the pedicab line. While his eyes are also on Butch, he doesn’t join the catcalling and laugher. As usual, he is smoking a cigarette. Just this morning, his wife Marina informed him that their baby daughter Marijo’s comforter blanket was soiled with small a pool of blood and feces. Her diarrhea, which has been recurring in the past few months, has returned. They probably had to bring her to the health center again tomorrow, and they needed money for medicine. Toting left the house early in the hopes of earning at least P300 for the day for them to get by.
5. After finishing his cigarette, Toting pedals toward Butch, much to his fellow driver’s surprise. They cackle and call out “He won’t fit, Toting!” and “You’ll die driving that to Taft!” Toting ignores them. He asks where Butch is headed. At first, the boy—because, Toting realized, though he looks like a man from afar, his face is that of an innocent young boy when seen up close—ignored him. But he persisted till he got his answer. “To Taft,” he says. Toting invites him to ride his pedicab. “I won’t fit,” Butch says. “You will,” Toting replies. “Can that carry my weight?” Butch asks, eyeing Toting’s pedicab suspiciously and almost insultingly. “Of course!” Toting answers confidently. “How much?” asks Butch. “P300,” replies Toting. Butch balks at the amount then shakes his head. “P200?” Toting asks. “Please, it’s just for my child’s medicine.” “I’ve already heard that one, Manong. Never mind,” Butch says. Toting’s anger flares up at his suggestion that he is using his child as an excuse to get more money. “It’s true, my daughter is sick,” he declares. Butch doesn’t even look at him. “Nobody will take you, you know. They’ll get a flat tire with your weight!” Toting turns his back. “Overweight and ill-mannered,” he mutters as he pedals back to the pedicab line.
6. Butch continues in vain to hail a cab. One stops but refuses to let him in when he opened the door. Finally, resigned, he tries to walk. Toting watches him walk away, with slow and agonizing steps. Butch stops after a few meters, takes a handkerchief from his pocket, and wipes his face with it. Though his back was turned, Toting saw that the boy lingered on his eyes, rubbing them vigorously with the cloth.
7. Toting does not know what comes over him—only that the sight of that overgrown boy wiping sweat and tears (?) away, seizes him with pity and alarm. He has no doubt the boy could afford taxi fare—heck his family could probably even buy a cab or two in a instant if they wanted. But what use is their money on days like this? He hurriedly pedals toward the boy and invites him to get into the pedicab. Seeing his eyes all red and puffy, he finds himself saying “I’ll drive you for free.” Butch stares at him, then finally concedes. He enters the pedicab with much difficulty, especially with his bag and cake in tow. Toting touches the rosary in his pedicab, and prays until the boy fits. He starts to pedal agonizingly to Taft, praying all the way that his wheels don’t give.
8. When they finally arrive, Butch hands him a P500 bill. “Keep the change,” the boy says, before hurrying to the campus gate. Toting tries to refuse, scrambling in his pocket for change. But Butch was already gone when he looked up. He looked at the bill in his palm. It was crumpled and sweaty from the boy’s tight grip. All of a sudden, he became aware of the ache in his muscles, and when he closed his eyes, he saw his daughter’s comforter blanket, soiled with blood and feces. He decided to go home. But first, he needed to pass by the drugstore for some painkiller. And the rest of the money, he will give to Marina, for Marijo’s medicine.
Crisis Scene
A cab stops by, but when he opens the door, the cab driver just shook his head, not bothering to hear where he is headed. Resigned, he decides to walk. He looks at the sky for a sign of a cloud to take away a bit of the sweltering sunlight. But no luck.
He takes a step, and then another, and then another. He winces at the pain in his legs.
Toting watches him walk away, with slow and agonizing steps. Butch stops after a few meters, takes a handkerchief from his pocket, and wipes his face with it. Though his back was turned, Toting saw that the boy lingered on his eyes, rubbing them vigorously with the cloth.
Toting does not know what comes over him—only that the sight of that overgrown boy wiping sweat and tears (?) away, seizes him with pity and alarm. He has no doubt the boy could afford taxi fare—heck his family could probably even buy a cab or two in a instant if they wanted. But what use is their money on days like this? He hurriedly pedals toward the boy and invites him to get into the pedicab. Seeing his eyes all red and puffy, he finds himself saying “I’ll drive you for free.” Butch stares at him, then finally concedes. He enters the pedicab with much difficulty, especially with his bag and cake in tow. Toting touches the rosary in his pedicab, and prays until the boy fits. He starts to pedal agonizingly to Taft, praying all the way that his wheels don’t give.
No comments:
Post a Comment