It was getting a little cloudy outside. Thump! Blag.
The wife dropped the pot holder and marched into the storage room to check on her husband.
He hit his thumb with a hammer, so he dropped the tool on the floor with a thud.
She saw him with his thumb between his lips.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Honey dear, it’s just my thumb.”
He engulfed her in his embrace and kissed her forehead, careful not to touch her with his throbbing, bleeding thumb.
“You know what, let’s take a break. You’ve been cooking and I’ve been DIY-ing here all day. Come on!”
“Okay, sounds great! Sad to say, our lunch isn’t ready.
We’ve run out of gas.”
She pouted and looked like she was about to cry.
“Don’t worry, my tummy can wait.”
He winked, smiled and landed a kiss on her lips.
“I’ll call the gas delivery and also order fast food.”
“Awesome.”
After the wife made the calls, which she often diligently did in their household, she took out the first aid kit and checked on her husband’s bleeding finger.
He did wash the affected area with water and disinfectant soap, all right, but the wife told him it could fill with pus if he didn’t let her touch it.
“Let me treat it. It won’t hurt,” she teased him.
He laughed.
He always loved it when his wife took his hand.
She would smell it, then kiss it. He thought,
Wives always have that magic to kiss all boo-boos away.
They smell great too. He breathed in the scent of her lemony soap, still fresh on her skin.
He stuck his nose in the crook of her neck, and she giggled.
They were affectionate like that.
But not as much it used to be these last few months.
He had been wanting to have a child.
Suddenly, the electricity went out.
The television shut off, as did the electric fan.
“Well, what are we going to do with our lives now?” the wife remarked, half sarcastic and half joking, as they sat on the couch in the dark.
Once again, the husband laughed, embraced her, and kissed her hard on the temple.
They stayed locked in each other’s arms, just thinking.
Lately, moments like these often happened: Staying in each other’s arms, just thinking.
The wife breathed a sigh of relief when the fast-food delivery guy arrived.
The skies were a few shades darker now.
The husband took the red plastic bucket while the wife handed the payment to the boy.
Then, it rained cats and dogs.
The wife knew she had to invite the delivery boy in, even for just a while.
He brushed the raindrops from his jacket as he stood on the front porch while the wife kindly handed him a towel.
“Jeez, this rain isn’t going to let up anytime soon,” the husband said.
He lit a small candle on the coffee table.
As soon as the boy was seated, the husband asked him, “You look like you’re still
in college.”
“Nope, sir. I actually just graduated two months ago.”
“And you’re already working? Impressive.”
“Working this sideline while waiting for the results of my major job applications.”
The young man laughed.
“Why are you in such a hurry to join the workforce? You just graduated,” the wife commented.
“You have a—” She hesitated for a moment. “A child?”
“No, ma’am. I’m too young for that.”
He sniggered.
“But I have to admit, I’m preparing to become a great father, hopefully, someday.
I want to have kids, have a family.”
Both husband and wife looked at each other for reactions.
The husband turned again to the boy seated before him, his eyes urging him to go on.
“Well, since we’re here with nothing to do, I guess I’ll tell you something more about me,” the young man joked.
“I am an orphan.” He looked at the floor as if recalling something.
“My mom died at childbirth, and my father wasn’t a very good dad at all.
That’s why I want to make something good out of my life—so I won’t end up like him.”
The wife lightly touched the delivery boy’s arm to console him.
“I was fortunate enough to have been adopted, though. Our family is not the well-off kind, but I’m handling it.
I’ve got it. I’m going to make my nanay-nanayan and tatay-tatayan millionaires,” he kidded again.
The husband knew right away that this boy was going to go far in life.
A bulb lit up, and the three realized that the rain had stilled a bit too.
“Looks like I can go now,” the delivery boy said, standing up and slinging his backpack onto a shoulder.
He extended his hand to the husband, then to his wife, to show his respects.
“Thank you so much po. If you need more joy with fried chicken, you know whom to call!” he joshed.
“Thank you!” the wife responded.
She wanted to thank him more, for the idea he inspired in her, but off he went out the door.
That kind boy was adopted. And here I am feeling sorry for myself for not being able to bear my own child, she thought to herself.
Quietly, in her heart, she made a decision.
She knew her husband would support it—he would be ecstatic about it—and she couldn’t wait to tell him.
But first, after a late but happy lunch, they would try again. Just in case.
Send us your poetry and fiction
Super publishes poetry and fiction. Please send a piece of short fiction (or an excerpt from a longer work that is 500-800 words) or three poems in English or Filipino to [email protected] or to Ruel S. De Vera, Literary Editor, Super, c/o Philippine Daily Inquirer, 1098 Chino Roces Ave., Makati City 1204 Metro Manila.
