ERRAND MAN
Evanswinda squatted on the washroom floor, scrubbing gently the clothes she had been washing. Left alone in the washroom of the Granada’s residence, she hummed to herself a song she heard in passing. The whirring sound of the washing machine and her soft humming broke the quiet morning in the household. She would have wanted to chuck the clothes she had been scrubbing inside the machine beside her if not for Ma’am Rissa’s instruction to wash them by hand because of the delicate fabric. She couldn’t afford to be scolded again in fear of losing her only job. A metal design on a dress shaped like a heart that she had failed to notice scraped her wrist. She yelped in surprise and quickly rinsed the shallow wound off with the soapy water. She continued washing, paying no attention to the stinging sensation while she scrubbed.
Ma’am Rissa’s daughter Christine, a young woman in her twenties, sauntered to the washroom and told Evanswinda to finish quickly before lunch came. As briefly as she came, she left. Still, she went ahead in washing the clothes slowly. She barely slept that morning after the talk she had with her husband Tiyong last night. She had gone to visit her parents in Maco yesterday. There was a fiesta in Maco that day and she accompanied her mother in the market to carry the vegetables, pancit canton, and a few slices of meat they bought. Obliged to lend a hand in cooking along with washing the dishes, she almost had no time to rest that day. She had been worn-out and couldn’t wait to go home. Her home was in Sto. Niño. This had been her home ever since she married Tiyong. Sto. Niño was not as clean and peaceful as the home she had in Maco, but she had become attached to the place after living there. The houses were disorganized with feeble attempts of fixing the leaking roofs and holed plank walls. The black canal surrounding the purok gave off a putrid smell. It was as if the canal has died and had been left there to rot. Of course it was not the shabby image of the town that she had liked, but the place full of life and sound despite the lives most residents had.
Evanswinda only had a few minutes of rest when she arrived home. Sitting up on the bed, she massaged her sore arms when her husband came. He had gone straight to their room to change and had ignored her unintentionally. His face, darkened by the sun, scrunched up in worry. Tiyong was out of sorts that night, staring unto nothing in particular and seeming to forget the food offered before him. Evanswinda felt offended for she had frantically prepared the table upon his arrival. After preparing for bed, he took his wife’s hand and spoke up what had been bothering him.
“It had been long since we lost the little one,” he started.
“It had only been two years,” said Evanswinda.
“That had been long enough,” he said. “Why don’t we start again?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, snatching her hand away. She could not understand how easy it was for him to say that. Two years was still not enough to heal the pain. No, she would not let him have his ways, then would leave her there to suffer alone again. She knew he had to work, but so did she. She washed tons and tons of clothes to save up enough for her childbirth, but that never happened. The morning sickness had been tough. Why would people call that morning sickness when the nausea would not only happen in the morning, but also at noon and more terribly at night? The black canal didn’t help then, though the trash had not been that severe two years ago. The smell of the black canal often made her sick, as if her sense of smell had become stronger and sensitive.
“I am serious,” said Tiyong beside her.
“A child will not do us any good,” she said, turning her back on him. “We can’t afford to have one with what we have.”
“We can always find a way, Inday,” he said. She pursed her lips and didn’t reply. He was past calling her sweet names and preferred calling her “Inday” at that point. He didn’t call her Eva as what most people called her, but this didn’t bother her. The name Eva had already been reserved for his late wife, Evalyn. His first wife died of breast cancer. Evanswinda knew their three years of marriage involved sufferings from breast cancer, financial problems, and lack of sexual life. Because he could not copulate with his wife, he was left childless after Evalyn’s death. He continued with his life and considered his nephew Marlon living next door as his son instead, he told Evanswinda back then. The house they lived in was owned by Evalyn’s parents before their deaths. This disturbed her in the beginning, thinking how the dead wife would have felt when she began living there. Then again, she was not sure if the dead still felt anything or if their pain and memory would be wiped out after their death. Maybe for the dead, but not for the living. Evanswinda was alive, but it seemed like she had to compete with the dead wife when it came to calling her Eva by her husband.
Evanswinda was aware of how overjoyed Tiyong was when she found out she was pregnant four years ago, until she had the miscarriage. She bled two nights before she lost the baby. It began with just small smudges of blood on her underwear. The next day, she started having cramps in her lower belly, like having dysmenorrea doctor for a prenatal check-up was expensive and their meager savings were not enough. But then one day, while she had gone to the comfort room, she felt something come out from between her leg. A fetus dangled, the umbilical cord still connected. The baby would have perfectly fit between her palms. She looked away and closed her eyes, urging herself to wake up from the nightmare. But she had been awake, and the baby still hanged from between her legs. Her body shuddered and her hand quaked. She did not know what to do if she would have to touch the small baby or call for help. But her husband was at work and she had no one with her. She tried to pull the tiny being and thought the fetus would be warm to the touch, but this one felt cold and wet. A boy, she noticed, with tiny feet and long fingers. Warm droplets fell on her arms as her body trembled.
Evanswinda was a household help when she met Tiyong. She was often sent by her mistress to the wet market to buy vegetables, meat, and fish once a week. Tiyong stood a few inches shorter than her. He had a gentle face but had a brawny figure. He worked as a porter, carrying crates of fishes and blocks of ice in the market. Whenever Evanswinda bought from a stall, her deep and loud voice would attract attention including that of Tiyong’s. While she walked around the market passing by Tiyong that delivered a crate of fish, he greeted her and called her “Miss Beautiful.” He thought calling her that would flatter her, but she only glanced at him with indifference. He continued to call her that every time they crossed paths in the market. Not used to being given attention by a stranger, she often ignored Tiyong. One weekend, her mistress sent her to the market again which she had grown accustomed to do. She had gone to the same habit of buying first in the vegetable stalls before continuing to the meat market. A man running frantically with two others pursuing him, knocked her from where she stood. She fell down, her palms and knees grazed. She heard a few buyers and vendors exclaimed in alarm—a thief! Her first thought was for the goods she purchased and quickly looked around. She sat up feeling relieved after seeing the goods hadn’t spilled inside the plastic bags apart from a single bulb of onion. She struggled to get up and realized she couldn’t walk. A man with thick matted hair picked up her plastic bags and when he looked up, she recognized him to be the man who had been bothering her in the market. The people had gone back to selling and buying after seeing her stand up and looking fine. Tiyong handed her the bags, which she snatched from his hand. She tried taking a single step that caused her to gasp from the pain. She felt anxious, thinking how she would go back to her employer’s house. Realizing her distress, Tiyong looked at her foot and saw her ankle had swelled. He took the plastic bags from her again and tried to put her arm around his shoulders. She hastily pulled away, feeling embarrassed as she looked around. No one paid them any attention, the people focusing on their goals at hand.
“I’m only helping you,” she heard the man say, his voice low and strong.