I just realized that I missed last week. Whoops.

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Part III:

And this is where my tale begins; I was twenty-four years old and was already an assistant priest in Christ the King parish in ___ Laguna.  It took a little bit of adjusting but the people here, Father John, Manang Fely and Mang Boy all had been kind and welcoming. 

I remember it clearly; it was a Friday afternoon and I was in my room, preparing my outline for the sermons to be used that weekend.  Father John presided over the celebrations during Friday evening, I took over during the Saturday anticipated mass, and we divided between the two of us the hectic schedule of six sub-parishes during Sundays. 

I had this bad habit of working through meal times and even though Manang Fely had this rule of everybody sitting down together for a meal, I couldn’t seem to help myself.  I just had to finish my task.  Manang Fely was one of the parishioners who had been kind enough to tend to everything that we in the parish needed.  She took care of most of the gardening, the washing of the laundry and the cooking.  She was retired and was receiving pension; her kids were already off on their own and she said that she’d much rather be here than at her lonely house.

At first she had been adamant that I go downstairs to eat at the proper time but then she sort of caved and agreed to bring me my food up here in my room but I thought that had been too much of an imposition.  With little persuasion I got her to agree to just leave bits of the food out on the table so I can eat when I’ve finished working.

Stretching, I took a glance off my old wall clock.  Half past four in the afternoon already.   At least I’m finished with my work.  Although I know I’ll probably hear an earful from Manang Fely about skipping meals.  Really, she just reminds me of my mother too much sometimes.  I got out of my room and three flights of stairs and two corridors to get to the kitchen, where I found a bowl of menudo and a bowl of rice waiting for me in the middle of the dining table.

Thank goodness nobody was around and I managed to eat my lunch-slash-dinner in peace.  Everybody was probably busy with his or her own tasks at the time and I didn’t mind eating alone; I was quite used to it actually. 

After washing my plates I made my way back to my room but decided to make a quick visit to the church for a bit.  Mang Boy was already done with the final wipe down of everything and that keen keyboardist from the choir was already upstairs, setting up for the six o’clock mass.  The pews were virtually empty; from experience there would only be twenty people attending the Friday night mass at the most, mostly retired matrons, and they wouldn’t be arriving for at least another half-hour.

But my eye caught on a figure up on the second row, sitting, slouching I should say, and looking bored.  She seemed to be waiting for anybody.  I walked up to her and was actually surprised to see earphones plugged into her ears.  I didn’t think I’ve ever seen anyone actually do that inside the church before.  Her arms were crossed over herself and her feet were rhythmically tapping to the beat of the music she was listening to.  How did I know that, you ask?  Well because even though I was standing five feet away from her I could clearly hear the blare of music from her ear buds.  I tapped her on the shoulder gently; I didn’t think I wanted her surprised.  “Can I help you with something?” I asked.

It took her about three whole seconds before she finally opened her eyes and looked at me.  She took her time in removing one earphone from her ear.  In that bored voice that really wasn’t a surprise, she asked, “What?”

-To Be Continued-