Remnants

Mark was sitting on his swing, the left one in a set of three. His was right under the guava tree in their front yard so his spot was always in the shade. The other swings depended on the position of the sun to be shaded too. There were no more fruits on the tree. The last one was on the ground, in the corner of the yard, already rotten.

Mark held the chains supporting the seat of his swing tightly, not minding that the chipping white paint was transferred to his palms. His dirty rubber shoes were only on the ground when he swung himself forward and his knees jutted out. A smile was on his lips but it was only on his lips. His eyes were busy surveying his surroundings, trying to keep himself occupied.

He could see the house he grew up in on his right. It looked more or less the same to him despite it having gone through renovations every now and then. A now brick pathway leading away from the house branched out, first towards the swings, then to the landscaped part of the garden across from the swings. There was a fishpond there that did not house any fishes for now. The main pathway ended up at the tall, white gate which Mark saw was slowly being pushed inward.

He already knew the person at the gate was not who he was waiting for. She never used the gate anymore ever since last month. The hand on the gate had a big metal watch on its wrist, and that told Mark who it was even before the rest of the visitor appeared.

"Hey, Mark!" Joel said, a little too cheerily before closing the gate behind him. They have been friends since grade 5, but Mark’s smile (if you can call it that) disappeared completely by the time the gate was closed. Joel looked but chose not to see the lack of smile when he went over to sit next to Mark.

"Don’t sit there!" Mark said before Joel’s bottom touched the seat of the middle swing. Joel straightened up and moved slowly to the other swing, the one closest the house. He looked at the empty space between him and Mark while sitting down. "But I guess it doesn’t matter now. She won’t come with you around."

Mark was looking straight ahead again, feet still off the ground but he was not swinging himself anymore. Joel shook his head while thinking of something to say. "Does she still come everyday?" he was not really looking for an answer.

"Yeah, like always. But recently she only comes when I’m alone."

"Recently meaning a month ago?"

Mark ignored that. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"You’ve stopped hanging with us after classes," he said. When Mark did not say anything, he racked his brains for more things to say. "Where are your parents?"

"You know they’re still at work."

"Right… How’s your older brother?"

"Last time I heard, he’s still doing okay."

"He’s in Diliman, right? Or was it Siliman?" *

"Siliman."

"So you’re always alone at this time of day?"

"Manang Linda’s inside watching TV." **

"But you’re basically alone."

"Yess," Mark said, and then mumbled to himself, "before you came."

Joel did not hear the last part but he nodded and gritted his teeth. He felt he was as good as ready to start the topic again. "About Maxine…"

That tone put Mark’s defenses up. More of the white paint transferred to his grip. He has heard that tone used many times before these past few weeks, from skeptics trying to convince him that he is imagining things.

"What about Maxine?"

"When are you gonna get over her?"

"There’s nothing to get over."

"It’s been a month."

"So what?"

"Maybe you shouldn’t be alone so often."

"Well maybe you should get the hell out of here."

"You’re going cra—"

Joel stopped himself. He found himself standing up already. He was supposed to be here to help. After Maxine, he was next in line as Mark’s best friend. That’s why their barkada pushed him to come here. Calling his friend crazy would not be helping. "You’re not the only one who’s experienced a loss. She was our friend too." ***

"It’s not my fault she doesn’t show herself to you guys."

Joel did not really know how to convince his friend. He left, deciding to try again some other day and hoped that next time it would be easier. The gate barely made a sound when he closed it. Mark was looking beyond the fishpond, at the garden wall.

"Maxine, where are you?" he whispered to the still air.

---

Days passed, but Mark could not see Maxine anymore. He could not see her climb over the mossy garden wall separating their houses anymore. He could not see the sun turn her long, straight black hair brown anymore. He could not see her squint her eyes against the sun before finding shade under the guava tree anymore. He could not talk to her anymore. She could not nod at everything he said while patting his hand anymore.

The house beyond the wall was always quiet now, even to him.

He was on his swing again when Joel opened the gate. This time, he put his feet firmly on the ground, let go of the chains, brushed the remnants of paint off of his hands, and stepped out of the shade. Joel went over to him, and they hugged. And finally, Mark was able to mourn.