The calling of the roosters on the hill woke him. The sound of them, so unusual a few months before, now seemed familiar. Light streamed in through the angled slats covering the windows, filling the room with reflected luminance. Tom rolled up on one elbow and looked at Emie. Her dark hair fanned out behind her and draped onto the floor. The warm coffee color of her back and shoulder glowed in the early morning light.
He lay back down and dozed. The warmth and stillness of the morning pushing him back into sleep. When he awoke again, Emie sat on his chest, her knees pressed in on the sides of his ribs. She smiled as he opened his eyes.
“Sleepy Tom. I thought Marines were always ready for action”, Emie leaned down and kissed him, “C’mon, Marine, I love you long time.”
Hearing those words made them both laugh. They stopped, then laughed again, dissolving into giggles, unable to stop. She lay against him, and as they quieted, she made good her promise.
Later, they bathed under the cold water spigot with a bucket and a scoop, then dressed and made plans for the day.
Emie packed their things in a plastic tote, they slipped on station-ditos, and padded down the stairs. Tom turned, went back up and checked the other room. Bill lay on the floor, still in his clothes. He was snoring, the only sign he was alive. Tom quietly pulled the door shut, took out his pad and left Bill a short note, letting him know what his plans were.
Two jeepney transfers later, they were traveling along the coast road away from Olongapo. A mixture of trucks, Jeepneys, trikes and bicycles filled the narrow road. Old truck beds, converted into wagons and pulled by carabao, became more common as they slowly rode along. The pavement became broken, and finally disappeared. The jeepney climbed a hill, and the blue of the ocean appeared through the trees for a moment, then was gone as they descended back into the cultivated fields that lined the road.
Emie spoke to the driver and he slowed to a stop. Leaving the jeepney, they walked along a sandy footpath beneath banana trees. The stillness was noticeable. The clouds had begun to gather, giant piles of white against a bright blue. A bright red bird with a black head landed momentarily, and was gone before Tom could raise his camera.
Emie anticipated his question, “It is called a maya.‚Äù
Holding hands, they followed the meandering path up and over a rise and out onto the beach. Under the trees, a row of small cabanas stood empty. The white sand of the beach stood out against the blue of the water. They laid out towels, stripped down to their swimsuits and waded out into the warm azure water.
Hot Mic