By Raoul Suarez
It was late in the afternoon. An old man, who was sitting on his bike, sought shelter from the rain in front of our gate. He must have been in his late 50’s. White-haired. Wrinkled skin. Sun-kissed. Tall. Broad-shouldered. A storm is on its way. The weather wasn’t so good.
He was wearing khaki shorts, a striped t-shirt with a pocket situated on the left part of his chest, and heavily-used flip-flops. No helmet; just a brown fisherman’s hat on his head that served as protection from the elements.
The bike he was riding was the exact opposite of the clothes he was wearing. It was nice and shiny; pearl white with black tires that did not show any signs of wear and tear. By the looks of it, it was way better and more expensive than the one I have been keeping in my mother’s storage room. I haven’t really ridden a bike for a couple of years now. I don’t intend to go biking anyway. I’m too lazy. Maybe that’s why I’m fat. Oh well.
I was trying to do a slow run after I got my fill of cancer sticks from the store because of the rain. Cigarettes are always good with coffee. It’s better if the weather is cold. I had to take a break from work because I ran out. The old man smiled at me and asked if it was okay to just stay in front of the gate and wait for the rain to stop pouring.
I answered him with a flat no and told him to bring his bike inside the garage. I opened the gate for him and he got off his bike then began pushing it to where it can be safely parked.
“Sa Ungka pa ko nagapauli, To. Lapit lang sa BJMP ah. Sa likod lang. Maghulaw ulan malakat man ko.” He then thanked me for letting him stay a while.
Ungka. Damn. From where I live, that’s far. Maybe it isn’t so far if you’re used to riding a bike. The rain got a little stronger, so I told him to sit down and wait it out some more. I told him I had to go inside the house to get some things done.
“Daw indi na ni guro iya mag-untat, Nong. Gapanigarilyo ka? Manigarilyo ‘ta anay.” I pulled out my pack of cigarettes from my pocket and tried to get him a stick.
He shook his head and waved his hand. He declined my offer. He said he hasn’t been smoking for a while. We had a few exchanges and I told him I had to go back to the house again. He smiled and nodded, and off I went.
I scrambled for a raincoat but found none so I decided to check my mother’s house if she was keeping one but I did not find any. Then I remembered that there were old jackets inside the room that I used to sleep in when I was a kid. I found a purple jacket with a hood. It was a little old but it was still good enough. I took it out of the clothes hanger and proceeded to go back to the garage.
“Ari tistingi anay, Nong. Lantawa kung kaigo.”
I handed the jacket to the old man and asked him to try and see if it would fit. He was a little unsure if he would take it so I told him he can to try it on first to see if the size was right. He did so and the fit was perfect.
“Sakto lang na siguro sa imo, Nong. Kung nalaw-ayan ka uli mo lang di galing. Kung nami-an ka imo na lang . Damo pa ko na diri. Ayos lang na mabasa short mo, budlay mabasa ang likod. Balati-an na ‘ya.”
I helped him zip it up and I told him that the jacket had a lot of pockets where he can store things; things that he would not want to get soaked. The rain stopped for a bit. It wasn’t pouring as hard as it was a few minutes ago. He thanked me again and said he should be on his way. Before leaving, he told me that his last name was Gardoce. I don’t even know if it’s spelled with an S or a C but I’m assuming that C would be easier to use and it’s more common. I could be wrong too.
“Ano ngalan mo ya, To?” He was staring straight at me when he asked the question. I lit another cigarette before I gave him my reply.
“Toto lang ah. Galabay ka man di pirmi siguro. Libre guihapon magpasilong di ah.” I replied with a grin before I gave him my last name.
I gave him a high five and bade him farewell. He rode his bike and was waving his hand high up as he disappeared in the distance. It made me wonder how someone can maneuver a big bike like that with just one hand. I should give it a try one of these days. I’m too lazy though. Maybe that’s why I’m fat. Oh well.
It was late in the afternoon. An old man, who was sitting on his bike, sought shelter from the rain in front of our gate. He must have been in his late 50’s. White-haired. Wrinkled skin. Sun-kissed. Tall. Broad-shouldered. A storm is on its way. The weather wasn’t so good. I gave him an old purple jacket that can help to protect him from the weather. I’m going to have to explain to my mother soon enough once she finds out that it’s missing. I can already hear her say, “Ginkuha mo naman to stocks ko? Pwede pa to tani ibaligya mo!” with a hard stare and a grimace; but I have a feeling that she won’t scold me for it. I’ll try to talk to her soon. Maybe tomorrow. Over coffee.
