Desafinado: Slightly Out of Tune - 12. Flagpole Sitta

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CHAPTER 12: FLAGPOLE SITTA

The next day, the sun glared at the peak of noon when we arrived at Pitongpulo Island. There was a new set of guests staying in the huts and villas. Another tour has begun. New faces, new crowds, and new personalities to deal with. I told myself that the previous batch was the last group I’d interact with. I'll leave this one to Kulas and the team while I focus on helping Albert and the business. I was supposed to fly into New York to scope out some investors and have our loan extended. Plans have changed. I’d have to stay for now.

In the heat of the scorching sun, David saw my silhouette from a distance. He greeted me as he came running for an embrace. I hugged him back, frisked his hair, and signed, (What’s up bro?) He did some hand gestures and then pointed to my baseball cap. I explained that I’d lost my hat on the yacht. He saw Albert with his hand covering the glare of the sun as he carried his backpack. I grabbed Albert’s hand and gestured to David that he was a special friend.

Albert recoiled. He pulled back his arm, then said, "What are you doing? Not in front of the kid."

(Is he your boyfriend?) asked David as he gestured while looking dissatisfied.

I said, as my hands signed the air, (He’s not. He’s just a very special friend. He’ll be staying here, so I want you and him to be friends.)

He glowered at Albert, arms fisted and ready to flee, with his feet clutching to go at any minute. Then he ran. I called out his name, then I forgot he was deaf.

"Great. It’s my first day back, and a teenage boy who’s probably secretly in love with you loathes me. Bloody fantastic," Albert said, walking ahead.

I sighed. "'He'll come around. You’ll see."

However, the boy is not in love with me. It’s the crush you get on someone older whom you idolise and look up to. He’s just upset at the thought of not spending time with me.

Maybe because I’ve always been a big brother to David. His family was from a fisherman's family on the island of Manamoc. They were poor, almost destitute, and barely scraped by. But David’s salary here at the resort was enough to send two of his brothers to school in the city and have their house renovated from a simple nipa hut to a concrete house with a yard and a kitchen. As the breadwinner of his family of 15, I really admire his tenacity, on top of the fact that he’s deaf. He taught me how to sign. And in two years’ time, I’ve learned the basics, as he was a great teacher. I worry about him if the business gets sold. I am really worried about everyone’s future.

As we were walking to the kubo, Albert was panting more heavily than a normal person would when trekking the distance. I asked, "Are you good?"

"Just feeling worn out. It will pass." He stopped and felt his chest, and as he was heaving, he said, "Ok. Let’s take a break."

I knelt on the ground and presented my back to him. "Hop in."

"What?"

"I’ll give you a ride."

"Jesus fucking Christ, mate, we’re adults," he said, scandalised by what I was doing.

"So? No one can see us. Come on, I’ll give you a piggyback ride."

"No."

"No?" I said while egging him on as I walked in front of him. "The offer’s going to expire in 5… 4… 3… 2…" He suddenly jumped as I grabbed onto his legs.

"No one shall ever know about this, you hear," he said, wrapping his arms around my neck.

"Yep. My mouth’s zipped." Then I noticed he was heavier than I thought he would be. "We’re packing a bit of weight there, aren’t we?"

He brought his mouth to my ears. "Strangling you is an option you wouldn’t want to be considered."

I smelled his breath and saw where this was going. I would jiggle my head from this electric current whenever he whispered in my ear. I’ve had this feeling ever since I met him. Some people would say it’s a connection found when two people from the same astral star are aligned and that his zen and mine are united. Ok. I’ve got a confession. I was bored at the hospital, and I read online that a Gemini man like myself was extremely compatible with a Libra, which is Albert. The site said that the relationship will be filled with romance, travel, music, and children—what the fuck’s wrong with me? Now I’m suddenly believing this horoscope shit? I need to keep my head straight.

Honestly, this whole mumbo-jumbo was just the aftermath of me lusting over him. Ok. Redact that statement—that’s not what I’m intending to say. What I’m saying is, fuck. I could feel his penis on my back. I didn’t think this through, did I?

As we were on our way to the kubo, masturbating his penis with my spine, I asked him, "Did you ever think you’d end up here, here with me, weeks later?"

"Let me think. I wouldn’t exactly call getting a heat stroke, turning blue and nearly dying, then drowning and getting water inside my lungs, only to end up at the same place, something I’d imagine doing. Life is too unpredictable and prosaic."

"Prosaic?"

"Indeed."

No, it’s not," I said, snickering. "That’s too black-and-white of an idea, even for someone like you."

"Look at it this way. If we were walking from the beach to the kubo, it’s a dull ordinary process as we thread on our daily routine as part of life. But now that I’m on your back taking this piggyback ride, it’s become more fun, don’t you agree? Life is boring. Life is basic. It’s us, the people, that add depth and experience to it, not the other way around. You can’t expect life to be exciting. You’d have to make life exciting for yourself. And in those moments caught unnoticed when life seems to surprise you, it’s just an added bonus of simply living."

"But what about coincidences? How do you explain those?"

"'There's no coincidence. Coincidences are meant to be, and I think it’s fated by the stars."

I bit my inner cheek. I was smitten with what he’d said. If he thinks our encounter was meant to be, does that mean that he also thinks the stars fated our meeting?

"Ok. If you want things to be exciting, we’ll race to get there."

"Damien, no. You’re going to give me a migraine with all this wobbling."

"Too late," I said, speeding onto the sand-covered pathway. I was panting when we got to the kubo, hunched down with my arms on my knees as I tried to catch some air. "Is that exciting enough for you?"

I could see the sheepish grin that floundered when he said, "No. Definitely not."

We climbed up the kubo and I showed him the interior changes. I’ve had a proper dining table installed, retrofitted with functional split-type air-conditioning, a small fridge beside a sink, a 50-inch flat screen in case he wants to watch his teleseryes, a proper king-sized bed wherein I could fit—not expecting we’d be sleeping together or something—and some white curtains to make it breathable. I’ve also fixed the broken window on the left side and added a small couch where he and I could sit and talk, or doze off when the slow and windy afternoon strikes us down.

"Not bad. This definitely looks more comfortable—like a studio-type apartment."

"Glad you liked it."

Then I took him behind the kubo. My hands were covering his eyes when he asked, "Where are we going?"

"You’ll see."

I dragged him behind me near the creek, and I let go of my hands to show him a bathroom and a shower. It has a tub partitioned by a segmented wall that opens up to a shower, a toilet and a bidet, and a sink with a huge mirror.

"Do you like it?" I said, excited to see his reaction.

"Is this it?" He turned around, looking disappointed. "I thought there’d be more."

"I’m sorry," I said. "This is the best they can do in a couple of days.

Then, he flung his arms around my neck, gazed up and looked at me, and said, "—shut up, will you? This is bloody fantastic. It's more than fantastic. Thank you. This is more than what I expected. I mean it."

As though a fly had scratched my throat, I groaned and broke off his embrace by removing his arms from my shoulders, then said, "Your, er, welcome."

Looking into his eyes with him staring wasn’t doing much for my self-control. I just can’t explain it when we have these moments. I just wanted to kiss him and... He then said, "Damien, are you outside? Can you please not stare? I could feel you staring. It’s really awkward having to crap while you’re literally outside the door. Please. Go away."

Lunchtime arrived, and we were inside the kubo. Albert was searching for something, and I was sitting on the couch busily flipping the channels with my desultory search on the flat screen, and I ended up watching last week’s game that I missed out on, a New York Knicks vs. Miami Heats game. I stood up and walked over to the landline. Placing my hand on the devise connected to the main hotline at the resort, I noticed Albert was deep diving under the bed, sounding agitated. I looked at him and wondered, "Are you ok? What are you doing?" while placing the receiver on my ears.

"I’m looking for something."

He must be looking for a missing shoe or some clothes. I said to the other person in the line, "Can you connect me to the kitchen?" I then asked Albert, "What do you want for lunch?"

"I want that Tapsilog," he said, while half of his body sank inside the bed.

"Can you tell the kitchen to deliver over at the kubo one Tapsilog and a bowl of yoghurt with mixed nuts and orange juice? Thanks."

"A bowl of yoghurt with nuts? What kind of Olympic health nutter meal is that? You’re gonna do CrossFit after?" said Albert, his voice coming through under the bed.

I flexed my arms, and my guns were still looking spiffy. "I need to get back in shape. I haven’t worked out in weeks. I’ll be heading to the gym later."

Then, out of bed, Albert suddenly looked miserable. "He’s not here," he mumbled.

"Who’s not here?"

"He’s not here!"

"Who are you talking about?"

"He’s not here!" he said, screeching. "Omg! I think I’m having a—"

It surprised me that he was suddenly on the floor, laboriously breathing in and out like he was running out of air. "Are you having a panic attack now?" He nodded as he pressed his stomach with his hands crossed and palms laid flat on its surface. "Oh, shit!" I said, not knowing what to do. "What do I do?"

While he was having an overwhelming stream of anxiety, I too was panicking about how to help him. I was gazing left and right, trying to figure out if I should do this or that, while every step I’d taken seemed to show that there was nothing I could do but wait it out and hope for the best.

He pointed at the vacant space beside him and said, "Here," as he struggled to get his bearings and breathe normally. I've never seen anyone suffer from an anxiety attack before. In the movies, they paint it in a very dramatic fashion, like someone’s going to topple over and pass out. But in hindsight, it was a crippling and debilitating situation that left the person in a state of shock.

I asked him anxiously, "Is this helping?" I was eager to see how he was doing.

He exhaled, and he both struggled to speak and breathe. "Yes," he said, quickly glancing towards me.

He was still breathing anxiously and rapidly at a pace that was concerning, so I told him, "Ok. Follow my count. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out."

As we were doing our breathing exercises, there was a knock, and the staff who delivered the food left the tray on the dining table, looking befuddled and weirded out at the two of us practising some weird yoga stance on the floor.

We did breathing exercises together as I tried to make sure he followed my every suggestion and was comfortable and rested. A couple of minutes later, his breathing returned to normal. "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah," he said, still breathing sparingly. "I’ll live."

"I’m worried about you, Albert." Holding his hand tighter, I fixed my eyes on the white ceiling, wondering how many of these episodes he'd had. When did it start? How did it start? Is that the reason he can’t hold down a job? I had so many questions lurking in my head that I asked, "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes. I’ll be." Slowly, he tried standing up, as I mirrored him by holding his hand. "But I need to find him," he said. He stormed out of the kubo, rushing outside, not minding the heat.

"Albert! Come back here. Where are you going?" I was behind him as he walked through the arduous heat in the middle of the afternoon. "Where are you going? Let’s go inside. Please. The doctor said you can’t be in this heat."

"I have to find him," he said as he kept walking, talking like a zombie with the singular goal of finding his missing jar.

"Who are you looking for?" But he didn’t answer.

We arrived at the square, and they clustered the guests in the area as they waited for the yacht to ferry them to the islands. I pulled his hand, grabbed it, and then said, "We’re going back to the kubo."

He threw my hand away as he glared at me. "No, we’re not. Not until I find him."

The crowd was looking at us like we were a disruptive couple arguing in the middle of the square. Then, from where he stood, he gazed at a jar that was like his own, held by another female guest who was part of a Korean group. He ran to her, grabbed it, and said, "This is mine."

The female guest was outraged and returned the gesture. "No, this is mine."

I had to intervene. "Albert, it’s the ladies, not yours."

His hand was on the top half of the jar as she held out the bottom half. "This is my jar. It has the initials on the bottom. D.K. See," he said, as he gazed at the bottom of the jar but found none of the initials. "But—" He gently returned the jar to the woman as she opened the lid and revealed it was a jar of kimchi.

The Korean lady said, "Crazy person." She looked at me and pointed at him. "You shouldn’t let this man walk around here."

She glanced at me as I nodded and smiled at her. A smile that intricately explained, Yes, he’s batshit crazy. I wasn’t proud of it. But he was clearly having a lack of lucidity when he showed it to everybody, as the crowd whispered and idly conversed and began staring at us. Albert looked at me. I was having trouble deciphering that look. Then he went about searching around the place, as he had indeed lost his marbles.

The crowd was getting testy over us, and one of the German guests called for a manager. Mariel was on the scene, speaking to the German couple. I motioned at her to signal that I was handling the situation as best as I could while she ushered the guest for some compensation package, or what we call a package for the annoyed.

I grabbed Albert’s arm as we headed to the lounge area and said, "Please. Let’s talk over there. Come on."

He looked at me like a modicum of sense was sprayed over him and said, "Ok," while looking tired, worried, and enervated at everything.

He didn’t talk for a good hour while we were seated at the clubhouse. I was slouched in a chair with my arms crossed, while he was staring at the ceiling, imagining God knows what. I didn’t have the energy to ask him something, only to be left hanging with a nod or a sigh. So I, too, remained quiet. But despite my silence, I was worried about him and his state of mind.

Is this going to be an everyday thing? Is this something he’s going to have until he takes his medication? Am I going to have that fun, cool, and sexy Albert back and not this weird, random dude who’s been staring at a wall for an hour?

What am I saying? Am I already giving up? Am I already tired of THIS, this side of him that refuses to make sense? Is this it? Is this the extent of what I can give or do to help someone like him?

Of course, I wasn’t giving up on Albert. Not a chance. I’m too deep with him. Too deep to run. Too deep to be scared. Too deep to let go. If there was something I could do to get through to him, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Then I thought of something ridiculous that would get me into his good graces.

"So, er, when did… HE, go missing?"

He was still quiet. My attempts at starting a conversation may have fallen flat or may have fallen on deaf ears. He looked at me and said, "The structural foundation of the ceiling is unstable. It’ll cave in when the next monsoon hits the island."

"What?"

He gazed at me and pointed to where he’d been looking. "The ceiling will fall. I’ve built quite a few roofs to know that the ceiling you’ve got here isn’t stable."

"Oh yeah, you said you were a carpenter," I answered, not minding what he said, considering a famous architect from Paris had envisioned the entire pagoda roof of the resort. I was more than shocked that he wasn’t in a catatonic state. What the hell was I thinking? I should’ve been admitted to a mental clinic for thinking that Albert had lost his marbles.

Then Mariel stepped in with a jar. The same jar he’d been carrying since he’d arrived on the island. She placed the jar on the centre table and said, "I’m sorry I took this. They were fixing the kubo and one of the maintenance personnel said you still had some of your things there. I got this and left it in the lost and found section, and must have forgotten about it."

Albert took the jar, smiled, and said, "It’s ok, dear. Don’t hurt yourself worrying about these things. I was just happy it was in a safe place."

As we were walking back to the kubo, feeling happy that things were back to normal, I asked Albert, "So, how did you know the ceiling might cave in? What powers of deduction did you have that helped you make that assumption?" But no one answered. "Hello?" It was radio silence. I chuckled and said, "Helloo... it’s like talking to a tree here?" Still, nothing. Albert kept walking. In fact, he kept walking faster.

Nearing the ridge, the kubo could be seen from this distance when I asked him again, "Albert. Come on, tell me what’s wrong now." Feeling exasperated and tired from everything that went on today, I just had to say it. "Just tell me what’s wrong so we can get this over with. I’m losing my patience here."

"Your patience?"

He turned around and pushed me with his left arm. "Hey! Stop!" I said. He kept pushing and shoving me till I cried and held his wrist, saying, "Stop it. What’s wrong with you?" He prised his arm off of my hand and pushed my chest one more time. I panned out to his face, and there it was—his tears.

Holding the jar to his right, he pointed at me and said, "What’s wrong? What’s wrong? It’s YOU."

I stopped walking and said, "Hey! Are you alright?"

"Can’t you see I’m not alright?"

He kept walking further, and I rushed to his side to ask what was happening. "What did I do? Tell me, please?"

"You were supposed to be there for me. But you judged me," he said as he swiped his tears.

"What do you mean?"

"You think I’m a hundred percent together all the time, huh? You think that what you see every single day is that I magically woke up looking like this? I had to force myself to shower this morning as I sat there on the bathroom floor, wondering if I have to do this again the next day. And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of making people think that I’ve got my shit together, when in fact, I don’t. And when I feel like the world is crushing me to pieces, I expect you—you, that person who told me who’ll have my back, my person, MY PERSON, to be there with me! But you weren’t. You judged me like I’m some crazy lunatic because you didn’t understand something. Because you didn’t understand me. Well, you better start falling in line cause you’re not the first one on this list who wants me locked up in a looney bin. My parents think I should be. Heck, even my friends think I should be. But for you to believe that I should—BRAVO! Bravo Damien. You’ve outdone yourself. Fuck you—for making me believe that you’re the one person in this world who’ll understand what I’m going through."

His eyes welled up, and as the tears fell, he said, "You were supposed to be on my side. On my side. My FUCKING side." He looked so defeated by my prejudice that he whispered, "My side," as the tears and his sobs ate up his words. I wanted to hug him. I thought my arms could give him the comfort he needed, but he didn’t want me near him. "Don’t," he gently said, having lost all of his fight as he pushed me away. "I can’t believe I trusted you."

I was speechless. I couldn’t even get the word sorry out of my mouth. "Sor—I’m."

He kept walking and stomping. Then he turned around to say his final piece. "I know you care for me. But maybe that’s not enough. Maybe what I need is something more. I’m not sure if you can give it or if it’s something I can get from this place. I can’t be with you right now, so just leave me alone."