Unrequited Passion

Leaving the tent, I turned right and entered an alley that would serve as the last leg of my trip home. The night had completely encompassed the surrounding with darkness. To see my way through, I was aided by a lone light post standing halfway of the alley’s stretch. A few more steps I wound soon wind down in front of my gate. I opted to walk cautiously on the limited width space of the sidewalk to avoid the ankle-flooded and mud-covered lane. I eventually crossed to the other side of the alley when I chanced upon a mud-cleared portion where I could walk with confidence with my shoes not getting immersed.

I finally reached my gate. I threw a side-way glance on my right as if expecting for something my eyes might notice that would have changed overnight, but the surrounding was still the same like the other mornings I left it. Not far away was a dust heap of everything from discarded wooden carts and thrown crates, and boxes of cartons, and many kinds of street trash trapped on that dump adjacent to the dead-end wall of the alley. The dim light had obscured everything. I had to struggle for some time to insert my key on the hole of the big copper padlock hooked by its shackle on two holed metal pieces attached to the edges of a metal door and the gate’s metal frame. The gate was opened finally. As I entered the property, rats went scampering away when my presence disturbed them. I cautiously put my one foot on the starting point of the wood plank that had served as my walkway which was elevated from the ground by concrete blocks underneath, and which I knew had been flooded by this time because of the downpour. The plank was placed some time ago by me when I noticed the ground was not emptying its stagnant water after a rainfall that resulted further into a mud pool as time progressed.

I had many times blamed my forgetfulness for not having in my position essential things that would aid me in a situation like this, and again this was one of the times. Without a flashlight I had to make the utmost precaution to feel my way forward. I took my steps gingerly lest I would make missteps that would drop me into the cesspool underneath my feet.

It was almost an eternity going forward, but in the end my feet brought me to the concrete steps of a porch. The porch occupied the half part of the house facade; the other half used to be the living room which opened on the side door on the left side of the porch that also served as the main entrance to the whole house. I took out my key holder again and rummaged through it for the appropriate key. The large door covering which I used to assume to be a century old (I discovered from the word of mouth of geriatrics living in the area, but had long gone to the bosom of their creator, that the house was built during the last days of Spanish colonial era.) was still good as new, though prominent scratches and deep indentations had seen the parts of its history.

The door’s hinges squeaked when I push it inwards to open it. I met the damp coolness of the place, and the accompanying rancid smell of fermented and staled byproducts of molds and bugs. The reek of rodents’ urine augmented by stray cats’ feces would make normal person puke the minute he’s inside. Not for me. I had been inured since the first weeks when I moved in to squat in the house. When completely inside, I pulled a thin, long metal chain dangling at the center of the room attached to a bulb overhead to turn on the light. It served as the lone light illuminating the whole ground floor

The whole house was barren the first time I moved in devoid of any material for human convenience except for the long kitchen table at the rear end of the house. I procured pieces of old and used furniture, all sold to me by my neighbors at intermittent intervals through the years. The metal bed topped with a beat-up cushion settled near a wall was one of them; a sideboard that had lost its glass coverings leaning on another wall; and a decent table with two chairs which I used when dining at home and when having a solitary drink.

The kitchen had remnants of two big stove woods that were of no use to me. The other part of the house besides the living room that I gave much precious time to make it functional again was the toilet. I persevered to have it restored even only for basic use.

I had some precious personal belongings that were all kept inside a big rusty heavy metal safe standing in one corner of the room. The heavy safe that was sold to me cheap by a neighbor gave me some problems when I attempted to transfer it inside the house. I had to hire several men that had cost me three times the amount I paid for the junk to transfer it to my place. I used its top to put my several bottles of local and imported spirits.

In the first few years that I had stayed, the house was not much worse then. In the couple of years that followed, the sturdily built structure was beginning to erode aided by the corrosive air coming from the city’s waterfront a kilometer away. Metal components in the construction of the house notably the exposed nails that bound the woods had loosened and the consequence was especially noticeable in the walls of the upper floor.

Dark brown and black dripping water had flooded the floor of what used to be the dining area on the rear part of the house. With the absence of division walls inside, the back part of the house, the dining area and the kitchen were laid bare before one’s eyes when viewed from the vantage point of the living room. It was in this place of the house where the blunt of drenching occurred. This was the area directly below the wing of the roof that had the worse decline. Fortunately, the accumulated rainwater drained out on several drain holes in the kitchen floor.

In one wing of the top floor, the roof began to sag and tilt downward caused by the weakening of the rafters. It maybe that some of the used woods too had arrived at their deterioration point because of old age. The consequence of rainwater gradually seeping in during the wet season had hastened the decline of the hapless structure. I had no complaints living in the house, though. I was staying in the house gratis.

During summer the place was a better place to stay with the minimized odor of animal wastes. The hot temperature tended to lessen the activity of bacteria on them and thus less stench was produced. I had no complaints living in the house, though; I was living in the house gratis.

When I found the empty house, it was only for a few days stay. I planned to vacate it if and when the owner would come and throw me out of the house by trespassing on his property. The few days stay was extended to weeks, then to months and further on to years. When some neighbors—which I came to discover later were also squatters—started to nose around, I concocted a convenient explanation why I was occupying the house. I was employed by the owner to guard the property from being squatted upon—which was an irony— by would-be unscrupulous property grabbers. The dupery worked. The questions and inquiries loosened. To further lend credence to my story, and to prepare myself for any eventuality on a problem cropping up, , I bribed a clerk working in city hall (he happened to be indebted to me) to search the city land registry under whose name the property was titled to and for any pertinent information that could be delved from the owner. Obtaining the name, I also made my own discreet inquiry from the old people of the neighborhood.

The picture I got from the amassed information that was gathered was that, the property was owned by an estranged Chinese family and was under court litigation for many years. One member who had a family of her own had settled in America, while her other brother returned to Hong Kong. The remaining sibling, who was unmarried, stayed in the property until his death some years back.

Guided by the information, I went to create a bogus situation where I was appointed by the brother who lived in Hong Kong to be the caretaker of the property. It was quite easy for me to manipulate the scenario. I convinced a local Chinese friend to falsify me a paper—in the Mandarin Language to make more believable—of a purported assigning of an appointment. I had it translated in English and notarized. With the phony documents on my hands, I was tempted to further pushed my luck. I paid someone to handle the application for the re-connection of the water and electricity services that for years had ceased. After a couple of weeks, I had the utilities reconnected. The last act was to be the all-important message; it presented that I was a legitimate resident of the property as acknowledged by the utility companies.

With my mind not preoccupied by the drench, I disrobed and lay naked on top of the bed trying to put some rest without succumbing to sleep. The lull had passed; the unrelenting fury of the storm followed. I speculated that the winds were pummeling the city with a rate of more than a hundred kilometers strong. The howling of the wind had given me the dreaded anxiety in the coming of something ominously sinister. I stayed stretched on the bed with my mind roaming.

My thoughts traveled to Avenida Riz, the place where my nightly dream of sensuality and lust had its beginning. The uncontrollable desires that had been powering the urges that I tried to suppress was again starting to recur. I shut my eyes. Exerting with strenuous effort I tried to shut my mind as well. But the face of the young woman from the avenue keep on feeding my desires. Her body created by the most creative sculptor of sensuality made my hands tremble in touching it. My fingers ran daintily on the soft curves of her body tenderly pushing to reach the most endowed sumptuous breasts. I ran my mouth on her skin and alternately touched the mounts on her chest with the tip of my tongue; slowly I pinched her nipple with my too eager lips.

I was uttering a soft moan as I reached to that naked glory between my legs. Its shaft I held with an overpowering craving, as I move my hand trying to give life to it, to satisfy the burning sensation that was completely consuming my soul, and ultimately to make an exceptional arousal.

It turned me down. I sprang from my bed in rage.