Sammy picked up Delilah and smoothed her fur. Girl and cat stood in the center of the kitchen, at a loss, and quietly comforted each other.
The hushed conversation behind the door of the study rose and fell. Sammy couldn’t hear much, but the harsh tones were unmistakable.
Then: “Let’s at least act like a family for the sake of the child!” Her mother’s voice was harsh.
Sammy heard that all right. The words pierced her. Why was it always for the sake of the child?
She’d heard the phrase before, but only from one of her mother’s friends going through a divorce. A cold ache filled Sammy’s heart.
She dropped Delilah onto the floor. The fluffy yellow cat yowled and streaked into the living room. Sammy clapped her hands over her ears and ran to her bedroom. Her world was falling apart! She slammed the door, locked it and threw herself on the bed, sobbing.
Soon footsteps came from the study and stopped at her door.
A hand turned the knob. “Sammy, please open up. We didn’t mean to upset you,” her father’s voice reached out to her.
“Sweetie, please come outside. We can talk about this,” her mother now, straining to keep calm.
“Leave me alone!” Sammy said, covering her head with a pillow.
“Do you see what this is doing to our daughter?” Jack said harshly to Yvonne.
“Oh, now it’s my fault. It takes two to tango, you know!” Yvonne said, snapping back at her husband.
“Please go away and fight somewhere else,” Sammy pleaded, between sobs. Soon she heard her mother’s quick, no nonsense footsteps retreating.
“Your mom and I are so sorry for dragging you into this, little girl. It’s our problem, and I promise we’ll try and work it out,” Jack said.
It took all of Sammy’s will power not to give in to her father’s soothing voice, open the door, hug him hard and tell him everything would be back to normal tomorrow. That he and mom would laugh about whatever they were fighting about and start being a family again.
Jack waited by the door, but she didn’t open it. Instead she lay there in the unhappy silence of her room and drifted off to sleep.
3
When the Dream Came
When the dream came-I held my breath with my eyes closed-I went insane like a smoke ring day when the wind blows-Now I won’t be back till later on-If I do come back at all . . . Buffalo Springfield
In the town of Tiaong, Quezon, in the Philippines, Patti laid on a bed in her friend’s guest room. Buffalo Springfield pulsed through the earphones. It had been an exhausting day and she needed to relax.
Ugu, renowned potter and friend had put her through the drill today. Her mild and unassuming friend turned into a monster that made her throw clay for hours on the wheel. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon when he was finally satisfied and dismissed her.
“Strict discipline, Patti,” Ugu said, wiping the wet clay from his hands. “If you’re going to learn the craft, you have to keep at it until you get it right.” He was back to being her friend again.
Too spent to have afternoon coffee and merienda, she walked from the studio tucked in the back of Ugu’s splendid garden, following the winding tiled pathway dotted with decorative ceramic pieces and pebbles. She strolled by the art gallery and cozy pavilions scattered throughout the courtyard until she reached her bedroom.
The room was a square building of bricks with double glass doors, recycled hardwood floors and simple but tasteful decor. The doors opened onto a short pathway to a separate bathroom, and an alcove next to it where she wrote at daybreak, in the cool of the morning — before breakfast and another day of pottery lessons.
It was a hot and muggy afternoon. A cool shower in the comfort of her air-conditioned nest and a nap should take care of it.
Arms outstretched, Patti hugged the huge bed. She thought about willing herself to write. Her mind had been a blank — nothing productive there.
She wondered why she couldn’t even write a sentence, and why her mind didn’t run wild with imagination in this haven of feel-good karma — where she thought she could find the peace she needed.
Patti fled Honolulu to get away from the clanking of machinery and dust — the endless construction of luxury condos — sprouting on every island space available. One was being built right in front of the lanai of the condo she and John moved to. Their slice of ocean view would soon be obliterated by another concrete monstrosity.
What was hampering her now? Was it writer’s block? Ah well, maybe the words will come tomorrow.
She reached for her IPod and plugged her ears.
When the dream came . . .
She sits behind a desk facing the blank screen of her laptop, and a 3-sided mirror is positioned directly in front of her. It is dark except for a spotlight glaring down on her, as if she was part of the props on a stage and she is the focus.
She wonders what is expected of her. Is she supposed to give a talk or lecture? She hates giving speeches and she has none prepared. She gets up and peers into the darkness to see if there is an audience. Except for the props there is no one and nothing around but eerie silence.
She hears a soft clicking behind her. The spotlight moves to one of the mirrors.
Patti spreads her arm and asks the empty stage. What? Do I just stand here and wait for this mirror to reveal something mind- boggling — the future maybe?
As if in reply, the 3-sided mirror clouds up like her eyeglasses do when the temperature is freezing cold. She goes over to wipe the mirror with the sleeve of her blouse when suddenly the fog clears.
Her niece Samantha appears. Sammy? What’s up, kid? What are you doing in there? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?
Patti reaches out to touch the image of her niece. Instead, a shower of tiny sparks shoots out from the mirror forcing her to take a step back. She stands there helplessly, her heart aching for the silent sobbing Samantha.
The mirror goes blank. The spotlight moves on.
What is going on now? I thought we were back to being a happy family? Jenny is missing in action, and the duwende made peace. What are you going to show me, mirror? Is another evil creature lurking and waiting to get its turn at my niece, my family? Is that nasty Jenny back? Show me!
The next mirror reveals her sister, Yvonne and her husband Jack. The mirror is cracked right down the middle. Jack is on one side and Yvonne on the other. Both are trying to reach out for the other, but it’s as if an invisible wall is between them.
Tears are now streaming down Patti’s face. She wants out of the nightmare. The second mirror goes black, and as if on cue, the third one is illuminated.
Her ancestor Dr. Jose Rizal appears. He is not wearing his traditional 19th century overcoat. His meticulously combed hair is windblown, and he’s wearing shorts and T-shirt, walking barefoot on a sandy beach. The man from the past looks relaxed and happy.
A dancing Chinese woman materializes behind him, and the focus is on her. She wears a red Cheongsam dress with intricate designs that glitter with every graceful movement. She has a beautiful porcelain-like face with high cheekbones, but her eyes are cold — harsh and cruel eyes that dare anyone to get too close.
Isn’t that just typical? My great-great uncle, the charmer of women, appears in my dream with a woman. Is he supposed to make an appearance here on earth? Is he supposed to fall in love with this beautiful but cold Chinese woman?
The dancer’s movements,