“Ramon,” I tell her.
“Right. This is the main street of Olongapo.”
“It’s not very big,” says Marisa.
“No, it’s not. Why don’t we walk around and see what’s here? Your daddy is meeting us at…” She looks at her watch. “At twelve-thirty. So we have lots of time to see what’s here.”
I look at my watch. It’s only a quarter past eleven. “Are we going to have lunch when he gets back?” I ask.
“You always ask about food,” says Marisa.
“Well twelve-thirty’s lunchtime.”
“That’s enough, you two,” Mama says. “Yes, we’ll have lunch when your daddy returns.”
The stores along Magsaysay are small, like market stalls. They’re narrow and filled with so much on the walls and shelves that it’s hard to see everything. I stop at one and look at the glass case in front. It’s full of knives—switchblades, b
