Smoke
Trees“I wouldn’t want to live there,” Ric says.
We’re sitting together on the porch railing at Lolo’s. Inside is too hot and outside all the chairs are taken. The whole family’s here for Lolo’s birthday. I’m not even sure how old he is.
Ric’s father, Tito Gil, organized this party. Ric’s only a few months older than me, so we always stay together at parties. The older boys don’t want us around.
“How would you know?” I say. “You’ve never been to Olongapo.”
“I’ve heard about it,” he says.
I look down, between my shoes, to the fishpond below. But I don’t see any fish. I wonder if they all died like last time.
“Are you coming back for Kuya Gabby’s wedding?”
“I guess so. When is it?”
“April, I think. I don’t know. After school’s over because Pia still has to finish at Ateneo.”
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