When the Moon found the Sun

The cicadas’ endless chirps, which is one of the most hellish things a person has to endure during summer, finally got to Yumi’s nerves. She bolts upright, unable to endure the ear-shattering singing which had polluted the sound of the river that often lulled her to sleep at siesta. For a whole minute, she stares blankly at the river before her, clear and glittering under the scorching sun, then takes a deep breath, and exhales that heavy feeling in her chest. With her fingers, she brushes the strands of hair that made their mark on the side of her face, holds them all with one hand as the arid wind blew past. A long yawn then escapes her and she stretches her arms. Having no desire to return to her hometown during the Holy Week, Yumi endured being alone at the ranch for the first time. The peace and stillness made her restless during the day and sleepless at night. Every tiny scuffle makes her stir and in full alert in mere seconds. She had not had a good sleep in days and was counting on having power naps to sustain her. But the damn insects wouldn’t give her the solitude she so badly needs. Taking the leatherbound book that served as her makeshift pillow, she stepped down and made her way back to the house, using that same book to shield her face from the sun. It took her exactly twenty-four steps to reach the backdoor, she counted. Leaving her slippers right by the door, she steps into the house, delighting in the smell of jasmine and the cold feel of the marble floors. She has a lot of cleaning left to do. But before everything else, she put on music, as she always did. The owner of the house has a collection of vinyl records which were picked up from various travels in Latin America. They were kept in an old cabinet with glass windows, free for everyone to enjoy. Yumi definitely had been putting one on every single day. Picking from the collection, which mostly consists of ballads, the vibes sometimes turn up sorrowful, pleading, passionate and sensual, and the theme is always of professing an undying love, setting someone free, or enduring a tragic loss, will always be a surprise to the senses. Out of all the selections, Yumi picked up a record from Rocio Durcal. Amor, being the first word from that record, made her smile and turn up the volume on the amplifier. They have not a single neighbor. The nearest one is a ten to fifteen-minute drive away, so she had a license to be as loud as she wanted to. No one would complain. Twirling towards the living room, still barefoot, she retrieves the rubber band from the armrest of the rocking chair. It was used to tie a bunch of string beans. She saved it despite it looking like it would snap soon, feeling that there was still use for it. Little did she know that it would only be used as a hair tie until that moment. It’s not very strange that Yumi doesn’t own any decent hair ties. She likes her hair long and flowing behind her like a river, no matter the heat or rain. But she binds it into a bun whenever it gets in the way of work, otherwise, her hair remains down, stray strands simply pushed behind her ears. With the music blaring and her hair out of the way, Yumi deemed herself ready to tackle the mess she left earlier. The soft broom was where she left it, behind the main door. She still prefers it over the vacuum, all because she cannot stand the whir of the machine as it gets in the way of her music appreciation. Deciding to start on the second floor, she climbed up the stairs, and stopped at the farthest room overlooking the river. The room, she had been told, used to be her employer’s marital room. When the old woman was widowed, she also aged rapidly, and as rheumatism and other ailments hit the once vibrant woman, the marital room was soon abandoned for the more accessible room on the first floor. Margarita, or Maggie to her amigas, is the grandmother Yumi had longed for and did not know she needed. She is Yumi’s employer, and should rightfully be addressed as ma’am or madam, but Yumi calls her Lola at Maggie’s insistence. It’s been almost six years since their first meeting, right here on the ranch. Yumi almost gave the old woman a heart attack when she showed up unannounced with a baby in her arms, pronouncing that the child was the family’s own. Yumi had been apologetic when she learned that Maggie knew nothing about Willa and that the girl’s father, Wilson, failed to inform his grandmother of their arrival. Yumi squirmed uncomfortably when Maggie called Wilson and let loose swear words. But, unable to resist the wee child and thinking that Willa would die in her father’s arms, Maggie accepted her grandson’s plea and accepted the child and Yumi in her home. Six years is a long time. In that span of time, Yumi’s role in Maggie’s household had also been elevated. She must’ve done such a good job raising the great-granddaughter of the house that they simply didn’t want to let her go. It was a streak of luck. The ranch needed reviving and Yumi had a degree in agriculture, a minor in agribusiness, so it was easy for Maggie to find her a position to fill. It was sort of funny, she thought she’d be stuck as a nanny forever. But as luck would have it, she was given an opportunity to apply what she learned in school, and she did not waste it. There was much to do at the ranch, always, that no one ever noticed the days passing. As the business gained popularity among locals and international tourists alike, it called for all hands on deck. The camping ground was the most sought after, but for those who don’t like camping, there is the option to stay at the main house, which has been gradually turned into a homestay. Yumi really hadn’t moved one bit from Maggie’s property except when she accompanies the old woman back to Canada during the off season, which is right before lent. It was convenient for both of them, going back and forth together to maintain their dual citizen status. While Maggie bonds with her daughter Frances in Edmonton, Yumi roams free, often staying at her best friend’s house in Calgary. They didn’t go this year, for once again, Wilson called Maggie to visit him in the land down under, for whatever purpose, it is unknown. Yumi is glad to have the house to herself. No kidding. She wants the house prepared for their next guests who will arrive in two weeks, and she couldn’t clean if there are lots of feet roaming around. Since the day she had been left alone, she had been dusting, mopping, and rearranging furniture. Today, she did the laundry. All the pillowcases, blankets, bed covers, even the curtains were placed in several basins around dawn. She hung them out to dry around nine in the morning. That’s enough time for them to dry. They only need the one or two p.m. sunlight, when the heat becomes excruciatingly unbearable, and they’ll be ready to be picked and folded by three p.m. Three hours later, she turns the music off. She was adding some finishing touches to the living room, a vase of flowers she had picked from the garden, the broom still tucked in her armpit, when she heard someone clearing his throat. Startled, she made a sharp turn. The rubber band which held her hair snapped as she did, and her hair cascaded beautifully behind her. Her hand was on the soft broom’s handle ready to strike, but the image that greeted her diffused all her defenses and made her slowly grin in delight. Dreamy and divine is he, the man who filled all her fantasies. He had arrived. Ahy, Allen~