Wish Stick is a Myth

Navarra never fails to be a home. Almost every morning before going to class or going

to the library, my feet gets a mind of its own and five minutes later, I would find myself

vibrantly greeting Ate Arra with a “Good Morning!” and she would prepare my usual order of

iced Kopiko Brown before I could even reach the wallet in my back pocket. I would then walk up

to a 3-step stairs as I reach my wallet for the twenty pesos I would pay in the counter. After she

have finished putting ice tubes in my cup of coffee, she would then place it in the counter with

my five peso change. I would then walk down the stairs and sit comfortably in a long chair with

a long table on the front and an ashtray placed on top of it, all of them under the green tent.

Today is not a different day. I opened my pack of Marlboro red only to find out that I

have one stick left – a wish stick. As I light my first death stick of the day, I wished for the one I

most desire with my eyes closed before blowing the first whiff which is then followed by sipping

up some coffee to remove the bitter after taste in my mouth. This is what I do every day as I

wait for my friends which I could even call my second family in this community.

The one who usually comes here first is Lin. Lin is a short girl, about 5’4” with a dark skin

complexion that I could compare to a milk chocolate and a short hair just above her shoulders

that moves elegantly in motion with every little move of her head. She, just like me, have the

same habit of passing by Navarra before her first class starts.

I first met her here, asking if she could borrow my lighter. “Sure,” as my usual reply to

strangers who needs to light their stick. Awkwardly, she sits across the table, right in front of

me.
 “Aren’t you friends with Carl? I see you often here with him after his classes, e,” she

asked as she try to spark up a conversation.

“Yeah. We’re blockmates,” I briefly replied as I try to put out this conversation. I was

never the talker. I hate talking to strangers as I don’t think they’re amounting to something

which means I’m just wasting my time and saliva to an unfruitful conversation. And of course,

Mama also says so.

“Ah, so you’re from Law too! Nuks, attorney!” she said as she puffs for the third time in

which I responded a smile.

“You’re not a talker, are you?” she asked as if it is not daringly obvious.

“Yeah. Sorry for being a boring yosimate.”

“Nah. I don’t know that much about you to conclude you’re boring. You just don’t talk. It

is my duty then to make you talk!” she said proudly.

She has won the battle. I never enjoyed conversing with a stranger before that much in

my life. But then again, I guess, for her it was the challenge to make me talk that drove her to

kept asking random questions about my life and sharing a little bit about hers too. Burning up

my lungs for hours and cutting my classes were the best choices I’ve made that day.

My face would be in front of three faces almost every morning – the morning sun’s, Ate

Arra’s, and Lin’s. I never set-up my alarm clock every day since I dearly love my sleep. After a

while though, I developed the habit of waking up with my phone ringing in order to assure that
I would always get to enjoy my cup of coffee and cigarettes every day. My eyes then became

familiar with three faces almost every morning – the morning sun’s, Ate Arra’s, and Lin’s.

In that same green paradise, we play cards most of the time with the family to kill the

dread of a long day. The front of the store then becomes a nest of illegal gamblers around 11

am composed mostly of the family, their friends, their girlfriends and boyfriends. At first, the

card games were only there for fun in which no money was involved – pusoy dos, tong-its,

pusoy way, and bridge. But as the time goes by, pogs were introduced as poker chips and the

cash started to flow under the table. I usually don’t participate on the gambling sessions but

then one day, Lin insisted on me playing the hands she would get. I don’t claim to be a poker

god but I did graduate in Mathematics and knows a trick or two when it comes to card games

which was the fact that she was banking. I won her 500 pesos that day and because of her

enthusiasm and excitement about the win, she insisted to take me to a free dinner which I

merrily accepted. We went to Gelinos St. at 6 pm and got dinner in Ababu. She ordered two

beef kebabs with rice and I ordered two chicken kebabs with rice. “Thank you! Please wait until

we serve your food,” the waitress said monotonically. Ababu is known to have a long waiting

time of serving. Usually, your order would be served 30-45 minutes after ordering. Even so, it

would always be worth the wait as the place is well-ventilated with two full-blown aircons and

the food they serve really tastes good. The weird thing that day were – I did not feel like we

waited as long as expected, the place was surprisingly warm but still comfortable, and that I

have not tasted the food that I ate but still enjoyed eating it. With my wristwatch’s hands both

pointing to the left, we went home full and satisfied.

 One time, I already won a thousand peso playing with my own money and she insisted

that we go for a drink. “Looks like someone is treating me with a bucket!” she said teasingly.

We did go to 4M after I cashed out my chips.

“You know, you’re so good at Math! Buti ka pa! Me, I never excelled in any academic

subject! I can’t even excel in PE! It must feel good to be a genius, huh?” she said after finishing

her first bottle of Red Horse.

“Well, it’s not all unicorns and rainbows. There became a lot of expectations that I

needed to meet when my family found out that I was excelling in school and sometimes,

expectations are really hard to achieve.”

“Well, Chris-Tian-Roy-Tor-res-Al-Va-Rez, geniuses are not the only ones who are

expected to be actually performing well in school. Parents are parents and parents expect their

child, even the shit ones, to actually be a good investment for the money they have worked

hard for,” she said frustratingly. “Fuck parents and their expectations!” she shouted as if the

room is not packed with students that day.

We shouted our frustrations and whispered our dirty little secrets and she never needed

to repeat any word, phrase nor sentence that she says as even if the room was definitely having

a rowdy crowd of students with the loud music that bounced on and off the walls, her words

were audible to me and I never missed the voice coming from her.

The burn in my cigarette is now coming to the end of the stick. I decided to take the last

whiff and put out the fire in the ashtray. “Ate, Marlboro red po! One stick,” I said loudly, enough

for Ate Arra with her earphones to hear my request. She reaches out the stick and I reach out to
her seven pesos. I tapped the butt in the table and then lit the other end of it. I haven’t even

finished my first whiff when I saw Lin in a distance, with some guy I never saw in this place

before, coming towards the table.

“Tiaaaan! Good morning! Christian, meet Tristan, my boyfriend. Tristan, this is Christian,

a friend.”

“Nice to meet you, bro.” I greeted as I blow the smoke choking up my throat.

“Shoot. I have classes now. See you guys later!” I said while grabbing my bag and leaving

my cig burning, shortening itself in the ashtray.