Si Inday

Some Context

"Uy, goods ka pa?" Has asked Inday. They were sharing a beer at the Kampanaryo cafeteria, after hours. Inday froze as she recalled who she was, and who exactly she was spending time with. It was just Has - a nickname, as she understands. Inday didn't know the details, but based on experience it seemed like he was part-sireno. Has once jumped out of a moving vehicle as soon as the ocean was in-view. In the moment, Inday was suprised nobody ran after him even as their van skidded to a stop. Tala was still taking photos on her phone, Sana was still just looking out the window, Rosaria might have grunted a complaint, but everyone even Asterio didn't bat an eye. Was Has okay? Is this normal? Inday was teetering between being concerned and maintaining the lull of the inside of the jeepney they rented. Was jumping out of windows a normal occurrence for this group?

But everything made a little more sense when Has walked back to them as they parked near the shore, his blue-green scales glistening in the sun. A genuine smile on his face.

Has clinked their bottles gently, inviting Inday back into the moment. They were in the cafeteria, and he made a joke about the beer, or something like that. And Inday apologized again about how she almost drank the lone bottle she found in the fridge without permission. The Pulang Kabayo looked unwanted for a couple of days in the chiller, it was ice-cold, and appetizing. It wasn't until Has walked in tonight did Inday finally find out who exactly left it there to cap off his week. Has gave Inday a pair of his signature finger-guns as if to say it's all good, and invited her to share the bottle with him. Has is a good guy.

The Kampanaryo cafeteria was dark and lit with a tint of blue from the moonlight that peeked through the open jalousie windows. The sink and tiles of the kitchen had been scrubbed and dried, the pots and ladles had been washed (Inday made sure they'd be ready for use by morning). The plastic chairs were already ceremoniously stacked on top of each other, all save for the ones Has and Inday were currently using.

The sireno topped-off his glass and then Inday's, emptying the whole bottle. Has did most of the talking. Inday thinks he knew he wouldn't have gotten much talking out of her. In her head she liked that about Has, how he didn't need to ask. He just knew, and he would maneuver through a situation in the best way he knew possible - usually through humor. Mostly through humor, actually.

But Has was a big, loud, welcome presence to Inday and to the group they were in. A kind heart, and a strong fighter, who wouldn't want him on their team? Inday appreciates people who are reliable, and Has was every bit that.

When the fire happened, things changed.

Priorities shifted, allegiances were made, and hearts were lost. Asterio and Rosaria never resurfaced, Tala made her choice, and Has was inconsolable.

Inday remembered hearing him try to dig through the still freshly hot ground in hopes of finding traces of their friends to hold onto - to magic his way to. All he needed was a connection, he thought. But the distance was either too far, the connection too weak, or maybe they were both just dead. Has couldn't stomach any of those possibilities, so he dug into the ground with his hands. Strong, gentle hands violently ripping through the hot earth because it was the only thing he knew he could do.

Inday was about to join him in digging if it wasn't for Martinez who held her in place. At the time Inday felt like Martinez needed something to hold onto, and Inday was just distraught enough to oblige.

Nobody slept that night. They say monsters don't sleep, but some of them do. Even Tala, who wasn't a monster like them, did not dare close her eyes despite heaving dealt with all of the aftermath of the police reports and paperwork that rushed to the Kampanaryo and its wards right after. Tala was half-crying, half-smiling, half-strategizing on what exactly happens next to the Kampanaryo. The citizens of Maharlika, the ones who weren't monsters, looked on at the newly homeless populace of the Kampanaryo with a mix of pity and dread. Everyone had an inkling of the kind of individuals the Kampanaryo homed, the fear was palpable in the sting of the hot air.

Has was more distant that week, literally and figuratively. He would show up sometimes at local food spots, and disappear just as quickly when you turned the corner to talk to him. He looked tired and wanting. As if there were things he knew but could not know more of. He also looked like he was ready to punch someone at any given moment. That is, until Tala starts talks to him. Or Inday.

Has' guards would lower, only slightly, and for the moment he would be his usual self. Inday was left looking for more of Has, but she knew there wasn't any more of him left to give. And Inday left it at that.

Martinez was already insufferable when they met him that same month, but he got just a little bit quieter since the fire. If his usual count was 10 pick-up lines a day, he'd lowered it to 3 by then. If Inday was honest, and she wasn't, she'd tell you it was nice whenever he had a quip to say since it momentarily took her mind off the friends she lost.

This time, as Inday was dealing all her pent up energy on a punching bag, Martinez's quip was, "Inaano ka ba nung punching bag na yan? Gusto mo ba awayin ko?"

Inday gave the bag one last shove which threw the bag and its entire stand to the other side of the gym. She looked at him boredly, "Pwede ba wag ngayon?" she lied. Now was a good time. After all they went through, anytime is a good time.

There was an unspoken agreement between them at that point forward. So when Inday started packing her bags, Martinez followed-suit. And when Inday hailed the soonest available bus to the province, Martinez sweet-talked himself a ride from the conductor right after. Where were they going? Who knows.