Return To Neverland

The clouds gathered outside the windows, announcing the arrival of another drizzle. The building across the creek across from where my room was located had burnt marks in it. The staff told me that several rooms were gutted because of a fire two weeks ago. The reason: the rooms turned out to be an abandoned warehouse, a faulty electrical wiring must have triggered the blaze. The building still stands and it remains occupied. Like most decrypt and ancient commercial establishments along Escolta, the edifice is a sorrow reminder of the glory days that passed by.

Inside the room, old boxes filled with applications and other office documents were stacked up above one another. Across the table where I was seated, was the wooden paddle - a testament to my late father's fraternal brotherhood past. The aircon, which they used to open when I arrive had been long broken. In its place was a fridge desolately placed near the window.

"Sir buksan natin ang ilaw?" The staff asked me.

"Okay lang, hindi ako sanay na may ilaw. Hindi mo na matandaan no?" I courteously replied.

It's been more than two years since I last set foot in this place - the Sikyu Agency. It is my father's surviving venture and the bread and butter of the household. After the Publishing company closed down under my most unfortunate leadership, I resolved to seek a new life elsewhere. The failure of losing the very reason of your being (a journalist) is too much to bear. The Sikyu would gladly embrace my presence, however a business assaulted by tons of unexpected problems would simply annihilate my tattered spirit.

So instead of working with them, I joined my boss' budding call center company.

---

The process of healing was long and painful. Two years, I did not show up even during their Christmas Parties. The entire staff was laden with gifts personally coming from me, but my presence which they hoped I would grant, was twice denied. The only contact I ever had with them during these years happened whenever the "dole" was delayed or whenever someone from the office would seek my aunt's assistance in medical emergencies.

This afternoon, we received a letter addressed to my mom. It was from the government and its contents sent the matriarch fuming and frantic the whole day. In her panic, he asked me to forward the letter to the Sikyu's financial officer. She immediately noticed my reservations clearly appearing on my face. In a fit of utter disappointment, she howled at me telling "tatlong taon na patay ang ama mo, hanggang ngayon takot ka pa rin lumingon sa nakaraan mo?!?" something like that, I could not remember.

So I had no choice but to follow my mother's order. I took a bath, dressed up in my most somber ensemble and with a pragmatic gesture, left the house as if going elsewhere. But my heart trembled on my way to the office. Not even my Darkstar ego was prepared to face a past I am still trying to ignore.

You see, part of the desire to remain very distant comes from the fact that I'm getting something from them without working for it. Imagine the great injustice I do to every laborer in this country. Even I, could not forgive myself for such exploitation. But I had not choice. If and ever I will join their circus, I do not really know what will be my use to them as their de-facto boss. (even if I have to contend/appease the "business partner/former kabet's presence) Besides, the "benefit" I would get is an insurance for any unforeseen emergency in the future. It ensures that no matter what delubyo comes in our way, at least I have set aside something for protection.

---

The corridor leading to the office was dark and gloomy. I could almost hear a lonely piano instrumental playing on the background. My short walk from the lobby was almost like a procession; a slow passage reminding me of painful and resenting memories which I could not deny, but still haunt me today. The Sikyu's future, which remains uncertain because of the loopholes left by my father could easily drive me looking for a second job, and the guilt of benefiting from something the never lifted even my tiny finger pushes me further away, to wallow in my own shame.

But the time had come to at least contend with a past, in hopes that it may lead to a sort of reconciliation.

So that I could find healing despite its prematurity.

I took a deep breath as my hand grip held the door knob very tightly.

In the milliseconds between my appearance to the people inside and the resentment and hesitation I felt before I opened the door, in my thoughts, how I wished I lived my life very differently from the very start.

But there was no turning back; my only choice is to face this fear squarely... even if i am not ready.

"Uy andjan pala si sir. Tagal niyong nawala ah!"

The first greeting I heard from them.