Fiction by Roger B Rueda
I was browsing through a newspaper to find some interesting articles when I noticed the news splashed in a headline in a Philippines newspaper: MAN KILLED IN QC FLAT IN POSSIBLE ROBBERY. I then picked a copy of the newspaper from the frame and began to bury myself in it.
Manila—The body of a man who had been stabbed to death was found inside the lavatory of his flat in Xavierville Avenue, Quezon City, before dawn Sunday, the police said.
Chief Inspector Ricky Aguila, head of the Quezon City Police District homicide investigation unit, identified the victim as Wesley Bayona, 27.
At its most terrifying, the news sent shivers up and down my spine. I couldn't believe my eyes. I felt quite emotional while reading it.
I continued reading rapidly down the foot of the page, not pausing until I neared the two last paragraphs.
Aguila said investigators who went to Bayona’s flat in the Sunset Apartments in Palma Street, found it in complete disarray.
He added that police have yet to determine what the victim did for a living and the motive for his killing, although their initial theory was that it was robbery.
Aguila said police investigators were also still trying to establish if anything had been taken from Bayona’s flat.
'We have not started the inventory of what [items are] missing as we have yet to talk to the victim’s family,’ he told the Philippines Bulletin.
Bayona’s body was reported to the police by his friend, Reynald Bernardo.
Bernardo told the police that he went to the victim’s flat after the latter failed to reply to his phone calls.
After his repeated knocks on the door went unanswered, Bernardo said he went to the building administrator and asked him to let him into the victim’s flat.
They later found the victim in the lavatory inside his flat. His hands and feet were tied while his body bore two stab wounds.
Police said that based on the body’s condition, the victim could have been dead for hours before he was discovered.
Police said that based on the body’s condition, the victim could have been dead for hours before he was discovered.
I bought the newspaper to show it to Macy, my colleague at the university, but while I was heading the faculty lounge, Macy grabbed hold of my arm to stop me from walking into the room and dragged me to her classroom. I knew then that it must be serious.
‘Alexis, have you got a second? I'd like to have a word with you,’ she said.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked.
‘Wesley…died. A certain Rhea, who sounded boyish, finally made contact with me informing that Wesley died in his flat in Quezon City.’
That confirmed that Wesley was, without a doubt, dead. I handed her the newspaper and she read it, our hearts sinking, her voice being down in the dumps. (Macy was the only Facebook friend of Wesley from Iloilo whose information especially his mobile was not between themselves.)
All of twenty-seven, Wesley, who had a PhD and was a well-known author of poems and essays and instructor from the De La Salle University, was one of the thirteen children from a poor family and hadn't got many blood relatives in Manila, so we knew that it’d be better if we’d have charge of his corpse during the week and have it for a while as help and donations of food and money were facilitated by his friends at the university where he was an instructor. His mother didn’t know what happened to her son and was shocked to see us arrive at her stall piled low with some local vegetables and fruits pretty nearly turning yellow, after hours of searching the public market for her mother’s stall as nobody knew where faithfully Wesley’s house was in Barrio Obrero. The next day, we flew to Manila with her mother.
As soon as we arrived in Manila, the next day, her body was cremated and was brought to Iloilo City. It was buried in a cemetery in La Paz. A lot of professors from the West Visayas State University and his friends attended the service.
We seemed not to run out of conversation, mentioning his name. He’s dead now, but his name really brings back memories.
Macy and I talking, Leo, Wesley’s ex-boyfriend, attracted our attention as he entered the chapel briskly and stood near the door. He said nothing but gave us a sly grin that made us feel terribly uneasy.
At our approach Leo walked away and hid subtly. He was wearing a lot of black.
***
Then, when we were together we could hardly hear ourselves think. Wesley was a lively, talkative person, and this would render me speechless. He was witty and very charming, too. I enjoyed speaking to him because our meeting made me think creatively. With Wesley, death was an illusion. It was barely existing.
Wesley was labouring under the illusion that he could find the right man for him. It'd always been his dream to become a woman. And he said he'd never cared very much about what his appearance would be. He didn't care whether he was born having eyes that looked in towards the nose, so long as she was a woman, or whether she was born with a cleft lip. He was so funny, he really made me laugh.
Our casual meetings would always contain some very snappy dialogue. He was good at speaking Philippines gay lingo. He was smart and not bad-looking, and he could be funny when he wanted to.
He was busy typing his poems in their organ office. While still at school he was clearly a budding genius. His Filipino was terrific. All those who knew him admired him for his work. For me, however, it was a little difficult to read his writing, perhaps, because he had a deep admiration for Virgilio Almario, so he always stayed within the rules of rhymes. Wesley was astonishingly prolific and some of his ideas about life and gayness were entirely his own. 'Bakla, neo-classical?'
'Wiz.'
'Escuerda tayo sa Vision.' Vision was an old cinema showing unknown films, but it was our favourite hangout. It was too dark inside to see properly. It was the gays' lair in Iloilo City.
'What's on at the flicks this week?'
'Nota,' he said, jokingly. 'Bakla, dakota horizon talaga.'
It was so funny, I burst out laughing.
'Have you got a fifty-peso note?' He used to borrow money and not bother to pay it back. But I fully understood him. Sometimes, he didn't have allowance which I couldn't have managed at college if I hadn't had.
What I liked about Wesley was that there was no secret about his homosexuality. He had an honest, open face. The only secret was our going to Vision sometimes. What he was afraid of was that Leo, his boyfriend, might catch a glimpse of him going there. To him, it could be his ruin. I suppose we were quite promiscuous in our youth. But of course, we knew our limit, though that couldn't possibly be the right way to do it.
What was funny was when Wesley puked all down the guy's shirt. It was too dark inside to see much. So, we went out of Vision together. Surprisingly, he was the stranger I was dreaming I'd be whisked off my feet by, because all of a sudden, I had a crush on him. I was completely mesmerised by his psychology. I wiped his hands on my pink hankie.
Later, we went to a coffee-shop. I walked from Vision arm in arm with the guy. Wesley wandered along behind us. The guy was warm-hearted and kind to everyone and everything. He was handsome, but he was not aware that he was. When my nylon bag fell, he helped me picked it from the floor and slowly zipped and locked it. His behaviour touched me.
I didn't know that it'd bring me into conflict with Wesley. Since then, I thought he was avoiding me for I wouldn't see him all day. I heard he would go to Vision alone or with some gays from lower years.
***
When we graduated and left the university, we hadn’t seen each other anymore. I would just hear that he won a contest. One that made him popular in Iloilo City was when he won the Palanca. He was editor, too, of a journal. We were not even Facebook friends. I would know something about him from Macy.
Macy and Wesley were co-editors in their college. Wesley was Macy’s senior. Because of Wesley, Macy knew how to speak Bekemon. And it was him who made her act like a real gay.
They were both talkative.
I remember their closeness started when they attended a seminar in Bagiuo City. Macy helped Wesley meet the guy who Wesley really liked and who later became his boyfriend. The guy liked Macy but she did something so that he would agree to become Wesley’s boyfriend.
The guy was a student of a maritime university in Iloilo City. He was not so handsome, but to Wesley, he was the perfect guy he had ever seen. Since they became a couple, Wesley was so busy, and he would only meet his boyfriend and Macy during weekends.
Of course, we only met at school and we would just say hi to each other. He seemed aloof and detached. I also had an air of aloofness about him. We didn’t keep in contact. I seemed to manage OK for the first year or so, and I bore no grudges against him.
One time, I saw Leo and Wesley in a restaurant. ‘So, this relationship is gonna be forever?’ The question got a big laugh, which encouraged me to continue talking to them.
‘Of course,’ answered Leo. Since then I’ve never met Wesley anymore.
***
The killer stabbed him in the stomach. A cry of horror broke from him. He shouted him with anger and frustration. He tied his hands behind his back. Wesley cried for mercy but his pleas were met with abuse and laughter.
The killer grinned, delighted at the situation.
After punching him on the chin the killer wound up hitting him over the head. Wesley was writhing in pain, bathed in perspiration. His bottom lip quivered and big tears rolled down his cheeks.
Wesley mumbled a few words.
‘No, I'm sorry, I can't agree with you.’ The killer red-cheeked with rage, he kicked Wesley in the shins. It pained Wesley to think of him doing it to him.
Giving a violent shudder, Wesley tried to untie the ropes binding his ankles.
It was a light flat with a tall window. Standing in a chair, he opened the window and looked out. He watched the frantic flow of cars and buses along the street. By now all logic had gone out of the window.
The killer stuck the cigarette between his lips. He pulled over a chair and sat beside the floor on which Wesley was lying helpless. He looked at him, apparently enraged.
The whole flat was ringing with music.
The killer sat on the floor and gave Wesley a glimpse of disappointment. Wesley looked at him earnestly. He clamped his hand against Wesley’s mouth and kissed him hard on it. Wesley looked at him as if he was defying him to do it.
‘I love you,' he whispered. He stabbed him in the chest. He got up and dragged Wesley towards the loo. He was bleeding profusely. He was dying. ‘Help me, Leo!’
The killer quietly slipped away and left Wesley to his tears. The whole flat was ringing with music of Bruno Mars.
***
One lazy afternoon, while crossing my legs and resting my chin on my right fist, as if lost in deep thought, in front of an eatery near my new boarding-house, I suddenly saw Leo in the distance. I stood up and followed him up the steps into a dilapidated building.
A cry of fear broke from him. He threw his arms round me and we embraced passionately. I could smell the beer on his breath. He invited me out and we talked a great deal in Deco’s. His lover, who has significant similarities with Wesley, was sitting at the other table taking his time eating batchoy, after Leo messaged him.
At another table, a fat, chubby policeman was sipping his coffee thoughtfully. He spun round, a feigned look of surprise on his face. He called out, ‘Alexis!’ I had no idea who he was, I seemed to recall. But I just smiled and waved. Later, I remembered he was the guy Wesley and I met at Vision.
‘All right, I promise.’ My eyes filled with tears, as I smiled and gave Leo a sincere handshake.
