Cigarette Butts

Author's note: Please read Cigarette Butts (Part I)

The Toyota van ran along the rocky and rough road of San Mateo, making dust coiled up in the air and settled in the coconut trees alongside the road. They drove past the villagers loitering outside their houses. The mayor opened the window and waved at them like he was a celebrity. Sometimes they bumped and bounced inside, but he still showed his untruthful smile.

At three in the afternoon, they arrived in Barangay San Carlos. To their right was a narrow path leading to the clump of houses. The van couldn’t get through the path.

The mayor snatched his cell phone from its holster attached to this belt. “Hello, Teo,” the mayor greeted monotonously. He gestured Sevio to go out and open his door. “We’re here on the road. I need someone to look after my van.” Sevio opened the door. The mayor climbed out, the phone still on his left ear. “Okay.” He holstered back the cell phone. He faced Joni. “You stay here until the tanods arrive. They will look after this.” He tapped the hood of the van. He and Sevio tripped the narrow path past the houses built from coconut planks and roofed with coconut leaves.

Standing ahead was councilor Rosal’s two-story house, the only concrete house with tin roofing. The disco music became louder as they got nearer. The steel gates were open wide, as if welcoming all people, including the villagers. A close-bearded man wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and brown slacks met them with a big smile. He wore a Rolex watch and three golden thick rings in his fingers. Norm says the brilliance of jewelry protects someone from witchcraft.

“Come on in, mayor!” Teo Rosal said. “Marianne, come,” he heaved the words behind. “Your godfather is here.”

A teenager, the same age as the mayor’s daughter, came to Rosal’s side. She reached for the mayor’s plump hand and took respect by bowing and placing it on her forehead.

“God bless you,” said the mayor.

Teo Rosal had top-notched the last election for the municipal council race. He had got that success through the mayor’s effort, of course, of ballot manipulation. Now, the mayor was here to collect the payment for his debt of gratitude. Rosal believed he had already paid him many times. In the past few months, he had signed projects for the municipality. The mayor had been the major beneficiary of the projects. Rosal had also benefited from them. The evidence was clear, his mansion. This was the sixth time, to be exact, that the mayor needed his signature for a project to be approved by the local government. Rosal knew that the new project was an acquisition of motors for fishing boats to be given for free to all fishermen in town. He also knew that the poor fishermen, who knew nothing but only fishing, wouldn’t get those motors. And that was the good part because he would earn from it.

After they had eaten, the Videoke began. Rosal’s wife let them hear her lovely voice by singing songs from the Carpenters. And sometimes Rosal would dance with her while she sang.

On the table were unopened bottles of imported wine from Spain and Brazil. Rosal had prepared them only for his special visitor, the good father of the town.

Apart from the smell of liquor that came out from their mouths, the powerful odor of cigarette smoke filled the air. Teo’s wife, though interested to stay to enjoy with them, had no choice but to go upstairs to avoid the thick smoke. She wouldn’t want to trigger her asthma. And so, she was not able to hear the mayor’s real purpose of coming.

The mayor took the cigarette away from his mouth. “Teo, this coming Monday will be the session for the project I’ve been endorsing.” He crossed his legs, pushing his plump body deep into the cushion of the luxurious sofa chair. “Just to remind you.” He blinked his eyes and put the cigarette back to his mouth.

“That’s absolutely noted, mayor,” Teo said confidently. “Forget about that at this time. Here.” He handed him the microphone, as the instrumental of the mayor’s favorite song played.

The mayor crushed the unfinished cigarette on the ashtray and got the microphone. He could hardly rise to his feet, so Sevio had to help him up. When he sang, he did it standing. He believed it would make him outdo Frank Sinatra. So many times he had sung “My Way”, in all kinds of celebration; birthday, fiesta, weddings, baptismal, and even funeral in his municipality, as politicians always do to spread influence, he had almost perfected the song.

And now the end is near… he sang, imagining he was on stage in the Pinoy Idol competition. He was fancying his fans were cheering for him to win. His real audiences were Teo, Sevio, Joni, and two other barangay councilors. They were watching him, cracking smiles for his greatness. When the perfect rendition ended, they all stood up and applauded.

The mayor beamed proudly. As he was sitting back down, his cell phone vibrated. He drew it out. It was his secretary. “Hello,” he muttered.

“Aren’t you coming over now?” she said in an alluring tone.

“Wait for me there.” Even though he was intoxicated, he could still vividly imagine her riding over him like a crazy cowgirl, swinging her bra in the air as if it was a rope to capture a bull.

“Hurry. My libido might be gone.” She giggled.

“Okay,” he ended the call excitedly.

“Who was that?” asked Teo, who didn’t know about the mayor’s adulterous deed.

The mayor must not answer him ‘it was Fabiana,’ his wife, who called. Teo knew she would not bother her husband with political matters like this, neither she would worry if he wouldn’t go home early. Fabiana was certain he was secured. Nobody would try to take the life of the good father of the town or even lay a finger on him.

“It was Liela.” A safe answer and the right reason for leaving. “I promised her dinner at home tonight.”

Sevio wrinkled his forehead.

“Right, Sev?” The mayor turned to Sevio and blinked an eye.

“Yes, councilor.” Sevio dipped his head to Teo.

“With that, we need to go now.” He looked down at his wristwatch. “It’s almost eight.”

Teo was a bit surprised by the sudden decision. He knew the mayor from the start. He got what he wanted, or else he would get a black eye.

Teo remembered the mayor had punched a barangay captain’s rough face. They were leaving the moment before that incident took place, but the barangay captain’s overwhelming hospitality mixed with wine intoxication delayed their flight. He compelled them to stay and finish the remaining three gallons of tuba. Then, the next time the barangay captain woke up, he was in the barangay clinic, with a swollen eye. Teo flinched at the memory. He bent down to pour another glass of tequila. “One more shot, mayor.” His inebriated mind told him to make a brave last request.

The mayor grinned, holding the glass. He pointed to Teo with his index finger of the hand holding the glass. “Remember. On Monday.” And he drained the glass empty.

***

Joni started driving ten years ago after graduating from high school. He had maneuvered a ten-wheeler truck for two years, a public utility jeep for a year, and a taxi for half a year, all he had experienced in Manila. He had been searching for his luck in Manila, but it was elusive. And so he had made his way back home.

Joni’s uncle, Estan, was one of the mayor’s men. Upon learning the resignation of the mayor’s second driver because of senility, he offered the slot to Joni, who at that moment was jobless.

Joni was the mayor’s driver for five years now. His devotion to his job was satisfactory. He’d never disagreed with where or when the mayor would go. Besides, disagreement with the mayor’s decision had no place in the administration. It was a mortal sin if you disagree with the mayor. And, like FBI agents, Joni didn’t have a day off. But maybe this time Joni would live up to his longing for a day off.

The Toyota van moved, bumping along the rough and rocky road back to San Mateo town. The mayor had ordered Joni to rush because of his irresistible feeling of lust with his secretary. To decrease the intensity of that feeling, he must smoke a cigarette until they would reach her house. They were passing on the road at the side of the hill. The mayor threw his cigarette through the window. The cigarette flew in the night air, its ashes dissipated, but the ember remained alive. It landed in a mound of dried leaves and twigs and ignited them.

Joni steered the van to prepare for the bend ahead. A fire reflected in the side mirror. The scene disturbed his intoxicated concentration from the wheel. The veins in his arms stood out as he tried to maneuver the van. But, it was too late to maintain on the road. He kicked hard on the brakes, but it dragged the van towards the brink of the cliff. The Toyota van descended, rumbling on the slope and crushing the shrubs way down. It hit some coconut trees, breaking them off. It finally settled on the seashore in an upside-down position.

The mayor was unconscious. Torrent of blood flowed out, covering his face. Joni, who was also in terrible shape, tapped the mayor’s back. “Mayor,” he could hardly breathe. He looked to the back and noticed Sevio was also lifeless. He heard a gushing of water. He kicked the window and crawled out of the van. He smelled gasoline. He struggled to crawl away from the van, leaving his boss whom he had served for five years. He kept on crawling until the water soaked him.

The Toyota van blazed up. Joni wanted to save them, but it was too late. He didn’t want to die, either. He plunged into the sea, for he felt it would explode in a moment. It exploded several times.

Joni came out of the shallows, confounded. He looked at the diminishing fire. The incident and the seawater had taken off his insobriety. He must have felt guilty and blame himself for everything. Stuck in the shallows, he considered what to do next.

He thought, if he appeared with the town folks, they would ask him how he survived, whereas his boss did not. How would he explain it to them? They might also think that there was foul play, and he was the culprit. They might indeed blame him and send him to jail. How would he fight them in court, should there be a trial, when the victim was a what? A god, maybe. On the other hand, if he escaped, the consensus would be that the three of them turned to ashes. He did not know about the Scene of the Crime Operatives; hence, he didn’t consider the fact that they might still discover the number of casualties during the investigation. He wouldn’t want to stay in jail for the rest of his life. So, he opted to escape.

Joni laboriously swam the sea to the nearest island, the Kaunlaran Island. It was ten miles farther from the seashore where the accident took place. From that day on, they did not see again him in the town of San Mateo. He finally got his day off.

***

In the morning, the municipal hall was peaceful as a cemetery. Only the breath of the gentle breeze that fondled the acacia tree and the chirps of the ill-behaved robins filled the air.

Gary arrived at the municipal gates at exactly six in the morning. Punctuality was his best policy. He walked under the acacia tree, tucking out a stick of cigarette from his breast pocket. He gnawed the cigarette and lit it with a Marlboro lighter. The lighter was a gift from the mayor on his last birthday. He looked around, from the municipal clinic to the ambulance parked beside it, to the mayor’s office, and the legislative building. Mere silence he got. He felt something strange was happening. He noticed three employees entering the gates and chatting seriously. He must have been the only one who hadn’t heard of the bad news.

As they reached Gary, the woman in the pink blouse asked. “What are you doing here? Mrs. Fabiana needs you to go to the mayor’s house.”

Gary frowned. “Why?”

“There was an accident last night. Our mayor is dead.”

Gary stared at something far away. He clipped the cigarette in his fingers and took it away from his opened mouth.

“Take the ambulance. They need service to reach the accident site,” said the woman in a pink blouse.

Gary threw the cigarette into the foot of the acacia tree. The ember slowly died as it joined with so many cigarette butts. Just like the good father of San Mateo, who now had joined his ancestors, who were once politicians and rulers of his beloved town.