Because Things Happen

Because no one in her family could drive and she didn’t want to bring a driver for the weekend, my friend Leigh invited me to join them for their family weekend getaway (along with her son—my inaanak—and his yaya, her sister, her mom and her uncle). Because we planned a leisurely road trip on Saturday morning, I ignored the lightheaded feeling I got when I went to the car. Because the dizzy attack intensified when we got to Puypuy (which is just past UPLB), I pulled over the side of the road and told everyone what was happening. Because Leigh’s sister is a doctor, she hopped on a tricycle to go to the nearest botika to get medicine. Because the best remedy for benign paroxysmal positional vertigo is to sleep it off, I drove the car—despite the dizziness—a few more meters and pulled into the nearest resort in the area, The Forest Club (TFC). Because TFC happened to be owned by the Mercado family whose late patriarch used to be Leigh’s and my boss, the TFC staff graciously got a room for me to sleep in.

Now it so happened that the room they put me in was in front of the main reception where a bust of the late Mr. Mercado is prominently on display. While I was fast asleep, Leigh and her family went about exploring the grounds at TFC.

After an hour and a half of sleep, I woke up to the sound of shuffling feet behind me. I was lying on my side facing the wall; whoever was in the room passed right behind me and moved to the farther end of the room. I had an instant panic attack: was it the spirit of Mr. Mercado checking up on his unexpected guest? I turned around quickly and saw that it was Leigh who was in the room. Happily, my sudden head turn didn’t cause the world to spin, a good indication that my vertigo’s all gone.

“Leigh?” I called out.

She turned around and asked, “How are you na?”

I sat up. “Better,” I said. “We can go now.”

She sat on the opposite bed and said, “Guess what? I chatted with Mr. Mercado.”

For a second I thought Mr. Mercado had indeed returned to the room. Leigh noticed the look on my face and laughed. “No, silly. I was talking to his bust,” she giggled.

Then she turned serious. “You know,” she continued, “in all of the major points in my professional life, Mr. Mercado was always there to guide me and advice me. I think he wanted me to tell him about the major change that’s happened in my life now.”

I thought for a bit and said, “The last time we were here was years ago. And you know, the vertigo really got worse when we got to Puypuy.” I paused and continued, “I think Mr. Mercado didn’t want us to pass his place without stopping to say hi.”

“Yeah,” Leigh nodded.

“Did he say anything?” I asked.

Leigh smiled. “No.”

As we both smiled and fell silent, the peace and tranquility of the place surrounded us. And in that safe haven, I could hear Mr. Mercado loud and clear.

Because, for all we know, things just happen randomly, so we put meaning into them.