"Seven-thirty na!" he cried. "Shet, sobrang late nako!"
His wife momentarily stopped eating her oatmeal and looked at him. "No you’re not, silly. It’s only six-forty five. You advanced your time last night, remember?"
"Ay! Oo nga pala," he sputtered. "I completely forgot! Guess I’m still a bit jumpy about today."
"Yea.. So how ‘bout u gimme a hop, then?" joked his wife. But after a barrage of curses flew from her husband’s mouth, she deftly turned serious. "Now don’t be sour, Willy. I’m sure they’ll love it – the angles, the spacing, the subjects – lahat magaganda!"
"Now let’s not get into that, Carrie," he snapped. "All Bacasmas said was that he was ‘interested’. Yun lang."
"Oh, Willy! You never give yourself enough credit!"
A stern look crossed his face. He’s heard that remark before. "Maybe because I can’t afford it," he mumbled as he stood up and kissed his wife on the cheek. "I gotta go... Oh, and stop calling me ‘Willy’! It makes my name sound like a total prick!"
He closed the door behind her.
Carrie shrugged and went back to her oatmeal. Within minutes, little Jesse was up. He gleefully ran towards his mother, pummeling his tiny fists on her legs, shouting: "Where’s Daddy?"
On his way, William couldn’t help but worry about his future as a photographer. Five years ago, he was on top of the world; graduating from the local art college with high marks, and getting a fair share of compliments from schoolmates about his "keen eye." It was a big boost to his ego, and he was sure that he had chosen the right path.
After a year without much financial success, however, he began to think twice. With very few companies in need of photographers, nobody was really interested in giving him a full-time job. So to support himself, he applied for a sales position at a department store in Cubao.
That’s where he met Carrie Campos, a fairly attractive young woman who came in one day to buy a pair of jogging shoes. In-charge that day was a hungover William, who had just finished taking snapshots of the store for poster ads. He was loading the heavy camera equipment when Carrie asked to see some footwear. Will, still reeling from last night‘s scotch, was so out of it that he didn’t notice her. His eyes were barely open the whole time.
Carrie gritted her teeth and tapped him on the shoulder. When that, too, failed to usher a response, she complained to the manager.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Will said after receiving a tongue-lashing from his boss.
"Baket di mo yan itanong sa sarili mo?"
"But I didn’t see you! I’m sorry..."
"That’s because you were sleeping!"
"I’m really exhausted... I was up all nig..."
"Well, problema mo ’yan. Mag-exercise ka kasi araw-araw."
Will’s face turned red. "From where I’m standing, you’re the one who actually needs it, fatty," he retorted.
"Ang kapal mo ha! My body is not fat!"
"I know. I meant your head, dear."
They were married a year later.
William was driving past Sampaguita Lane when he looked at the time. "Seven-thirteen..." he thought. "I gotta speed up."
He floored the gas pedal, carelessly ignoring the traffic stops. And as he pulled into Kobber Street without any trouble, a half-smile spread across his lips. "W&W Gallery. This must be it."
He looked hard and long at the place; thinking that it resembled a three-star hotel, except maybe for the tinted glass window at the entrance. It displayed the various works of Walker Evans, Edward Weston, Irving Penn and Thomas Tripe. And as these famous lensmen entered his mind, he realized just how far he still had to go to make it. Will walked in and, to his shallow amusement, was greeted with a salute from the doorman. He went straight to the front desk with confidence – a feeling that quickly subsided after being informed that Mr. Bacasmas had ditched him.
"But I had an appointment with him at 7:30!" he whined.
"Nako, I’m so sorry, sir, pero kakaalis lang po ni Mr. Bacasmas, eh," the female receptionist said. "He’s needed out of town on a very important matter."
"This is important as well, you know..."
"I’m sure it is, sir."
For a moment, he just stood there; frozen. His nose wrinkled with puzzlement as he stared at the girl with sad but reproachful eyes, wondering if she knew how he felt.
"But I need to give this to him," he sighed, raising a plastic envelope that contained his pictures.
"Ah, ganun ba? Um, iwan n’yo na lang po sakin yan," the girl suggested. "Ako na lang magbibigay sa kanya."
William frowned hard. He didn’t adjust his watch and risked a speeding ticket from the MMDA just to have a chat with the receptionist. "Pero gusto ko sana ako mismo ang magbigay, eh. Is he free tomorrow?"
"I doubt it po. Very tight kasi ang schedule niya ngayon, sir, eh."
"Well, how about the day after, then?"
"I’m still not sure. You’ll probably have to make another appointment."
"Oh, shet naman..."
"Sir, wouldn’t it be a lot easier kasi to just leave your package here with me?"
"How would I know? I’m not gonna do that," he sneered.
"Ahh, okay. Kayo po ang bahala," the girl said, rolling her eyes upward. "Balik na lang kayo next week. Baka pwede na siya by then."
William left the gallery in a huff. He was pretty steamed, not really about his silly row with the receptionist, but because he had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Bacasmas – the bastard – was actually available, but had changed his mind about the pictures.
"And she complains that I don’t give myself enough credit," Will grumbled as he dejectedly walked towards the car.
He used to be the optimistic one, the balance to his wife’s dyspepsia. And it bothered him immensely to find that their roles were now reversed.
When Jesse was born, they moved out of their apartment because Will insisted that his son should live in a "real house." But being already cash-strapped even with their cheap rent, Carrie was sensibly reluctant. He was always between jobs (the store fired him the day he met Carrie) while she nearly depleted her entire life’s savings just to keep them afloat. With the money they earned, it would have certainly discouraged most couples to look for a new bunk; much less dream of house-hunting. Will was quick to dismiss such worries, however, and somehow convinced Carrie that with a little effort, they could soon afford to buy a small bungalow with a "giant swimming pool." She laughed at his little joke, but remained opposed to the idea.
For the next 14 months, the couple worked long and hard, sometimes without sleep or a decent meal, all for the nest-egg. They rarely used the TV (despite Carrie’s pleas to turn it on during soap opera marathons) and traded-in their small refrigirator for an old ice box to keep their electric bill down; nor did they drive to work on the used car to save gas. They commuted, even if she now juggled two jobs – ironically, as a saleswoman for shoes and as a part-time cashier. William, on the other hand, juggled three. Maintaining his job as a freelance photographer, he sometimes moonlighted as a busboy and checkout clerk at night. Those high marks he got in college sure did him a world of good, he thought.
Eventually, though, that miserly lifestyle enabled them to move into a small, pre-owned shack near the outskirts of the Manila. Although made of concrete, its outside look bore shades of charcoal gray, unveiling a depressing and unfriendly scowl. The interior wasn’t any better, with its uneven flooring and unfurnished and cramped living room (even the phone sockets were mercilessly stripped from the walls). In short, it wasn’t exactly the kind of place they dreamed of owning. It was quite far from the convenience of business shops and schools, and didn’t have a parking spot (nor did it have the giant swimming pool that Will wanted), but he still remained in high spirits; perhaps taking solace in the fact that at the very least, Jesse now had a "real house" to live in. (To be concluded)