I talked to Joy upon my return from the municipal hall. Her cell, fixed inside the empty room, looked like a zoo cage. There must have been breakout attempts since the wooden bars were reinforced with round steel bars. The room was well aerated. The backside of the building had no walling and offered a good view of the backyard and the sloping land beyond. Late afternoon air breezed inside.
“Hi! Remember me?” I waved my hand as I approached the cell.
Joy was setting on her bed – an elevated platform of lumber boards about two feet wide set against the entire length of the cell. She wore a striped t-shirt and green acrylic pants. Her long hair was tucked at the back. She was not yet ill the last time I saw her, so it must be a long time ago. In fact, I would not recognize her at all if by chance I meet her before this meeting.
“You are Nong Terio.” A reluctant smile registered on her face, creased with premature wrinkles, as she peered at me. “You live in Bukidnon. Yes, Valencia. How is, what is her name, Faith?” She appeared normal and her memory was good.
“She works in a bank. She lives with us. Who else do you know?”
“Only Faith and Ernest.”
I made a mental note of her cell as we talked. The small cell was just enough for a single person to perform the daily routine of sleeping, eating and resting. Joy could not go out of her cell so she relieved herself and took a bath inside. There was a water-sealed bowl at one end of the rectangular enclosure, installed on the level of the cement floor. It was clean and there was no smell, so Ian must have diligently done his assignment of fetching water and cleaning his mother’s cubbyhole. The cell was free from clutters except for some decor of clothes or remnants of clothing that its tenant had spider-tied on the lumber bars, probably during her bad swings of manic depressive disorder.
“How are you? Are you OK inside?”
“Bored. I’m OK but mama Auring would not let me out.” She complained.
I let this pass. Life is not fair, I pondered gloomily. Just to stay alone for a week in this cell with nothing to do would be unbearable. Joy had been in this cell all day and night for four years with nothing to amuse herself or to talk to except the visions and voices inside her head. Poor Joy, it was bad luck that her mother carried her to term.
“Do you pray?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t forget to pray. I’ll pray for you.” I felt something in my throat as I said this. Henceforth, Joy will always be in my daily prayers. I bade farewell and returned to the other part of the house.
