part 2 of 3
historical fiction
May 9, 2022
The results were finally coming in. After hours of waiting, the numbers rose, and the bar graphs fluctuated with every website refresh.
“Here we go.” Joseph hit the refresh button again. It’s almost scary how prophetic the pre-election surveys seemed.
From the living room, Anthony muttered to himself. “It’s only less than 4% of the overall turnout. It’s gonna be fine.”
Anthony watched a live broadcast from a local TV station covering the elections. The voices of the news anchors seemed strained and distraught, even if they shouldn’t be. Joseph was pretty sure that reporters should be unbiased and objective. He couldn’t blame them for being emotional; this was a different election from all the rest. It felt different, at least.
Another refresh. The turnout increased to 37%. How is that possible? The lead of the frontrunner grew. The numbers looked insurmountable. It’s over.
Joseph tried to reconcile with the fact that it’s been over for a while now. The signs were there.
“What the fuck!” The TV remote crashed against the floor.
Joseph barged out of his room. “What are you doing?”
“Did you see that?” Anthony pointed to the TV screen. “Instant transmission of 34% of precincts, that fast? COMELEC hasn’t even answered for all the machine failures yet, or even the vote-buying issues!”
Joseph placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Anthony flinched. “Breathe.” Anthony’s bruises decided to take on a deeper and darker shade of maroon and violet today. Joseph remembered the time he had bruises like that too. What idiots would place the two largest rallies beside each other anyway? “You’re going to replace that remote, right? Bulsa mo ha.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Anthony retreated to the sofa, thumping on the pillows. “This is bullshit.”
Joseph didn’t want to say anything. His brother was too emotionally invested in the elections. Like the TV anchors, he couldn’t blame him. Joseph wondered why he himself wasn’t. He’d lost trust in the political system years ago, maybe that’s why. He didn’t find hope anywhere, not even in the person he voted for if he was being honest with himself.
The indelible ink on Joseph’s finger looked mournful and wasted. “I did vote for her, you know.”
Anthony looked at Joseph and gave him a meek smile. “Well, millions more to go, I guess.”
“Yeah.” Just then, it was like a fog fell on Joseph’s chest—a weighted fog. An unwelcome blanket of uneasiness. Millions more. The country was irreparably divided, by the scale of millions.
He turned back and slipped into Nathan’s room.
There, Joseph found his brother slumped on his bed, eyes intent on his phone screen. “Ano gawa mo diyan?”
“Ah.” Nathan sat up. He wore nothing but a hoodie and boxers. He had a tendency to do that. “Wala. Nood lang ako ng tutorial videos para sa class.”
“Tutorials ng? Ano na ba pinapagaralan niyo?” Joseph opened the door a little bit wider.
Nathan shrugged. “Di ko alam, kaya nga ako nanonood ng tutorial videos.” He laughed.
Joseph managed to chuckle. “Sige.” But before Joseph closed the door, he said, “Nananalo kandidato mo, ah.”
“Talaga?” Nathan bounded to his feet. He never seemed to lose energy, but he didn’t seem particularly elated either. “May results na?”
“Partial,” Joseph answered. He was mindful to keep himself by the doorway. Having Nathan out with a downtrodden Anthony would not be the best element for a harmonious evening. All it took was a careless word, a missaid phrase. He had t—
“Patingin!” Nathan leapt through the doorway and into the living room. Anthony was still slouched on the sofa.
46%, the graphic on the TV screen showed. More than enough to settle the results. Joseph couldn’t properly make out the exact numbers, but the bar figure of the frontrunner had to be more than double than that of the second-placer.
“Wow,” Nathan gazed.
Anthony stirred. “Wow?”
***
That’s when Nathan knew that he shouldn’t have said anything at all.
Anthony glared at him with resentful eyes—eyes that pierced into his head like daggers. If he didn’t know better, he would have never guessed they were brothers. At least the cut near the edge of his brow had started to close.
“S—” Nathan was about to say sorry, but he shouldn’t have to. He didn’t do anything wrong. “Bat ka nakatingin sakin ng ganyan?”
“Are you happy?” Anthony asked.
Nathan stood his ground. “Happy? I mean, okay lang naman. Sakto lang.” Nathan didn’t feel giddy about it, though he thought maybe he should have. He knew the victory was coming. He thought his brother did too. All the data prior pointed to this result, and Anthony was the data nerd of the three of them.
“Sakto lang?” Anthony turned the TV off. “Fate of the country is on the line, and you say: sakto lang.” He flashed a spiteful grin.
Nathan spied Joseph behind them, a motionless blur, waiting, observing.
Anthony faced Nathan. “Why did you vote for him anyway?”
Nathan knew it was a hopeless case to get into an argument with Anthony. His older brother was the most impassioned of them. Anthony proved to be opposite of the eldest, Joseph, who grew to be the calmest one of the three. Anthony had to always be right, always be high and mighty, even if he wasn’t.
Nathan wondered if he should stay silent now, but Anthony left him no choice when he urged, “Ano? What’s your answer?”
“Yung martial law, masama ba talaga yung nangyare nung panahon na yon?”
Anthony’s eyes rolled over to the back of his head. His pupil could have reached the floor of his stomach. “Masama ba talaga? Open your mind, Nathan! The evidence is there, hard evidence! People killed, murdered, and abused. Countless numbers of kidnappings and stories of exploitation. Not forgetting, martial law ravaged our economy, Nathan. Marcos was not the reason we were the Tiger of Asia. Marcos was the reason we lost our fangs! Ang raming beses na natin pinagusapan to!”
“Alam ko. Alam ko, and hindi ko naman to dinedeny.” Nathan tried to keep his voice low and steady. “Pero yung sinasabi mo, hard evidence yan. Sure, scientific, oo, pero hindi yan nag-hohold up sa anecdotal evidence ng tao—yung experience nila mismo. Paano mo masasabi sa isang tao na bumangon at lumigaya ang pamilya noong panahon ng martial law na masama yung panahon na yun?”
“Anecdotal evidence is the most useless type of evidence.”
“It is the most important.”
“What?” Anthony rose. “That time period was objectively terrible!”
“Eh wala ka naman nun!” He knew he shouldn’t have said that the moment the words left his mouth.
Anthony shook his head vigorously. “Don’t play that card on me.”
“Alam ko, pero totoo diba. Ano ang karapatan mo mangaral? Paano mo sasabihin sa mga tao na nandoon mismo kung ano ang tama at mali?”
“All right. Paano mo sasabihin kay—” Anthony started counting fingers. “Archimedes Trajano. Liliosa Hilao. Edgar Jopson. Soledad Salvador. Father Valerio.” He took a sharp breath and continued with the other hand. “Silver Narciso. Evelio Javier. Father Agatep. Resteta Ferandez. Lorena Barros.” He held out his ten fingers to Nathan. “And counting! It’s fortunate that those you speak with still live. What do you say to those who have died?”
“People die,” Nathan said. “Parati namang may namamatay na mga tao. Kusang inexpose lang talaga ito ng mga Aquino at Cojuangco dahil ayaw nila sa mga Marcos. Pero sila rin naman.”
“What? How can you even compar—”
“Hacienda Luisita,” asserted Nathan. “Yolanda.”
Anthony waved dismissively. “Stop it. There is no comparison.”
“Ang buhay ay buhay. Walang nag-iisang buhay na mas importante sa iba. Porket kaya mo pangalanan yung mga namatay noong martial law, ay hindi ibig sabihin na mas importante sila.”
“Leni is not an Aquino.”
“And Bongbong is not his father. Patas lang.”
“No.” Anthony shook his finger. “It’s not.”
***
Anthony was ready to unleash all hell on his thick-headed brother, but Joseph decided to intervene.
“That’s enough.” He stepped in between them commandingly. “Ilang beses natin uulit-ulitin tong conversation na to?”
“About as many times as it takes to make Nathan understan—!”
Nathan raised his voice. “Alam mo Anthony, yung hindi ko lang talaga maintindihan is paano ka nagiging sobrang invested dito sa mga taong to. Sa mga pulitiko! People you don’t even know!”
“And you? Do you know them, Nathan? DO YOU KNOW THE PEOPLE YOU SUPPORT?” Anthony grimaced at the pulsing pain that came from his bruises. He tried to calm himself by breathing deeply.
Nathan had a habit of blinking too much in stressful situations. Within the last second, he blinked four times. “Never ko naman sinabi na kilala ko sila. Never naman ako naging ikaw, NA IN-IDOL ANG KANDIDATO! TO THE POINT NA NANTATAMBLA KA PA NG SARILI MONG KAIBIGAN, SARILI MONG PAMILYA!”
“There is so much at stake! SO MUCH AT STAKE AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW!” Anthony raised his finger to Nathan’s face. “BOBO!”
Joseph stomped the floor. “TAMA NA!” For a few moments, all they heard were the distant sounds of the news broadcast playing on the TV. “Nathan, bumalik ka sa kwarto mo. Anthony, umupo ka diyan.”
Nathan retreated to his room, shutting the door behind him. Anthony contested. “You don’t tell me what to d—”
“ANG SABI KO UPO!” Joseph’s voice boomed through the room, compelling Anthony to sit down. He did so without even noticing. Joseph walked to the TV, turned it off, and sat to the chair across him. “Have some respect, Anthony.”
“Respect?” That made Anthony cough up a weak laugh. “H-how? Respect opinions? How can you respect things that are so blatantly wrong?”
Joseph looked at him, his eyes bore into Anthony’s, who averted his gaze. Instead, he looked up, taking a deep breath. A breath he most certainly needed. Joseph spoke. “Respect. To respect is not at all times easy, but I’d always like to believe that the best of us remain good even in times that make it hard to be so. You were heated.”
Anthony nodded. Beige paint covered the ceiling. It was the favorite color of their mother. “I was.”
“Two days ago,” Joseph continued. “You were heated.”
Anthony took another deep breath. Their mother always told him to take deep breaths whenever his emotions got the best of him. “I was.”
“And who was there for you? Your candidate?”
He wished his mother were still here to hug him, to make the anger go away. “No.” Heat rose from Anthony’s heart to his face and cheeks. He closed his eyes, letting the beige turn into black. What are those falling from my eyes?
“In the hardest times, we stick together, kapatid.” Anthony heard Joseph rising from his seat. Then he felt arms press against his shoulders. Joseph hugged him. “Because that’s what we do.”
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