Departure

He could not miss him: pink-skinned, gold-haired, and pot-bellied. Most tourists in the pier take at least one of those characteristics. Even with the saltwater in his eyes and the choreographed swimming he and the other little boys are doing, he could single out Pink Skin’s flowery summer shirt among the crowd. You see, he needs someone like Pink Skin so he might at last leave the pier today.

It does not matter to him if this man is American, or German, or French. What he cares about is that foreigners like him have a lot of spare coins in their purses. He could already see Manila as he regards him boisterously laughing with his Filipina wife.

Being a child who had never known a home, he could not feel he belongs to the pier, or to any place in fact. Already, he wants to see different scenery; no matter if it is another pier, only he wants it to be different.

He now swims back to the wharf with the other boys in a V-formation they had been perfecting for weeks. “Like little brown birds flying in the water!” he hears Pink Skin exclaiming to his wife.

As they near the edge of the pier, there is a rain of coins from the spectators. Pink Skin claps his fat hands appreciatively but makes no move to toss a coin. A lot of people, however, are eagerly throwing coins. He dives underwater for these, and as he emerges out of the water triumphantly, he waves each peso at the crowd. These little treats he pops into his mouth for safekeeping.

A nearby ship blows horn to signal departure and the group prepares to follow it. Oftentimes, they would follow ships as far as half a kilometer from the pier, all the while anticipating peso coins from amused passengers on the ship’s deck.

But as the other boys resumed their V-formation, he leaves them, and heads back to the pier. He could barely see Pink Skin’s flowery backside as the crowd disperses, the people returning to their respective businesses.

There is hardly space in his mouth for his tongue to move about but a few coins more and he could finally buy a ticket to Manila. He leaves the water, clambers onto the stony lip of the quay, and runs after Pink Skin, his mouth stuffed with what he reckons is already 20 pesos.

As Pink Skin and his wife go past an old lamp post, he catches up with them. He yanks Pink Skin’s neatly pressed khaki shorts, mumbling that he wants coins.

Pink Skin stops in his tracks and attempts to pry away the little hands tugging at his clothes.

But he would not let go.

He murmurs again that he is asking for coins. But “Lemme go!” says Pink Skin, giving him a push that sends him flying, like a big brown fish swimming in the air.

Pink Skin’s wife gives out a gasp as boy’s head hits a lamp post, as coins burst out of his mouth.

His head in mingled pain and warmth of something liquid trickling down his nape, the boy sees Pink Skin looking horrorstruck, while the wife clutches at her chest, looking nervously around to see if someone saw what happened.

Then Pink Skin produces a dollar bill from his wallet and, muttering expletives, he drops the money beside the prostrate body of the boy.

Before everything turns all black, the boy’s face breaks into a pained and beautiful smile. He is leaving the pier today.

[599 words]