Short stories: The waiter

Eunice Reka stared at the underside of his car. He was lying on his side, head throbbing. He could see pedestrian’s feet scurrying along the street on the other side of the parking lot.

“What happened?” he asked himself. He rolled over and slowly got to his feet. He looked around the parking lot and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He felt for his wallet. Still there.

Eunice lightly rubbed the nasty bump on his head.

“Hey, buddy. You Ok?”

A heavyset fellow with a boyish face was staring at him from three cars over. He looked puzzled and mildly concerned. Eunice searched for an answer, but was hardset to find one.

“You looked like you tripped or something.”

“Oh. Uh… yeah, I’m alright. Thanks, man.” Eunice convinced the worker, but not himself. Things were blurry, but slowly swimming into view.

“The bank,” he mumbled to himself. “Oh, yeah. The loan.” Now he wished everything would have remained fuzzy. He was on his way to ask for a loan. A personal loan, since he had nothing to use for collateral. And he was sure of the answer already. He was simply going through the motions because that’s just what you do when you have no choice. You beg.

He moped across the parking lot, still rubbing his head and trying to figure out how he had tripped over his own two feet. How embarrassing. How stupid. And apparently with someone watching. A man with a big boyish face and arms the size of his legs. Probably laughing at the idiot in his waiter’s -

Great. His waiter’s pouch was still wrapped around his waist. He had rushed from the restaurant, in a hurry to make it back before the next shift, and had left on his waiter’s garb. He untied it in the back and rolled it up in his hands. He would have to tote it inside now. There was no time to take it back to the car. A broke idiot who trips over his own two feet and can’t make the payment on his girlfriend’s promise ring.

“Wonderful. Just wonderful,” he chastised himself as he started to leave the parking lot and head across the street to the bank. Something caught his eye. He looked over and saw a manila envelope lying under a Hummer to his left. He stopped. Eunice wasn’t one to mess with things that didn’t belong to him and certainly didn’t pick up strange envelopes in this day and age. But there was something different about this one. Someone who drove the Hummer had dropped it. There was two things that Eunice despised right now. Rich people, because he wasn’t one. And rich people who drove environmentally unfriendly

Short stories: A narrow escape

Finally, I had made it to Manila. The bus ride from the Mountains seemed like forever. It was raining and I knew I needed to get to the Travel Agent in order to procure my passport. I was nervous leaving with this lady, but the head of the College I worked at assured me it would be ok. I just had to go to this Korean house and it would be waiting for me with the extension promised.

I wasn’t supposed to have left this early, but something inside told me it was time to go home, so I listened. It was a blow to the students in my class, and the community I lived. I too was very sad to leave after only ten month’s. I had learned to love the Filipino way at looking at life. I also will miss the various foods, fruits, and vegetables I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back home.

Watching the beautiful countryside of the Philippines go by was hard. I knew if I turned around I would be welcomed back with open arms, all be it with the expected I told you so’s. Everyone told me I would be back, they meant soon, I wasn’t so sure.

Now the bus ride was finally coming to an end. Before you hit Manila the road is four lane and what you see is beautiful rolling rice fields. When you enter the City, your reminded why most people here want to leave. The roads are narrow, crowded with public transportation belching out exhaust from their outdated diesel engines. You have to wash your face after every time you step out because of the exhaust which collects on your face, in your nose, on your clothes etc.. I still will miss this jewel of Asia.

It’s people are what are truly amazing. The more I visit, this was my third time, the more I realize how much of an amazing place it is. Without this deep burning to get home that had entered my heart, I think I could’ve stayed here for minimum five years. The MTS are so pristine, the vegetables healthy and good. I loved every minute of my stay.

As I left the bus, I was accosted by three or four people demanding I allow them to carry my bags. My companion and I try to tell them we can manage, but the become so insistent they try to grab my bags out of my hands. I am used to this and smile and tell them no we are men we can handle it. They frown, try again then go to the next unsuspecting passenger. My friend and I then collect my oversize backpack and head to the row of taxi’s waiting outside the bus station.

As I enter the taxi I remember why I love the Mts. The Air conditioning is on full and the driver is still covered in sweat. He