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“It’s in our name, Agostino. Makaraig - to surpass others. Always stand above people, my son.”
His father’s words haunt him, even up to now. They weigh him down, standing on top of his chest like the mythical batibat of the housewives’ tales. He must always be better, richer, more studious, more hardworking. It is lonely at the top, but the top is the only place for him. Makaraig lies awake at night, wondering how different things could have gone if his parents’ coach hadn’t been attacked by bandits that one fateful night. Would he have been a different man had they remained alive? Makaraig had no way to be certain, for he could not turn back time.
Now, of course, was no time to think about the past. He had an urgent matter to attend to. His friend Pepay had sent him a letter in Europe, begging him (as much as her prideful self could allow) to investigate an uprising she heard was brewing in her mother’s hometown of Tulig. As he looked at the quickly-darkening sky from the window of his coach, he wondered if the moon, peeking from over the horizon, was made of gold. Or perhaps it was simply cheap copper.
Tadeo, meaning “beloved”. He basks in people’s affection, be it his family, his neighbors, his schoolmates, or even the friars his student organization had worked so hard against. This, however, proved to be dull, as Tadeo eventually realized. More often than not, most people needed a slight push, Tadeo noted. A white lie, a stray rumor, some applied pressure - that was all it took for people to become interesting. Their true colors would be revealed. Searching for who people really were was something Tadeo unconsciously dedicated his life to. The bitter irony was that, to uncover the truth, he had to lie.
Basilio’s sudden coming and going provided some brief amusement. “I didn’t know you lived here,” he said. “You must flee, Tadeo. Get out of here while you can! Something is going down in three days, and I do not want you to be a part of it. Heed my words, old friend!”
And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone from town.
Tadeo decided to stay, at least to see the spectacle of what Basilio was warning him about. Finally, he thought, something worth seeing.
Three days was a long time to wait. To make things even more exciting, he spread various rumors going around town. To Capitan Lucas he said that the Governor-General would visit town in three days. To the devout town beauty Marcela he said that their parish priest would be getting a new assistant. To the wealthy Don Segundo, he said that a prominent merchant would arrive with exotic products from Europe. The town’s hermanas were abuzz with gossip, and never before had Tulig been so agitated and anxious about the coming week.
All Tadeo had to do now was wait.
Makaraig was too late. The uprising had already taken place. He decided he would at least help recover the damages as a favor to Pepay. After clarifying to both the gobernadorcillo and the parish priest that he has come to help upon Pepay’s request, the two eventually let him get involved. He talked to eyewitnesses, interviewed the surprisingly cooperative alferez, and made a donation to the parish for a coordinated effort with the government to rebuild the town.
“How many are wounded?” Makaraig asked the town doctor as he walked into the clinic.
“Five men. Thankfully, most of the people were at home when the revolt broke out, and it was quickly put down by the alferez. There was someone particularly unlucky, though. They’re going to need medical attention more sophisticated than what I can provide. If only we could afford to call a doctor from Manila...”
“I have a contact. Who’s the unfortunate soul who was wounded?”
“Señor Ylagan’s youngest son. Tadeo.”
“I don’t want your help,” Tadeo hissed at the man at his bedside. “I’m perfectly fine recovering here! Did you not hear what the doctor said? I’ll be out of here soon enough.”
“Please, Tadeo. If you could just cooperate. I can send a telegram to my father’s friends in Manila.”
“Well! So you have decided to suddenly become caring and generous? That’s a real laugh, coming from you.”
Makaraig did not know what to reply. Tadeo had been his most intimate friend during their time as students. He was probably heartbroken over his sudden departure for Europe after they were all arrested.
“If this is about me leaving Manila,” he began. “I’m sorry. You must understand, my friend, that getting arrested was something traumatic. I wanted to get away from it all.”
“And so you did!” Tadeo shouted, throwing his hands up. “You did. And you left me behind. I thought we were friends, Agostino. Leave me be, for I must rest and I have no desire to speak with you.”
Isagani’s letter had arrived from Pili a few weeks later. He confirmed it: Basilio was dead.
Tadeo had recovered, with reluctant cooperation with the doctor Makaraig called over from Manila. He walked with an unsteady gait, though, that would probably stay with him for the rest of his life. For that reason he needed a cane.
Climbing up the hill at the outskirts of town proved to be difficult, but not impossible.
“Why are you here?” he asked the man standing before him.
“I thought you’d come. Years ago you told me that you would always come to this hill whenever you wanted to have a view of the entire town,” Makaraig replied.
“I’m surprised you remember that,” Tadeo spat out. “Or that you believed me.”
Makaraig remained silent, gazing at the town’s landscape.
“So where are you planning to head after this?” Tadeo inquired. “Going back to gallivanting around Europe, I suppose?”
“No. I was thinking of finally settling down. Gone are the days of my youth, and I would rather plant myself somewhere I can thrive rather than live like a vagabond.”
“Then where? Manila? Los Baños? San Diego?”
“Here,” Makaraig replied. “With you. If you’ll have me.”
“I’ll think about it. I mean, I suppose the town needs someone wealthy to finance the new bridge.”
“So you agree? That I can settle here.”
“I haven’t said yes yet. There are still various to consider. There’s also the fact that Marcela’s looking to marry, and that Don Segundo is in need of a partner for his new business venture...”
“Tadeo,” Makaraig said, looking him in the eye. “Do you want me to stay?”
“If you wanted melodrama worthy of a theater role,” Tadeo laughed. “You should have gone to Isagani in Pili. What do you want out of me, you old fool?! Yes, yes I want you to stay!”