TWILIGHT HUGS By Genoveva Edroza-MatuteTranslated Buenventura S. Medina, Jr.

She first learned about it from Lydia.

‘La, said Lydia who sat on her lap and laid her palms on her nape, are you really leaving us, ‘La?

Leaving? But where I shall I go? She asked with light laughter. I can’t even move-with this cursed rheumatism. How can I leave?

That’s nice! Nice! Lydia could not have sounded happier. Releasing her hold on her grandmother’s nape, she clapped her hands. That’s what I said, you won’t ever go to Odet’s!

The light laughter that made her show the toothless gums slowly banished as he squinted peering into her grandchild’s face.

This spite, what mouthfuls of nonsense! Where did you learn them? Why should I go to Odet’s-I don’t even know where they live? I’ve been to them only twice…and God knows when!

But Lydia was no longer listening to her. She had quickly jumped out her grandmother’s lap as she heard the first warning squeak of door that revealed the child’s pretty mother.

“Lydia,” pretty Carmen called. The voice that Grandmother heard was not harsh, not angry. Cool. Cool. Pretty Carmen was brought up in the convent. She never heard her voice ever become harsh, angry. It was cool. Lydia quickly left the kitchen. Her mother followed. From the wheelchar, the grandmother followed mother and child with her eyes.

Pretty Carmen was soaping hard Lydia’s arms and hands. It was form her eldest that she learned about it again. Mother, Ramon gently said, Rey would like you to stay with them-his daughter Odet would like to have her grandmother with them. If you’d just think of it, you have not really known your grandchildren by your youngest. Soft laughter without sparkle accompanied Ramon’s words. And I said that Carmen and I would not allow him to take you away form us, but…

And I don’t want to be there. It was you who said that I didn’t even know my grandchildren-nor my daugher-in-law-by Rey…

…But, Ramon continued… Rey might get hurt. So I said, Carmen and I would allow that… you spend your vacation with them.

Ramon’s eyes grew restless. They did not want to meet the furrowed face that looked up at him, the eyes of the fading light that stared at him.

Spend my vacation…at the home…of my youngest? Through her mind crossed lazily the words just spoken by her eldest. Her bony fingers gently caressed her hair now turned silver. Was it to spend a vacation that her eldest had just said? With Rey? Where does my youngest stay? What is the name of the girl she married? Odet must be granddaughter by my youngest child. I cannot even recall her face. Ah, but Lydia’s different. I know Lydia. The youngest by my eldest. Her mother is pretty. She washes clean the little hands of Lydia. But why? Will my children really visit me? Their father had long been dead…

Mother, are you listening? The voice of Ramon rang through the million thoughts that lumbered through her brain. Why would w\million thoughts now frequent her mind? When she was still young… If I should leave ahead of you, do not take it to hear so much: you have two sons anyway…

Heavy were the hands that touched her shoulder. Carmen and I have discussed this, Mother. We have agreed to consider Rey’s wishes.

Now she was beginning to understand things better. You said I would spend my vacation at Rey’s? Her eyes of the fading light sought for the face that was looking at her a while ago, but now she was alone. She turned the wheel of her chair towards the door. She clutched at the knob. The door would not move. It remained locked.

Beyond the locked door she overheard Ramon’s voice. Loud. But the words were vague, shut off by the thick door. She could hardy hear Carmen’s voice. Gentle. Not angry. Cool. The voice’s coolness penetrated the closed door.

She fell drowsy listening to these voices. Why would she get sleepy often now even during the day? As often as the hovering thoughts in her mind that was getting slow in understanding the words said by Ramon. By Lydia. By the other children. By the maids. Pretty Carmen had not talked with her for so long now.

With the drowsiness that fell over her came hovering million thoughts. Thoughts or memories? Memories or imaginings?

We have two sons anyway. The voice would rise above the years. It would come back to her in its gentleness. In its deep lovingness. We have put them through college. They can start growing roots by themselves and we can travel together-even just until Mindanao, just until the Ilocos. I would wish to see our hometown before we die.

Oh, but we will do that-you know I just love to travel. But they still need us. No, it is wrong to give them all they need-and spend on them the little that is left of our savings. They might turn selfish… That voice in its gentleness, in its deep lovingness, was beclouded with doubt. But this doubt was readily banished by the blinding light of her faith: My two sons, grown selfish? Oh, but you do not really know them-as I know them!

First there was Ramon. A big portion of their savings went to the establishment of a nice law office for him. Handsomeness that attracted handsome clients, cases of delicate matter about delicate people, which brought him success, the convent-bred and pretty Carmen. Then next came Rey. The rest of their savings introduced Rey to society where he found an heiress from the South.

The morning after the wedding, that voice returned to the silence where it had sprung. A mishap clutched and stilled, forever, that voice, in the fragile twilight of her life.

Do not cry, Mother. That was Ramon. You will stay with us. Carmen is kind, and soon you will have grandchildren.

Grandchildren? Soft footsteps that were uncertain about direction… running steps… shrill voices…

The ball… I… t! A moment’s silence that broke into spills of voices.

What could it be? The grandmother stirred in her wheelchair, out of her momentary drowsiness. Had she fallen asleep? Had she dreamt?

Tinay, the maid, was coming to her. She was holding a teaspoon of medicine and glass of water.

Lola, you take medicine-for your skin. Here, quickly drink water-your medicine is very bitter. Tinay glanced at the scales on the old woman’s arms. Oh God, suppose I get old, will my skin be scaly like yours? Tinay laughed. But before she left she told her something.

Lola, Mister and Misis Valli are coming.

Who?

That Misis, the comadre of Nyora Carmen-the one who says when she sees you that she almost sees her mother who died. She says that Lydia is fortunate because she has a grandmother-her child does not have any…

Oh, is she the one?

Tinay lelt, taking away with her the teaspoon and the glass that held nothing anymore. She closed the door behind her, beyond the room there no was the timber of Ramon’s loud voice. Nor the cool voice of Carmen.

It was drizzling that afternoon when Rey’s car drove through the front gate. It was Tinay, the maid, who told her about the arrival.

But Lola, Tinay said laughing. What guest are you talking about? That was Mang Rey! Your own son, don’t you know? Tinay laughed again.

Something suddenly sang inside Grandmother. Something danced about. Something shone bright. She peered with her eyes of the fading light at the tall and husky figure that went straight into the living room. Like a ray of sun that shone by her was the face that was almost that of the father who would worry so much about her-in case she would be left behind.

s swift as her memory was the way she turned the wheels of her chair, towards where her youngest went. The memory of that voice so gentle and loving: But you-you love the younger of the two better. And her voice when she answered: Oh, but I am not like you who play favorites. Don’t I know you favor the elder?

Her voice now would span space between life and death, and now she was addressing the father of her sons. You see don’t have to worry, even if you left me behind. Our youngest will take me away. To their home in the South. See? You don’t have to worry.

She intended to move her chair into the room where her youngest had gone. Her bony fingers would love very much to touch that face akin to her dear departed, her eyes of the fading light would love very much to see the figure that she once cradled in her young arms.

At the door, she was halted by the raucous voices of her eldest and her youngest. The turning of her wheelchair stopped as her own word ceased revolving.

All through the years we took care of her. Now that it is your turn, you have many excuses…

Now that you don’t get anything from her, is that is? And didn’t I tell you that we would be traveling around the world? How could we?

Pretty Carmen’s voice came next. A cool voice which she could not understand. A cool voice that sank through the marrow of her bones.

As cool as the droplets of rain that pelted her as she moved her chair into the terrace. As cool as the twilight that hugged her bony of bones.

It was Tinay, the maid, who saw her in the terrace.

Oh God, this old woman… why get soaked in the rain? Come inside. What are you whispering? Misis Valli… Misis Valli… Missis Valli… Oh God, Lola must be getting to be a child again. Come inside…

There was a whole world of gentleness, of candor, in the voice of the maid.