Strange people

The reading lady Last week, when I went to mass, I managed to sit across a woman in the jeep who was intently reading a book. She was completely out of touch with what's happening around her, focused mainly on a paperback in her hand. I bet she was reading a love story because she had that kind of expression on her face -- you know, that kind of half-smile, partly hopeful, partly hurting, and that embarassed, dreamy faraway look that you acquire when the helpless virginal heroine is shamed at having the patronizing handsome hero discover that she loves him, and is struggling hard to explain herself without sounding too pathetic... Anyway, as I said, this woman is totally oblivious to her surroundings. Her bag and paper bag were placed haphazardly on her side, almost spilling off their contents on the floor. The woman was wearing a calf-length skirt and was sitting with her legs apart, as if she she paid a fare of P21, instead of P7. Each time the jeepney braked, she'd move her leg and knee forward to balance herself but never once looked up from her book. What's funny was her expression changed about three or four times, getting more revealing each time. That must have been a really interesting love story; she was probably on the sex part. Whatever. By the time I alighted at the corner leading to St. Andrew, the woman had turned the page maybe twice. There was no traffic so it was a quick trip, and it was a quick read. But she was soooo into it. Those who are first will be last I sat at the second to the last pew in church. The mass has already started when I arrived. When we came to the homily part, a few minutes into the homily, a mother and son hurriedly entered the church and stood by the aisle of my pew, looking for a seat. The mother then glanced back, apparently signalling to her husband to follow, and pulled her son forward, walking bravely through the aisle amidst the sitting churchgoers. I immediately realized they were aiming for the very front pew, and I also noticed at the same time that the pew they were targeting was completely empty while the other pews behind it were fully packed. The mother and son reached the pew, stopped, stared, turned around and walked briskly down the aisle back to where they stood earlier. I knew it! I think there was a "reserved" sign on the seat, explaining why the pew is totally empty. A few minutes later, a very proud looking peacock in red spaghetti-strapped backless blouse and heavy mane of brown dyed hair strutted down the aisle towards the same pew, head held very high. A woman, who seems to be her mother, followed the teenager. They, too, stopped, stared and turned around. This time, the peacock walked rapidly down the aisle with head bowed down. More like an ostrich ready to bury its head. A third group--a whole family--reached the pew after offertory and did the same turn-around move. (They're very late and they still want to stay in front! Tsk tsk. Lord, forgive me.) By this time, the church staff probably noticed that people going front were being prevented from sitting by something in the pew. I didn't know at the time but during communion, I noticed that the front pew was already full. Unfortunately, the mother-and-son, the strutting peacock in red, and the large family were not among them. Strange how these first three groups of people never noticed the unusual emptiness of the pew, and strange how it took a while for the church staff to notice there was something wrong. And I noticed them all. Made me ask myself later if I was paying attention to the mass or not. Almost burned I decided to pass by McDonald's in the corner of Reposo and JP Rizal streets after mass to buy chicken nuggets for Marthe. She was craving for it and had mentioned it several times during the day. It took some time to be ready so it was relatively quiet when I finally alighted at Zapote St. I'm still not allowed to take the tricycle so I walked. On my side of the street, I passed by several cars of jeepneys that were parked on the sidewalk: a common sight. As I was walking past Marthe's school, I looked up at the sign of the preschool and reread the text that I've read several times in the past months: announcement about the registration and others. An empty jeepney was parked close to it, to my left. I was walking past the jeep, mind preoccupied, when a hand suddenly shot out of the jeep window, almost into my face. The hand shook the excess ash from the tip of the cigarette it was holding. I jumped sideways to the right. I looked at the jeep but saw only the arm. Apparently, there was somebody lying down in the jeep bench and he shot his hand out to shake the cigarette ash without even considering that somebody might be walking past at this hour. Somebody like me. If that hand had hit my face and burned my cheeks with that ash, I would have twisted it back to its owner and ram it into his mouth before he'd ever know what hit him. Sometimes, I wonder how God survives every moment of being God. I wonder how he can look at, listen to and empathize with these strange people who can get into your nerves if you're caught off guard. I guess that's why He is God. And I'm just human.