Heartless

Wala kang puso. A friend once told me that. At that time, I laughed and brushed the remark off. He doesn't really know me that well to judge me like that. How dare he. Today, I want to call him up and say, "you are so damn right."

I had hubby drop me off at Herrera Street corner Ayala to meet a friend and deliver to her the pack of diapers that she ordered. The meeting was quick. I guess she was running late. I crossed the street and an old woman called my attention. I don't like strangers calling me and asking me to stop and listen to them when I'm in a hurry although I wasn't late for anything but this time I stopped. It was early in the morning so the street wasn't crowded yet. She was standing in front of an abandoned business space. She looked kind and tired but I'm so sorry I could only maintain about 3 feet away from her because of her smell. She called me "anak" and asked me what street we were in and generally discussed our topographic location. I wasn't really listening. I was distracted. I've read about a holdup incident recently so I was looking around expecting men to appear at my sides and whispering, "wag kang kikilos" and I pictured myself giving them my bag and the old lady saying "pasensiya na anak". There were no men in sight but it was too early to tell and not many people are passing by. Then I heard the old lady say that she was left there by some woman and that she's been there for 11 days and that her home was in Nueva Ecija and to go to some place it'll cost 130 pesos. And then she started crying... crying without tears. To be honest, I may launch into bursts of dramatics and hysterics but like a guy (and I'm not a guy), I get uncomfortable when somebody's crying. For some reason, I was not buying her story. There was something phony about it. Or... I was just being skeptic. Thanks to that same friend who told me I was heartless, he also said I was a skeptic. Why he called me those in the past I'm not going to discuss... ever. But who can blame me? I've met a lot of old women asking for pamasahe and I even encountered one of them in two different locations using the same act. Let's also not forget the fact that my father in law was a policeman so I am aware of the sindikato stories. Then I interrupted her. I opened my bag quickly and gave her some money hoping that it will take her somewhere nearer her destination. I could not figure out why she never left the area if she was left there for 11 days. Then I left... guilt-ridden and afraid to look over my shoulder. What if this time her story was true? There was no police in the area but I doubt that these policemen will help her. On the bus on my way to the office, I noticed that I was wearing red and I was listening to Meredith Brooks' Bitch. How appropriate. I am so guilty because I remembered my lola who passed away when I was in college. What if she were my grandmother and I was looking for her in Nueva Ecija for 11 days and some heartless lady in red just walked away and wouldn't help her? I'm so gonna burn in hell.