Sunday - March 13 - AFTERMATH

He could not stand this. He was now staring at the poor boy's face peacefully lying inside the coffin. Earlier this day, four people from the orphanage found the child in his sitting position, still leaning on the wall of Mrs. Ramness' house. They found him breathing nothing. Later, he further found out that the boy died at around 3 o'clock this morning due to very high fever, exhaustion, and hunger. And he was blaming himself of his death.

He then decided to let his house be used for the funeral of the child, with the emphasis to the funeral crew to make everything they'll set up be made clean and sanitized before entering his house. The crew already knew this -knew him- so they just nodded.

If only I made the call sooner. If only there was someone else who had been kind enough to grab him and feed him. If only I never had this fucking allergy, this would have never happened to him. Dammit! He don't deserve this. He's still too young. God, why did you not help him? Why did you forsake him? Why did you not give him a little more strength to endure the pain? A little more. Just a little more, dammit! These were in his head when someone tapped his shoulder.

"Life is cruel. So cruel that it makes no exception. So cruel that it's merciless," the man said.

"Mr. Reynold," acknowledging the 68-yr old man. He was with her granddaughter with him, holding his hand while a lollipop on the other.

"Don't blame yourself, hon. It's not your fault," his wife beside him said, also staring at the coffin.

Yeah, he thought. It was not my fault, and it was nobody's fault. There was no one to blame, and that what makes this tragedy harder to accept.

It was not his father's fault he was tempted by his student. It was still not his fault he became unlucky here in Luzon. Unlucky enough to starve the child and left. Left to commit suicide. It was not my fault I have this allergy. It was not the fault of Mrs. Mercy that she doesn't like any child. It was not the fault of our neighbors they refuse to notice the child. It was not their fault they pretended the child was not there. It was indeed nobody's fault.

Sunday - March 13 - NOW AN ANGEL

Arthur, Reynold and Mellissa stared at the child a little longer.

"Granpa, I want to see him," demanded Sofia, Reynold's granddaughter.

"Ok. Come here." Reynold lifted her and carried in his arms.

The four of them were now the only people in the room. The del Tokedo children were forbidden by their father to stay in the ground floor, specially in the living room, so they spent their day in the second and third floors. Mrs. Ramness didn't forget to visit, but she just gave a quick glace at the boy's face before leaving immediately. She left without a word. The other neighbors also did the same.

"You know Arthur," Mr. Reynold started "Sofia seen him while we were having a walk this Wednesday evening. She said the boy has a face like an angel if it was clean. She gave him her only lollipop. Then she started telling him stories I always read to her in her bedtime. He had walked with us intently listening to her while licking the lollipop. When we reached our house, Sylvia, her granma, saw this boy, and just like Mrs. Ramness, she cursed all the curses she knew and shoved the dirty boy away. She was disgusted at the sight of the poor child and called him Walking Dirt and Living Disease. I pity the child, and I am sorry for her."

So that's where the boy got his lollipop. From this sweet girl, Sofia. And now I know where this boy had gone before walking back to my front gate that Wednesday night, he thought.

"Don't be," Arthur replied "but Sylvia must be."

Mr. Reynold Furton said nothing. A moment passed.

"You remember the night I asked you about this 'bastard', though I didn't mean the term?", asked Mellissa.

"Thursday night, I guess," Arthur replied, thinking: the day I made the promise.

"Yeah, it was this Thursday night. But on that Thursday morning I wanted to call the orphanage to pick up the child..."

"Uhuh," Arthur said, urging her to go on. He thought, you should have. If you did, this boy might still be alive today. Only if you did!

"...but I hesitated," she continued "thinking it would be better to consult you first, since you know, you are one of the active donors of the orphanage here in town. I also wonder if you know the child since he kept on coming back outside our front gate. Sometimes with a lollipop, sometimes with nothing. That's why I wanted to ask you about these things that Thursday night. Unfortunately, you were too busy to listen, and I thought the child was less important than your job. But look at him now. And I, myself, don't know what's more important now."

Mr. Arthur del Tokedo said nothing, unaware of tears streaming down his cheeks. They all fell silent. A couple of minutes passed.

"I never heard him cry, just like any other babies," Sofia said with innocence, breaking the silence.

"It's because he was strong" Mr. Reynold simply said.

But never strong enough, Arthur thought. Or maybe had enough. This child, Fred, had spent five nights outside our gate. Five cold nights for such a very young child. But how about the other nights he had when he was still with his father? God, I don't want to know how many more there were.

"He looks like an angel," Sofia said.

"Indeed he is," Arthur said, still staring at the boy's face "and it is no doubt he is one of them now." Then he thought, this boy, Fred, is now an angel because it was nobody's fault.

And then the long deafening silence filled the room.