Year 2005, Scar

The hellish fire began to consume the remains of the church.

Fire! Fire! Fire! I can hear people shouting from afar.

I ran as fast as I could while taking my time to catch my breath.

***

It was a welcoming sunrise that glimmered across the rice field which was tended by the village farmers, wearing conical hats to protect themselves from the harsh sunlight, long sleeves or worn-out shirts, and linen shorts to at least avoid sunburn. Rough, bare feet that sank into the muddy soil as they pushed the traditional plough attached to the buffalo.

The smiles on their faces and the sweat on their brows reveal their hard work and perseverance in the face of vicious typhoons that destroyed their main food source needed to survive from July through October, and cope with the damage from their uprooted plantation.

These farmers never gave up on that little hope they had left to meet their needs.

And they continued to endure another harsh season that might destroy their livelihood.

That was what Adam saw throughout the years, living in the province with Father Ben, that even faced with the hurdles of life, they persevered. As the years passed, Adam became known for being smart and humble.

It was recess, and most of his classmates were eating their snacks. Some went out to play Sepak Takraw with their schoolmates in the front yard, which was heated by the sun.

Adam was tutoring one of his classmates who wasn’t doing well in Mathematics.

Gregor scratched his head, holding the pen, clueless about what to do about his math assignments.

“Adam, this is too hard,” he whined, leaning on the desk, scratching the back of his head.

“You’re not going to learn if you keep grumbling and giving up without even trying, Gregor,” Adam said. “You’re doing well, just a few more multiplications to answer, hmm?” he said, encouragingly, and smiled.

Gregor pouted, almost in tears, and Adam curved his lips up into a gentle smile, “Come on, Gregor, I know you can solve it.”

Adam had a beautiful mole under his left eye, and another mole on his left temple, like falling stars.

“Okay, okay, I’ll finish it if it helps me get good grades,” Gregor said. He sniffled and wiped his nose with his left hand. He used the bottom of the pen to massage his right temple, trying to focus his head on the assignment as he scribbled the answers in the notebook.

While Gregor answered the rest of the math equations, Adam opened his Science book. He was reading in advance, before the next class started, when one of their female schoolmates barged into their classroom door, yelling.

“Adam! Adam! Father Ben’s church is burning!”

Adam’s eyes dilated in shock, and an eerie feeling ran through his veins.

Without a word of excuse, he rushed out of the classroom, leaving his belongings behind.

“Hey! Adam!” Gregor called out to him. You left your bag.

The distance between his school and the church was about half a mile. He ran for eight minutes non-stop, sprinting along the roads. Adam gasped for breath, running faster, his heart pulsating. He was anxious. His chest tightened as he sweated and stumbled towards the church.

My legs feel numb. But I must save Father Ben. I don’t want to lose him, not today.

Adam pursed his lips, worried. The sweat on his forehead melted away in a gust of humid air.

When he reached the church, the horrifying scene of the inferno reflected in his eyes, and he was petrified. He gritted his teeth and shouted, “FATHER BEN!!!” Pushing the bystanders aside, he called for Father Ben at the top of his lungs.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Some neighbors used buckets of water to try to put out the blaze, but the hellfire got bigger and stronger. They feared the ashes of the flames would scatter and burn their shabby wooden houses.

Adam panicked. Did someone call the fire station? He looked around for any fire trucks in the area. The flames consumed the church walls as his eyes widened, pupils dark with shock, darting frantically, powerless in the face of the fire. It was his home. No. It was his and Father Ben’s only sacred home.

He was panting, feeling uneasy. Where’s Father Ben? He checked every person he bumped into like he was searching for a lost child. I can’t find him. Where is he? He kept calling Father Ben’s name. But no one approached him, or informed him about his whereabouts.

A sense of fear crawled beneath Adam’s skin. His heart skipped a beat. The raging fire and the thick smoke coming out of the church were overpowering. In his brave soul, he said to himself, I have no choice, I have to go inside.

He went to the back door. When a few people noticed him, they called for him to stop. Adam didn’t look back. He poured himself a bucket of water from the plastic barrel and covered his nose with a soaked handkerchief. He kicked the flaming door, and it fell on the floor. Inside, the flames were everywhere— devouring all the wood they could absorb.

“Father Ben!? Where are you?!” he shouted. He coughed. He tried to hold his breath to keep away from the angry smoke that was surrounding him. Flames licked up the walls.

Adam couldn’t reach their room. The embers consumed the church walls. He cleared his throat, struggling to breathe. The acrid black smoke was filling his lungs, and his eyes were stinging. At any moment, the flame's heat would scorch his skin.

Adam heard a creaking sound above his head. It was the ceiling, burning. His eyes grew wide in panic. His legs trembled, and he couldn’t move his feet to step back. To save himself. The ceiling joist fell right on top of him.

He fell sideways and lost his senses. But even with a bleeding forehead, he still thought only of Father Ben's safety. But the greedy flames ate at his lower body.

A few days passed, and Adam woke up in a hospital ward. He jolted from his bed. He didn’t know what happened after the ceiling collapsed, or how he left the church.

“Father Ben!” he exclaimed, panting.

His eyes widened when he saw Father Ben unscathed, sitting on the chair by the bed. He looked exhausted and worried. They were in a public ward near the emergency room.

“Don’t move,” Father Ben held his shoulders, trembling, looking disheartened.

Ugh. Adam flinched in pain. “Father Ben…” But somehow the pain melted away, seeing Father Ben safe and sound. He felt relieved.

He felt a sudden, painful sensation in his left leg. That was when he realized…his left leg was bandaged and blood-stained. He looked at Father Ben’s saddened expression. His heart shuddered. He didn’t know what to feel or say about what happened to him that day.

Should I be angry? Should I be sorry? And all he could do at that very moment was to hold Father Ben’s wrinkled left hand with a bright smile on his face. Pretending to be calm, his stomach lurched, eyes stinging, heart pounding, each second of that fire eating his flesh felt like a cruel knife he could not erase.

“Don’t worry, Father Ben, I’m fine,” Adam grinned. “It’s just a burn. I can still walk when it heals, you know?”

Though inside, he was crying. The feeling of being caught in the fire, he didn’t even think that it might cost his life. He didn’t want Father Ben to see the weak side of him. His hands shivered.

Now, I know what this feeling is—behind my smile, my heart aches, and I want to cry. But I don’t want Father Ben to see the feeble part of me. I want him to feel that I am alright and breathing in one piece.

Father Ben hugged him. “I was so worried and scared when they said you went inside the burning church. I almost thought that you left me, my dearest, Adam.”

Without shedding tears, Adam hugged him back. “Don’t worry, Father Ben, all is well. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Father Ben wiped away his dewy tears. His thoughtful smile was like his mother’s.

It was quiet and pleasant in the public ward. The people were chattering in a muffled tone, and the nurses were giving injections to other patients.

“Father Ben, do you know how I got out of the church?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. No one else knew either.” Father Ben said in a calm tone. “I was with Cassandra at the barangay and called the fire station. When I came back with her, our neighbors said they found you lying outside the back door, bleeding.” He, too, wondered why.

“They called the ambulance and took you here. Did you not get out by yourself?” Father Ben asked in bewilderment.

“No,” said Adam. He pondered. But his thoughts were hazy. He said, “All I could remember…I tried to go inside when the fire blocked my way. But I was sure I was inside when I lost consciousness. I never got out of the church, Father Ben.” Adam looked stoic.

Father Ben’s expression was in disbelief. Then, how did Adam get out? Father Ben thought.

A strange feeling curdled in Adam’s blood. Who could have saved me? I wanted to know. But if that person didn’t want to be known, then I would have to just send my gratitude into the world and hope it finds them. Thanks to you, I am still alive.

“That’s okay, Father Ben. Maybe the person who saved me didn’t want to be known by name. What matters most is you’re safe and I am fine, right?” Thinking that everything would be alright. He kept repeating those words to at least ease the pain of disheartenment. Letting himself calm, even though it would take time to heal.

He smiled, and so did Father Ben, tapping his right hand.

Three days later, before Adam was discharged from the hospital, the doctor came to see them.

“The wound is healing well. Make sure to disinfect and change the bandage three times a day and don’t get it wet when you shower.” The Doctor added, “If in pain, take the pain reliever. Although I must say that it would leave a deep burn scar like a keloid.”

“I understand, and thank you, doctor, for the treatment,” Adam said. He grabbed and held on to the axillary crutches.

“I heard you’re moving. Will you two be alright?” The doctor’s tone sounded kind.

“We’ll be fine, Dr. Bert. Thank you for taking care of Adam. You didn’t even let us pay for the treatment. So please accept this simple gratitude from us.” Father Ben said, feeling ashamed by Dr. Bert’s generosity.

He gave Dr. Bert a rosary made of cedar wood, whose expression was placid as he said thanks to Father Ben.

Adam looked calm, staring at the rosary. It felt like a blessing in disguise. Not because of what Father Ben gave him, but because not all doctors had a thoughtful heart like Dr. Bert.

It was sudden and saddening that they would have to move to a city six hours away from the province. Travelling by bus would be inconvenient for him since he was injured, but he didn’t want to be a burden to Father Ben. He was getting old, and he's turning 70 next year.

A week before they left the hospital, Father Ben opened up to Adam about moving to a new place in the city.

“Adam, now that the church is gone would you be fine moving with me to the big city?" Father Ben asked and added, "It’s far from here, but the church in the city would happily take us in. It would be a good place for you to recuperate. But I’m worried.”

"Don’t worry about me, Father Ben. I would love to go anywhere with you.” He felt secure in Father Ben’s warm hands.

“You have a big heart, Adam. I’m so thankful to have you with me. I’m sure good things will happen for you from now on.” Father Ben smiled.

“Of course.” Adam curled a grin and said, “Once I’m healed, I’ll go back to school. I’ll study hard, and when I become successful, I want us to live in a beautiful house.”

Father Ben's wrinkled smile at Adam. He messed up his hair, and Adam giggled at the thought of the good things, good memories he had treasured with Father Ben.

Staring at Father Ben’s earnest expression, he was willing to sacrifice his old age as long as he could take care of me. That often, my heart ached, and when it did, I wanted to do everything for him to be happy.

He was like a real Father to me. So, I would do my very best to fill those empty boxes for us to have a better life.