After being discharged from the hospital, Aunt Cassandra’s husband, Uncle Chong, dropped them at the bus terminal. Father Ben was carrying a medium-sized bag, and Adam put a crutch tip onto the road. He leaned his upper body forward, pushed himself up and out, and held onto the hand grip so he wouldn’t fall backward. Uncle Chong helped him; it was more challenging than he thought it would be.

“Did you get everything with you?” Uncle Chong asked.

“Yes, thank you. Please tell Cassandra that we were grateful for her help. It was so generous of you to provide us with new clothes, and even money for our trip.” Father Ben replied, grinning.

Uncle Chong scratched the back of his head and said, “Don’t mention it. We’re glad we could help you as much as this.”

“May you be blessed with fruitful years, Chong.”

“And you too, Father Ben and Adam.” He looked at Adam with a warm smile.

Adam waved goodbye to Uncle Chong.

Uncle Chong had a humble but sprawling family of ten and lived in a small bamboo house on stilts; he never complained. He endured his struggles while taking care of the entire family.

When it was harvest time, Uncle Chong and Aunt Cassandra were never greedy with their small crop of sweet kumara; it was enough to feed their family, and they even shared what they had without asking anything in return.

Adam valued what the elders had taught him. To be compassionate to one another. It was the life in the province he had always known and grown up in, and now he would have to bid goodbye to it.

The bus left the province. The gust of wind blew the dust across the wheels. Adam looked out the dusty window, his mind racing.

Will I be able to adjust to a new city? Will there be someone who will accept me as a friend? Will I be accepted in the crowd? These were the lingering doubts swirling in his troubled mind. He felt excited, but at the same time, he felt nervous about a new world. Beyond the glass, the road stretched in muted tones, a few empty sidewalks, scattered leaves tumbling in the wind, and the blissful sky. Each small detail seemed to echo the questions troubling his mind about what his future would be this time around.

I hope everything is going to be okay for us in this city we are going.

“By the way,” Father Ben broke the silence in Adam’s world. He said, “The Monastery of Crisostomo has extended its help for your education.”

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?!” His face beamed. He felt glad. “Thank you very much, Father Ben. You truly are the saviour of my life. You’ve done so much for me.”

Father Ben smiled easily. He felt content. “Anything for you, Adam. We’ll say thanks to the Abbot once we arrive at the monastery,” he said.

“Abbot?” He wondered.

“Oh, an Abbot is someone who works as an Administrator and spiritual leader in the monastery.”

“Oh, but,” He looked hesitant. “Yes, Adam? Are you feeling hurt somewhere?” Father Ben asked with a worried face.

“No. I’m not hurt anywhere.” Adam said softly. For a moment he thought of the right words to say next. “Do you think the people in the city would hate me? If they found out what kind of mother I had?” he asked.

“Adam, you should never think that way. Of course, they’ll never know unless you tell someone you can trust.” Father Ben’s tone was comforting. “Adam, do you remember how I used to say your mother was beautiful and kind?” He wanted to reassure Adam with his courteous words.

“Yes, I do.”

“I might not have told you this before, but I saw your mother on one occasion. I believe she was pregnant with you.” Father Ben said and held his chin for a second. “It was the first time I saw her in the church. She lit a candle.”

“She looked modest, and like someone who had been through a lot.” Father Ben added.

For a moment, Adam thought of his mother, connecting the memories of the past—a pain that he couldn’t express in words. His thoughts were confused at times. Father Ben continued the story while the bus was speeding up on the wide highway. The silhouette of the trees was reflected on the side windows.

“She looked pale and weary, but her eyes glistened when she touched and caressed her belly,” Father Ben said. “It seemed she looked happy that she would have you soon in her arms. She must have held onto her love for you to survive by all means. I didn’t know her full story, but she asked me one thing that I would never forget.”

Adam’s heart twinged. A nervous thrill ran through his bloodstream. Am I ready to listen to what Mother had asked Father Ben? Knowing that she was happy to have me in her arms. But—I couldn’t understand why she abandoned me, although I was her only happiness.

He clenched his jaw, holding back his frustrations and disappointments, fearing what her mother’s words would be for him.

“Do you think my child will resent me one day if he finds out what kind of a mother I am?”

Those were the words that came out of Father Ben’s lips. Adam’s pulse raced. His eyes widened in disbelief. The feeling of doubt was there. But he wanted to believe in her mother’s love at least.

Did I ever resent my mother? Adam pondered as he listened to Father Ben’s compassionate story, as he continued to tell Adam about their encounter.

“Whether your child would resent you or not, I believe that a child would always look for its mother, regardless of who you are or what sin you’ve committed, because you’re now connected by blood. And wanting to change the future of your child is the least you can do if it is meant to be, rather than giving him away to another family for your selfish reasons. What will it be? Will you let him go, still?” He told Adam what he said to her.

“But what if I could never change? All I wanted was for my child to have a better life—not like mine. I could never be a good mother to him. And that’s what I am afraid of, Father.” She had replied, a truthful confession.

“Then, give your child to me and I’ll take care of him like my own.” Were Father Ben’s sincere words to her.

Adam’s heart throbbed for he thought it was a lie. My mother tried to protect me from the gaze of prejudice. He didn’t know what to say to Father Ben.

Adam’s tears trickled down his cheeks and chin, and he felt the warm callous hand of Father Ben, comforting him. “Father Ben, did you know what my mother's name was?” He asked.

I asked because, for the last 15 years of my life, I never knew or asked my mother’s name. All I could remember was calling her Mama.

“Of course, I would never forget that angelic name. Your mother’s name was Evangeline…Evangeline Santos. A first name that symbolized bravery and repentance.” Father Ben smiled.

Adam tightened his lips and quietly sobbed. He felt hurt. He felt regretful after all this time. The painful memory he had was also the pain that his mother would carry for the rest of her life.

How long had Mother endured all the condemnation of the people around her? Adam asked himself again, Did I ever resent my mother?

I did resent her.

I was angry because I was a child, and shouldn’t have been left alone. I felt so lonely. My innocence was soured with tears, emptiness, and an ache that would plague a child’s life without their mother’s attention and love. That was unforgivable.

But now, I am fifteen, and I have learned to value what life is because Father Ben showed me the way.

He taught me humility and clemency. I fully understand why my mother abandoned me back then. It was for my sake. To save me from harm. She did not want me to have the kind of life that she had herself, had and ruined, and could never be rewritten. She wanted me to live a better life, away from her dark past.

Adam looked at Father Ben’s weary smile as he sniffled, crying.

Wherever you are, Mama, I hope to see you again, even just for a second. I wanted to know how you are doing without me.

And, I wanted to thank you for giving me the chance to see the world.

After Adam calmed down, the bus finally arrived at Divisoria city bus terminal. He remembered what Father Ben told him about the city.

It was once known as the City of Flowers in 1635, after the Malay word Jambangan, meaning ‘place of flowers,’ because of the bougainvilleas, orchids, and other tropical flowers lining the roadsides. But as time flew by, infrastructures and buildings changed in this city, but traces of the old heritages and dialects had never withered, where most people speak a broken Spanish called Chavacano.

They smoothly hopped out of the bus, and the first thing Adam smelled was not refreshing. It was a busy terminal, overwhelmed by the noise of the people speaking in different dialects. The smell of the fumes from the cars, jeepneys, and buses was so thick that some people would cover their noses, and the gust of dust that stung his eyes, along with the yelling noise of the vendors selling a variety of finger foods.

His throat was parched. It was humid during the season of El Nino. He was sweating and feeling uneasy on his crutches. His wound was itching at the same time. Yet he didn’t complain.

He was looking forward to what the city had to offer. The streets buzzed with life, cars weaving through the traffic, and vendors calling out their wares. Street children were lurking and asking for alms from every corner and every passenger they met.

The fresh winds and captivating nature of the province were better than this. There are so many buildings and houses. His eyes wandered around the crowded place but the noise of the busy street was ringing in his ears. He longed for the calm mornings and wide-open fields he had left behind, wishing the city could feel a little more like home.

He gripped his crutches and followed Father Ben, waiting for someone to pick them up.

Moments later, a tall man wearing a cassock came forward. Adam looked at him. He was a tan young gentleman with short black hair, dark brown eyes, and fair tan skin. He smiled just like Father Ben. The man took Father Ben’s right hand and placed it on his forehead. It was one of the values Adam learned called Mano po.

“Did you have a safe trip, Father Ben?” He asked.

“Yes, we did, Father James. Did you wait that long for us?”

“No, I’ve arrived just in time. I parked the vehicle not far from here.”

Adam stood beside Father Ben. He looked at the man.

“Oh, you must have heard of Adam,” said Father Ben. Introducing Adam to Father James.

He grinned and said. “Yes, of course. I am well-informed. Nice to meet you, Adam. I’m Father James.”

Adam dipped his head. “Hello, Father James,” he said, feeling shy for a moment.

“You two must be tired, so let’s go, and the other fathers will be happy to see you too.” Father James said. He led the way as they walked. Adam felt a stinging sensation on his burned leg.

Father Ben helped him hop into the backseat, and Adam put the crutch on his right side. Luckily, he had half-filled mineral water left in his backpack and drank it all to satisfy his thirst.

It was heavy traffic on the road. Adam gazed at the different vehicles ahead of them. He noticed that it was a busy road. It was more occupied than in the province.

There were too many people walking around on the sidewalk. It would take them 45 minutes to reach the Monastery. But while the vehicle’s speed was steady, the outside scenery of the city looked drowsy. He was not used to seeing tall buildings, expensive cars, or motorcycles that overtake the roadway, like a race with other vehicles. He felt overwhelmed. But the sooner they reached the boulevard, the more beautiful the scenery caught Adam’s eyes.

The sea was so expansive, the water was blue-green. It was a perfect place to watch the sunset. He saw people walking, chattering, and sitting on the boulevard benches. Trees and plants were planted in the center of the road. White, sculptured light posts dotted the sidewalks, too. He looked at the colorful long, wide bandanas tied to the light posts, waving like flags.

Adam didn’t know what it meant, but he guessed it signified the culture and ethnicity of the Zamboagueños.

The monastery was located just off the boulevard. Adam was mesmerized. The tangerine sun felt like a light shimmering before his eyes, pulling him forward with a calm promise he couldn’t ignore. For a moment, he simply froze, gazing at the stretch of sea waves, letting the unfamiliar scenery breathe its way into him.

It would be nice to walk there when I’m fully healed. I’ll ask Father Ben to come with me for a walk.

He grinned pleasantly.