Moondogs - Alexander Yates [167]
Still dripping in his briefs, Reynato goes inside. He treads lightly on the stairs, careful not to wake Bea or Lorna up, and enters his study. It’s a mess. The window is riddled with bullet holes. His computer lies in pieces on the floor, all wires and plastic. The hanging uniforms on his wall have all been shot through their left breast pockets. Never mind. Reynato takes a big framed photo off the desk—the one with Erap, third president after the revolution, ousted by a smaller one himself—and writes three words across the back in permanent marker. He returns to the yard, stopping by the kitchen to light his frayed cigar on the gas range.
It’s quiet outside. The moon tunnels above through cavern and vault, spilling blue light onto leaves. Reynato stands in the middle of the yard and holds the framed photo over his head. I Dare You, it says. He imagines he can hear the airy sound of something falling. Lights on the pool house go dark one by one. Underripe fruit falls from his papaya tree. A passing pigeon lands dead at his angled feet. Reynato is patient. He puffs deep, and waits.
Chapter 35
AFTER THE FUNERAL
Benicio stayed in the Philippines long enough to get a special investor’s resident visa, legalizing his ownership of his father’s local estate. He sold his stake in the business to Hon at about half the value and listed all the properties at motivated prices. He spent his days in meetings or waiting for them. He tried his best to call Alice only every few days or so. As September rolled into October she wrote to let him know that the school was firing him, but that he should please try to cheer up. He did try to cheer up. On Saturday afternoons he drank mini-bar vodka and laughed his ass off to international versions of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire on BBC World. At nights he cried a lot, wishing that he’d been able to do more of it when his mother died and less of it now.
On his last evening in the country he called Bobby Dancer and invited him out to the nearby Café Havana for a drink. Benicio arrived first and sat at a table outside, under newly slung Christmas lights. When Bobby approached he did so without the slightest trace of a limp. His face was finally the same color all over and looked as healed as it was ever going to get.
“I didn’t know you were still in town,” Bobby said. He lowered himself into a chair, slowly.
“Just for a few more hours. I leave early tomorrow.”
“Well, imagine that. I was the first to say mabuhay, and now here I am to bid you pamamaalam. That means farewell.” He summoned a bereted waitress over. “What are you drinking?”
“I wasn’t, yet.”
“Well, why not go out how you came in? We’ll have two lambanogs,” he said. “I wish I’d known you were still around. Charlie had this thing yesterday honoring the two surviving policemen who rescued Howard. I mean, they used to be surviving. One of them is missing, and the other died last weekend.”
“I’d heard.”
“I would have invited you, for sure.”
“I’m not sure I would have come,” he said. “But thanks.” The waitress returned with their drinks and Benicio took his from her hand before she had a chance to set it down. He took a long sip of the mouthwash-tasting lambanog, holding it in his cheeks