The End of Men(92)
ROSAMIE
Mati, Philippines
Day 1,667
There is a satisfaction to working in business I never had as a nanny. When you’re looking after children, no matter how hard you work you have the same amount or more to do the next day. Three meals, bathing, clothing, playing, talking, cajoling, encouraging, disciplining, comforting. It never ends. My job now has clean lines and a strict to-do list. As I achieve things, they are ticked off the list and then I don’t have to do them again.
The private jet landed seven minutes before the East Pacific Air Traffic Restrictions Partnership came into effect. We landed and the flight attendant burst into deep, gulping sobs. I got off the plane as fast as I could, desperate to get away from the man who knew I was not who I said I was: a traitor and a thief. After days of traveling by bus, car and hours and hours of walking I finally got back to Mati, my home city, only for my mother to take one look at me and tell me to leave and go back to Manila. “There has never been a better time to make something of yourself. All the men are dead, and businesses need people. Go, go back to Manila right now. We’ll be fine here.”
She wasn’t wrong. Five years later, she’s the head of the barangay and has overseen the recovery of our village and a new infrastructure program while I have a whole new life. I still wonder about Angelica and Mrs. Tai though. Is Angelica looked after? Did they survive the riots? Tens of thousands died and the Great Fire took many more. The Chinese army took over before China disintegrated and now there’s a fragile peace with Singapore operating as an administrative region of Beijing State. I’m sure they were fine. Mrs. Tai had spine, she just didn’t like to use it.
Today’s figures arrive in my inbox. They’re better than average; a high proportion of good-quality plastic. I look over the numbers, needing to feel confident before my weekly call with my boss. This job is mine because I kept being in the right place at the right time and I worked hard. My official title is “Waste Supply Manager” in one of the Philippines’ largest recycling companies. I wonder what Mrs. Tai would say if she knew that I had built a career in garbage. I can imagine her wrinkling up her nose in disgust.
My assistant comes in. I put a smile on my face, ready for my call with my boss and start to push my half-finished lunch to the side of my desk.
“There’s a Mrs. Tai on the phone for you.”
I drop my bowl of soup and it splatters all over my crisp, cream linen trousers and shoes.
My assistant looks at me with intense concern. I’m not usually a clumsy person. I feel like she’s glimpsing into the past and seeing the old me.
“I, um. Put her through and shut the door behind you.” I’m wiping soup off my thighs when the phone rings.
I’ll just pretend I don’t know her. She can’t do anything to me, not now. What’s she going to do, have me arrested? She couldn’t. Could she? She has no proof it was me. Of course there’s proof it was me.
“Hello, Rosamie.” Her voice hasn’t changed.
“How can I help you?” Noncommittal. I could be talking to a stranger.
“Don’t sound so distant, Rosamie. You know who I am.”
She’s going to destroy my life. Of course she is, I stole millions of dollars from her. Tears immediately start dropping quickly down my cheeks. I have imagined this moment so many times and I knew it would come, but I prayed and prayed it wouldn’t. She could be recording me. I must be careful.
“How is Angelica?”
Mrs. Tai sucks in her breath and it feels like I’ve done something wrong but I’m not sure what. I stole money, I didn’t hurt her kids. I loved her children more than she did. The thought of Rupert makes my stomach hurt even now that all this time has passed.
“Angelica is why I’m calling. Partly.”
Panic, fear, I’m going to throw up. “Is she okay? Did something happen?”
I swear I can hear Mrs. Tai roll her eyes on the phone. She hasn’t changed one bit. “Yes, she’s fine. She’s more grown-up now than when you last saw her.” I resist the urge to bite out a retort. Of course she’s more grown-up, that’s what happens to children. They grow up. I want to speak to her so much but I can’t ask that. I can’t.
“You can’t speak to her so don’t even think about asking.”
“I wasn’t going to.” I sound sullen but I can’t help it.
“Angelica is the only reason I’m calling you instead of calling the police and telling them to contact the Filipino authorities.”
My worst nightmare is hovering at the edges of my sight. Policemen bursting into my small, clean, peaceful office and ruining my life. The humiliation of telling my mother I failed, that I did something terrible, that I am a criminal.
“I thought when I told Angelica what you did, she would be angry with you and she would support me, but that’s not what happened.”
Silence as we both breathe down the phone. Angelica was always very stubborn. I bet she didn’t speak to Mrs. Tai for days, maybe even weeks. If something was going to happen that she didn’t like, there was no persuading her.
“So I’m calling you, not the police. For now anyway. I need the lullaby.”
“The lullaby?”
“Yes, the lullaby Angelica says you always used to sing to her and Rupert.” The irritation in Mrs. Tai’s voice is thick. She can’t bear that she’s asking me, the help, to teach her something she should know. It’s such an obvious failing; the mother who can’t comfort her own child. “She says it’s the only thing that reminds her of Rupert and you used to sing it before bed. I need to know the lullaby so I can sing it to her.”