"The next ti you get into a brawl again, I’ll have you run with kaings of coconuts on your backs!" I hollered from my window, a cup of coffee in hand, as the offending recruits passed by below. At the head of the pack was Montiano, who had taken a blow during the fight that left his right cheek swollen. None of them dared to look up or make a sound, though I knew they clearly heard .
Eight recruits had been listed as participants in the fistfight—three from the 2nd platoon and four from the 3rd. Triviño and Dimalanta managed to piece together what caused the incident. The 2nd platoon had imdiately moved back after seeing my ’retreat’ hand signal, but the 3rd platoon failed to do the sa, resulting in a crash—several recruits from the latter were trampled by soldiers from the forr. Tired and irritated by the heat, tempers flared and fists flew.
If I’m being honest, I actually liked that it happened. Things were starting to get too quiet. The officer cadets—with their well-mannered ways and sharp minds—made instruction almost too easy. In just two days, they’d hit decent marksmanship. More surprisingly, during the march, they didn’t even look tired and followed my hand signals with the precision. It was so smooth-sailing that I felt more like a university professor than a general.
This little dose of chaos was just what I needed.
I took a sip from my coffee and realized it was my last. My little entertainnt at the window had co to an end.
I turned to see the dying rays of the sun spilling into the empty and silent sala. I sighed, my mood swinging from amused to lancholic. The sala had never been this empty. It was either Vicente, sitting too lazily on the couch with a book, or Isabela chirping noisily about the events of her day.
It reminded that I hadn’t talked to my daughter much since returning from Manila. I had anticipated this when I received my appointnt, but only lately had I realized how sad it was to set aside my greatest treasure in this life for yet another so-called noble cause. The situation felt uncomfortably familiar.
I still had about half an hour before the senior officers arrived below for our evening classes. I decided to spend that little ti for myself.
"Belang? Are you there?" I knocked on Isabela’s door.
"Yup," ca her muffled voice.
I pushed the door open—it creaked slightly. Isabela looked at , then promptly returned to what she was doing. She sat by her window, embroidering what looked like a cluster of roses onto her handkerchief. She was a girl of many talents, never half-hearted with any hobby she picked up.
"Why aren’t you doing that in the sala? It’s dim in here; your window faces away from the sun," I said. Like that of the conference room, her window overlooked the backyard instead of the town and sea. She had lit a candle, but it wasn’t enough.
She just groaned.
"Or just stop that—it’s late already," I added, a bit more sternly. "You’ll ruin your eyesight."
She rarely disobeyed a rebuke. She’d been raised well. But she was, after all, just a child.
"Isabela!" I said more firmly, as I sat down at the far side of her bed, facing her.
She sighed and set the fabric and needle down on the table. She pouted as she looked at .
"What’s wrong, hija?" I asked, furrowing my brow. "You’ve barely talked to lately."
"You’re rarely around, that’s why," she chided.
"Co here... sit with ." I gestured to the side of the bed. She reluctantly left her chair and sat beside .
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She didn’t resist.
"Is that it? You’re sulking because I can’t be with you as much as I was before I beca a general?" I asked with a chuckle. "You do know this is for a purpose... for the country."
I didn’t like how that sounded. It felt shallow. Terrible fathers always found excuses to justify their absence. I knew that—because I used to do it when I was John. And I knew how miserably that ended.
She leaned her head on my shoulder. "Naaa.. I just feel left out. If I were a boy, maybe you’d find more use for . I can’t march or fight... I can’t even carry a crate."
That hit like a barbed arrow. But I laughed—perhaps to deflect.
She looked up at , puzzled.
"You don’t know how happy I am that you’re a daughter and not a son..." I said softly, stroking her long black hair.
"Really?" she asked.
"If you were a son, at your age, I would’ve already lost you. You’d be chasing girls around town, drinking and brawling with your friends, and talking back to ." I chuckled. "Boys make for terrible children."
Isabela giggled. "I guess that’s true most of the ti."
I kissed her forehead. "And worst of all... if you were a son, I’d be forced to have you join the military and fight in the coming war. But because you’re a daughter, I get to keep you safe."
She groaned and hugged . "And how I wish you were a mother instead—so you wouldn’t have to do all this."
I laughed louder this ti. I couldn’t imagine myself as a mother. No... you needed more qualifications for that.
"Anyway... I think you can actually help with sothing."
As soon as I said that, she sat up straight, expectant.
"You’re good at embroidery?" I asked.
She huffed. "Of course I am. I’m even better than Tiya Maria and my cousins."
I raised my eyebrows, lips curling. "Well then... I think I’ve got the perfect job for you."
Isabela smirked. "But I don’t work for free, Heneral."
"It’s for your country, Isabela..." I said with a smile.
"The recruits and soldiers have wages... and they’re also doing it for the country. Or am I wrong?" she reasoned.
I chuckled and threw my hands in the air. "Alright... na your price."
"I want to learn Spanish."
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