Jenice admired the early night view from the Presidential Suite of Makati Shangri-la Hotel. The suite was located on the topmost floor, and it offered the most wonderful panoramic view of the city. In front of her were plenty of tall buildings which seemed to shimmer in the distance due to the spilling of fluorescent lights from some of its windows. They’re more brilliant than the stars, she thought. From up here, she felt as if she owned none of the world’s problems. From up here, she felt as if she could ignore the mass of people below her: she could see them, but could not make out anything clear because they looked so tiny from high above, they looked like nothing but small ants living in the dregs. These were the ones suffering from pesky Makati traffic, the ones stressed from their low paying jobs, the ones scrambling for something to eat, and the ones who, for some reason, she could not bear to care about.
She turned away from the window and sat on the bed on the opposite side of the room. The suite was large, with its own living room, kitchen, sitting room and dining area, but not nearly good enough for her taste. The interiors felt boring for her, with its monotonous motif of having heavy mahogany furniture, LCD TVs and chandeliers here and there to emphasize the feel of luxury it’s supposed to have. The only thing which she liked about the suite was the view it offered. She looked out the window again, but soon realized that it loses its charm once you’re not close enough to look down at the ones below.
Jenice was dressed in a silk bathrobe which she had bought from Spain. Her dress was waiting on a red couch by the window, a beautiful black ruffle trim Prada, which had been bought for her by her lover. She was actually very delighted with it, considering that her lover was not the most knowledgeable about fashion. He was a timid, soft-spoken forty-year-old bachelor, who had attained national popularity because of the strong influence of his family. He loved spoiling her with gifts such as the dress, sometimes with beautiful jewelry, and also loved treating her to these expensive suites. They had agreed to meet up in the suite later that night.
Jenice dressed up after making sure her hair was dry. Afterwards, she brushed her hair so that it fell properly on her shoulders, without any stray ends. She put on a pair of white gold earrings and bracelets, and then finally, applied some make-up on her face. She brushed her pale, white cheeks with a pinkish blush, dabbed light red eye shadow on her eyelids, and applied coral lipstick. Jenice was beautiful, she knew. Her curves were emphasized neatly by the cuts of her dress, showing off her sexy hourglass shape. She was a thirty-six year old lady who still looked as if she was only twenty.
She had to wait a few minutes before her lover arrived, having with him an entourage of bodyguards. She welcomed him warmly with a hug and a peck, while he complimented her appearance. He left his entourage of bodyguards behind him as he went inside. Only the butler was allowed to disturb the two.
The dining room of the Presidential Suite was nothing special, it was simply a rectangular room with a long table in the center, with a chandelier above it. The butler served them appetizer first: Lemon Olive Oil Poached Tasmanian Salmon with green and white asparagus. The two grabbed their silverware, and proceeded to eat.
“Congratulations, by the way,” she said, while knifing the salmon. “You deserved it.”
“You already congratulated me,” he chuckled. He re-adjusted his glasses—a habit which he does whenever he felt embarrassed or shy about something. She smiled, having always found the gesture adorable.
“Well, I just thought I should congratulate you in person.”
The butler served them a glass of red wine each. It had the deep, bittersweet taste red wine is known for, but had a unique citrusy kick at the end. They continued eating, barely saying anything to one another. She was not very talkative, and especially was he. But they enjoyed their silence, they enjoyed their peace. In each others glances, they understood sentences.
The waiter served them their entrees shortly after they finished their appetizers. Jenice had Foie Gras with caramelized apples and Beef Cheek. The presentation on the plate was an art in itself: the large chunk of beef cheek was on the middle of everything, oozing with dark red cider sauce, while on top of it was a three inch slice of foie gras. It was garnished with green oregano, and was served with small slices of caramelized apples on the side.
Jenice enjoyed the foie gras the most. The silkiness of the liver melted easily in her tongue, and its bitter aftertaste lingered sweetly. It was pure bliss for her.
On the other hand, Jenice’s lover had something a bit different: Creamed Spinach with Parma Ham and Black Truffles. The fragrance of the black truffles filled the room with a wonderful, earthy scent. He enjoyed the salty taste of the parma ham against the sweetness of the spinach and truffle.
They ended with a boring pannacotta, which was unable to arouse their senses.
“Niño,” she spoke to her lover. She was finishing up on her glass of red wine. “I don’t like the wine very much.”
“Oh,” Niño signaled for the butler. “Should I get us some champagne instead?”
“Yes,” she said. “I would like champagne better. Some Perrier-Jouet would be good.”
The butler came back after a few minutes with a bottle of champagne. Niño told the butler that he’s dismissed, and they can serve themselves from here on. The butler bowed in courtesy, and exited the room. As he left, Jenice and Niño went to the living room beside to the dining area. It had a long couch which could comfortably sit five people, with an equally large glass top center table. Again, chandeliers hung over the room, coloring the entire suite with warm, yellow lighting. On the far side was a bar area, with a small LCD television inside a cabinet. The walls were adorned with watercolor paintings of peaceful mountain ranges. Light, white curtains draped over the huge windows, blocking any view of the outside world.
“So,” Jenice began, after sipping from her champagne. “What are your plans now?”
Niño re-adjusted his glasses. He smiled wearily, for he had been through a long day. “I don’t know, do my job? It can’t be that hard.”
“It is,” her gaze did not meet his. “You’re clueless, aren’t you? Everyone’s problems are yours now.”
“I guess,” he said passively. He drank from his champagne glass. The acidic taste of the liquor calmed him a little.
“Thank you for tonight,” she changed the topic. “I really enjoyed it. The food was great. The suite isn’t that fantastic, but it’s okay.”
“Yeah,” he said. He was never used to talking much, not even with her. She was never too persistent to make conversation, either, a quality that pleased him greatly about her. Others liked to pry, she liked to observe. Maybe that’s why she found him interesting: this man, this bachelor, who was the interest of many, was one of the most reserved and most mysterious persons she has ever met.
“Let’s not stop doing this,” she looked at the chandelier hanging above them. “Even if you start getting busy. Let’s not stop doing this.”
He didn’t answer. He looked at the chandelier as well. The appeal of the chandelier had always been how it’s able to make the crystals glitter softly by refracting light. It used to be a fixture that’s exclusive to the wealthy and affluent, but now modern designs of chandeliers have greatly cheapened its value. The one hanging above them, however, maintained the specs of a traditional chandelier, which added a strong, classical look on the entire room. The crystals glistened with yellow light.
She downed the last of her champagne in a swift gulp. She turned red shortly afterwards, an expected reaction, for she was never too strong when it came to her liquor. It was a cue they both knew. He downed his champagne as well, and led her to the bedroom.
She undid his pants, noticing the new Porsche keychain hanging from his waist. It was the only car that he loved enough to drive himself. She smiled at his resolve, knowing that he was the kind of person who took a chauffer anywhere.
They made love all night. They did so in silence, as properly raised adults do. They did so without screaming, without wild acts. They simply did.
Jenice woke up very early the next morning, alone, but it did not disturb her for she was used to waking up on a massive bed by herself. What she wasn’t prepared for, however, was the intense urge to vomit. A hangover, she thought. She walked wobbly to the bathroom, where she puked last night’s dinner forcefully in the sink. She turned on the faucet to let it drain.
She walked outside the bathroom and went to the kitchen to drink some water. As she was gulped down water from the glass, she heard a loud quacking sound from the bathroom.
She was alarmed instantly. She walked to the marble bathroom. As she entered, she saw that a small, yellow duck had been on her sink. It was quacking loudly, and spreading its wings apart from time to time.
What in the world is this doing here, she thought. I’ve heard of rubber ducks, but this…
“I’m no rubber duck, woman,” the duck spoke clearly. Jenice jumped in her place.
“Did it just talk?” Jenice couldn’t help but say it aloud.
“Yes, I’m talking,” the duck spoke again “And I can hear you thinking, too.”
Jenice screamed this time and ran quickly out of the bathroom. She closed the door behind her. Her heart rate instantly shot up, and her breathing became heavy.
What the?
Jenice tried to calm herself. “It’s just a duck, ducks don’t talk… there’s just a duck… in my bathroom…”
After a few minutes of trying to calmly collect herself, Jenice finally decided to open the door again. As it swung open, she focused her eyes quickly on the sink, which was now empty. She sighed in relief. There’s no more duck, I guess.
“Aren’t you going to feed me?” she heard a voice again. The duck was now on the marble floor.
“What are you?!” she half-shouted.
“I’m a duck,” the duck said, matter-of-factly. “Now feed me.”
Jenice took a couple of steps back. Her eyes were wide in disbelief. She walked out of the bathroom and entered the living room. She sat down the couch and calmly tried to assess the situation. She resisted the urge to scream for help. She knew that if she did, people will simply think she was crazy.
“I’m still here,” she heard the duck’s voice from behind her. She turned around. It was there, complete with its small yellow feathers, orange beak, and webbed feet. It was really a talking duck. Its voice was strange and squeaky, somewhat like Donald Duck’s, but it also had its own unique qualities. It had a much stronger timber, which made it even weirder for Jenice.
Jenice looked at the duck straight in the eyes. Maybe she was hallucinating, and if she cleared up her vision well enough, she could see that the duck wasn’t there at all.
“What are you staring at? Creepy woman,” the duck said.
“You don’t exist,” Jenice said. She kept a cool tone.
“Of course I do,” the duck said, sternly.
“I’m going to eat breakfast now, and I’m not going to care about you,” Jenice started walking away from the duck. She put on some nice clothes and took the elevator downstairs to catch the morning buffet.
She grabbed all sorts of things, from quality poached eggs to the usual breakfast fare. She neatly stacked them on her plate before she sat down on an empty table.
“Hey, aren’t you grabbing anything for me?” the duck said. It followed her until here, walking with its webbed feet. It was sitting on the carpeted floor by Jenice’s foot. She resisted the urge to kick it, for she had a soft spot for animals. If the duck had not been following her and if it had not been talking to her rudely, she would readily say that it was pretty cute.
As Jenice was about to swallow a spoonful of rice, the duck began talking again. “That’s not fair. Why do you get to eat everything?”
She was getting used to the duck’s annoying questions and commands. It did not do anything to her, after all. It only talked. Moreover, no one else seemed to notice its presence, and so she didn’t have to explain herself to anyone.
“So you get to eat my relatives. You get to eat platters of foie gras. Do you even know what they have to go through to let you eat that? And you don’t even share. You’re a heartless woman.”
Jenice didn’t take too long before she had blocked out the duck’s statements completely. She developed that skill as a child: she mastered the art of knowing how to ignore in order to enjoy. Her parents constantly bickered, and so she learned to drown out their voices. Her friends normally spoke ill of her, and so she learned to stop caring. Ever since she realized that the world was more interested in hurting her with its screeching noises, she learned to stop using her ears. That’s why she loved Niño, for he did not speak too much. He smiled at her, at times, but rarely did he offer her any words.
“You know the problem with you,” the duck was saying while Jenice was walking back to her hotel room. “You’re insane. And you have to stop this, now. You enjoy these luxurious, oh boy, don’t you just love these luxuries… But at the cost of what? Your boyfriend, don’t you know you’re just his second priority from now on? He has a larger commitment now, to his country.”
She was shocked at that sentence. She didn’t look at the duck, but her grip on the door knob suddenly stiffened. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself, I don’t believe you.
And she knew that maybe the duck was right. He did have a larger commitment now. He was elected yesterday to be the next president of the country. But then, after realizing that, she felt alone. A sharp pang shot through her, but she tried to shrug it off. She knows that feeling well enough to let it pass. But the questions bothered her still: will he stop seeing her, now that he has a new job? Will he stop offering her these expensive stays and gifts, now that he must live simply for the people?
She’d hate to admit it, but luxury is her vice. If these luxuries stopped coming, how would she be, then? She wouldn’t be anything. She quit her job shortly after being tied to Niño, who had provided her with everything. The only thing she had to offer was her body—and she knew that her body wouldn’t last her too long. She was getting old. As if she had aged overnight, she felt fine lines on her skin when she ran her finger over it.
“You’re a mess, lady. You whore up to these politicians just so they could feed you some good food, let you stay in these expensive suites, and give you a good life? Tsk… pathetic.”
Jenice immediately rushed inside her hotel room and grabbed her iPhone. She dialed Niño’s number. It rang twice, before he dropped the call. She was devastated. She didn’t know what to do. She needed reassurance. She needed to know that he’ll still be there for her.
“He won’t be there for you anymore, you know,” the duck quacked loudly, as if laughing. “He’s gone, and you’ll have to accept it. He’s on the side of everyone else you’ve tried to ignore all your life now. You’ve lost him.”
Jenice began shaking in anger. She bit her lip painfully, to let her control herself. She clenched her fists very tightly, until her fingernails began engraving her palm. She paced her long, heavy breathing. “Shut up.”
“Shut up? Why?”
Jenice didn’t say anything more. She told herself that she was fine, that nothing was supposed to bother her. She grabbed her luggage and walked to the lobby in order to check out of the hotel. The duck was still following her from a fair distance, and she could see it in the corner of her eye, but she denied its presence to herself.
An attendant in a red polo and white gloves welcomed her by the exit of Makati Shangri-la and asked to carry her suitcase for her. She refused politely. She sat on the backseat of an SUV, and told the driver to take her home. He stepped on the gas without saying a word.
Her eyes began to droop as soon as she became comfortable in the car. It was then that the duck began talking again, louder this time: “Open your eyes!”
She jumped in her seat. She immediately ordered the driver to turn on the radio and to put it in some good station. It tuned in to some hip hop song, something unappealing to her ears, but she would have rather taken it over the duck’s incessant ramblings.
After she succeeded in drowning out the duck’s voice, she fell asleep in her car. She woke up about an hour later, where she was in front of her condominium in Celebrity Manor. She took an elevator up to the fourth floor and walked silently into her unit. It was a small condominium, with one bedroom and a comfort room. The interiors were simple: a two-seater soft couch, soft brown carpets and fluorescent lights. It was a humble home, leagues apart from the suite she stayed at in Makati Shangri-la.
The duck hasn’t stop asking her for food since she got home. “I’m hungry… I’m hungry… You haven’t fed me… I’m hungry…”
“Shut up!” Jenice shouted. “Shut up!”
“I’m hungry…”
“Be quiet!”
“I’m hungry…”
Jenice couldn’t take it any longer. She briskly walked to her kitchen and grabbed a huge chopping knife. “If you don’t keep quiet, I’ll kill you!”
“I’m hungry…” The duck was now standing on the kitchen counter. “Don’t you care, lady? Don’t you care?”
Jenice stabbed the duck squarely on its chest. It didn’t move to dodge or offer any resistance. The knife was able to cut cleanly through the duck’s chest. Jenice felt the knife break the duck’s ribs when she thrusted. It stopped talking. Its face stopped moving. It stayed still.
“Are you dead?” Jenice couldn’t help but ask. It did not answer. It remained there, motionless. It stared at her with its beady black eyes. They continued staring at each other without any word or any movement for what seemed like half an hour: Jenice’s eyes were fixed on the duck’s face, while the duck’s eyes were fixed on Jenice’s face. She wore no expression at all.
After a few minutes, the duck began to fade. Jenice did not remove the knife from its chest until the complete image of the duck was lost. As it disappeared, Jenice saw that blood had lingered on the knife’s blade.
She cleaned the blood after, getting rid of the distinct rusty smell on her. She shied away from any thoughts as she washed away the blood from the knife and from her counter.
Without a word, she dialed Niño’s number again on her phone. After several rings, he finally picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Can we go to Greenbelt later tonight? I heard Lusso has the most scrumptious foie gras burger in town.”
“What? Didn’t we just eat out last night?”
“Yes, I know,” Jenice fidgeted. “But it wouldn’t hurt to see each other again.”
“I… don’t know. I’ll see if I can. I’ll tell you later."
Jenice dropped the call and began dressing up for tonight’s dinner.
RINA CAPARRAS is a Creative Writing student in the Ateneo de Manila University. She writes fiction, nonfiction and poetry. She also writes reviews for a local magazine and contributes to various online publications. She writes about love, food, music, video games, deities, heavenly bodies, religion, and social matters. She dreams of becoming a master chef.
She turned away from the window and sat on the bed on the opposite side of the room. The suite was large, with its own living room, kitchen, sitting room and dining area, but not nearly good enough for her taste. The interiors felt boring for her, with its monotonous motif of having heavy mahogany furniture, LCD TVs and chandeliers here and there to emphasize the feel of luxury it’s supposed to have. The only thing which she liked about the suite was the view it offered. She looked out the window again, but soon realized that it loses its charm once you’re not close enough to look down at the ones below.
Jenice was dressed in a silk bathrobe which she had bought from Spain. Her dress was waiting on a red couch by the window, a beautiful black ruffle trim Prada, which had been bought for her by her lover. She was actually very delighted with it, considering that her lover was not the most knowledgeable about fashion. He was a timid, soft-spoken forty-year-old bachelor, who had attained national popularity because of the strong influence of his family. He loved spoiling her with gifts such as the dress, sometimes with beautiful jewelry, and also loved treating her to these expensive suites. They had agreed to meet up in the suite later that night.
Jenice dressed up after making sure her hair was dry. Afterwards, she brushed her hair so that it fell properly on her shoulders, without any stray ends. She put on a pair of white gold earrings and bracelets, and then finally, applied some make-up on her face. She brushed her pale, white cheeks with a pinkish blush, dabbed light red eye shadow on her eyelids, and applied coral lipstick. Jenice was beautiful, she knew. Her curves were emphasized neatly by the cuts of her dress, showing off her sexy hourglass shape. She was a thirty-six year old lady who still looked as if she was only twenty.
She had to wait a few minutes before her lover arrived, having with him an entourage of bodyguards. She welcomed him warmly with a hug and a peck, while he complimented her appearance. He left his entourage of bodyguards behind him as he went inside. Only the butler was allowed to disturb the two.
The dining room of the Presidential Suite was nothing special, it was simply a rectangular room with a long table in the center, with a chandelier above it. The butler served them appetizer first: Lemon Olive Oil Poached Tasmanian Salmon with green and white asparagus. The two grabbed their silverware, and proceeded to eat.
“Congratulations, by the way,” she said, while knifing the salmon. “You deserved it.”
“You already congratulated me,” he chuckled. He re-adjusted his glasses—a habit which he does whenever he felt embarrassed or shy about something. She smiled, having always found the gesture adorable.
“Well, I just thought I should congratulate you in person.”
The butler served them a glass of red wine each. It had the deep, bittersweet taste red wine is known for, but had a unique citrusy kick at the end. They continued eating, barely saying anything to one another. She was not very talkative, and especially was he. But they enjoyed their silence, they enjoyed their peace. In each others glances, they understood sentences.
The waiter served them their entrees shortly after they finished their appetizers. Jenice had Foie Gras with caramelized apples and Beef Cheek. The presentation on the plate was an art in itself: the large chunk of beef cheek was on the middle of everything, oozing with dark red cider sauce, while on top of it was a three inch slice of foie gras. It was garnished with green oregano, and was served with small slices of caramelized apples on the side.
Jenice enjoyed the foie gras the most. The silkiness of the liver melted easily in her tongue, and its bitter aftertaste lingered sweetly. It was pure bliss for her.
On the other hand, Jenice’s lover had something a bit different: Creamed Spinach with Parma Ham and Black Truffles. The fragrance of the black truffles filled the room with a wonderful, earthy scent. He enjoyed the salty taste of the parma ham against the sweetness of the spinach and truffle.
They ended with a boring pannacotta, which was unable to arouse their senses.
“Niño,” she spoke to her lover. She was finishing up on her glass of red wine. “I don’t like the wine very much.”
“Oh,” Niño signaled for the butler. “Should I get us some champagne instead?”
“Yes,” she said. “I would like champagne better. Some Perrier-Jouet would be good.”
The butler came back after a few minutes with a bottle of champagne. Niño told the butler that he’s dismissed, and they can serve themselves from here on. The butler bowed in courtesy, and exited the room. As he left, Jenice and Niño went to the living room beside to the dining area. It had a long couch which could comfortably sit five people, with an equally large glass top center table. Again, chandeliers hung over the room, coloring the entire suite with warm, yellow lighting. On the far side was a bar area, with a small LCD television inside a cabinet. The walls were adorned with watercolor paintings of peaceful mountain ranges. Light, white curtains draped over the huge windows, blocking any view of the outside world.
“So,” Jenice began, after sipping from her champagne. “What are your plans now?”
Niño re-adjusted his glasses. He smiled wearily, for he had been through a long day. “I don’t know, do my job? It can’t be that hard.”
“It is,” her gaze did not meet his. “You’re clueless, aren’t you? Everyone’s problems are yours now.”
“I guess,” he said passively. He drank from his champagne glass. The acidic taste of the liquor calmed him a little.
“Thank you for tonight,” she changed the topic. “I really enjoyed it. The food was great. The suite isn’t that fantastic, but it’s okay.”
“Yeah,” he said. He was never used to talking much, not even with her. She was never too persistent to make conversation, either, a quality that pleased him greatly about her. Others liked to pry, she liked to observe. Maybe that’s why she found him interesting: this man, this bachelor, who was the interest of many, was one of the most reserved and most mysterious persons she has ever met.
“Let’s not stop doing this,” she looked at the chandelier hanging above them. “Even if you start getting busy. Let’s not stop doing this.”
He didn’t answer. He looked at the chandelier as well. The appeal of the chandelier had always been how it’s able to make the crystals glitter softly by refracting light. It used to be a fixture that’s exclusive to the wealthy and affluent, but now modern designs of chandeliers have greatly cheapened its value. The one hanging above them, however, maintained the specs of a traditional chandelier, which added a strong, classical look on the entire room. The crystals glistened with yellow light.
She downed the last of her champagne in a swift gulp. She turned red shortly afterwards, an expected reaction, for she was never too strong when it came to her liquor. It was a cue they both knew. He downed his champagne as well, and led her to the bedroom.
She undid his pants, noticing the new Porsche keychain hanging from his waist. It was the only car that he loved enough to drive himself. She smiled at his resolve, knowing that he was the kind of person who took a chauffer anywhere.
They made love all night. They did so in silence, as properly raised adults do. They did so without screaming, without wild acts. They simply did.
Jenice woke up very early the next morning, alone, but it did not disturb her for she was used to waking up on a massive bed by herself. What she wasn’t prepared for, however, was the intense urge to vomit. A hangover, she thought. She walked wobbly to the bathroom, where she puked last night’s dinner forcefully in the sink. She turned on the faucet to let it drain.
She walked outside the bathroom and went to the kitchen to drink some water. As she was gulped down water from the glass, she heard a loud quacking sound from the bathroom.
She was alarmed instantly. She walked to the marble bathroom. As she entered, she saw that a small, yellow duck had been on her sink. It was quacking loudly, and spreading its wings apart from time to time.
What in the world is this doing here, she thought. I’ve heard of rubber ducks, but this…
“I’m no rubber duck, woman,” the duck spoke clearly. Jenice jumped in her place.
“Did it just talk?” Jenice couldn’t help but say it aloud.
“Yes, I’m talking,” the duck spoke again “And I can hear you thinking, too.”
Jenice screamed this time and ran quickly out of the bathroom. She closed the door behind her. Her heart rate instantly shot up, and her breathing became heavy.
What the?
Jenice tried to calm herself. “It’s just a duck, ducks don’t talk… there’s just a duck… in my bathroom…”
After a few minutes of trying to calmly collect herself, Jenice finally decided to open the door again. As it swung open, she focused her eyes quickly on the sink, which was now empty. She sighed in relief. There’s no more duck, I guess.
“Aren’t you going to feed me?” she heard a voice again. The duck was now on the marble floor.
“What are you?!” she half-shouted.
“I’m a duck,” the duck said, matter-of-factly. “Now feed me.”
Jenice took a couple of steps back. Her eyes were wide in disbelief. She walked out of the bathroom and entered the living room. She sat down the couch and calmly tried to assess the situation. She resisted the urge to scream for help. She knew that if she did, people will simply think she was crazy.
“I’m still here,” she heard the duck’s voice from behind her. She turned around. It was there, complete with its small yellow feathers, orange beak, and webbed feet. It was really a talking duck. Its voice was strange and squeaky, somewhat like Donald Duck’s, but it also had its own unique qualities. It had a much stronger timber, which made it even weirder for Jenice.
Jenice looked at the duck straight in the eyes. Maybe she was hallucinating, and if she cleared up her vision well enough, she could see that the duck wasn’t there at all.
“What are you staring at? Creepy woman,” the duck said.
“You don’t exist,” Jenice said. She kept a cool tone.
“Of course I do,” the duck said, sternly.
“I’m going to eat breakfast now, and I’m not going to care about you,” Jenice started walking away from the duck. She put on some nice clothes and took the elevator downstairs to catch the morning buffet.
She grabbed all sorts of things, from quality poached eggs to the usual breakfast fare. She neatly stacked them on her plate before she sat down on an empty table.
“Hey, aren’t you grabbing anything for me?” the duck said. It followed her until here, walking with its webbed feet. It was sitting on the carpeted floor by Jenice’s foot. She resisted the urge to kick it, for she had a soft spot for animals. If the duck had not been following her and if it had not been talking to her rudely, she would readily say that it was pretty cute.
As Jenice was about to swallow a spoonful of rice, the duck began talking again. “That’s not fair. Why do you get to eat everything?”
She was getting used to the duck’s annoying questions and commands. It did not do anything to her, after all. It only talked. Moreover, no one else seemed to notice its presence, and so she didn’t have to explain herself to anyone.
“So you get to eat my relatives. You get to eat platters of foie gras. Do you even know what they have to go through to let you eat that? And you don’t even share. You’re a heartless woman.”
Jenice didn’t take too long before she had blocked out the duck’s statements completely. She developed that skill as a child: she mastered the art of knowing how to ignore in order to enjoy. Her parents constantly bickered, and so she learned to drown out their voices. Her friends normally spoke ill of her, and so she learned to stop caring. Ever since she realized that the world was more interested in hurting her with its screeching noises, she learned to stop using her ears. That’s why she loved Niño, for he did not speak too much. He smiled at her, at times, but rarely did he offer her any words.
“You know the problem with you,” the duck was saying while Jenice was walking back to her hotel room. “You’re insane. And you have to stop this, now. You enjoy these luxurious, oh boy, don’t you just love these luxuries… But at the cost of what? Your boyfriend, don’t you know you’re just his second priority from now on? He has a larger commitment now, to his country.”
She was shocked at that sentence. She didn’t look at the duck, but her grip on the door knob suddenly stiffened. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself, I don’t believe you.
And she knew that maybe the duck was right. He did have a larger commitment now. He was elected yesterday to be the next president of the country. But then, after realizing that, she felt alone. A sharp pang shot through her, but she tried to shrug it off. She knows that feeling well enough to let it pass. But the questions bothered her still: will he stop seeing her, now that he has a new job? Will he stop offering her these expensive stays and gifts, now that he must live simply for the people?
She’d hate to admit it, but luxury is her vice. If these luxuries stopped coming, how would she be, then? She wouldn’t be anything. She quit her job shortly after being tied to Niño, who had provided her with everything. The only thing she had to offer was her body—and she knew that her body wouldn’t last her too long. She was getting old. As if she had aged overnight, she felt fine lines on her skin when she ran her finger over it.
“You’re a mess, lady. You whore up to these politicians just so they could feed you some good food, let you stay in these expensive suites, and give you a good life? Tsk… pathetic.”
Jenice immediately rushed inside her hotel room and grabbed her iPhone. She dialed Niño’s number. It rang twice, before he dropped the call. She was devastated. She didn’t know what to do. She needed reassurance. She needed to know that he’ll still be there for her.
“He won’t be there for you anymore, you know,” the duck quacked loudly, as if laughing. “He’s gone, and you’ll have to accept it. He’s on the side of everyone else you’ve tried to ignore all your life now. You’ve lost him.”
Jenice began shaking in anger. She bit her lip painfully, to let her control herself. She clenched her fists very tightly, until her fingernails began engraving her palm. She paced her long, heavy breathing. “Shut up.”
“Shut up? Why?”
Jenice didn’t say anything more. She told herself that she was fine, that nothing was supposed to bother her. She grabbed her luggage and walked to the lobby in order to check out of the hotel. The duck was still following her from a fair distance, and she could see it in the corner of her eye, but she denied its presence to herself.
An attendant in a red polo and white gloves welcomed her by the exit of Makati Shangri-la and asked to carry her suitcase for her. She refused politely. She sat on the backseat of an SUV, and told the driver to take her home. He stepped on the gas without saying a word.
Her eyes began to droop as soon as she became comfortable in the car. It was then that the duck began talking again, louder this time: “Open your eyes!”
She jumped in her seat. She immediately ordered the driver to turn on the radio and to put it in some good station. It tuned in to some hip hop song, something unappealing to her ears, but she would have rather taken it over the duck’s incessant ramblings.
After she succeeded in drowning out the duck’s voice, she fell asleep in her car. She woke up about an hour later, where she was in front of her condominium in Celebrity Manor. She took an elevator up to the fourth floor and walked silently into her unit. It was a small condominium, with one bedroom and a comfort room. The interiors were simple: a two-seater soft couch, soft brown carpets and fluorescent lights. It was a humble home, leagues apart from the suite she stayed at in Makati Shangri-la.
The duck hasn’t stop asking her for food since she got home. “I’m hungry… I’m hungry… You haven’t fed me… I’m hungry…”
“Shut up!” Jenice shouted. “Shut up!”
“I’m hungry…”
“Be quiet!”
“I’m hungry…”
Jenice couldn’t take it any longer. She briskly walked to her kitchen and grabbed a huge chopping knife. “If you don’t keep quiet, I’ll kill you!”
“I’m hungry…” The duck was now standing on the kitchen counter. “Don’t you care, lady? Don’t you care?”
Jenice stabbed the duck squarely on its chest. It didn’t move to dodge or offer any resistance. The knife was able to cut cleanly through the duck’s chest. Jenice felt the knife break the duck’s ribs when she thrusted. It stopped talking. Its face stopped moving. It stayed still.
“Are you dead?” Jenice couldn’t help but ask. It did not answer. It remained there, motionless. It stared at her with its beady black eyes. They continued staring at each other without any word or any movement for what seemed like half an hour: Jenice’s eyes were fixed on the duck’s face, while the duck’s eyes were fixed on Jenice’s face. She wore no expression at all.
After a few minutes, the duck began to fade. Jenice did not remove the knife from its chest until the complete image of the duck was lost. As it disappeared, Jenice saw that blood had lingered on the knife’s blade.
She cleaned the blood after, getting rid of the distinct rusty smell on her. She shied away from any thoughts as she washed away the blood from the knife and from her counter.
Without a word, she dialed Niño’s number again on her phone. After several rings, he finally picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Can we go to Greenbelt later tonight? I heard Lusso has the most scrumptious foie gras burger in town.”
“What? Didn’t we just eat out last night?”
“Yes, I know,” Jenice fidgeted. “But it wouldn’t hurt to see each other again.”
“I… don’t know. I’ll see if I can. I’ll tell you later."
Jenice dropped the call and began dressing up for tonight’s dinner.
RINA CAPARRAS is a Creative Writing student in the Ateneo de Manila University. She writes fiction, nonfiction and poetry. She also writes reviews for a local magazine and contributes to various online publications. She writes about love, food, music, video games, deities, heavenly bodies, religion, and social matters. She dreams of becoming a master chef.
