bopis

Happy New Ear

I ask for a pair with an extra curve in the spirals. “It’s ear of the pig,” I say. “I’m ram and thus am entitled to new ears,” I explain the Chinaman concept as best I can with a Tagalog tongue deprived of either Fookienese or Mandarin. But the frowning bodyshop owner just won’t give. “Look,” I say, “I commuted all the way from Makati right after fireworks, I hiked to this shack of yours, I mean why can’t you install a franchise in Alabang, at least, or even just at the foot of Makiling, at the very least. It’s a holiday, I’m miles away from love and family, and here I am, claim-stub-heavy, eligible as hell. Why can’t you give me my new ear?” Bodyshop owner is this lady I may develop a crush on, in fact, the attraction already flowers in me, because of the fantastic thickness of hair, the rich eyebrows, the arrogant chin, the hook of the nose. But, wait, that may be my clue. “Dear, I hope you won’t take this the wrong way,” I disclaim, “but are you, by any chance, Greek?” She gives me the first smile of dawn. Because of their Platonic discovery of the Golden Section, their Euclidean movement toward the point six one eight so on so forth, because because because they feel in accord with nature’s deep measure of beauty, only the Greeks dare shy from the alteration of shells, flowers, and faces. They invent one democracy or other, interpret dreams, acropolize mountains, debase Gods into gods, but they will not, will most probably never ever give you a fresh start with a pair of ears. “Greek, that explains it.” “Explains what, exactly?” she asks. “You, standing there, looking like a Goddess,” I say. She says “Oh dear, yes of course,” with some shock. “I may have something for you,” she says as she reaches below the counter, gives me a box the size of a three CD case, then smiles me away. Does not even take my claim stubs. I hike down Makiling before opening the box. I find a new set of ears and find them no different from those I already wear. I pick my left ear for wax. Then, with care to insert my other little finger at the same depth, I pick the left ear that lay the box. Both fingers reveal the same make and quantity. Same ears, new ears! I may not be able to say why but I grow extremely contented. Content, also, with my incapacity to explain the contentment. I reach home before anybody else wakes up.

Etiquetas: woman19