Like other cities and towns in the Philippines overpopulation had reached Baguio as well, but what made this place special was indeed the climate. With an average temperature in the seventies, the cool weather was such a relief from the awful heat that engulfed the rest of the country.
There was only one park with a lake, Burnham, spread out over eighty acres, and after giving it a walk-through and coming up short we checked into a hotel a couple of blocks away and grabbed a bite to eat before heading back for a more thorough search.
I didn’t want to rob Gemma’s mother of the one recent picture she had of her daughter, so I had Rachelle take a snapshot of the photo with her cellphone, which she used as we split up to cover more ground.
It wasn’t easy for someone like me, who came from such a diverse country, to scan over countless faces that looked more similar than different. Add that to the constant mental torture I was experiencing and there would be times when I’d zone out and not realize it.
Every third person, every third person.
Mother, infant, daughter.
Triple tiara.
Triple crown.
Three times three is nine, nine divided by three is three.
Manila, Bangued, Baguio.
She’ll be among the crowd as number three.
But then something would snap me out of it. A passing song. An occasional foreigner. Then I’d realize how many faces I’d overlooked. All the ones and twos before the three’s, and this would cause a fidget as I would have a momentary battle with covering OCD with OCD.
She’s passed you. She’s gone.
She’s leaving the lake, the park, the city, unless you ask every third person the time.
Rachelle was one of these third people, and before I could recognize her, before I could stop myself, I asked her like a stranger, “Excuse me, do you know what time it is?”
I snapped back as the last three syllables left my mouth, but it was too late, and she looked at me with such confusion.
Thankfully, I was able to think fast, and acted as though I were only joking. She fell for it, and after a few giggles informed me that she hadn’t found my Gemma.
After a couple more go-rounds of the park, this time sticking together, which forced me to stay focused to the point of not losing it in front of her, we went ahead and retired to the hotel.
It was all I could do to sit through dinner, now grateful for Rachelle’s cellphone obsession since it kept her busy and therefore less likely to pick up on my ever-increasing fidgeting, or at least I believed.
But it was getting so bad, taking all my concentration to send it to the bottom half of my body, to my feet and legs under the table, that I knew I couldn’t hide it for much longer.
“I think you should go.”
“What?”
“I really appreciate all your help, but you’ve done all that you can. We’ll stop off by the ATM in the morning so I can give you that thousand I promised, then I’ll drop you off at the bus station.”
“You’re not coming?”
“No, not yet. I’ll give it a few more days.”
I don’t know if it was because she felt bad for me, or if she was just turned on by me being a celebrity, but when we got upstairs to the room Rachelle threw herself into my arms, and when I moved my lips before hers could make contact she went for my belt buckle.
I had noticed how proud she had been when a few of the hotel’s guests recognized me. Proud of the perception that we were together. I, indeed, had experienced many times over how the drug of fame could be so intoxicating. So I didn’t blame her at all, but to give her my body, my soul, was something I simply could not do.
I now belonged to the pearl of the slum, with the thought of being with someone else as catastrophic as losing my genius. The girl and the gift were now one, and as I drifted off to sleep in a chair on the other side of the room from Rachelle lying alone in a queen-sized bed, I knew with all my being what my life had come to.
It would be Gemma, or it would be over.
The park was cool, crisp, with the calm lake reflecting the wide open sky above.
I thought of my princess. Of how her fantasy of looking out over the lake while in the arms of a great true love was now a fantasy of my own.
I wanted to live. I wanted to experience a compulsive-free life while still feeling the magic of the universe.
I took a deep breath.
Looked over the landscape of the park.
And began to walk.
By noon I had been at the search for six hours, having completed a dozen go'-rounds that I’m sure was by no coincidence, as the inner demons kept me in alignment with their evil sorcery of threes.
My cellphone was useless for its main purpose since my coverage was on the other side of the world, but it didn’t matter because all I needed it for was to show the image on it that I had gotten from Rachelle’s. And now my main focus was to show this picture of Gemma to every homeless person, every beggar I could find.
Some were kind and honest, compelling me to share what was in my wallet, while others tried to play me to see what they could get out of me, those of which I had no pity for.
Unfortunately none had seen Gemma, so my go-rounds of the park continued for the rest of the day and throughout the night, forcing myself to buy a snack from a vendor every now and then since I needed fuel to keep my body moving, my mind as straight as possible.
By day two my optimism was fading, as was the control I had over my own mind. Not only was the zoning out becoming more frequent, but the demons had infiltrated the core of my rational thought, the triple threats to myself now audible to those who passed me by. Reason to create space. To avoid the crazy foreigner who murmured while scanning over their faces.
I felt as though I was sleepwalking, with conscious awareness coming back to me at random times whether it be day or night. I’d be staring at the LCD screen of my cellphone, perhaps from delusion still allowing me to see her image even though the battery had been long dead.
I’d find myself in mid conversation with strangers, who’d have such perplexed looks on their faces.
I’d wake up, or snap out, while looking over the night version of the lake, at all the shiny lights bobbing atop its surface.
Night and day bled into one another, and I could no longer tell how long I’d been in that park, or even why, other than the image of Gemma in my mind’s eye. I’d either be in an intense battle with the demons, or staring up into the sky while lying flat on my back.
Sensing eyes looking down at me.
It meant nothing. The moments, the hours, the nights, I didn’t know since I had lost all sense of time, but it seemed I was only at peace while among the stars. Forming constellations with those infinite diamonds, in clusters of three, her face.
Over and over again, playing with the jewels of the gods, until one time
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