PHASE ELEVEN

TO JUSTIFY THE PATRONAGE

The bronze sculpture was busy when I arrived.

He stood at the middle of the College's grounds on top of a makeshift plastform. He was busy sculpting the torso of a man without any reference—a skill of an expert, I could hear him say.

Around him were his disciples who were enthusiastic to learn from a god like him. Some jotted down notes, while others were purely watching—amazed by the skills their god had.

I stopped walking and distanced myself from their crowd, afraid that I'd be seen as one of his patrons.

I wasn't a patron of a god, nor do I have any god. I was merely an individual—one that wandered around and believed in myself whether I'd reach my destination or not.

I was a free-spirited person—one that was bound to herself, not to anyone or anything.

I was solely by myself.

And they weren't.

That's why I knew better but to involve myself in ludicrous followings.

Michelangelo de Angelis was speaking as he sculpted the water-based clay on his hands. Like how he demonstrated how to work on it—he carefully added and removed parts of the clay, because, from what he had said—you just can't remove big parts from their life.

He was seeing an art form—one that had a physical form, different from other disciplines—as its own entity, living and breathing on its own. But no matter how the sculptor could see the warmth and life, the viewers would always be the final verdict.

The sculptor would direct them into thinking that the sculpture was breathing, but who would see it like that before the words were said? It was purely credited from the imaginations of the viewers who wanted to be involved in the life of an inanimate entity.

"The technique is in your hands—it's the best tool that we can have. Kalimitan, ang pagkapa ng kamay sa hinuhulma ang nagsasabi kung may kulang pang parte."

Pinaningkitan ko ng mata ang mukha niya. Bahagyang napaismid nang mapansing gano'n na talaga siya kahit na sa iba.

Supladong tingnan kahit na gusto ang ginagawa.

Hindi ko maintindihan itong si Michelangelo de Angelis.

Did he dislike what he was doing—teaching?

He was giving the chance to others to be good at the sculpting discipline. They were different from me because most of them liked what they were doing, so why would he be hostile towards his future followers? Ayaw niya na talagang magpapasok?

"Uuuy, Lael!" Hinanap ko ng tingin ang pinanggalingan ng boses at nakitang si Giuseppe 'yon.

He waved his hand as he approached me. He was also smiling.

"Nanonood ka rin kay Mika?"

Inilipat ko ang tingin kay Michelangelo bago nagkibit-balikat. "Ang suplado niya magturo."

"Gan'yan talaga 'yan."

Natatawa siyang humalukipkip at may sinilip sa gilid. Sina Tres at ang isa pa niyang kaibigan ang tinitingnan niya. Natigilan sila sa paglalakad dahil kinakausap ng isang faculty.

"Kauusapin yata tungkol sa painting kaya umalis ako. Sculptor ako eh, painter sila."

Tumango ako. "Nagtuturo si Tres, 'di ba? Naririnig ko kasi sa iba."

"Oo, magaling 'yan magturo. Okay nga 'yang i-approach kung magpapaturo ka sa pagpipinta kasi gusto niya talagang magturo. E 'yang si Mika, 'di mo alam kung napilitan lang o ano eh! Palaging busangot kala mo pinagkaitan ng kung ano. 'Yan tuloy, magdadalawang-isip ka kung magpapaturo ka sa kan'ya o hindi."

"Palaging masungit," komento ko.

"Legit!" bulalas niya. "Sinuhulan yata 'yan ni Head Sculptor Celindro para magturo si Mika. Si Ma'am 'yung in-charge sa mga exhibition sa sculpture area ng Raison tsaka mga events na gan'yan e."

Umayos siya ng tayo habang pinanonood ang pinsan. Iginala ko naman ang tingin sa mga estudyanteng kumpol sa harapan.

Michelangelo still had his dark look on his face as if he was still unhappy. Pansin ko rin kung gaano niya iniipon ang pasensiya habang hinuhulma ang katawan ng lalake. Ngunit kahit na gaano siya mukhang hindi natutuwa, maganda pa rin ang kan'yang pagkagagawa.

The male torso was properly formed starting from its broad shoulders, muscular chest, and defined abdomen. The shadows that the sunrays created gave more life to the definitions on the brown clay. Some of the ribs were also sculpted which added a layer to their lifelikeness.

"Giuseppe—"

"Gio nalang," nakangisi niyang sabi.

Tinitigan ko siya, nagdadalawang-isip kung susundin ang sinabi niya.

"Ang haba kasi masyado ng Giuseppe eh," katwiran niya at nagkamot ng batok.

Ngumiti na lang ako.

"How do you know that you like sculpting?" pag-iiba ko ng usapan.

He made a face. "Ano... bale kasi si Papa sculptor din e. Noong lumalaki ako, ang daming sculpture sa bahay tapos s'yempre, bata ka tapos interesado ka sa mga ginagawa ng nakatatanda sa 'yo kaya ayon."

"Influenced by them?" I asked, my head tipped to the side.

He nodded. "Oo, pero s'yempre nag-start muna ako sa pa-drawing-drawing muna kasi sabi ni Papa, mas madali raw mag-ukit kung magaling kang mag-drawing. Sinunod ko sinabi niya kaya ayon, madali-dali sa 'kin 'yung maghulma kahit na wala pa akong proper foundation tungkol do'n noon."

Tumango-tango ako. "How about Michelangelo?"

Tumaas ang dalawa niyang kilay pagkatapos ay kinunotan ako ng noo. Napakamot sa batok bago napahalakhak. "Alam mo? Ang hilig mong tumawag na buo ang pangalan. Buti nalang talaga may 'Zoren' sa pangalan ni Zoren, kun'di... nako!"

He sounded relieved.

Itinagilid ko ang ulo. "Bakit? Anong meron sa pangalan ni Zoren?"

"Johannes Zoren Moreau kasi pangalan no'n, ang haba-haba!" Umayos siya ng tayo. "Pero! Si Mika naman—si Tres may pasimuno no'n, okay?—gano'n din naman siya tulad ng sa 'kin. Na-impluwensiyahan siya ni—"

"Ludovico de Angelis?" pagpuputol ko, malakas ang tibok ng puso.

I had a sudden desire for acceptance and acknowledgment, but I was unsure why. 

Was it because I couldn't prove my worth to the best, so I did it to the second-best?

You are so cruel, Lael.

He nodded, amused. "Galing mo manghula, ah? Dahil ba Michelangelo pangalan ni Mika kaya naisip mong gano'n din pangalan ng tatay niya?"

I felt accomplished, but I was unsure if I should feel it.

Ngumiti ako.

"Michelangelo Buonarroti was a good sculptor," ang tangi kong sinabi, iniiwasan ang tanong niya.

Giuseppe and I talked for a little while before Michelangelo's sculpting session turned into a Q&A.

Nagpaalam na sa 'kin si Giuseppe dahil tinawag siya nina Zoren at Tres. Pupuntahan daw nila si Michelangelo pagkatapos. The former waved at me, while the latter nodded. I bid them a smile as goodbye as I waited for them to disappear from my sight.

Nanatili rin ako nang ilang minuto bago umalis. Wala rin namang klase ngayong umaga, siguro ay dahil sa event na isinagawa.

I walked for a little while before I saw a familiar built.

If it was Lavien, I knew that I'd eventually leave. But it was Versechia's, and she had been trying her best to get in touch with me—with us, but for how long?

Before I knew it, I had already called her name.

"Verse."

Humugot ako ng malalim na hininga nang tumigil siya mula sa paglalakad.

Lumakas ang tibok ng puso ko. Bukod sa kabang nararamdaman—walang kalituhan, wala nang iba pa.

A small portion of her long, wavy hair was styled with a simple clip at the back. When she turned to face me, there was a stoic look on her face.

"Lael," she called, her tone reeked a bit of hostility. "Bakit?"

I stared at her; a few strands of my hair got into my face because of the wind—a distraction. But amidst all of those, I couldn't answer why I called her.

Maybe I missed their company—even if it was formed when we were young—but maybe not.

Maybe I was jealous of how Giuseppe still had his friends, and I don't—I was unsure.

All I knew was—I wanted to talk to her, just because.

Ibinuka ko ang bibig. Magsasalita na sana ngunit inunahan ng hiya at takot.

"Wala ka bang sasabihin? I'm running late for my practice."

The folders with sheets on her hand were an indicator that she had a different purpose of staying here, but I came empty-handed. I had always come empty-handed, and it was...

I don't want to declare the word—it would mislead me.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

Tinaasan niya ako ng kilay. "Wala talaga?"

I nodded.

"Then, what did you call me for?" hindi niya makapaniwalang sabi.

She shook her head, disappointed, and gave me a look of hatred before she left.

It hurt.

I stilled on my position and watched her figure go away—not because I was rooted on my spot, but because I wanted to cement this feeling in my memories.

To make something out of this spot to commemorate my unspoken regrets and ill conscience. To remind myself that there were things better unclarified and undiscussed. To immerse myself in the idea that in this journey, I was all alone.

Maybe it's for the better, Lael—to uninvolve yourself from them because, to begin with, you were different.

You had no passion, while both had.

You had no interest, while both had.

You had no home, while both had.

You were in the middle, while both were walking.

✦

I was confused about where to go that night, so I went to the place that would direct me, instead.

The Raison.

Of course, its presence would always be dominating; it would always sneer and question: what were you doing here, you pitiful creature?

The statues would always be a gatekeeper, the museum their territory, and I'd get my head cut if I didn't ask for their permission every time that I'd enter.

So, there I was—a mere wanderer asking permission to enter.

And I was always lucky because they allowed me.

Should I be grateful for that? Or should I pity myself because, unlike any other, I was drilled to think that I always had to ask for their permission before I could enter?

But what could I do? This was the nature of the environment that I was traversing, so, who am I to complain if I was a matter of transience in their permanence?

That's why it was ridiculous for me to ask to silence the sculptures if they had existed long before I could.

I stopped at the Ophelia sculpture and was reminded of my talk with its sculptor.

But my attempt to see what the sculptor had envisioned was futile.

Because the Ophelia sculpture wasn't breathing.

I thought I could see it breathe once I talked to its sculptor—to see the idea in their eyes that couldn't be seen by a mere viewer.

Yet I failed.

Or perhaps, sculpting was meant to reveal its life to those who were interested to stay and appreciate rather than those who were passersby? It wasn't a ridiculous question, but it was reasonable.

Of course, who would waste their time explaining who they were to the people who were uninterested?

I touched the sculpture's cheek to see if my talk with Ophelia the sculptor would change anything, but I was left disappointed.

Malamig pa rin.

Mas malamig pa kaysa noon.

Dahil ba sa lamig ng paligid? Hindi ko alam.

"Hindi ka ba titigil? Sawang-sawa na ako sa pinaggagagawa mo."

I caressed the cheek of Ophelia the sculpture and understood why her sculptor left.

It was deafening to listen to their false claims, wasn't it? That's why you chose to be a sculpture so you could be mum.

Michelangelo's heavy footsteps drew near until he stopped beside me.

Binawi ko ang kamay mula sa paghaplos ng pisngi ng iskultura at hinarap siya.

Humugot ako ng malalim na hininga, may kakaibang emosyon na namumuo sa dibdib.

"Palagi mo na lang ba akong haharangan?" tanong ko sa kan'ya.

"Bakit nandito ka na naman?" balik niya, galit na galit. "Hindi ka talaga marunong magbasa. 'Wag nga raw sabing hawakan ang mga naka-display na iskultura! Tangina."

Pinaningkitan ko siya ng mata.

Why was his anger of a different length? Pareho lang naman ang ginawa ko.

O dahil ba may binulong ako sa iskulturang pinakamamahal mo?

Ang gulo-gulo mo, Michelangelo de Angelis.

I tilted my head, unfazed by his anger. "I talked to a sculptor yesterday. I wanted to check something."

He took a step forward. "Hindi ako kumbinsido sa 'yo."

"I feel the same," I replied.

He clenched his jaw.

I squinted my eyes and took a step forward.

I tilted my head. "Michelangelo, what were your qualifications so you could let me enter your domain? Should I worship you because you're the god of sculpting? Should I give you offerings and sacrifices, wait for the right time, and then patiently wait, again, once I hear your calling?"

He looked at me, disbelief in his eyes.

Did my tone come out mocking? Well, I'm sorry if you heard it that way.

He sucked a sharp breath and gritted his teeth. "Naririnig mo ba 'yang pinagsasabi mo?"

His tone came out mocking.

But I was always mocked, so, it wasn't new.

I was used to it.

"I'm a subjective deaf, but yes, I heard what I said," saad ko, ang tono ay nambabalewala.

"Subjective deaf? Anong—" Marahas siyang humugot ng hininga. "Nababaliw ka na naman ba? Binabaliw ka na'n, 'no? Kung gano'n, 'wag ka nang magpunta rito."

I gave him a mocking smile. "How about you? Bakit nandito ka kung kailan nandito ako? Are you the guard of this Ophelia sculpture? Or perhaps, you want salvation from a sculpture that wasn't yours?"

Umawang ang bibig niya bago napunta sa igting ng panga.

"Ako ang nag-ukit n'yan," giit niya, binibigyang-diin ang bawat salita.

"Then are you worshipping this?"

"Hindi ko 'yan sinasamba," galit na galit niyang sabi.

"Then you're one of its followers?" I tipped my head when he didn't answer. "Kulto?"

He snarled. "Stop misinterpreting established followings, Lael."

Bahagya akong natawa, natutuwa sa narinig.

"Followings?" I mocked before I snickered. "They're questionable."

"Ano ba ang problema mo at pati 'yon kinukuwestiyon mo?" Naniningkit na ang mata niya sa galit at irita.

Humalukipkip ako.

"Bakit hindi ko kukwestiyonin kung kakuwestiyon-kuwestiyon naman talaga?" I stated.

"Hindi mo alam ang sinasabi mo," giit niya.

I let out a tired sigh. "Hindi mo ba kinuwestiyon ang mga 'yon, Michelangelo? Because what was the idea to make people follow you? When you create art—which came from your inspiration, then you were lucky to generate a following because of that, but what pushed them to follow you?"

Hindi siya nakaimik ngunit pinanatili niya ang madilim na tingin.

Was he disturbed by what I said? The glint of his eyes said so, but he hid it under his dark eyes.

Nang hindi siya umimik ay nagpatuloy ako.

"Did they follow you because you bared your soul to them—your identity and likeness? If it were so, then unless you bare your soul, no one would like you? Unless you bare your soul in doing something that you think you like, no one would like you? Was it necessary in art to reveal the personality of the creator?"

"Oo." He clenched his jaw. "Sagot ko 'yan sa huli mong tanong."

I looked at him, fascinated with what I heard.

So, the god is answering to us now?

I let out a small smile. "Thank you for answering that, but would you care to explain, god of sculpting?"

I sensed how he was restraining himself not to lash at me. But, of course, it was understandable.

Who wouldn't lose their patience over a person who did nothing but taunt and explore? Clearly, she was playing with the person she was talking to, but why did the god—the one that should be all-knowing—walked to her trap?

Was he planning something? Or he wasn't prepared for this?

"Because art is an expression of the creator," giit niya.

Natawa ako. "That answer's scripted, Michelangelo. Ayaw mo talagang magturo sa mga tao, 'no? You wanted to gatekeep your discipline all to yourself because you don't want anyone to venture to it—be it wholeheartedly or half."

He gritted his teeth. "Ano ba ang kailangan mo sa 'kin?"

I sighed when he didn't get my point. "Or were you bitter because your father didn't support you at sculpting at first—similar to the Michelangelo Buonarroti?"

It hit something in him.

That's why I was amazed by the emotions he showed.

Umabante siya at lalong tinaliman ang tingin. "Hindi mo alam 'yang pinagsasasabi mo."

"Kaya ako nagtatanong," balik ko na siyang nagpairita lalo sa kan'ya.

Hirap na hirap siyang lumunok. "Akala mo ba por que alam mo ang family background ng kung sino-sinong iskultor ay ganap ka nang iskultor? Hindi gano'n, Lael. Stop trying so hard to be a sculptor if that's what you weren't born for!"

I stifled a laugh because of what he said.

Why was he the one offended when, to begin with, I should be?

I was a so-called follower, and he was the god. I was the one asking for permission, but was he offended that someone like me dared to venture in his discipline? Na sa dinami-dami ng mga disiplinang umiiral, ang kan'ya pa ang pinili ko?

Of course, his anger was understandable.

"I was just questioning you about passion, Michelangelo, a thing that I don't understand," I stated as I peeked at his face. "You might be asking—bakit sa 'yo ko tinatanong 'to? Why would someone like me dare to question a god, right? Unbelievable."

"You're making a fool out of yourself," giit niya.

Napaismid ako. "I know what I'm doing—questioning a god. Kasi sa diyos mo makukuha ang sagot sa lahat ng katanungan mo, 'di ba? I might not get it today, but I will get it, right? Because that's what people like me do—wait for the right timing and call it a day."

Marahas siyang humugot ng hininga at hinuli ang kamay kong papunta sa pisngi niya. Katulad ng nakasanayan—ang mukhang marahas na hawak ay malambot ang katotohanan.

Rather than bronze—caramel, perhaps?

Nakatatawa ka, Lael.

"Pero may isang tanong ako palagi." Ang mata ko ay nakatuon sa daliri niyang nakabalot sa pulsuhan ko.

I looked at him deeply in the eyes. "What makes people stay in one place? What makes people stay for one purpose—to appreciate the craft? Ang dami-dami kong tanong tungkol do'n, pero kaya ba hindi ko masagot-sagot dahil hindi ako isa sa kanila? Kasi patuloy akong naglalakbay—iniiwasan ang pananatiling 'yon?"

Something clicked inside me.

What were you doing, Lael? You knew that the guided wouldn't understand a misled because they weren't there—they were never there, so why were you still desperate with it?

There was a pain in my chest—a fleeting feeling that I never dare to mention. But I held onto it so I could be reminded what it was, yet it slipped before I could see what it was.

Ano 'yon?

Or, perhaps, I was distracted by Michelangelo's expression that softened.

Why? I didn't speak of anything that would interest him because all I had ever done was to mock him, so, why would he see this nicely?

You were not supposed to act like that, Michelangelo de Angelis.

You were late, but a tad bit early.

"Bakit? Gusto mo bang manatili rito?" His tone was suggesting, but I couldn't read what it was.

His eyes were in the same tone, too—as if he was giving me a chance that others couldn't have. Like a path made for me, or a job catered to my skills, whatever it was.

Why?

I was about to give up questioning, but why did you give me another path to take?

It confused me.

"Kaya mo ba 'ko tinanong kasi tutulungan mo 'ko?" tanong ko, may kakaibang emosyon sa dibdib.

The look in his eyes succumbed to the mystery which was far for me to reach.

"Magtatanong ba ang tao kung hindi siya interesado?" makahulugang sabi niya na siyang ikinatigil ko.

I felt caged.

Naubusan ng hininga.

Napipi.

Pero bakit hindi siya nagpakabingi?

Humugot ako ng malalim na hininga at binawi ang kamay. Pasimple kong ikinuyom bago tumalikod, iniiwasan ang pahayag niya.

This wasn't it.

"You're not the one who sculpted the Ophelia sculpture," pag-iiba ko ng usapan, ayaw nang mabuking pa.

"I wasn't?" he mocked. "Paano ka nakasisiguro?"

I could sense the usual mockery on his face—a triumphant smirk and a mocking face. All emotions pertained to what he wanted to tell—I was the winner of the game that you started.

"Simply because I'm familiar with her works," was the only thing that I said.

Familiar?

Napailing ako at natawa.

No, Michelangelo. This is not the right time to know what it was all about.