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decreaseHow a Bargirl Can Love
Carl crossed MacArthur Highway, made his way past a trike rank (“Hey Joe, you want trike?” “Where you going, Sir?” “OK, walk then!”) and walked towards a run-down tenement on the corner of Gueco Street. He went up to the second floor and knocked on the door of number 22. A sleepy girl opened the door a crack and peered out. Carl asked for Esther and was allowed in.
The room was about 12 foot square and contained little more than a large bed, four cheap plastic chairs, and an old TV. The walls had once been painted blue, but this was now stained with mottled patches of mould, though attempts had been made to brighten it up with pin-ups of Pinoy soap stars torn from magazines. In the bed, two girls were fast asleep; a third, Esther, had just got up and was hastily getting dressed. The girl who had let him in got back into bed and went straight back to sleep without another word.
“How did you find me?” said Esther.
“I know a lot of people,” replied Carl in Tagalog. Despite that, she had not been easy to find. Lucian pretended he didn’t know where she was, and the manager of the Roadhouse, whom Carl knew from way back, had no idea. “She used to live in,” he told Carl, “but she left at the end of last month and didn’t tell me where she was going. I thought nothing of it – they come and go all the time.”
The mamasan was no wiser, but he asked her who Esther’s friends were, and spoke to them. One of them gave him this address.
“I know why you’ve come,” she said defensively.
“We can’t talk here,” said Carl. “Let’s go to Mo’s place.”
Esther looked at him with a stubborn pout – but she came anyway. She said she was hungry, so Carl bought her a meal. Eating seemed to make her relax a bit, so Carl broached the delicate topic he had come to discuss – Lucian and the fact that she would have to give him up.
“But I love him,” she said, as though that one fact would answer every question; solve every problem.
“If it’s a question of money...” said Carl as delicately as he could.
“He hasn't given me any money,” she replied, "well not much."
Typical! thought Carl. Lucian is so naive he doesn’t even understand these girls’ needs. No wonder she’s sharing a room with four other girls. She must really love him if she’ll put up with that.
“He says he hasn’t got any.”
It was probably true, reflected Carl. He hadn’t even received his first month’s salary yet.
Carl took out his wallet and pushed 5,000 pesos into Esther’s handbag. “That’s for immediate expenses,” he said. “There’s more where that came from – much more, if you’ll promise to give him up.”
Esther broke down in floods of tears.
When she recovered, she tried to explain how she felt about Lucian. “When I saw him, I thought he was a god. I was in heaven when we were together. When he had to go back to Manila I was crying all the time. My friends in the bar said, ‘You’re crazy – he’s just a customer – forget about him!’ – but I couldn’t. When customers wanted to barfine me I told them to go away. Mamasan got angry with me – so I left the bar. I knew everything would be OK because Lucian promised he would marry me as soon as he could.”
She told her story so simply and movingly that even Carl was affected. He had been around bargirls long enough to know when they were genuine – and Esther was about as genuine as they get.
He sighed. It would have to be Plan B.
“OK,” he said, “I believe you. But you realise that marrying a bargirl will be bad for his career. He’s going into business with me, but the other partners are Pinoys – you know what Pinoys are like!”
Esther started crying again, so to stop the tears becoming a torrent, Carl added hastily, “But I can help you.”
Esther stopped crying and looked at him intently.
“I can help you to marry him – but only if you agree to do exactly what I say.”
“What do I have to do?” she said cautiously.
“Become a university girl.”
Esther heaved a deep sigh. “I can’t do that. My brain is no good.”
“Nonsense!” said Carl. “I don’t know what kind of a tin shack school you went to, but I’ll bet the teaching wasn’t up to much. You can already speak pretty good English. That’s what I want you to do – learn English.”
“I think I can do that,” she said. “Yes, I want to do that. It will help me to talk to Lucian.”
“I’m in the Call Centre business. We have a link with De la Salle University. We take their English graduates and train them to take calls from the US. They run a ‘catch up’ English course for new students. I’m going to put you on that – oh, and we’ll get that tattoo removed.”
“OK,” said Esther. She had had it done when she was half drunk and had never really liked it.
“You’ll mix with upper class girls, learn how to dress like them, how to talk Tagalog like them – not that low class dialect you speak now – learn how to think like them. And if you do it well, you’ll be good enough to marry Lucian.”
“Wow!” exclaimed Esther, her face lighting up for the first time that day. “Do you mean it? That would be a dream come true!”
“Yes, but there’ll be strict conditions. I’m going to put you in an apartment near the university. You can go to the university, and the local shops, but you MUST NOT go anywhere else – especially to the bar areas, here or in Manila. If just one of your old customers recognises you, the plan is wrecked. Do you understand that?”
Esther nodded.
“You’ll have a maid.”
Esther looked surprised.
“More to look after my interests than yours. Eugenie’s her name. She’s worked for me before – owes me a few favours. I can rely on her 100%. She’ll cook and clean for you, but she’ll also be reporting back to me so that I know you’re keeping to your side of the bargain.”
“What about Lucian?”
“You can see Lucian – but only in secret, in the evenings in your apartment – that is, until I’ve turned you into a university girl. Then you can get married.”
“How long?” asked Esther eagerly.
“A year – maybe two.”
Carl looked into the beautiful black pools of her eyes, trying to see into her soul; trying to fathom if she was up to it - but all he could see was his own reflection. “Do you agree to all this?” he said at last, in a solemn voice, like a priest pronouncing the banns of marriage.
“Oh yes!” she said jumping up and down like a child on Christmas morning.
“Very well,” said Carl firmly. “It’s deal – but remember, stay out of the bar areas, and the city centre. None of your old customers must see you. If they do – the whole thing is off. I’ll send Lucian away and you’ll never see him again.”
She thanked him profusely as though he had just saved her life.
He watched her go with mixed feelings. He had done what he could to salvage the mess he had made, and was pretty confident it would work out. He was almost looking forward to telling Lucian the good news. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he felt that Lucian was a lucky guy – because, despite all his experience with women – two marriages, and countless girlfriends – he had to admit to himself that no girl had ever loved him as passionately as Esther seemed to love Lucian.
© Bangkok Byron, 2007. All rights reserved by the author.
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