We Climbed the Guava Tree

13^th.

Everyone in the classroom remembers that day of August when I, Dom, and Gil climbed the guava tree. It was nothing really. All you need to do is sneak out of the campus right at the back of the school where security guards from the nearby university hook-up with our girl schoolmates, then sneak again at Lola Irma’s front yard fence (made of barbed wires and other spiny, spiky things), then into the woodlands I bet my mother’s carabaos (Mama owns a farm) are owned by Lola Irma (who we try to avoid as much as possible due to her excessive shouting and jabbering) but are left untend because of rumours of ghost sightings and white ladies roaming about (Lola Irma is jumpy when it comes to supernatural beings). From that woodland, maybe ten paces to the north stood the most majestic guava tree one can ever see.

It’s unlike any other guava tree. It has the leaves, trunks, and branches of a guava tree. Only ten times in size. The branch and the trunks are the colour of Gil’s skin (white, Gil’s half American and just moved in six months ago), its leaves are dazzling hue of light yellow-green, and its foliage, the biggest I’ve ever seen, reached sky-high. Our Science teacher, Ma’am Abinal taught us different types of plants and she said that guavas actually are shrubs because it doesn’t grow as tall as other trees can. But when we saw this tree, (by accident. We were playing hide and seek) we immediately agreed that Ma’am Abinal is stupid.

Now Gil had this idea when we were just about to finish our snacks one morning. “Punta tayo sa guava tree” (Let's go to the guava tree!) Gil said in tagalong lacquered with his Texan country twang, which sounded like some conyo actress. We all agreed and here we are now, about to climb the tree. After enduring Lola Irma’s look of disapproval and shouts filled with assortments of unpleasantries upon entering the compound, we all removed our shoes and socks in an anxious fashion then unbuttoned our polo shirts revealing my yellowing sleeveless shirt (I pulled it off an old closet), Dom’s immaculately white tee contrasting his tanned complexion (his mum has an obsession with keeping white clothes white), and Gil’s abnormally buffed torso (he works out).

Climbing down is a very easy feat. Climbing up isn’t. The nearest branch to take hold off is away from arm’s length. This made Gil endure our weights by carrying us so we can reach the branch as he jumped impossibly high when he was left alone at the ground. At the foliage of the tree, with all the branches and twigs to secure our grips, navigating through to the top was painless and trouble-free. Gil went first, then me, then Dom. When we reached the top of the tree, I immediately felt glad this day happened. Through the scarlet west, we can see the crimson lights showering a glamorous magenta into the sky. Migratory birds sequined the clouds, while the faraway mountain range of Sierra Madre hid half of the sun unto its day’s rest.

I was too mesmerized with the picture in front of me to notice Gil sitting cozily between me and Dom. Only when I glanced at his direction did I discern the manner of Gil’s stare. It was deep, as if memorizing my face in all its intricacies. Abyssal you may say, as I felt it reached my soul and looked thoroughly well in it. In this time did I also have the chance to survey his face. It was clear of any disasters commonly brought upon by puberty, creamy white, long perfect nose, red full lips, and incredibly murky-colored eyes.

Then it happened. Both what I felt was good but pragmatically not, and what definitely is bad.

Gil’s mouth suddenly was touching mine, goading his tongue into my teeth. It was flabbergastingly shocking to say the least. I was paralyzed, but Gil proceeded on ransacking my mouth with his tongue. I’ll admit that it was flattering. Being my first kiss and all, and I didn’t have to initiate gives me the feeling that I’m way more good-looking than I thought I was.

But this was Gil. A Stateside moron who asked me to teach him how to speak Filipino and eat without using any silverwares. A hot-a*s man-w***e who flirted on every girl I thought was decent enough not to indulge. A creep who sleeps without any clothes on (I walked in on him once sleeping). This was Gil, my friend. And he kissed me rather sumptuously. He tasted of Diet Coke, which what we both drunk before we adventured down the beaten path to the guava tree. Just when I started responding did an appalled gasp filled both me and Gil’s ears.

Good God, we forgot about Dom. His face was all scrunched up and bewildered. He scrambled from perching a branch down to the ground rather frantically. My face was red as an apple, I could definitely feel it. Gil just stared at the distant mountains. And then there was a scream, and a thud. I looked down the ground and there was Dom, lying helplessly, his limbs bent in nasty angles, his fibula protruding from his thighs.

He fell just after I thought that the kiss was the worst that could happen.

Ma’am Abinal came to the class three months after armed with a basket of guavas (as if there was a need to remember that fateful event). She said they were from the giant guava tree down Lola Irma’s property which made everybody glance sideways at me, Dom, and Gil. I shot a look a Dom, all healed from his injuries (which I heard cost them a carabao) and at Gil, who refused to at least look at me after the tree incident. I looked again at Dom who I discovered was looking at Gil quite apprehensively, then back to Gil who was looking at me.

He looked at me. That’s it. Then quickly withdrew.

I sighed because there was nothing to do. We never should’ve climbed that godforsaken tree.