Stella Among the Banaba Flowers

Stella Among the Banaba Flowers

I’ve seen beauty.

A black Aspin dog was being offered for adoption. Her name was Stella and she roamed the territory of my sister’s condo’s compound from the outside. She was described as being terribly shy and afraid when touched. She looked emaciated and dehydrated. Her black fur was close to her skin but they managed to take a photo of her almost smiling but was really just looking at the camera of the phone with keen interest at what they were doing. Her brown ears were up and nippy. Her black, almond shaped eyes was what caught my attention. They were alert and seemed to reflect a story like a deep pool of mirror reflecting the camera’s phone taking her picture. She sat on her hinds on the cool tiled floor which I imagined was the administration’s office floor.

The photo was sent by my sister who asked me if I wanted Stella. I agreed without thinking. I simply said yes. My son had graduated from high school and was living in a dormitory near their college. He was my last child to take care of. I would have feelings of emptiness because he was away most of the time and would come home almost once a month, enjoying college life than being home.

My husband left us when my boy in college was in was only three years old. I enjoyed raising both of my two children. My eldest, a daughter had already married and worked as an environmental analyst at a research firm.

I felt such cold, emptiness that it seemed only rational that I take in the charge of an emotionally mutilated dog who needed a home. I could barely scrape by but managed to be on my own so I wasn’t sure about how to support a pet dog. I only knew that I kept a bookmark of stray dog videos who were saved somehow by kind heroes.

I kept Stella’s photo on my phone and my sister negotiated for the adoption of the dog for me. I made an inexpensive train ride to my sister’s condominium to fetch Stella. Beforehand, I already bought some kernels of dog food and some carpet for him to potty train. On my way back, I planned on taking a taxi with Stella in my arms.

Stella, you see, seemed like looking at a mirror. For a while back when my husband left us, I had problems leaving home. Panic attacks shook me, when talking to people and I couldn’t look directly into others’ eyes.

I never went out on dates again. It just wasn’t me. I prayed a lot, my hands quivering as I climbed the vine of my rosary. It was a regular ritual, in our down trodden garden with mosquito slap slap against my legs.

I imagined tickling Stella on my bed, Stella now fat, furry and happy. Well fed, she and I would play around the house as though in a dance where no one was looking. I worked as a writer in a home-based situation and I knew she would stay next to me as I clacked clacked unto my laptop. The whole idea thrilled me, washing her as I did my laundry, making her smell good, pouring shampoo on her until it turns into a lather, feeding her pet biscuits, buying those little toys for us to play with. My imagination soared and the sound of Stella yipping filled the hollows of my empty house.

Finally, I decided to go and take her. It was just a matter of money for things Stella needed: rabies shots and other vaccinations, dog food kernels on a steady stream plus all the other needs.

All these began to sink in on me as I stepped down the train feeling heavier and heavier in my heart. Short of coming over to the compound, while walking the streets, I forgot I had no leash and I didn’t know how I would be able to ride a taxi with Stella without it. I was too cooped up in my emotions about having a young dog being free from a leash. I was nearing the condo vicinity when reality slapped me like the bough of a tree breaking. I wanted to break my own arm. I just stood there, fingers wrangling. I looked at the towering condominium and decided.

I turned my back and walked away.

I took the mid noon train back. Retracing my steps, each one was a heavy thud thud of my heart. I faced the dark caverns of my house once with its dim light bulb, stained ceiling and my old transistor radio for I did not keep a TV. The hush hush of my house was what I dreaded most coming home without Stella.

I stepped inside the train. It was full and despite the aircondition, it was hellishly hot. A youngish man gave up his seat for me. I quietly thanked him and sat on the train’s wooden bench.

There were a lot of markings of profanities on the walls and they seemed to float before me as the first signs of delirium from the heat covered me in a sweltering heat. I looked back through the window as though the glass opened and I could feel the breeze just by watching the view of the houses on hills and the mountains bordering these mismatched houses. Then, just before entering the tunnel, I realized I forgot myself, my needs, Stella’s needs, her black coat of fur cut close to the skin. I could see her eyes pointed looking back at the camera. The scent of shampoo on her back. Just me and Stella in a house now lit by the beauty of her smile.

I looked back.

I would take the train back again, that is all. To hell with everything, I would keep this one for myself and for Stella.

I could almost see the mouth of the tunnel overhead when my eyes veered towards the view. Blue mountains and valleys of lavander Banaba flowers filled my senses in a scintillating arrogance of nature, telling me it is I who needed beauty, all these like a feast for the senses I so wanted. Stella’s black almond shaped eyes is my salvation. I needed her not so much as she needed me. I needed to take care of her as much as she would take care of me in my old age. Responsibility, after all, is a need too whether it be reciprocated or not. And now here was Stella telling me I am going to take care of you too. I felt a relief, as though I have been tired and the weight has been lifted by the way a living being would never leave my side.

The Blue mountains and the lavender blooms in sharp relief against it was now going to fade from my sight because of the tunnel.

The tunnel was carved through a mountain. The mountain on the other side where I was seemed like a peninsula embracing the valley of Banaba trees. I took it all in as I recalled Stella’s black almond eyes. I felt almost giddy with my decision to return back to Stella.

The train entered the tunnel.

The front carriage was out the other end when the hind part where I was seated still seeing the view and Stella’s eyes began to rumble and careen to the left. It was derailing and I couldn’t control the situation. I always had a fear of not being able to control situations. And here I was in the most commonplace of situations. I rarely rode the train and yet the impossible was happening.

Stella. I grappled onto my bag as though I were holding Stella in my arms. Stella now fat, furry and happy.

The final image I saw was of the lavender fields and Stella running black, free and happy among the flowers. I could almost smell the scent of Banaba and Stella’s shampoo wafting in the wind.

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