Chalice

Fr. Ignacio gave a last glance at the orange sun half-submerged in the gleaming sea from the window and took a sip from the silver cup which contained a reddish liquid. “I’m sorry I brought you here, Elena. I didn’t know that our stroll on the shore would tire you immediately.”

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“Don’t blame yourself, Kuya.” She said softly with a faint smile on her lips. Her voice used to sound happy and cheerful until the chemotherapy changed it. “You just did a request from your dying sister.” Despite the frailty of her condition, she had not lost that sweet tone of hers and that cast him a chill and a sense of near loss. ^^

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“I hope it is not the last one.” He said, looking at the chalice in his hands. His brows wrinkled a little. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He put down the silver cup, poured another splash of his beverage into it, and said, “I hope you know what you are saying.” Looking up, he feigned a smile.

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“Being a priest doesn’t help you becoming a very good hider of emotions, Father. People look awkward when force themselves to smile. Especially for a priest doing such.” She chuckled. Ignacio, felt more remorseful about his sister’s cancer, saw how her smile lightly brightened her tired-looking eyes.

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“I’m sorry, Father, for I have sinned.”

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“What is it, My Child?” He said, without turning to face her.

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“I wish I were an aswang like what father said our ancestors once were. Then you’d never have to miss me.” A faint blush appeared on her cheeks after she uttered her wish.

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The wind breezed in through the open window of the cottage they had rented for the night. Ignacio’s right brow rose. He turned to his sister and said, “I never thought you believed his stories.”

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The sky outside turned from reddish orange to dark indigo. The moon would soon come out from where the sun would hide itself.

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He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her eyes. “I thought we agreed not to believe him, Elena.”

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“Well, the memories flashed back.” Their gazes locked for a long while, not a smile showed on their lips. The sound of sea waves smashing on the rocks filled the silence.

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Elena looked away directing her gaze to the cloud-covered moon. “We used to come here when we were still young and father would tell us tales about aswang and our ancestors. It was you who told me not to believe those tales so I wouldn’t get scared. Didn’t you ever believe it?”

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Ignacio chuckled, moved his head from the left to the right. “They say that sin flowed within our blood. Before entering the seminary, I wanted to become a priest to absolve some sins; not the usual one but a deviant priest. As an imaginative kid, I believed that absolution could be done either by Sacred Confession (the ways of the Church) or by the ways of our ancestors.”

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“You mean by sucking blood?” she said, a hint of surprise in her tone despite her grogginess. Elena’s eyelids appeared heavy, nearly covering her eyes.

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“It’s a wrong. Sin doesn’t literally flow in our blood. And reducing the blood of those mortal sinners wouldn’t actually absolve their sins. It was foolish to think that way.” Elena yawned again. Her illness made her face look more innocent. “You look really sleepy now. You should take a rest.”

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Elena lay down on the bed hugging a pillow. Before Ignacio could take a second step, he heard her say, “I’m thirsty.”

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Ignacio threw the silver cup an awkward look. Hesitantly, he took the cup from the table, swirled the red liquid slowly back and forth so the danced upon the walls of the cup and uttered the words he usually said during communion, “Take this and drink from it…so that sins may be forgiven.”

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“You’re making a mockery out of the sacraments.” His sister drank from the cup and emptied it. She coughed a little and turned her back on him.

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Ignacio didn’t move. He took a deep breath and directed his eyes to the cup, then, to his sister’s back. After a few moments, he heard her say, “So, tell me, what kind of priest are you?”

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Ignacio let out a guilty laugh. He turned his back on his sister, advanced to the door, and he said “Sleep tight, Elena. I will always be with you.”

Tags: chalice, Flash Fiction, kring, Prose