Bayan ko: she had dreamed of beauty pageants for her children--not political protests, Studio 54 and girls dressing like boys.

CLARITA PUSHED THE FINAL BOBBY PINS into her hair and turned her face from side to side, sucking in her cheeks for emphasis. Her vanity mirror with the adjustable light was set on "evening," its lavender glow cast a flattering effect on her face, highlighting all the appropriate arches, disguising all the unwanted sags. At the age of forty-one and four children into motherhood, Clarita clung to any illusion of beauty she could find; this tri-fold mirror with its four different light settings--evening, day, office and home--was always a reliable source. She reached across her dressing table, over her collection of atomizers, decorative art glasses, multicolored perfume bottles, compact cases and cosmetic brushes and chose the Halston perfume bottle on the second tier. She sprayed the space behind her ears and the spot just under her palm. As she rubbed her wrists together, she called for her husband.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

"Amado! Hurry up, ha? I don't want to be late. Evelyn and Baby are expecting us for dinner. You know how those two are about timing."

Rising from her dressing table, she straightened out the creases in her dress and walked across the room. She was careful not to step on the McCall's sewing pattern she had been working on the night before; swatches of puzzle-shaped fabric pinned to onionskin paper were laid about the floor. The dress she wore today was a home-sewn creation she completed last week. Not bad, she thought to herself as she checked her reflection in the full-length mirror. She specifically chose the two-tone, low-waist design to hide her round midsection, strategically placed the darker color, a deep royal purple, on top, and a mustard yellow fabric below. It wasn't a designer special, but overall it worked well in the illusion department. Before her last child, she could easily find a dress in the petite section, a size six, but now her five-foot frame--ballooned at the middle and at the rear--could hardly fit into anything proportionately. She blamed her difficulty on her Filipino body type and the fact that they were living on Long Island. "These American designers don't make dresses for short, fat Filipinas," she complained to her husband, and after tailoring countless designer dresses from Marshalls, she decided to sew her own.

"Amado! How many times do I have to call you? Are you ready yet?"

Amado didn't mind the change in his wife's figure. He wasn't exactly the picky type. Since starting his new job as a car salesman in Corona, Queens, he seemed to have a new appreciation for full-figured women. A few weeks ago, he brought home a pair of Sergio Valente's and approached his wife singing, "Uh-oh Sergio!" When she refused to wear the skin-tight jeans, he insisted that all the women were wearing them these days, including Lourdes, the secretary at the dealership.

"What do you think of me?" Clarita asked in disgust. "I'm your wife not some uneducated typist. Dios ko, I have some class, naman!"

Today, Amado was late as usual. He rushed in from the next room and into the bathroom, holding one hand to his butt, declaring that he had to take care of business.

Clarita shouted at the closed door, "Why is it every time we're about to go out, that's when you decide to use the bathroom? You better make it a sprint and not a marathon!"

Before she could continue, her youngest daughter, Amparo, entered the room wearing a light blue dress.

"Mommy, look!" Amparo squealed with delight, twirling so the skirt flared around her.

"Wow, Ami, look at you, my little dalaga. You are beautiful. Just like Miss Universe, ha?"

Five years ago, Amparo's conception was not a planned event. Clarita had hoped she and Amado would save money after immigrating to the States, but two months after they finalized the deed to their house, Clarita found herself hovering over the sink with that familiar sick feeling. Not again, she thought to herself. When it was confirmed that she was in fact pregnant, she submitted herself to the prospect of a fourth child. "After all," she thought, "it is God's will." Each afternoon, while Amado was searching for work, she walked the five blocks up the hill to St. Mary's Church and recited the Novena of St. Gerard, the patron saint of mothers and childbirth, until she finally convinced her mother, Nieves, to send more money and eventually come live with them after the child was born. The infant entered the world with bright red cheeks and a voice as coarse and loud as her mother's. Keeping to her tradition, Clarita named her daughter after that year's Miss Universe winner: Amparo Munoz Quesada, formerly known as Miss Spain.

A former pageantry beauty herself, Clarita had dreams that one of her offspring might follow in her footsteps, so she named each of her children after the reigning Miss Universe contestant of their birth year. When Armi, her first child, was born in 1955, Clarita quite fittingly named her after the first woman to ever wear the Miss Universe crown, Armi Kuusela, Miss Finland. When her second child was born, a son, Clarita made a slight adjustment and named him Marlon instead of Marlene, and in 1968, when Martha Maria Vasconcelos of Brazil earned the crown, Clarita was faced with a dilemma. Martha was the name of her most despised aunt. She couldn't bear to curse her daughter with such a name, so instead, ignoring her superstitions about naming her after a loser, she decided to call her Leena after that year's third place runner-up. It seemed, however, that her youngest was the only one who showed signs of living up to her aspirations. According to Clarita, because the 1974 Miss Universe winner was crowned at the Folk Arts Theater in Manila, it was a very good sign that her fourth child was headed for the crown, if not at least a bright future. Now, as Amparo stood in front of her with expectant eyes, Clarita couldn't help but reach for her, kissing both of her cheeks.

"I picked it out by myself!" Amparo beamed.

"Well, you picked a good one. At least one of us will be on time. Where is your sister? I hope she looks decent."

Clarita's third child, Leena, wasn't exactly the hopeful image of beauty. Watching her daughter bloom into preadolescence, Clarita complained that Leena had inherited all the worst traits: Amado's dark skin and wiry coarse hair and her own short arms and legs. "I'm telling you," Clarita complained to her mother, "this kid skipped all the pretty traits. Let's hope God made her a genius." And even if Leena hadn't overheard them talking, she still knew she was missing the mark. The signs were all there. Her drawers were filled with old hand-me-downs from her brother, Marlon. The photos that adorned the house were mostly of her two sisters, and whenever anyone commented on who took after their mother, they were always stumped when it came to her.

"Well, they say sometimes kids skip a generation," Clarita tried to explain. "I think Leena takes after her father's side, you know, the ancestors we never met."

Leena didn't mind so much that her clothes were boys' outfits. If suited her fine except for the fact that they were old styles from the sixties. Even though they were better than the frilly dresses her mother bought for her younger sister, she still hated the fact that her clothes were dull and worn compared to Amparo's brand-new wardrobe.

Hoping Leena would outgrow her phase, Clarita gave up on teaching her how to act and dress like a girl. She secretly believed that once Leena had her first period, it would transform her. She would grow breasts, her hips would round out, a little pubic hair--all of it would force her to behave more like a girl. But today, Leena sat in her room fiddling with the one piece of clothing she was particularly proud of--a tie.

When she heard her mother call, she gave one final look at her reflection and smiled. Her black hair was cropped short like a bowl on her head, her black T-shirt had a silver Star Trek emblem emblazoned on it, which matched the skinny silver tie she wore around her neck, and Marlon's dark blue Levi's slouched around her waist and were rolled at the cuffs. When Clarita caught sight of Leena, she stopped in her tracks.

"That's what you're going to wear?"

"Yeah, so?" Leena answered, shrugging her shoulders and heading for the coat closet.

"It's a tie. You're wearing a tie! Leena, girls don't wear ties. Wear something more ladylike, naman!"

Leena stood with her back to her mother, buttoning the pea coat she pulled from the closet. Frustrated with her nonchalance, Clarita tried another tactic.

"You know where we are going, naman, your Tita Evelyn and Tita Baby, what do you want them to think, that you are one of them?"

Leena turned and faced her mother. "So what, I don't care."

"So what?" Clarita was not in the mood for a struggle today; she was speechless.

"Let her wear what she wants," Clarita's mother said as she ambled toward her granddaughter. "You don't listen to anyone, why should she?" Lola Nieves placed a hand on Leena's shoulder, letting her know she had the situation under control. Clarita bit her tongue, knowing that an argument with her mother was a risky thing to take on. Any disagreement could send her mother back to the Philippines, and Clarita needed her mother's financial support.

Amado emerged from the bedroom smiling smugly at his family. His Nik Nik shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, and his pants were tight around the groin and flared towards the bottom. He checked his reflection in the hall mirror, adjusting the collar on his shirt, and made sure he had enough Grecian Formula to hold his thick, black hair in place. Clarita told him he was too old to be wearing a disco shirt, but Amado felt it was important to keep up with fashion.

The five of them headed out the front door and into the Dodge station wagon parked in front of the house. Leena sat in the back seat with her grandmother, while Amparo sat wedged between her parents in front. The five-year-old talked the entire ride, hardly taking a breath between sentences.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

As they made their way west on the Long Island Expressway, Lola Nieves rolled down the window and began to smoke her special cigarettes: rolled Jambolan leaves, which she once explained to Leena, relieved her occasional dizziness.

"Lola, why are you dizzy?" Leena asked, turning to her grandmother.

"Because your mother wears too much perfume."

The two of them pinched their noses and giggled in the back seat. Outside the window, Leena could see the traffic building up on the expressway. She leaned her head on her Lola's right shoulder and closed her eyes. The sweet scent of the burning leaves drifted in and out of the car and lifted the child's sleepy thoughts to another place and time.

Eighty-five hundred miles away, Clarita's son Marlon sat on the back of an army jeep in Ilocos Norte smoking the same type of cigarettes as his grandmother. The eighteen-year-old inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with its rich flavor, perfuming the thick air with its light scent. Around his neck he wore the scapular of Our Lady, a gift from his Lola Nieves, who promised it would guarantee him entrance into heaven. The young man wore it as protection under his shirt despite his reluctance to attend Sunday mass. It was his one connection to his family. He thought about them now as he rode with his partners along the dirt road to the province. Estranged from his mother and father, it was Lola Nieves and little Leena he missed the most. In the months preceding their departure from Manila, an argument ensued between him and his parents. Amado insisted that his son come with them to the States.

"Don't you see, soon there will be nothing here, there's nothing left for you here."

It was just after dinner, and the servants were beginning to clear the table. Clarita remained with them, sitting across from her son, wringing her hands.

Just two years before, in 1972, President Marcos had ratified a new constitution that allowed him to remain in office indefinitely. He also declared martial law.

"I'm not leaving now," Marlon argued. "Besides, Armi is staying behind to finish school. We can live together. Don't you think she needs her brother to stay behind?"

"Marlon, don't play that game with me, you and your sister are complete opposites," Clarita said. "Why suddenly have you become protective of her? Besides, your sister is a free spirit. She doesn't need anyone to watch over her."

Clarita pleaded with her son to join them. She promised that there were opportunities in the States that he would never have if he stayed behind. Little did she know her son was already attending meetings for the People's Power movement, which was beginning to gain momentum in the outlying provinces.

"I don't want to go, Ma. Why should we leave now? Isn't it better to oppose this?"

"Oppose?" Clarita raised her eyebrows suspiciously. "Who is giving you this language, your teachers? You are fourteen years old, too young to make any difference. Don't be fooled by those hippies. They are stealing your education and teaching you foolishness."

"The only one stealing is grandpa. He's rich because everyone living on his land is poor. I'm not leaving," Marlon said defiantly. "I'll stay with Lola Nieves."

With that, Clarita heard everything she needed to.

"If you don't want anything to do with your family, so be it! Find your own way to survive and don't expect anything from us. Apparently your hands are too clean for our dirty money."

A few months later, Amado and Clarita along with a tearful Leena left for the States, leaving behind their eldest daughter and son.

After they left, Nieves supported her grandson with money she secretly took from her husband's accounts. When she left for the States, Marlon began to fend for himself, quickly finding a mentor in the movement who invited him to live with his family. The man was impressed with the young boy's enthusiasm and knowledge about the political distress in the country. Most of all, he was touched by Marlon's firm dedication and budding idealism.

This morning, Marlon was heading for a planning meeting. The elections for governor and mayor were a month away, and the People's Power movement was planning a boycott. He had only spoken with his mother and father sporadically during the five years since their emigration. However, he did maintain contact with Leena and his Lola Nieves, who called him secretly from her bedroom. Marlon updated her on how things were changing, that the exiled opposition leader would be returning soon and that everyone had hopes he would take over the presidency.

Marlon and his older sister saw each other occasionally but never lived together, as Marlon had once suggested. As soon as Armi completed her degree, she managed to earn a job as a flight attendant for Philippine Airlines. Her height, beauty and flawless English made her a perfect candidate for the job. She quickly advanced and became an international stewardess, flying to London, Rome and eventually New York. She quit her job when she arrived and lived with her parents for a very brief time. Clarita and Amado, though relieved, were not exactly thrilled about her arrival. A jetsetter who frequented Manila's hotspots, Armi soon found her way in New York. Her friends, who had been actresses, models and children of Filipino tycoons, soon followed, and, together with Armi, became regulars at New York's elite night club, Studio 54.

On the evening of her family's dinner party, Armi was recovering from a hangover. She called her on-and-off boyfriend, Devon, and invited him, hoping that he was free and able to drive her to Long Island. "Devon sweetie, I'm in no shape to take the train--my ass is killing me from last night. That's the last time I do splits on the dance floor." Several hours later, Devon was parked in front of her building, smoothing out his afro and blasting "Le Freak so chic" on his car stereo.

Amado steered his oversized station wagon beside the security window of Evelyn's residence complex.

"Hi, we're here for Miss Toledo."

Clarita nudged her daughters from sleep.

"Gising na, we're here. Wake up and fix yourselves! Show Tita Evelyn how beautiful you are."

Leena straightened her back and moved out from under her Lola's arm. As her father parked the car, she could see Tita Evelyn's contemporary townhouse flanked between a row of identical gray buildings with bi-level rooftops and sky lights. In the driveway, a black Porsche Carrera was parked, shining proudly under the moonlit sky. Amado ran his finger along the hood as if dipping it through the icing of a cake.

"Wow, Clar, your cousin's done well this time. I wonder what her new business is."

"I'm sure she'll tell us all about it." Clarita lifted Amparo from the front seat and carried her as she followed her husband to the door. Leena and Nieves trailed behind.

Opening the door to greet them, Evelyn was dressed in a Nik Nik shirt similar to Amado's, men's trousers and shiny black shoes. She greeted him with a firm handshake and a slap on the shoulder.

"O, Amado kamusta ka? Pasok! Come in, come in."

Amado pointed at Evelyn's black shirt and back at his own in midnight blue. "We're on the same wavelength, ha? I hope you're watching the game too. I hear Magic is going to win it for the Lakers even without Abdul-Jabbar."

"Wait till you see what I have inside," Evelyn said. Her wide-screen TV sat in the living room and was already tuned in to the game.

"Hoy, Clarita! Guapa ka! You're still beautiful!"

Clarita blushed, lightly pushing Evelyn on the shoulder.

"Puwede ba? I'm getting so fat these days. Look." She pointed at her belly, hoping Evelyn would not agree.

"No naman, you're still sexy. Pero, what's this outfit? You look like peanut butter and jelly!"

Clarita felt shocked, but quickly recovered into a half-smile. Nieves and Leena covered their mouths, stifling their amusement as they followed little Amparo through the door.

"And who is this beauty?" Evelyn asked, bending down to kiss her young niece. "You look like a little Claritita."

Amparo smiled, skipping through the foyer and into the large living room.

Evelyn greeted Nieves and rubbed the top of Leena's head, smiling at her in recognition.

"I like your tie. It's very cool."

"Thanks," Leena said, trying not to look too proud. She was conscious of her mother's gaze.

Amado, instantly mesmerized by the game and the magnificent, oversized TV, got comfortable on Evelyn's white leather couch. The sectional was large enough to seat the entire family. Evelyn's friend, Baby, entered from the kitchen and offered the family drinks, Coca-Cola for Clarita, a Heineken for Amado and two grape sodas for the kids. Lola Nieves asked to see Evelyn's wine selection and left the room with Baby.

Evelyn and Baby were what Clarita called "beauts," having grown up and gone to school together. Evelyn's interest in women came as no surprise. For the most part, Clarita thought of her like a brother. Although they were distant relatives, the women treated each other as if they were cousins of the first degree. Clarita was impressed with Evelyn's success, she admired her confidence when it came to business and secretly hoped that their family history would entitle her to a piece of it or at least a few gifts of gratitude. Evelyn's pockets weren't always flowing with cash. In fact, it was Clarita's father who put her through college, financed her first business deal and helped her with his connections when she decided to immigrate to the States. Now, Clarita believed, it was payback time. She knew Lola Nieves' presence would increase Evelyn's feelings of obligation and hoped that with enough reminders about the past, Evelyn might begin to feel generous.

At the dinner table, Amado sat facing the TV. The basketball game was underway, and he didn't want to miss a thing. Once in a while he jolted up from his seat, cheering or cursing at the TV in frustration.

"Puneta! He was wide open! Ah, loco! Did you see that, Ev? He didn't even know what passed him."

At first his outbursts were startling, but after awhile they ignored him, continuing on with their conversations.

The table was filled with Filipino delicacies: kare kare, oxtail stew, chicken adobo, pansit, the Filipino staple of noodles and vegetables, peppery sweet lechon kawali and grilled bangus; and a huge bowl of steaming white rice sat on either end of the table. Clarita, impressed by the layout, asked Evelyn how she managed it all.

"Didn't you know? I brought a housekeeper back after my last viaje."

"Wasn't it difficult?" Clarita asked, interested to hear how she might do the same.

"No, it's easy--you just tell them you're related. They don't really ask many questions, and if they do, you just pass them some cash. I think it's a fair trade off: I pay for the visa, she gets a comfortable place to stay and enough money to send back home to her pamilia. And me? I get a housekeeper, a cook and occasionally a masseuse. Next time I go home, I'm thinking of getting a driver."

"Just like home, diba?" Amado asked, taking a commercial break to eat and join in the conversation.

"Exactly. I'm a Filipina," Evelyn said righteously. "Why should I slave around with a full-time job and then come home to work some more? This is where I come to relax," she said, stretching her hands as if to encompass her entire home. "Besides, there are hundreds of people who need money back home. This is my way of sharing the wealth, no?"

"And when does she see her family?" Nieves asked.

"Well, of course this life comes with sacrifice." Evelyn wiped her mouth.

"Pretty big sacrifice for someone like her, no?"

"Not really. Between the income she earns here and the money her children make back home, they will be here to join her in no time. She won't be alone for too long."

"I wouldn't count on it, Evelyn," Nieves said, taking a sip from her wine. "The economy back home is miserable. Look at me now, for example. Even the land we acquired is not enough. I've been forced to sell it to the Arabs and the Japons. Soon there will be nothing left for us."

"That's why I focus on business here. This is truly the land of opportunity." Evelyn took a big swig of beer and smiled at Leena across the table.

"Your kids are lucky to be here," and then softly to Clarita, who sat beside her, "Your Leena looks like she might grow up to be like me." Evelyn nudged her on the shoulder half-jokingly.

"Hoy! No, naman!" Clarita said. "Not if I can help it,"

Leena looked down at her plate, pretending not to hear. As Clarita looked at her daughter across the table, a hint of sadness entered her gut, and for a moment she saw her son Marlon in Leena's face. "Well, what do you see, Clarita, for your family, for your kids? What kind of life do you wish for?" Evelyn asked.

"She wishes she could win the lotto," Amado interjected, his cheeks stuffed full of food, "and challenge lmelda to a shoe competition."

"I wish my son was home," Clarita said.

Leena looked at her mother in shock. She recognized the sadness in her face. It felt as though she was witnessing something too private for the dinner table, that she should look away or help her mother to conceal it.

The table grew silent, and then the doorbell rang.

"Hello! I hope I didn't miss dinner." Armi's platform shoes clunked against the tile floor as she made her grand entrance into the dining room with Devon. Laying eyes on the two of them, Armi in her white faux fur and Devon with his mile-high afro, Clarita clutched her forehead with both hands.

Armi made a round of greetings, kissing everyone on both cheeks, and Devon shook everyone's hands, introducing himself politely to Armi's parents. Evelyn set two place settings for them at the table, and the two quickly started eating, this being their first meal of the day. Armi told everyone about her new prospect at the Philippine embassy in New York: a friend of a friend had a connection that might land her a job as a secretary at the Consular office and wouldn't that be great--she'd be in the same building where the visa applications were coming through.

"Oh, and by the way," Armi said, picking a piece of food out from between her teeth, "Devon and I were listening to the radio, and it sounds like there's some kind of riot happening in Manila."

"Really?" Evelyn stood from the table and headed for the remote control. "Amado, after the game you'll be thrilled to know I also had them install a satellite dish. It lets me get most of the stations from back home." Evelyn switched the channel to give them a little teaser. The face of a Filipina reporter filled the screen; she spoke in Tagalog, with English words occasionally sprinkled between sentences.

In the prerecorded video footage, men and women were gathered in front of the Philippine embassy in Manila. The reporter's voice described a mock election staged by the People's Power movement. According to the reporter, the group denounced the upcoming elections and claimed there were plans to rig them. The footage then showed the arrest of various protestors: men, women, priests and nuns. The camera panned across the sea of people. Signs of protest were strewn along the streets, men in army fatigues scattered among them violently forcing the protestors into submission. Hoses shot a stream of water into the crowd, knocking many people off their feet. Then, amidst the noise and chaos, a young man's voice was amplified on the air. At first they didn't recognize him, not even Armi or Clarita, until Leena said his name.

"It's Marlon."

He wore a bandana tied around his head, and despite the cuts on his face and tears in his eyes, his voice was strong and clear.

"Lakas ng Bayan!" he shouted, "People power!" And as they carried him away to Camp Aguinaldo for interrogation, he sang the words of Jose Corazon de Jesus:

  "Pilipinas kong minumutya.
  Pugad ng luha ko't dalita,
  Aking adhika,
  Makita kang sakdal laya"*

Clarita's ears were ringing with the tenor of her son's voice. The surround-sound of Evelyn's TV gave the illusion that Marlon was in the very same room. She imagined she could smell the sweat on his skin, she imagined he was close enough to yank from the soldier's grip. She wished it were that easy to save him. Though his image appeared only briefly, it remained imprinted on her mind like the negative of a snapshot. It was the face of a young man, tarnished by anger, withered by defeat. She hardly recognized him. In five years, time had transformed her son beyond her imagination. Amado sat across from her, his mouth agape, gripping a beer in one hand and clenching the other into a fist. In one swift movement, he slammed his hand onto the glass table, startling the others from their temporary paralysis.

"Pasiyensiya Amado, anak mo yan, take it easy, he is your son," Nieves said as she rubbed Leena's back. Clarita's third child sat silently, struggling to fight back her tears. She didn't want to cry in front of her family, not in front of her Tita Evelyn or in front of her decadent sister, Armi. She wished she were invisible and not sitting there at the table in Marlon's old jeans. She wished she were with him, back home, and not staring at her mother in her purple and yellow dress as she clutched the edges of a cloth napkin.

Leena watched as her parents bickered, as her father screamed at Lola Nieves, as Armi and Devon left the table to smoke cigarettes on the balcony with little Amparo in tow. She listened as Tita Evelyn picked up the phone and began the lengthy process of trying to make a long-distance connection. Who are they going to call, Leena wondered, when there is nobody left to help?

* "Philippines my beloved/ Nest of tears and suffering/ My fervent wish is to / see you bask in freedom."

* My Country

RELATED ARTICLE: TOP 5 NOVELS BY QUEER PEOPLE OF COLOR

Parable of the Sower

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This book changed my life. In this sci-fi novel, Butler writes: "God is change."

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Kwa interweaves the lives of two women from different times. This book has some of the most beautiful language you'll ever want to read.

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A rollicking good time about a Filipino gay childhood in Hawaii.

Noel Alumit's second novel Talking to the Moon will be published in early 2007.

www.thelastnoel.blogspot.com