Pooh Pooh
by Tobie Abad

Lisa always believed that her imaginary friend, Pooh Pooh, was real. She always persisted that the four-foot tall white and grey St. Bernard with water-blue eyes and a spongy upside down pyramid nose was not simply a figment of her mind. Rather, the hound was as real as her father, who continued to scold her from the car he was told to sit in.

Although her mother was at first amused by her declaration of Pooh Pooh's existence, her father, on the other hand, thought it was pathetic. Her father did not want to raise a child whose mind was too obsessed with a fantasy world. Even if Lisa tried again and again to convince the stubborn cigar-sucker, her words were like angry black ants struggling to get the carabao's attention. His hands were too busy trying to select which numbers would bring him the next 50 million just as he had before. Had it not been for that ticket, they would have never been able to purchase, refurbish and decorate the house they transferred to in Tahanan Village. No amount of weeping, explaining, or pleading could convince the living car exhaust to stop the twister of smoke for a moment and grant her an ounce of attention. To him, the lottery came first.

The problem (playing with Pooh Pooh) began when she was seven. She found him hiding behind the boxes and old furniture in the backyard of the house they moved into. The house was quite spacious, having seven rooms and four bathrooms and there was a swimming pool and a three car garage to boot! Cracked paint hung on the walls like partially peeled oranges. Cobwebs clung to the dark and damp corners of the room, forming inverted little gossamer tents for their eight-legged scouts.

The two loved to play together. Lisa would face the new flowery wallpaper and loudly count to ten while her furry friend would run off to hide in some part of the house. At times, mother would find her daughter crouched low, peeking beneath the dining table and sofa set. Slowly, she'd shake her head side to side and light another stick of her favorite cigarette.

On other days, the duo would be running around the vast expanse of the garden, chasing butterflies or gathering flowers (of course, Lisa did the picking, Pooh Pooh merely pointed with its pudgy nose which blooms suited its taste). But most of the time, the two would sit under the shade of the towering mango tree that stood just beside the house, just where her parent's room was located. There, they would tell each other stories of happy dreams and frightening storms and other things which her parents never seemed to notice or appreciate. There, Lisa's tears would flow like baby rivers as her eyes whisper the sadness she hides beneath them. Pooh Pooh, ever willing to listen, would give her a lick on her face and tell her everything will be all right when she wakes up tomorrow.

"So Pooh Pooh, this imaginary friend of yours-"

"He's not imaginary!" she exclaimed angrily at the policeman. The streaks of red and blue continued to chase each other along the road, to the trees near the curb to the walls of the front of the house and back. Lisa sat on the foot of the police car, her hands tensely grabbing her elbows as if hugging an invisible pillow. Her eyes peeked behind folded arms, seeking for a sense of securing that she failed to find at home, unless Pooh Pooh was around. A low hum of music emanated from the dining room nearby, as did the aroma of oven-fresh banana bread and onion-simmered beefsteak. Broken glass lay across the front lawn, announcing the damage done to the window of the lit room of the house. Below the window was a puddle of blood, black under the light of the waning moon. Streaks of crimson lingered around the base of the frame, their redness lit by the chandelier of the dining room.

"Pooh Pooh is real! He is real!" Lisa squealed at the policeman as she struggled to rush to her father who sat, handcuffed, inside another police car. The officer shook his head and motioned to the other policeman in the car to leave. The car's engine growled in response and the car began to creep away, its red and blue lights growing smaller and smaller as its banshee wail faded in the distance.

The policeman brushed Lisa's hair back and helped her sit down on the curb again. He pulled his pad and pen out of a pocket, sat beside her, and asked, "Listen. Do you understand what had just happened?"

Lisa nodded. She was already ten years old. Of course she understood what had just happened. The policeman asked her to relate to him the events that occurred as clearly as possible. With a smile full of enthusiasm (for she liked telling stories), she took a deep breath and began her tale.

The policeman listened as she told him how her father had come home that night. His shirt was wet with sweat and his hair was all messed up, "like the pile of leaves Mommy would burn in the backyard." When her father spoke, "he smelled like the chicos Mommy brought home last Christmas."

"And your Mother was at home, Lisa?"

Giving a quick nod, Lisa continued, "Mommy's eyes were different. Normally, she'd have those little dabs of make-up that loved playing peek-a-boo whenever her eyes would blink. But-" Sobs began to break her words into incomprehensible tears. The policeman brushed Lisa's hair back and lifted her chin up with his thumb asking, "You okay?"

"Tonight," Lisa continued, "her eyes were scary. They looked as if they wanted to fall off." She described how her mother's eyes were surrounded by pools of black; tiny wriggly rivers of shadow sliding down her cheeks till they gathered on her chin, dove, and struck the floor with a tiny splatter. "I think she had been crying, you know. Pooh Pooh tells me I look scary too when I cry. But I don't cry that much anymore, not since I found my best friend."

The policeman nodded, and took down a few notes in a small blue pad that curved outward due to being kept too long in the pocket of his navy blue pants. There were reports that night from neighbors of two screaming voices. Their chaotic yells erupted from this very house. After a sudden period of silence, a shrill cry pierced the house's closed windows and ended with the shattering of glass. Witnesses claim to have seen a woman fall out of the window, her arms flailing like crazy, trying to stop her fall. One wooden bar of the window turned as she fell and impaled her smooth belly. And as the shards of glass showered the damp grass below, most of the larger ones fell onto her head and stabbed her scalp. Sticky redness followed afterwards accompanied with a gasping scream for help.

"Did your Daddy ever fight with your Mommy before?" the policeman inquired Lisa who suddenly looked up, stared at the open doorway of the house and yelled out excitedly, "Pooh Pooh! Over here!" the crowd watched in curiosity as Lisa hopped off the curb and bent to her knees. Her hands delicately traced an invisible form, spread fingers closing as her hand moved down. A smile lingered on her face for a second before vanishing under shocked, tearful eyes as if the question had only reached her ears that very moment.

"Daddy and Mommy had many fights. Even before we transferred from Bicutan," she replied. She related to the cop and to the neighbors who listened in how her parents and she used to live in an apartment. The first house had brown wooden walls and grey curtains that hung like giant spider webs untouched for years. Although there were many other rooms and many other floors, she mentioned that they weren't allowed to visit them. She told them how they used to live in the highest floor and how the ceiling would weep raindrops whenever a storm would visit. Lisa giggled upon remembering how she'd try to catch each drop with a tiny white bowl before it dove onto the tiled floor. She could never catch them all.

Her father had been close to her then, she recalled. Especially before they won the lottery. He used to hold her close to him at night, especially when the heavy rains fell, and keep her safe from everything: the roar of thunder, the duwendes, the blackness of the night. He had a funny smell, though. She'd never forget that smell since he almost always had it. It always came from his breath or from the brown empty bottles she'd find beneath the sink.

Her mother, on the other hand, was too busy folding little shiny paper ("I think Mama called it foil") and holding it above the tip of a candle's flame. She'd breathe the smoke that would rise from the foil and start singing songs about stopping postmen and birds suddenly appearing.

Lisa paused. During the moment's pause, her tiny eyes searched the crowd for her mother and father. Upon seeing that they were both gone from view, she smiled and continued her story. "Mom and Dad told me not to tell anyone about this. It was our secret. But I want to tell!"

With a hushed voice, Lisa told the policeman about the time Mother awoke one night thirsting for a glass of cool water. "We still lived in the apartment when this happened." Mother was in another one of her moods and walked to the kitchen, opened a cabinet and pulled out a few stuff from a little brown box. Lisa had just stepped out of the rest room. As she walked half-asleep back to her room, she bumped into her mother. A shower of white powder fell all over the floor, like stars tumbling in the blackest night sky. Mother screamed in anger and slapped Lisa on the face.

"I was asking Mama to stop but she just kept hitting me. It was as if she couldn't hear me."

A few more slaps struck before she saw her mother spin towards the right after being struck by father. It was the first time she saw her mother cry, Lisa related. As she continued to reveal the past, her eyes brimmed with tears that soon enough fell.

She recounted how her father pushed her aside just as her mother turned to run away back to the room. His sweat-lade hand gripped the thin strap of her sando and pulled, dragging her helplessly back towards him. Her mother screamed and struck her hands against his face again and again but each pound was simply returned to her cheek twicefold. With one final insolent slap, her father hit her cheek. She dropped to the floor. He told her never to yell or to go against him again. "I noticed Papa had that weird smell again."

It was a few weeks later, when Lisa's parents won the lottery that things changed for the better for a few days. Lisa was able to get the dolls and cute dressed she always wanted. They transferred to a better house and got to buy better furniture but the fights were still there. At least her parents avoided fighting right in front of their only daughter.

Instead of having her watch, they'd lock her up in her own room or have her stay outside the house until things quieted down. Each time they would fight, "I'd look for someone to play with. Good thing I found Pooh Pooh hiding out there at the back." By the next day, just as Pooh Pooh would always whisper to Lisa, the two parents would be holding hands and exchanging kisses. "That's how things always work out."

Reaching for a glass of water held out by a neighbor, the policeman helped Lisa to take a few gulps to wash away the sobs. Her nose had reddened and her eyes were wet like ferns after a light shower. After wiping her tears away, she turned to face the policeman and asked, "What time do you think my Mommy and Daddy will make up? Daddy has to bring me to school tomorrow."

The policeman looked at her with sad eyes and gave her a light hug. He shook his head slowly and forced the words to leave his lips. "Your mother.. she- she isn't.. she was hurt very bad when she fell out the window. The doctor said she.. might not make it."

A blue blanket slowly covered Lisa's shaking body. She buried her face into the soft sky-hued cotton. Little earthquakes shook the blanket's smooth landscape every now and then with each heartfelt sob. Everyone fell silent, staring at the newly orphaned girl.

Without warning, the girl cocked her head towards one side as if to listen to some imperceptible voice. Lisa's face suddenly became bright with a smile. She started shaking her head and began to sway, dancing a little playful step while gleefully exclaiming, "No, your joking! Mommy is going home tonight! So is Daddy!"

"You don't understand-" the policeman reached out for the now twirling girl. Running into the crowd that surrounded them, Lisa gave out an excited laugh and dove between another person's legs. She grabbed each leg and looked back at the confused policeman with blinking eyes.

"Pooh Pooh told me everything shall be okay!"

The policeman knelt down to her level and tried to explain the truth once more. "Your father-" but before he could continue, Lisa leaped away and ran to the front of the house. Stopping by the front door, she gave the crowd one last glance, stooped low as if to listen again to some whispering voice, and yelled out, "Everything is going to be okay when I wake up. Right, Pooh Pooh!"

The St. Bernard barked out a yes and ran to Lisa's side. The crowd watched , some teary eyed, others distraught with pity or confusion, as the orphaned-girl knelt to the ground and stretched out her arms. "Come, Pooh Pooh!" she yelled out before falling on her buttocks as if some heavy weight had indeed landed on her arms. "None of them understand," she whispered to the dog, "that everything will be all right when I wake up. That's what you always told me, right Pooh Pooh? As so far you're always been right!" and with another gleeful laugh, a laugh normally heard when one visits the children-filled carnivals of the city or the playgrounds of the parks, Lisa ran past the blood decorated window back into the house, heading for her room. Once inside, she switched off the lights and dove into her sheets to sleep.