Beth

When I pat my butt to get rid of the dirt, the back cover flips with the wind. And see something behind it. I look at it close and exclaim, “Clues,” I whisper. But too loud.

Kaiser jerk and immediately approaches me with his hand on my shoulder. “What is it?” I try to focus but his hands on my shoulders distracts me. I shrug his arm off me, trying too hard not to make him feel uneasy.

I flip the cover to see the clue clearer. “It’s written in unrecognizable codes again?”

I nod. I grab the same piece of paper I wrote before and my pen from my bag. “I’m familiar with this. I watched a detective series a few days ago and they found these clues like this. It could works.”

Kaiser stands beside me. His eyebrows furrow as his eyes fix on the scribbles I am doing and crosses his arms shortly after. “BRX DUH ILODOOB WKHUH. KDPJ RP. LW LV VWLOO HDUOB. UHDG. UHYHUVH. If we take the letter and move three alphabets backward, we will know the real letter. Let’s say, BRX, if we move three spaces backward, that will be YOU. So, if we take all the words Alexandra wrote here, she means ‘You are finally there. Hang on. It is still early. Read. Reverse,’” I say in a rush as if someone chases me, panting trying to gasp for air.

When I look at him, he is rather confused, raising his eyebrow as he glances at me and back to the scribbles. “Where the hell did you get this, Beth?” He seems baffled of how I got the message. His face shows as if he feels dumbfounded he didn’t know such a technique in decoding hidden clues like this. I giggle, teasing him, as he scoffs back. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Whatever, Kaiser.” I feel proud and smart.

For a dim-wit person like me, seeing him in confusion and flabbergasted makes me satisfied.

After a moment of teasing, I flip the book on the same page to check the exact paragraph she wanted us to read in reverse. We’re both clueless on what exact passage to read backward. Is she serious…backwards?

Kaiser grabs the book from my hand and looks at the small written words at the top rightmost corner of the page.

Behind me - dips

Eternity - Before me - Immortality -

Myself - the term between -

He murmurs the poem over and over again as he walks a few steps further towards the edge of the cliff. He looks down the waves slamming against the massive rocks underneath the cliff. “Eternity dips me behind. Immortality me before. Between the term myself?” He shakes his head after he whispers to himself the poem in reverse, full of doubt. I approach near him.

“She could mean the opposite of moving forward to live. Death.” He turns his head facing me as if he tells me to explain more of my theory. I continue, “Alexandra wants us to be here because she knows we’ll see the sunrise. But if we define backward its the opposite of it. That means she wants us to go to the cemetery. That’s the poem is all about.”

“I noticed she used Emily Dickinson's poem about death,” Kaiser recalls. He places his hand on his waist, jaw-dropped of what we find out. I look at him looking convinced with my speculation, though I am not sure if I am right.

But as far as Alexandra’s wit is concerned, she could have gotten her clues further than expected. I grab the book again and reread the poem, staring at something. “Hey,” I sputter, tapping my fingers on his shoulder. “You skipped the last line, Kaiser. She also wrote, In the stone, we’ll find our lives together.”

My mind fills with excitement for another clue resolved. “The stone. It’s the cemetery. She wants us to visit the cemetery.”

Based on the clues she gave, it’s clear she wants us to check the old part the area where the bodies buried long ago are. That means if it’s not her body, one of her relatives.

Kaiser beckons heading back to the car in a rush, almost sprinting. I follow him from behind, smiling wide with a new found clue.

The sunrise finally reveals its majestic prowess in the vast sea. Orange color blankets the blue skies reflect various colors in the waters. A rare view. It is my the first time to see when we pass by the road, meters away from the forest where we visited a while ago.

Right now, I sit beside Kaiser, driving his black wild truck, fast since there are no cars around. Besides, it’s too early and too rural to have early busy streets unlike in the city, where we live.

As early as five o’clock in the morning, we hear the loud engines from the cars, buses, and jeepneys passing by. Drivers beep their loud horns and screeching sounds from the tires. Disturbing everyone’s sleep.

In a half an hour, we arrive at the town’s cemetery. A place we never think we’ll visit by following Alexandra’s clues. Visiting a place of death in the morning when people rise up from their deep sleep seems ironic.

To find out if we got the correct answers from Alexandra’s hint, we need to look for every tomb. The cemetery is wide—we’re talking of hectares of land. Yet, we have to search every nook and corner of the area to seek clues.

While strolling in the grounds in desperate search for a clue, the poem she wrote in the page has me thinking of a hint. She might have thought of the struggle like we’re in. I glance at Kaiser, who seems in a rush.

He scans the whole area almost sprinting. He roams around with his hands inside the pockets of his denim pants. He looks distressed. Like his tattered pants, unfixed hair, and droopy eyes. He presses his lip while his eyebrows furrow. I sigh since we’re both in the same situation. We’re desperate. Both of us in exasperation.

“This is useless, Beth.” Kaiser sputters, releasing an exasperated sigh. The early morning search and the lack of sleep keep us struggling to the point I notice slight tremors in my hand. It’s quite stressful. “We don’t know who we’re looking for.”

Exhaustion is an understatement of our status.

At the back of my mind, a name of Fabian Montenegro had me concerned. “Kaiser, do you think she wants us to look for a Fabian Montenegro here?”

“Why do you think she’ll do?” Kaiser asks in an annoyed tone. From how he sounds, it’s obvious he wants this to end and his impatience is overpowering him. I sigh and try to be as patient as I could for the sake of resolving the issue. An issue without clear resolution.

“If Giovanni’s hobby of yoga leads us to the cliff, why would Alexandra use a poem about death? What makes her feel dread amidst her romance with that guy?” A question that made him silent, forcing himself to think though he’s awfully weary. I, too, feel the same, but we have to resolve this, at least, before we return home. And face our realities.

“Let’s try, Kaiser,” I say as if I plead him. He nods though he’s disinterested. He scratches his head and massages the back of his head and neck. We stroll in a rush looking for her father’s tomb.

After a long search, we did. “We find it,” I whisper, tapping my hand on his chest slapping his lean, chiseled muscles. I am surprised why my hand land there.

He smiles and bends his knees to have a close view of the tomb made of dark marble, looking abandoned. Dried flowers and faded photo in a frame placed on top of the marble engraved,

Fabian Montenegro. January 26, 1949 - December 16, 1981.

He’s a bit young to die. He’s only thirty-two. “As far as I could remember from the master file, it’s written he took his life,” Kaiser says without looking at me. He grabs the frame with a faded photo of his family.

Fabian, at his prime, a good-looking and a conservative guy. His dark hair slicked back with pomade. He wore his white polo tucked in underneath his dark Cavaricci pants. He places his hand on the waist of a beautiful woman with a dark blonde curly hair. She stood beside him. She placed her hands on the shoulders of a five-year-old girl with a dark pixie hair—the young Alexandra. Their fashion shows it’s in the early 1980s.

He turns his head behind and faces me standing right behind him. “Why would a happy man take his own life?” he sighs. “Especially with a beautiful family like he has?”

I could see how dismayed he is, given his mom has already made an attempt in the past. The term suicide remains a stigma until the modern times. Because of that, Alexandra’s traumatic experience at an early age is unimaginable. She was only five years old kid when he did it. After they took the photo, that was also the last time she saw her father alive.

“He has reasons,” I say in a nonchalant manner, though I know it’s a sensitive subject. But it’s a cold, brutal fact. In fact, it’s written on his records. Trying to comfort him, I kneel beside him to have a close look at Fabian’s tomb as a way of showing respect. Yet, I notice something on the dried flowers placed on a faded wooden pot. I flip the small card hanging and read the words.

“From Alexandra,” I whisper, following the search for the flower shop where she got them. “Gold Street Flowers.”

Based on the name of the shop, I could assume where she got those flowers for her dead father. As far as I could remember, in a nearby town, there is a famous street called the Gold Street Alley.

It was once an infamous area for the outcasts. Most of the inhabitants in the area either have criminal records or a drugged youth, at least. Like the typical red district, the town had the same reputation. Clubs existed in an array, displaying large photos of their prostitutes as if they’re fast food menus.

That image changed after almost twenty years. Shortly after Belladonna's death sentence seventeen years ago. Since then, the old part of the town becomes a place for the old folks. A place for retirement from the busy outskirts of the business district.

For almost two decades, the new mayor tries to reform his town—especially the Gold Street Alley. In fact, they won “The Most Progressive Town” three years ago. He recognized the efforts of every town folk for the rehabilitation. Albeit it’s known success, the place retains the rural feel. A refreshing cold air and the peaceful surroundings.

Compared to where Kaiser and I live, it seems more rural and nature is something they see every day. No massive buildings, no early noise pollution, no busy streets.

While in deep thoughts of the clues, I glance at him, already looking at the small card as well. He presses his lips, instinctively, and fixes his sight on me. “You know where this leads to, Beth.” I nod in response, standing. He does the same.

Without second thoughts, we rush outside heading back to the wild truck and drive away.

Again.