“It’s so hot.”

“Do you want me to direct the electric fan to you, Lola?”

“I am so thirsty. Do we have water?”

“There’s water in the fridge. Do you want me to pour a glass for you?”

“No…. They’re watching our every move.”

“Lola? Who’s watching us?”

“THEY are watching us.” She pointed at three passersby on the side walk. “It’s dangerous. They want us to die of thirst.”

There was silence; then, she spoke again.

“He poured my water on the ground. He said I’m not allowed to drink.”

“I promise you, Lola, I will not let him pour your water again.”

“Are the Americans back?”

“We already won the war, don’t you remember? The Americans came and left. We’re free now. ”

“The war is over?”

“Yes, it’s over. No more Japanese. No more killings.”

“What year is it?”

“1973.”

“Who are you again?”

Vince stared at his grandmother who was sitting on a creaking rocking chair two feet away from him. She was wearing those sad eyes she usually wore when the conversations got messy. Her silence told him that Lola Pinang was trying to piece together a puzzle with mismatched tiles. He could read on her facial expression what she was thinking—

“How can the war be over? The Americans just left us. The Japanese just capturedBataan. We are about to cover a 50-mile distance to Pampanga. How can this boy be sure that the Japanese are gone? They’re just hiding. I know they’re just around. I must not let my guard down.”

Vince stood up and left the torn history book he was reading on the floor. In a single stride he found himself beside his Lola. He was close enough to notice the wrinkles on her forehead that told him how deep his grandmother’s thoughts were.

“Lola, I’m Vince, your first and only grandson.”

“You are? But my children aren’t even adolescents yet. My firstborn, in fact, is as old as you, maybe even younger. How old are you anyway?”