The Day After: Puri o Buhay (Honor or Life)

This is a continuation of the scary incident from last night.

It was  a bad night and I felt so exhausted from tossing and turning for most part of the night, yet I have no choice but to wake up this early in the morning and get myself prepared for the day’s work.  I made a cup of coffee and toasted a slice of bread which I generously smothered with butter and some jam: my usual breakfast daily.  While I was taking a shower, the life-threatening ordeal, came back to my mind.  “Thank God!” I said to myself.  “I am still alive.”  As the warm water splashes over my skin from head to toe, I was telling myself I will never forget this lesson since it happened during my normal night from school to home.  Even if I have to take a cab by myself I could care less about how much I have to pay as long as I get home safe.

As I got out of the basement, where my apartment was, I looked around first to see if there was a sign of anybody probably sneaking at the apartment suspiciously as I was warned by the thief not to call the police.  “I have to be brave” I said to myself.  Realizing there was nobody watching around, I opened the steel gate and decided that I will just have to walk along Seaview Avenue instead of Avenue M where everything took place so I can take the bus that will take me to the L train station to connect me to an uptown number 6 train in Union Square to my stop at 33rd Street and Park Avenue.  As the train moved from station to station that fateful 10 to 12 minutes ordeal I went through flashed moment by moment in my memory.  I have to blink my eyes several times and remind myself “The worst is over.  It will never happen again.”

At last I am here: One Park Avenue, 10th Floor.  As I entered the office door I was greeted by the usual warm smile from Paula, the receptionist.  “Good morning” she said.  I smiled and responded “Good morning! How are you?” trying not to show any hint of what I was going through.  Everything seemed normal during that morning until I whispered my story to one of the girls in the senior auditors’ room, Jovita, the loud mouthed friend.  One by one the Filipino friends came to ask me about what happened obviously from the story spread by Jovita.  Everyone was stunned at what happened to me and gave me their sympathy and support telling me to always be careful everywhere I go since I am new here in New York.  I was somewhat relieved at the amount of support I got from my co-workers but at the same time I tried to downplay it by joking about how I was almost raped instead of being robbed.  One audit manager, Ira, asked me “So, Eric when the attacker asked you “Puri” o “Buhay”, which translates to “Honor” or “Life”, which one did you choose?”  So I said “Obviously, I chose life because I am still alive. Otherwise, I will not be here to tell you the story.”  Then there was a loud sound of laughters all over the room.  Another auditor, Wilma, remarked “So you got molested, did you see him and did you like it?”  Then I replied “I did not see him because it was dark and I feared for my life that is why I just gave in to him.” The more laughters erupted in the room that caught attention from other auditors so we decided it is time to get back to work.  After all, the big boss, Mr. Cortez, said that due to successful audits made by the group for the DYCD city audits he is taking the team to a buffet lunch in Minado so we decided we will continue over lunch the story telling of my ordeal: mugging or molestation, whichever is funnier.  By the time we got out of the office, it was about 12:30pm and it was a half a block walk to the buffet restaurant.  As I was seating at the center of the long table in front of the big boss and executives, I realized they somehow got the gossip about what happened to me the night before from Jovita as they were smiling when I sat down with my plate full of barbecued meat and fish.  More laughters erupted as we started joking about the situation, which is somewhat a relief to me because I got more at ease instead of scared and aloof.  We then continued with the usual funny stories about the DYCD audits as Mr. Cortez relayed “So Eric I heard that  a client executive complained to the Commissioner, Joe Kirby, that you persistently  asked for diplomas and certificates as proof of qualification for certain higher positions?”  So I said “Yes sir.  That is part of the procedures in the memorandum of agreement that they signed with the city program office as a condition for the approval of their grant so they have to follow it.”  I continued then saying “And if they don’t agree with it then we can tell the commissioner to change the agreement so they can strike that clause out.” More laughters erupted because they said that I am a tough cookie to deal with which I was quick to disagree by saying “I am just following what was required of their contract with the city.”  At the end of the lunch, Marvin, the boy who does the typing and data entry of the financial statements that we submit to the city office took me to one side.   He then asked me in his usual innocent tone “Eric, the story about you getting mugged or molested, was it true?”  So I asked him back “Why do you ask?  Do you not believe it?”  He continued “Well, I am not sure if I will believe it because you are laughing with them and they seem to enjoy talking about it rather than sympathize with you.” He quipped “Then they joke about “Puri” o “Buhay”?  So I am more confused now if it is a joke or if it is true.”  I smiled and said to him “Yes, it is true.  The truth is I got mugged last night and the thief took my cellphone and cash.  Thank God, I am fine and unharmed.  I just have to take it the opposite way instead of getting scared so I can concentrate with my work rather than my fear.”  I ended my conversation with him saying “There is no truth with “Puri” o “Buhay” and there is certainly no truth with me being molested or raped by my attacker.  It was just a joke!”  Then we both laughed as we came out of the restaurant door.  Now, I’m not sure what’s more disturbing: being helplessly scared somewhere in that dark alley in a Brooklyn neighborhood with a knife up against my chest or my co-workers making a big joke out of my misfortune? You be the judge!