SASHA ROSARIO'S POINT OF VIEW
I was cocooned in sleep when a peculiar sound tugged me from my dreams.
What is that racket? Is a dog howling at the moon?
With a groan, I hauled myself upright, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and tossing aside my thin, well-worn blanket.
Good grief—are we having a death in the neighborhood? That mutt is making enough noise to raise the dead.
But any lingering drowsiness evaporated the moment I swung open my cottage door. My eyes widened, and a startled shriek escaped my lips.
"AHH! Burog! You little pervert—are you really trying to mount that poor dog right in front of my house?!"
Heat flared in my cheeks as I gaped at my pint-sized mutt, Burog, going at it with a dog easily twice his size. For such a tiny creature, he possessed a surprising amount of stamina.
"Shoo! Get out of here, you horny little pest!" I waved my arms, attempting to shoo him away—thankfully, they hadn't locked together yet. Burog backed off with a disgruntled huff, clearly annoyed by the interruption. The poor guy—his legs were so short, he could barely reach his target.
"Inside!" I commanded, and he trotted after me without a fight, his tail drooping slightly.
I sighed, rolling my eyes heavenward. What a way to start the day. My dog really is one of a kind.
I was about to retreat inside when a chorus of moans and breathless whispers drifted over from my only neighbors—a young couple, Junior and Andeng, who lived alone in the cottage next door.
"Junior, please! Not now—it's too early. Sasha might hear us!"
I froze in place, a groan building in my throat. Here we go again.
"Come on, Andeng—you left me hanging last night—"
Oh boy. Junior, you're wearing that woman out!
"Enough! We've gone five rounds already—I can barely stand!"
I grimaced, understanding all too well what I was overhearing, and clapped my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound.
That's my neighbors for you—Junior and Andeng, barely older than me. No kids yet, they say—Junior wants to keep his wife all to himself first. Must be nice, right? Joke! Hehe—I've got no plans to get married anytime soon. I can barely keep my roof from flying off in a storm as it is.
My simple cottage sits right by the shore at the far end of the island. Yep—I live on an island, which is why I've got sun-kissed skin and curves to match. Andeng and Junior are my only neighbors out here; everyone else prefers to stay closer to the boat terminal, since we're miles from the main landing spot.
I've been on my own since I was seven, when my parents left me with my paternal grandmother, Lola. I never learned why they took off, but I stopped caring long ago—nothing will change the fact that they abandoned me. For ten years, Lola taught me everything: how to gut a fish, how to string shells into necklaces, how to survive with nothing but grit and determination. She passed away when I was seventeen, leaving me truly alone—though having neighbors now is a blessing. Before them, I was the only soul on this stretch of beach.
My jaw tightened as I hurried inside to start cooking rice, the rhythmic soundtrack of my neighbors' passion still echoing in the air.
"O-Oh! I told you to wait until later, J-Junior!"
Could you two at least have some mercy on a single woman?
I washed the pot and then headed back outside to gather dry branches and firewood, my attention drifting back to Burog. He was sitting patiently at my feet, looking up at me with those big, soulful brown eyes.
"What now? Don't tell me you're jealous of them." I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. Burog's name—meaning "rough"—was a total lie. His fur was soft as silk and always impeccably clean.
He nudged his head against my leg, and I narrowed my eyes. "Jealous? Seriously? If you dare knock up any of the dogs in the next village, I'll tie you up and throw away the key. We can't afford puppies, you hear me?"
I huffed in exasperation, and he whined softly before settling down, sitting still. He must have understood that I meant business.
"Good boy." I patted his head and then turned back to fanning the fledgling fire.
Even my dog is plotting to start a family. What about me?
I've got my head on straight, even if life is tough. And I'm not bad-looking either—but being poor doesn't leave much room for romance. Marry another poor guy? No way! If I'm going to settle down, it'll be with someone handsome—foreign, maybe. Rich!
I nodded to myself, liking the sound of that audacious dream. Once the fire was hot enough, I went back inside to measure the rice and set the pot to boil.
This is my usual morning routine: wake to Andeng and Junior's amorous escapades, cook breakfast over an open fire, then walk the beach to watch the sunrise paint the sky with vibrant colors. The view out here is breathtaking—you can see mountains rising from the water on the next island over. Living by the sea isn't easy, but if you know how to work it, you'll never go hungry.
I glanced at Burog, still sitting faithfully by the fire with his tail wagging expectantly.
"Don't move, and bark if the rice boils over." He woofed once in acknowledgment and settled back down on his haunches.
See? Well-mannered… until he spots a female dog in heat. Then he's faster than lightning and just as single-minded.
I grabbed a woven basket and headed down to the sand to hunt for shells—enough to string together a few necklaces or bracelets to sell later at the market.
"HAAAA!" I stretched my arms wide, closing my eyes to breathe in the cool, clean air. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore was music to my ears, a constant reminder of the beauty that surrounded me, even in my humble existence.
I had no idea what time it was—my clock had broken ages ago. I only knew the hour when I asked Andeng and Junior, since they had phones. I couldn't afford one yet; food and necessities came first.
The sun hadn't yet broken the horizon, so the air was refreshingly cool, perfect for walking barefoot along the beach. I kept my eyes fixed on the sand, scanning for shells with smooth edges, unique shapes, and bright, eye-catching colors.
After almost an hour, my pockets were overflowing with treasures, and I'd also managed to scavenge a discarded plastic bag to hold the rest of my finds. When I returned to the cottage, Burog was still faithfully on duty, guarding the fire. He barked once as I approached, and I rushed to take the pot off the flames before it boiled over and made a mess.
"Crap. Nothing to go with this mountain of rice." I ran a weary hand through my tangled hair with a sigh.
My meager stock of dried fish was completely gone. Looks like it'll be plain rice with a pinch of salt for breakfast this morning.
Such is life when you're poor, I mused with a shrug. You make do with what you have, and you never take anything for granted.
I scooped myself a generous bowl and was about to reach for the salt when the cottage door—or what was left of it—burst open with a loud, splintering crack.
I jumped back in shock, flinching at the unexpected noise, then winced as the already damaged door splintered further and crashed to the floor.
"Oops… sorry." Andeng stood sheepishly in the doorway, holding a steaming bowl in her hands and rubbing the back of her neck with an apologetic air.
Timing is everything! What've you got there? I thought, my stomach rumbling in anticipation. I beamed at her, ignoring the broken door for the moment—food came first, repairs could wait until later.
She stepped inside, still looking a little embarrassed. "Junior traded for some bonito yesterday when a fishing boat came in. I made a simple soup with it."
My mouth watered. "Yes! This completely cancels out all your noise pollution from earlier!" I eagerly took the bowl and set it down on my rickety table, grinning as her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink.
"Sorry about that, Sasha. Junior just gets… carried away sometimes."
I waved her off with a dismissive laugh. "Don't worry about it—I'm used to you two by now. One bowl of delicious soup fixes everything!" I winked at her and dug in with gusto, offering her some in return, but she politely shook her head and perched gingerly on a chair that looked as though it might collapse at any moment.
We both burst into laughter, the tension in the small cottage immediately dissipating. Then, after a moment of comfortable silence, she leaned forward conspiratorially. "So—you really have no plans to ever get married? Not even a little?"
I nearly choked on my soup, the unexpected question catching me completely off guard. I thumped my chest, desperately trying to clear my airway as she handed me a glass of water. I gulped it down, gasping for breath.
"Don't scare me like that, woman!" I wheezed, patting my chest in an attempt to calm my racing heart.
She simply shrugged, her expression unapologetic. "What's so scary about marriage, anyway? You're acting like I told you a ghost was standing right here in the room with us."
I let out a long, theatrical sigh. "Everything about marriage freaks me out, Andeng. And my answer is still a firm no—I'm definitely not marrying a Filipino guy!" I declared with a defiant note in my voice, and she couldn't help but make a comical face.
"So you are still holding out for some handsome foreigner to sweep you off your feet, huh?"
"Duh! Look at me—I'm gorgeous, aren't I?" Okay, so maybe I was a little full of myself, but I knew I had looks. I just didn't have money, and in this world, money often seemed to be the only thing that truly mattered.
Andeng laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I know you're beautiful, Sasha, but how are you ever supposed to catch a prince if you're stuck here on this island? You'll never find your ideal man unless you actually leave!"
She had a valid point, but I stubbornly waved it off, refusing to let reality intrude on my fanciful daydreams. "God will provide! I swear I'll snag a hot foreigner one day—maybe even tomorrow, when you wake up!" I joked, even though I knew deep down that it was virtually impossible.
But hey—maybe I am God's favorite, I mused with a secret smile. Stranger things have definitely happened, right?
By sunset, I was hard at work at the biggest dried fish factory in the village, where I'd been cleaning and sun-drying fish for as long as I could remember. It's simple, back-breaking labor, but five hundred peso (approx 10 dollars) a day was enough to keep me fed, pay the bills, and keep a leaky roof over my head.
"Sis Sasha! Look—pretty?"
I turned to see my boss's bright-eyed daughter, Bella, who was all of ten years old. She was beaming proudly as she held up a bracelet fashioned from shells that I'd collected that very morning.
"Wow—this is absolutely beautiful, baby!" I exclaimed, genuinely impressed by the intricate design.
"It looks just like the one Marimar wears on TV! You'd look so pretty wearing it, Ate Sasha."
I didn't know who Marimar was, but I smiled and took the bracelet, admiring the way the colorful shells caught the light. It fit my wrist perfectly, as though it had been custom-made just for me.
"Now give it back so we can sell it at the market tomorrow, okay?" Bella giggled, reaching for her creation.
Her family sold the jewelry that I made from the shells I gathered, and I received a small percentage of the profits—money well-earned for the hours I spent combing the beach.
I was waiting for Aling Minda, my boss, to hand me my daily wages when she walked over with a large plastic bag clutched in her hands.
"Here you go, Sasha, sweetheart. A little bonus, as a thank you for all your hard work—we hit our quota today, over three hundred pieces of dried fish!"
I clapped my hands together with delight, a wide grin spreading across my face. "You're the best boss in the entire world, Aling Minda! No wonder you're my favorite."
She laughed, clearly pleased by my enthusiasm, and handed me my wages and the bag of dried fish, which I accepted with a huge smile and a heartfelt expression of gratitude.
I crawled into bed just after ten o'clock, settling onto my thin woven mat with two makeshift pillows stuffed with old, discarded clothing. When you're poor, everything gets reused and repurposed.
I closed my tired eyes, trying to drift off to sleep before my amorous neighbors began their nightly routine. The single lightbulb in my cottage flickered erratically, threatening to die at any moment—I'd definitely have to remember to buy a new one at the market tomorrow.
My entire living space was just one small room—bed, kitchen, and living area all rolled into one cramped space. It had been built for two, back when Lola and I had lived here together, sharing our lives and our dreams under this humble roof.
I was almost asleep, my body beginning to relax, when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching outside. My heart hammered against my ribs—the footsteps were heading straight for my door.
Door? What door? I remembered with a jolt that the one Andeng had broken earlier was still lying in pieces on the floor.
Panic shot through me like a jolt of electricity as I sat bolt upright, grabbing the heavy wok from my small stove—just in case I needed to defend myself against an intruder.
My pulse thundered in my ears, almost deafening, as I stared at the empty doorway, straining to make out any shapes or shadows in the darkness. Then, without warning, a shadowy figure stumbled inside—a man, his clothing soaked with blood, his once-white shirt now stained a horrifying crimson. He clutched his stomach, his pain-filled gray eyes staring blankly ahead with an expression of utter despair.
"W-Who are you?!" I yelled, my voice trembling despite my best efforts, holding the wok up like a weapon, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
"H-Huh…? Who am I?" His voice was deep and raspy, cold as stone, and utterly devoid of emotion. I couldn't tell if he was angry, confused, or simply beyond caring.
"Yes! Who are you?! I'll bash your head in with this if you try to do anything!" I shouted, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Oh my God—what if he's an monster—like some sort of freaky beings? A blood-sucking monster come to eat my organs?! I'm not even pregnant! I don't have a husband, so how would I even have a child for it to steal?!
My heart was racing so fast that I thought I was genuinely going to have a heart attack right then and there. Where were Andeng and Junior? Couldn't they hear me screaming? Weren't good neighbors supposed to look out for one another?
Then, the man let out a short, broken laugh that sounded like a sob caught in his throat. "C-Crazy woman," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Before I could react, his knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap.
I crept forward slowly, my fear warring with my curiosity. I grabbed a glass of water from my makeshift table and splashed it on his face, but he didn't stir. I leaned closer, cautiously studying his features. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and ragged.
Then, it hit me with the force of a physical blow.
"H-Holy crap… he's a foreigner!"
I stared at his sharp, chiseled jaw, his high cheekbones, his pale skin—features so different from the men on our island. And then, I heard my own voice echoing in my head from earlier that morning:
"God will provide! I swear I'll snag a hot foreigner one day—maybe even tomorrow, when you wake up!"
Oh Lord… did you just drop him from the sky?!