The Mats

By Francisco Arcellana
For the Angeles family, Mr. Angeles'; homecoming from his the children it seemed as new as the first time it was spread
periodic inspection trips was always an occasion for before them. The folds and creases always new and fresh.
celebration. But his homecoming--from a trip to the South-- The smell was always the smell of a new mat. Watching the
was fated to be more memorable than, say, of the others. intricate design was an endless joy. The children's pleasure at
the golden letters even before they could work out the
He had written from Mariveles: "I have just met a marvelous meaning was boundless. Somehow they were always
matweaver--a real artist--and I shall have a surprise for you. I pleasantly shocked by the sight of the mat: so delicate and so
asked him to weave a sleeping-mat for every one of the consummate the artistry of its weave.
family. He is using many different colors and for each mat the
dominant color is that of our respective birthstones. I am sure Now, taking out that mat to spread had become a kind of
that the children will be very pleased. I know you will be. I can ritual. The process had become associated with illness in the
hardly wait to show them to you." family. Illness, even serious illness, had not been infrequent.
There had been deaths...
Nana Emilia read the letter that morning, and again and again
every time she had a chance to leave the kitchen. In the In the evening Mr. Angeles was with his family. He had
evening when all the children were home from school she brought the usual things home with him. There was a lot of
asked her oldest son, José, to read the letter at dinner table. fruits, as always (his itinerary carried him through the fruit-
The children became very much excited about the mats, and growing provinces): pineapples, lanzones, chicos, atis, santol,
talked about them until late into the night. This she wrote her sandia, guyabano, avocado, according to the season. He had
husband when she labored over a reply to him. For days after also brought home a jar of preserved sweets from Lopez.
that, mats continued to be the chief topic of conversation
among the children. Putting away the fruit, sampling them, was as usual
accomplished with animation and lively talk. Dinner was a
Finally, from Lopez, Mr. Angeles wrote again: "I am taking the long affair. Mr. Angeles was full of stories about his trip but
Bicol Express tomorrow. I have the mats with me, and they would interrupt his tales with: "I could not sleep nights
are beautiful. God willing, I shall be home to join you at thinking of the young ones. They should never be allowed to
dinner." play in the streets. And you older ones should not stay out
too late at night."
The letter was read aloud during the noon meal. Talk about
the mats flared up again like wildfire. The stories petered out and dinner was over. Putting away
the dishes and wiping the dishes and wiping the table clean
"I like the feel of mats," Antonio, the third child, said. "I like did not at all seem tedious. Yet Nana and the children,
the smell of new mats." although they did not show it, were all on edge about the
mats.
"Oh, but these mats are different," interposed Susanna, the
fifth child. "They have our names woven into them, and in Finally, after a long time over his cigar, Mr. Angeles rose from
our ascribed colors, too." his seat at the head of the table and crossed the room to the
corner where his luggage had been piled. From the heap he
The children knew what they were talking about: they knew disengaged a ponderous bundle.
just what a decorative mat was like; it was not anything new
or strange in their experience. That was why they were so Taking it under one arm, he walked to the middle of the room
excited about the matter. They had such a mat in the house, where the light was brightest. He dropped the bundle and,
one they seldom used, a mat older than any one of them. bending over and balancing himself on his toes, he strained at
the cord that bound it. It was strong, it would not break, it
This mat had been given to Nana Emilia by her mother when would not give way. He tried working at the knots. His fingers
she and Mr. Angeles were married, and it had been with were clumsy, they had begun shaking.
them ever since. It had served on the wedding night, and had
not since been used except on special occasions. He raised his head, breathing heavily, to ask for the scissors.
Alfonso, his youngest boy, was to one side of him with the
It was a very beautiful mat, not really meant to be ordinarily scissors ready.
used. It had green leaf borders, and a lot of gigantic red roses
woven into it. In the middle, running the whole length of the Nana Emilia and her eldest girl who had long returned from
mat, was the lettering: Emilia y Jaime Recuerdo the kitchen were watching the proceedings quietly.

The letters were in gold. One swift movement with the scissors, snip! and the bundle
was loose.
Nana Emilia always kept that mat in her trunk. When any one
of the family was taken ill, the mat was brought out and the Turning to Nana Emilia, Mr. Angeles joyfully cried: "These are
patient slept on it, had it all to himself. Every one of the the mats, Miling." Mr. Angeles picked up the topmost mat in
children had some time in their lives slept on it; not a few had the bundle.
slept on it more than once.
"This, I believe, is yours, Miling."
Most of the time the mat was kept in Nana Emilia's trunk, and
when it was taken out and spread on the floor the children Nana Emilia stepped forward to the light, wiping her still
were always around to watch. At first there had been only moist hands against the folds of her skirt, and with a strange
Nana Emilia to see the mat spread. Then a child--a girl-- young shyness received the mat. The children watched the
watched with them. The number of watchers increased as spectacle silently and then broke into delighted, though a
more children came. little self-conscious, laughter. Nana Emilia unfolded the mat
without a word. It was a beautiful mat: to her mind, even
The mat did not seem to age. It seemed to Nana Emilia more beautiful than the one she received from her mother on
always as new as when it had been laid on the nuptial bed. To
her wedding. There was a name in the very center of it: The self-centered talk of the children also died. There was a
EMILIA. The letters were large, done in green. Flowers-- silence as Mr. Angeles picked up the first of the remaining
cadena-de-amor--were woven in and out among the letters. mats and began slowly unfolding it.
The border was a long winding twig of cadena-de-amor.
The mat was almost as austere in design as Mr. Angeles' own,
The children stood about the spreading mat. The air was and it had a name. There was no symbol or device above the
punctuated by their breathless exclamations of delight. name; only a blank space, emptiness.

"It is beautiful, Jaime; it is beautiful!" Nana Emilia's voice The children knew the name. But somehow the name, the
broke, and she could not say any more. letters spelling the name, seemed strange to them.

"And this, I know, is my own," said Mr. Angeles of the next Then Nana Emilia found her voice.
mat in the bundle. The mat was rather simply decorated, the
design almost austere, and the only colors used were purple "You know, Jaime, you didn't have to," Nana Emilia said, her
and gold. The letters of the name Jaime were in purple. voice hurt and surely frightened.

"And this, for your, Marcelina." Mr. Angeles held his tears back; there was something swift
and savage in the movement.
Marcelina was the oldest child. She had always thought her
name too long; it had been one of her worries with regard to "Do you think I'd forgotten? Do you think I had forgotten
the mat. "How on earth are they going to weave all of the them? Do you think I could forget them?
letters of my name into my mat?" she had asked of almost
everyone in the family. Now it delighted her to see her whole "This is for you, Josefina!
name spelled out on the mat, even if the letters were a little
"And this is for you, Victoria!
small. Besides, there was a device above her name which
pleased Marcelina very much. It was in the form of a lyre, "And this is for you, Concepcion."
finely done in three colors. Marcelina was a student of music
and was quite a proficient pianist. Mr. Angeles called the names rather than uttered them.

"And this is for you, José." "Don't, Jaime, please don't," was all that Nana Emilia
managed to say.
José was the second child. He was a medical student already
in the third year of medical school. Over his name the symbol "Is it fair to forget them? Would it be just to disregard them?"
of Aesculapius was woven into the mat. Mr. Angeles demanded rather than asked.

"You are not to use this mat until the year of your internship," His voice had risen shrill, almost hysterical; it was also stern
Mr. Angeles was saying. and sad, and somehow vindictive. Mr. Angeles had spoken
almost as if he were a stranger.
"This is yours, Antonia."
Also, he had spoken as if from a deep, grudgingly-silent, long-
"And this is yours, Juan." bewildered sorrow.
"And this is yours, Jesus." The children heard the words exploding in the silence. They
wanted to turn away and not see the face of their father. But
Mat after mat was unfolded. On each of the children's mats
they could neither move nor look away; his eyes held them,
there was somehow an appropriate device.
his voice held them where they were. They seemed rooted to
At least all the children had been shown their individual mats. the spot.
The air was filled with their excited talk, and through it all Mr.
Nana Emilia shivered once or twice, bowed her head, gripped
Angeles was saying over and over again in his deep voice:
her clasped hands between her thighs.
"You are not to use these mats until you go to the
There was a terrible hush. The remaining mats were unfolded
University."
in silence. The names which were with infinite slowness
Then Nana Emilia noticed bewilderingly that there were some revealed, seemed strange and stranger still; the colors not
more mats remaining to be unfolded. bright but deathly dull; the separate letters, spelling out the
names of the dead among them, did not seem to glow or
"But Jaime," Nana Emilia said, wondering, with evident shine with a festive sheen as did the other living names.
repudiation, "there are some more mats."

Only Mr. Angeles seemed to have heard Nana Emilia's words.

"Yes, Emilia," said Mr. Angeles, "There are three more mats
to unfold. The others who aren't here..."

Nana Emilia caught her breath; there was a swift constriction