It's Beguiling to be back again

One afternoon or maybe it was late morning, some day in January, Solsona, ilocos Norte, my mother made good on her promise to stab my father in the back. She was murderous mad, mad about possibly the money he took from her bank account, closing out the savings she began when she was a young single teacher in Manila, or maybe he was openly texting or calling his chix on his cellphone in front of her, in front of everybody, playing her for a fool. She took one of the 99 cent store knives we brought over from the states and waddled to the front yard where my dad was gabbing with the women helpers, maybe getting his swollen feet massaged. I followed along behind her to see how far she would get. When they saw her wielding the knife, at first they cackled and told my dad that he better flee, then they told me to get the knife from her. The neighbors across the street, one of them a policeman looked on--they'd probably seen this show before--I was amazed how strong my mother's hold was, she had quite a death grip on that knife.