Aling Ligaya was seated at the end of a table in the small space that was left clear, cutting up a chicken. She raised her keen eyes to us, tiny and wizened, wielding the knife. “Umupo kayo,” she said. I wasn’t sure where she wanted us to sit as the two chairs available were occupied—one by a stack of clean laundry, the other by an angelic little boy in an undershirt and shorts. He looked up at me with his enormous eyes and vacated the seat. Bibo set the clean laundry on the bed. Aling Ligaya pushed the cut-up chicken down the table and pulled herself to standing to wash her hands in the sink. This done, shaking her hands of water, she sat back down and picked up a linen napkin, folded into quarters on the table. She dried her hands in a manner so deliberate that I wondered if it had a particular significance.

“Ikaw,” said Aling Ligaya, indicating me. She took a deck of cards that she must have had hidden in the pocket of her dress, a floral dress much like the one I wore at my tita Rosa’s. These were not tarot cards but merely playing cards, softened with use and humidity. I knew the drill. I would shuffle and pick six. How she intuited any meaning from these was a mystery, as it was intended to be, as was my desire to spend my time searching for meaning in this way. Aling Ligaya held the cards, closing her eyes and then opening them. She leveled a look at me, not ready to release the deck.

“Magkano?” I whispered to Bibo.

“Limang daan,” she replied.

I took out my wallet and placed five hundred-peso bills on the table. Aling Ligaya handed over the cards and I shuffled them, trying to empty my head of all useless thoughts, although, once those were cleared, there wasn’t much left. I selected my six and she slowly began to turn them over. The child, who had been leaning against me, crawled into my lap. He smelled of Lifebuoy soap and must have just had a bath because his skin was still cool, his hair slightly sticky with damp.