Peanut Butter

(This image is AI generated)

Childhood, for most people, could be their go-to memory when they felt the pressure of adulthood. Revisiting the past served as their breather to refuel their dreams. However, for some, a glimpse of their past could be their nightmare in waking life.

Taking a nap under a guava tree with her best friend, Margie, was Rachelle's favorite pastime. They would sometimes sit there and talk about their future. That guava tree had been the witness to their promise of forever friendship.

**

Salve gasped. "Can you wake her now?" she asked the psychologist. They were having regression therapy.

"Don't you want to hear more? We can't interrupt the process."

"But... my daughter might be in pain."

"She needs this to recover from trauma. This would help her from having somniloquy every night."

"She has been sleep-talking since that fateful day."

Silence lingered painfully as no one dared to speak again until--

And before either woman could react, she murmured in her sleep. She was telling them what happened. Letting them know what was bothering her. Allowing them to peek into her subconscious mind.

"I'm sorry Margie. You are my bestie. I miss you so much! I'm sorry." Rachelle sobbed. Her eyes were still closed. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Marg!" Rachelle waved as she excitedly approached her best friend. "Look! I have a jar of peanut butter. My mom brought this home. I have some bread, too."

Margie's eyes glistened with happiness at the sight of her bestie.

"Thank you for this feast, Reych."

"Don't mention it. I'm always willing to share my food with you."

"We don't always have food on the table. We may have rice but no viand most of the time."

Rachelle looked at her friend with sad eyes. She was grateful to have enough proper meals on their table every day. But she also felt sorry for Margie's situation.

"What's your favorite dish?" she asked while devouring the last bite of her bread.

"Oh, I would love to try kare-kare. I heard it has peanut butter."

"Don't worry. When Mom cooks kare-kare, I'll bring some for you."

"She's so thoughtful. I know she loves Margie," Salve said.

"She needs to accept the truth. Only then will she truly free herself from guilt," the psychologist said.

"It wasn't her fault. She didn't wish for it to happen."

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE INCIDENT

Margie asked Rachelle to accompany her to an abandoned house with vegetables in the garden. The girl told her that their mom hadn't come home yet. She and her siblings had nothing for dinner. So, she would ask the caretaker for some leafy greens to blanch.

"Where's your mom?" the caretaker asked. His old eyes screamed exhaustion, not from taking care of the place, but from being fed up in life.

"She's in Mrs. Torres' house finishing their laundry."

"Look at you, being nine yet you already feel how difficult life is. At that age, you should've been enjoying your youth. Life is unfair; I'd rest forever if I may."

The two girls looked at the old man with terror on their faces. They weren't expecting to hear those awful words from the always-cheerful man.

"I'm sorry," he said, scratching his head. "You can pick some sweet potato leaves right there." He pointed at the side of the house. "Just be quick. I don't want to be here before dark. Ghosts come out of that house every night."

The girls hurried to the area where the caretaker pointed, ignoring the warning.

"Marg! There are plenty of leaves here."

The girls gathered as much as their small hands could pluck. Margie's heart sang with joy at the sight of the leafy vegetables.

"Let's go home. I have to cook these for my siblings," she said. But while passing a pile of bulky sacks, some peanuts caught Rachelle's eyes.

"Look here, bestie," she whispered, not wanting the caretaker to hear her. "Aren't these your favorite?"

Margie's eyes brightened even more. She hurriedly stuffed the sweet potato leaves in her shirt. She didn't care about the sap that would stain her white tee.

She grabbed a handful of peanuts. "Are peanuts normally sandy? Powdery?"

"But of course!" Rachelle said. "They are grown from soil."

"Really! I didn't know that!" Margie grabbed more, putting them in her shorts' pockets. And more. And more until she has no space to fill. "I'll imagine them later as peanut butter, so I can enjoy eating them! I could leave this Earth eating as many nuts as I can!"

After saying goodbye to the caretaker, the girls rushed home.

The next day, a poignant scream from the neighborhood woke Rachelle up. She rubbed her eyes while walking towards the window.

"Mom, what's going on?"

"Oh, honey!" Salve rushed to her. "Were you with Margie last night?"

She nodded.

"Did you eat anything with her last night?"

She shook her head.

"Don't go out, okay."

"What's going on? Isn't that Margie's mom? Why is she crying?"

Silence.

"Mom? Answer me, please. What happened?"

"M-"

"What?"

"Margie's gone. Her siblings too."

"What?!" Rachelle ran towards the door, but her mom stopped even before she touched the doorknob. "Let me go! I want to see my friend!"

"Honey, please. She's not coming back. Even if you go to their house, she won't return."

"Tell me... tell me what happened!"

"She and her siblings had eaten huge amounts of peanuts with grey-green powdery mold. They were rushed to the hospital because of excessive vomiting and abdominal pain."

Rachelle's world collapsed. She slumped on the cold tiles as if her knee bones went jelly.

"I could leave this Earth eating as many nuts as I can!"

Margie's last words echoed in Rachelle's ears. And those were the final, somber melody that would play in her head again... and again.