Presenting...FIDO BOB!!!

This morning, the driver of the tricycle I boarded was Fido Bob. "Bob" because I can't remember his name and I think this suits "Fido", which isn't just for dogs but my own version of "Pido", my own short term for - (*gulp*) - pedophile!!! Yup, he is. Or was, maybe, though I'm not sure. When I was a freshman in high school, on my first days, my mom used to accompany me to the city proper early in the morning so I could board a jeepney bound to Los Banos, a town an hour away, where my school was. Fido Bob worked as a barker, someone who called out to people, urging them to ride the vehicles (in that case, jeepneys). He was short, just about my height, maybe even a bit shorter. He was in his late 20's already, I gathered. 

Since he was from our own barrio (don't know exact translation, but maybe, a small community or village) and we knew him, my mom started entrusting me to him. So I started to go to the city alone and he would always be there smiling. He would put an arm on my shoulder and lead me to the jeepney. I felt awkward having his arm on me but said nothing and just smiled because, you know, he was just being friendly. One time, he asked me how old I was. I said thirteen. He was a bit surprised. I think he thought I was a bit older (I was conservative then so maybe I looked older). Nevertheless, my age would still have been that of a high schooler.

One day, once the jeepney was almost full, he did what was very unusual. He sat beside me. I was surprised. Barkers were not supposed to sit there and generally, they were left behind. But that day, he went with me. During the hour-long travel, he had his arm at my back. I was so scared! Being young and, not to mention, afraid, I sort of tried to keep his arm just there by keeping it trapped between the seat and my back. Maybe not a good thing, maybe it gave him the wrong message, but I wanted to keep it there so that his hands would not go anywhere else. Good thing, too, that I had a sweater on so he really could not "go" anywhere, and I had a large bag that I hugged. Some people were looking at us but maybe, in disbelief, they thought I liked him. But I was sure I was turning crimson from embarrassment and shivering in fright. He kept talking to me a bit and I kept answering meekly and in little words. Once, he told me, "Why are you wearing that sweater? Take it off, it's warm." I said no.

Once we got to Los Banos, I feared that he would go with me. Fortunately, he just said, "I'll see you later, okay?" I just nodded. I'm surprised I didn't fall going down with my knees weak and all. Goodness! I was afraid the whole day! I dreaded the time that school would be out because that would mean that he would be at the Crossing waiting for me, perhaps. I kept imagining myself being dragged somewhere and being raped! I'm sorry, but that was the truth, that was what I felt at the time. I dared not tell anyone, though. I was a little relieved when he wasn't at the Crossing. However, I was still worried that he would be waiting for me in the city...Thank goodness, he wasn't.

The next day, he was smiling at me and greeted me. I was still afraid. And angry. One thing about me. I don't like being afraid. When I am, one of my defense mechanisms is anger. I guess worrying about him the whole night fueled that anger more. I ignored him and went up inside the jeepney, stomping my foot. Like a concerned lover, he asked me, "Are you mad at me?" I said, "NO!" angrily. This went on for days. I realized that in his mind, he probably thought I liked him just because I was nice to him. And I had a feeling he was telling the other guys this, or worse, that we had an understanding already. Then, he probably thought that my feelings were hurt because he didn't fulfill his promise, that he would be at the Crossing to pick me up. Well, I didn't care. I just kept scowling at him and stomping. If that was what it took to keep him away from me, so be it. Months later, in a conversation with my cousins, I found out something shocking. He is known in our community as a peeping tom...WHOAH!!!

So okay, more than ten years later, he sees me again. Sometimes, it's his tricycle that I get to board. Like many other drivers from our place, he asks me questions, too, like "Where do you go to school?" (I imagine he is perplexed because simple arithmetic tells him I shouldn't be. I do look younger than my age most of the times and people mistake me for a co-ed). He may ask me the same questions, but I know he still has it for me because when he asked if I was already married, I noticed a certain hopeful look that he tried to hide. Well, sorry for him. I am now more mature and stronger and not anymore naive. If he so tries to do something, he'll find I'm not the same girl I was more than ten years ago. And I'm now taller. And I can fake karate! Wa-chaaa!!!! ;p