Group 3 Script

Dead Stars

Narrator 1: Alfredo Salazar turned right when the road widened and entered the center of the city. A
hub that was usually crowded with the bright lights of marketplaces and malls, together with the sounds
of passing vehicles and people, was now eerily quiet and dark. The sound of marching bands and a
sizable crowd of people wearing white and holding long wax candles replaced the market lights and
traffic noises that night. The faithful gathered with their long wax candles, along with young girls dressed
colorfully and elderly women wearing somber black skirts. The young guys also arrived in large numbers,
jostling for space next to the church door under the Talisay tree. The brightly colored decorated rice-
paper lanterns were once more on display, and colored glass globes, which were left over from a time
when grass pith wicks floating in coconut oil served as the main source of illumination, hung from the
windows of older homes.

The church's double row of lights soon left the building and unfurled along the length of the street like a
massive jewel-encrusted band where the saints' platforms once stood. The choir's untrained voices,
drenched in incense and the pungent odor of burning wax, rose over the measured melody.

Esperanza and her mother could be seen calmly pacing behind Our Lady of Sorrows, which abruptly
disrupted the appearance of continuity and separated those lines of light into discrete parts. Esperanza
self-consciously straightened and attempted to appear unconcerned but failed.

The line continued.

Narrator 2: Alfredo's blood began to beat slowly, fiercely, and erratically. A dazzling and vibrantly living
female who could provoke a violent tumult in his heart but had no place in the final order of his life was
coming down the line.
She cast him her distracted devotional eye, which paused momentarily.

The procession continued, winding its way around the church before returning there, where, according
to an old proverb, all processions come to an end.

Narrator 4: Finally, the choir, whose voices were now echoing from the arched ceiling, and Our Lady of
Sorrows entered the church. After the parade, bells rang.

Whitening the iron roofs and dimming the lanterns at the windows, a round orange moon that was "big
as a winnowing basket" rose leisurely into a cloudless sky. The young women loitered along the still-
heavily-shadowed streets with their male backup, presumably choosing the longest route home.

He caught up with Julia Salas in the last row of Chinese shops. The wide street was left for those who
lived further away because the crowd had scattered onto the side streets. Esperanza would be waiting
for him when it got to be after eight, however, he was in no hurry as he said "Good evening" and
proceeded in to talk with Julia.

Alfredo: I was already assuming all this time that you’d left. (said in an exciting and troubled voice)

Julia: No, my sister urged that I hold off until everyone was prepared to leave.

Alfredo: Oh, is the judge also going along with you?

Julia: Yes.

***awkward silence for a minute***

Narrator 3: But he already knew of this.

Julia: Mr. Salazar! … I wish to congratulate you.

Alfredo: For what?

Julia: For your upcoming wedding of course.

Alfredo: How did you know about the wedding? (said in a low and disturbing voice)

Julia: Oh, I knew about it because I saw an old post of our mutual friend on Facebook. He tagged you on
a post that said “Congratulations on your engagement!” remember?

Alfredo: Is that so then…

Julia: I truly apologize for the delayed congratulations. However, given that I am only a visitor, it is to be
expected that we are slow to receive news.

Narrator 4: He focused more on the subtleties in her voice than what she said. Except for the fact that
she had resumed using the formal tones of a new acquaintance, he did not hear anything to enlighten
him. Nothing revolutionary there; just the old voice, which was calm, nearly personality-free, adaptable,
and energetic, hinting at song possibilities.

Alfredo: Do weddings interest you?

Julia: Yes, when they are friends.

Alfredo: If I invite you to come, would you come?

Julia: When will it take place?

Alfredo: May (Delay then a quick response)

Julia: I heard a lot that May is the month of happiness. They say… (Ironically and frowning)

Alfredo: So may I ask you to come?

Julia: Why not? I would even congratulate you online if that is to your liking. (With disdain)

Alfredo: Then, if you could.

Julia: Soon after, I will be there.

Narrator 5: They headed to the house on the hill with its lit windows at the end of the dirt road in front
of them. Alfredo Salazar experienced a need that was so intense that it hurt. He wished that the house
was his, that none of the present's perplexities existed, and that the woman by his side was his long-
married wife who would accompany him back to the comfort of his home.

Alfredo: Julita, have you ever been forced to decide between a task you wanted to complete and one
you had to complete?

Julia: No!

Alfredo: I reasoned that if you had that experience, you might be able to comprehend a man who was in
that circumstance.

***Silence waiting for Julia to answer but none was given***

Alfredo: You are fortunate.

Julia: Is this man confident in his course of action?

Alfredo: Julietta, I have no idea. Maybe not. However, there comes a time when something escapes our
control and falls toward the ground while pulling us with it. So, asking whether or not one will is
pointless as he is no longer in control.

Julia: But then, why… that is his issue, not mine to bear.

Alfredo: Doesn’t it pique your interest?

Julia: Why should it? I must say goodbye to Mr. Salazar because we have arrived at the residence.

Narrator 5: Without averting her gaze, she made a swift turn and started to walk away.
Narrator 5: Had everything been said and done? He questioned. It had. The three years of engagement,
the impending wedding, the parents' complete understanding, his own conscience, and Esperanza
herself—Esperanza waiting, Esperanza no longer young, Esperanza the efficient, the literal-minded, and
the intensely acquisitive—were all factors working against his faint hope.

He watched her carefully as she sat on the sofa, admiringly and with a kind of dislike that he attempted
to suppress.

She was one of the lucky women who were endowed with the ability to always seem presentable. She
never caught anyone off guard with her unanticipated hospitality or her astonishing reservoirs of
beauty. A woman past her first blossom, she was always herself at home, in church, and on the street.