by Tif Marcelo
Until next time.
Iniibig kita,
Antonio
Chapter Eleven
That afternoon, Diana placed her keys into Sam’s hand. She singled out each one. “My car. My mom’s car. The front door. The front door dead bolt. The mailbox.” Then she flipped a spiral notebook open. “These are the phone numbers of my contractor, the alarm company and code, and my lawyer. My will is in the safe—”
Sam scoffed. “Diana! You’re going on vacation, not shuffling off this mortal coil!”
“I know, but just in case.”
“Let’s just put it out into the universe that I won’t plan on calling your lawyer because you’ll be back safely here in a week, okay? But, I will be blowing your phone up if your contractor happens to do something tragic to your home.”
“I trust Lenny. There shouldn’t be any issues, but if you ever feel something is awry, I have no problem with you telling them to hit the road until you can get a hold of me.” Diana took a breath. “I’m sorry. Let me know if this is too much.”
Sam leaned back on her barstool. “Nope, I’m good. But how about you? You look like you are in pain.”
“Do I?”
“Face frozen into a half smile. Eyes widened, unblinking. It’s a slightly panicked look.”
“Great, just great.” Diana laughed, unsure how to take it, and because her friend had just accurately pinpointed the sum average of the last week’s emotions.
“Okay. Let me rephrase that question. Do you have everything?” Sam put a hand on Diana’s forearm.
Diana nodded. That question was simple enough. “I have my passport, my wallet, phone, and some clothes. Everything else I can get there. Carlo is on his way to pick up Flossy, which I know he’s thrilled about, but I’m going to miss her. And to be honest, I hate giving him the upper hand.” At the sound of her name, the dog bounded from behind the couch with her stuffed bunny, which she carried by its ear. Diana bent down and rubbed the space between her eyes, her spot.
She looked up at Sam. “I know that look. You’re wondering why I’m getting on a plane and flying to another country where I don’t know a soul.”
“That is a correct deduction.”
“It’s simple. It has to be done. Worst-case scenario: I get to visit a few sites. I know so little about where I came from, and I’ve nearly let the opportunity pass me by.”
“It’s just … it’s not as if things are going well in the work front.” Sam nodded at the television, turned to local news. “With the hospital and all, and the media coverage … I don’t blame you for wanting to get out of here. You are coming back, though, right?”
Diana barked out a laugh, though Sam didn’t join her. “That’s silly. Of course I’m coming back. To quote my PI, ‘This is just a fact-finding mission.’ ” She grinned at her friend, then down at her phone, which flashed another notification. Irritation buzzed through her. “But I’m not going to lie, this VIP issue is all so annoying. Just when I think everyone’s forgotten about it, someone shares the article and tags me.”
“Have you heard from Aziza?” Sam asked.
“Yes, but just to say that she’ll see me when I return.” The way her boss seemed out of touch was a little disconcerting. Usually a day didn’t go by without some kind of communication from Aziza, even if it was a simple forwarded work email.
Another text notification flashed on the screen. Her mother.
I forgot my hair dryer
“Give me a sec.” Diana picked up her phone to return the text. “She’s been nonstop with her texts since they landed in New Orleans. Scratch that, her texts started on the plane.”
“She’s worried about you,” Sam replied, as she hopped off the barstool to refill her coffee.
“If she was worried about me, then she would’ve come with me,” Diana mumbled.
“Ah, you’re applying the if, then argument. You know that that doesn’t work with emotions, right?”
Use the one from the hotel, Ma.
I don’t trust it. It’s one of those hair dryers that have one speed.
Loud.
It’s going to kill my hair.
Air-dry, then.
Diana turned to her friend. “Sometimes I don’t understand her. And I don’t understand this … thing they’re doing.”
“You mean their trip.”
“More like their scramble to reclaim their youth. It’s silly! They’re just doing whatever the hell they want.”
A grin slipped onto her friend’s face. “I’m detecting a little anger in your voice.”
“Not anger. Frustration. Do you see this?” She gestured at the boxes still sitting in her living room, though pushed to the side. “Months, this has all been here, and yet …” She shook her head. “I’m surprised and not surprised. Her priorities are much like her outfits, wacky and a little out of step. I grew up in a chaotic home, you know? She was always in a flurry, always late for deadlines, tardy for everything. She doesn’t commit to schedules. It’s like she thrives in this constant state of the unknown that she sometimes creates for herself. Like this trip. She could come with me and truly find out what happened to my grandfather, but she chooses another excuse to avoid reality.”
Sam brought the coffee cup to her nose. “Have you taken a look at her Instagram feed?”
She shook her head. The Instagram feed—why did everyone always mention it?
At first, Diana hesitated in her answer. She didn’t want to be the kind of woman who judged; she strove to be fair and open-minded, especially with online habits. Just because she didn’t have the inclination to post her entire life didn’t mean that her mother had to feel that way, nor her friend. As it was, Sam was very open in her online life, though in her case, more about her work and her political stances. The thought of being so transparent online gave Diana tingles down her neck. Nope, no way. That was not her style.
“I mean, doesn’t it seem silly to you that a senior citizen has a following that large? I feel like she should be knitting, streaming shows, taking walks every day. Settling into her life.”
“Technically she’s taking a walk today, just down Bourbon Street instead of around the block. But what I mean to say is that her feed shows that she’s way more focused than you think. Maybe—just hear me out because I know you already have a rebuttal—maybe you simply have a different process for achieving your goals. After all, she did take care of your grandmother for a year. That is far from noncommittal.”
“Are you always such a devil’s advocate?” Diana laughed, and stood up from the stool. She refilled her coffee.
“You know me. I’ll give it to you straight. Anyway, I’m grateful. You leaving will give me some much-needed alone time, a week when I’m not in my housemate’s hair.”
Diana gave her friend the side eye. Sam and her housemate, Liliana, had had drama since she moved in, but Diana was convinced it was because of unrequited love.
“I don’t want to hear it, Diana.”
“You should just tell her how you feel.”
“Feel? As in tell her how it drives me crazy when she stomps through the house with her outside shoes on, even after I told her that studies have shown that the bottoms of shoes contain more germs than a public toilet?”
“Yes, that’s precisely what I mean.” She heaved a breath.
Sam would come around in her own time.
“All right, bottom line, my house is your house. It always has been.” Diana looked at her watch. She had to be on the road soon, and of course the last piece of this travel plan was running late.
Did you expect any less? The man was unreliable. She had excused these behaviors for too long in the past—how he was late to everything, a procrastinator, and, oh, that he had a penchant for looking at other women.
As if hearing her thoughts, the doorbell rang with one long chime. Then it rang again, an impatient cry. “I wonder who that could be.” She rolled her eyes as she got to the front foyer. She peeked through
the peephole and pulled open the door. “Carlo.”
Her ex stepped in and looked around. Upon seeing Sam at the kitchen counter, he nodded. Sam lifted her mug, but the expression on her face went stone-cold. They never did like each other, which had been inconvenient, though both were gracious during get-togethers. “Looks like you’re really ready to go,” he said.
“Yep.” She bent down to a basket in the foyer. She lifted it into her arms, eager to get him gone. “Here you go. Her food, some toys, her bed, and her blanket, of course. Oh and her vet paperwork.”
“I don’t need all this. I have everything I need at my apartment.”
She offered the basket. “But this is her stuff. It’ll make her feel more at home until I return.”
“Fine, Diana.” He took the basket into his arms, then turned to walk out the door, hesitated, and faced her. “Do you have time to … talk?”
Here we go. She turned back to her friend, who graciously pretended to scroll through her phone. “Sam, do you mind grabbing Flossy and bringing her out to us in a little bit.”
“Of course. What are aunties for?”
Diana followed Carlo outside to his car, parked on a side street. It was a Tesla, his dream car, and another sore spot for Diana. He gifted the car to himself on their fourth Christmas, when Diana had been really sure he was going to propose. Which he didn’t.
She hissed under her breath as she neared the damn thing.
He popped the trunk open and packed the basket into it. “So what’s really going on?”
“What do you mean?” She hadn’t mentioned anything except that she was taking a short trip to the Philippines.
He shut the trunk. “Look, I know I don’t have a say here, but this feels extreme and sudden. Our trip to Williamsburg two years ago prompted a month’s preparation. And didn’t we have a fight a few days ago about my visitation rights? At the time, you clearly didn’t agree with Flossy staying with me, and here I am packing all of her belongings in my trunk. And with your story running on the news last week”—he ran his hand through his hair—“I’m concerned. Can you blame me? We’re not together, but you and I … you will always mean something to me. Can you tell me what’s going on, as a friend?”
She sighed, feeling herself give way. Carlo had been a lousy boyfriend in the end, but there had been good times, times when he’d been her best friend, her staunchest confidant, and her number one fan.
So Diana told him. They both sat on his bumper, and he listened to her, arms crossed, as cars bumped along the cobblestone street and the occasional wind whipped between them.
“This feels like such a risky thing to do, Diana, and I’m not talking about the logistics. But I’m not going to harp. Sam and I might hate each other’s guts, but I’m sure she’s given you enough grief.”
“That she has—”
“But to make myself clear: I have a passport, okay? If anything happens in Manila, I can come anytime. If Sam needs me while she’s staying here—”
She was starting to regret having asked Carlo for a favor. “I have it covered, but thank you.”
His face switched to a look of pain. “Right. Of course you do.” He set his palms on his knees, then hefted himself onto his feet. “You always have it together. You’ve never needed my help. For what it’s worth, it wasn’t me who left first, you know. It was you. When your granny died, you cut me out completely. You ghosted me, maybe not with your body, but with your mind—”
Diana sighed again. “Carlo.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want this conversation to go south. I know I fucked up, but there was more in the lead-up, more that I think we could have fixed—together. That we could fix now. I love you, still.” A barking dog took their attention before a blob of white fur charged at Carlo’s legs. He bent down to pick Flossy up like an infant. “My offer stands, okay? I can be on the next plane out.”
This moment was a picture, and it swayed her still-bruised heart. Diana’s mouth, the traitor, answered only with “Okay.”
* * *
Diana had needed the entire three hours at Dulles airport to make it to her plane because of security. The line at the ticket counter itself was a mile long, with passengers with their baggage and balikbayan boxes, large gift boxes filled with American snacks and gifts, tied with twine. By the time she settled into her seat—she’d splurged on business class—Diana was already exhausted and looking forward to the Tagalog lessons she’d downloaded onto her iPad.
Except her mother had other plans. A text chimed in as Diana fastened her seat belt.
How was the Flossy hand off?
At the reminder that she’d left her most precious pet with her ex, Diana’s belly dropped at the reality of what she was about to undertake. It was like the moment after a tough delivery, one in which the handbasket had been steps from hell, when the gravity of said emergency came in like a tidal wave.
But she wasn’t going to admit it to her mother.
Everything went fine.
Did Carlo get to you?
No.
Sure?
Ma, seriously.
My plane is taking off.
It wasn’t taking off. In fact, passengers were still boarding.
I love you, sweetheart.
Don’t forget to take your Dramamine.
Text me when you get there.
Annoyingly, Margo was right; Diana had forgotten. When she opened the purple pouch where she kept her nausea aids, next to the Dramamine tablets were a couple of Hershey’s Kisses. She pursed her lips as a sliver of guilt ran through her. Growing up, there hadn’t been expensive presents at Christmastime, no big birthday parties. But there had always been Hershey’s Kisses. They were Granny’s favorite, too, chilled in the refrigerator for the exact moment that one needed the sugar rush or a reminder that life did have its sweet moments.
Like now.
She sighed.
Love you too.
Thank you for the kisses.
She looked out the airplane window. The runway teemed with planes sliding into their respective gates, of the ground crew slinging baggage into carts. The sky behind it was orange. Soon, she would be seeing this view from the other side of the world.
Unwrapping a Kiss, she ran through plan B in her head. She’d scheduled sightseeing trips that could take her away from the Cruzes if her meeting with them was too painful or awkward. The plane ticket Diana had purchased was also fully refundable and changeable, which was a good plan C, if everything deteriorated and she had to get out of the country.
Plan D was only a fleeting possibility. One that involved Carlo, of taking him up on his offer. Of finally agreeing to that vacation he was always talking about; maybe he could meet her in Manila, away from Alexandria, where all their struggles could remain.
A beep sounded through the cabin, followed by a man’s faraway voice through the speaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to North American Airlines flight 2598 headed for Ninoy Aquino International Airport in Manila, Philippines, with a stop in Tokyo. This will be a completely full flight, so please be patient as we load all passengers.”
Diana took inventory of her things. Neck pillow, check. Blanket, check. Magazines, check. Phone, check. She clicked her phone awake, readying it for airplane mode, faced with the picture of Flossy in an impeccable sit, mouth open slightly in what Diana swore was a smile. In a surge of bravado, she dialed Carlo’s number, pulled directly from memory. What she was going to say, she wasn’t sure yet, but maybe, just maybe, a sliver of what had been might still be intact. He did say that he loved her, still.
The other line rang once, twice, three times. Just before she took the phone away from her ear, it picked up in the middle of the fourth ring. The trail of a woman’s laughter sent familiar shivers through her. Then Carlo’s voice, saying, “Give me that, silly.”
The phone muffled in what Diana assumed was the handoff, a space of time long enough for her to, again, remember that they’d broken up not because
of her—as he’d insisted time and time again—but because of him. Because he couldn’t keep it in his pants, couldn’t be the partner she deserved.
She pressed the red button to hang up.
Chapter Twelve
The jostle of the plane as its wheels hit the runaway startled Diana from her hazy nap, and she blinked her heavy eyelids awake. Her mouth was dry, throat parched from the stale air, and she rotated her stiff neck.
“Once again, this is Captain Noriko. Welcome to Manila, Philippines. It is now ten forty-three p.m. and eighty degrees Fahrenheit, or twenty-six degrees Celsius, with sixty percent humidity.”
Passengers groaned in response.
“We thank you for choosing us as your preferred carrier for this trip.”
Manila, finally. Although, through the window, Diana wouldn’t have been able to tell if they were still in the United States—the scene outside was typical of every darkened airport, with flashes of reflective gear marking the workers on the runway, the dim lights showing the track of luggage being pulled from planes to the conveyer belt and back. Diana had lost sense of time since leaving DC the previous day and an extended layover in Tokyo, the trip filled with the occasional nap interrupted by announcements by the pilot and the rumble of the food and drink cart passing through.
Excitement zinged through her as the cabin stirred awake. There was no turning back. She was here now, unequivocally.
After the plane taxied to the gate, she stood, and her legs thanked her for the blood rush with pins and needles. Nervousness rolled through her in waves as she checked her small shoulder tote’s contents. In her haste, she’d packed lightly: plane items and one suitcase of clothing. Now, Diana was thankful, because the exodus for the door had begun, and God knew she would have forgotten half the things on the plane, so nervous was she.
