What Kind of Day

by Mina V. Esguerra

  “People have done that. I mean I noticed it when people got so nosy about where I traveled and who I met there. Like they need me to live like that so they won’t have to. Will you think I’m a failure if I walk in there and beg for my job back?”

  “I can’t imagine you being a failure at anything.”

  “Ben.”

  She was supposed to say something, and he was supposed to say something, but instead when their lips moved next it wasn’t words that happened, but touching, and kissing. A kiss that shouldn’t have felt this good, because it was out on the street on a humid, hot day. But it was that good, and softer than what he imagined their next kiss would be like, harder than what was appropriate for early afternoon and in public. He brought his hand down from her head to her back, pulling her closer, and in shifting her body against his, everything woke up. His memories, his fantasies of her.

  Naya pulled away with a soft gasp. “I have to go in there.”

  “Of course. Do you need me to…?”

  “Yeah. I mean, you can wait somewhere, but inside. I think that would be helpful.”

  “Whatever you need. But don’t go in there feeling weak.”

  She blinked at him.

  “Those monsters. At the museum—that wall of monsters. You’re going back in there to face monsters. You need to be one yourself. Which monster are you?”

  Naya closed her eyes, like she was seeing them again in her head. “There’s one with fireballs for eyes. I like her. I know it’s a her. That’s me.”

  “Go get them.”

  17

  The guilt, if it could be called that, had always been there. This wasn’t something that took up residence in Naya’s gut only within the last year and then grew rapidly to take over her thoughts and actions. Naya had always wrestled with this, always lived somewhat creatively among people who weren’t. Between bouts of being proud of herself, she would wonder if her success was happening at the expense of others.

  That kind of thing followed her all the way from her choice of college major to the way she never called See This Manila a job, or a business.

  Income-generating hobby.

  No one in her life was asking her to stop doing this. Not in those words. It was, however, in Naya’s stubborn nature to keep the “hobby” at arm’s length and not completely run with it. When someone like Melly told her to settle down, she never meant to shelve the travel advocacy entirely—often it was supposed to encourage her to commit.

  So what was pulling the strings right now, as she sat waiting in the conference room of where she used to work? Guilt, that she didn’t want to eventually have to ask for money from her parents? Resignation, over seeing that she’d come to the point of swallowing pride and crawling back to this circle of hell? How indulgent to even consider this a hardship, when at her age her mother was making sure baby Naya was clothed and fed.

  Just smile and sign the contract already. How bad could it be?

  “Naya, hey.”

  She hadn’t been sitting for five minutes when the conference room door opened and her friend Alice—thank God—walked in alone. The way Naya’s heart thumped with dread over the possibility that it could have been someone else? Not good.

  But Alice was good people. She was good at her job, and didn’t want to leave it, even when things weren’t good. She was a rock and kept Naya together all those times when Naya thought she would quit and then didn’t. Alice had the amazing ability to not take home the shit she encountered at work. Not unrelated but she was still around, and now second in command of the whole operation.

  That was the main reason why Naya thought it might be okay to come back.

  “Alice.” Naya gave her a half-hug and a beso. “Hi.”

  “You’re finally here.”

  “I needed to get the documents together.”

  “You could have gotten all of it in a day, if you scheduled it.”

  Truth. “Oh but you know me, my schedule’s so all over the place.”

  Alice was a few years older, probably an entire generation wiser though. “Naya.”

  “What?”

  “You’d tell me if you didn’t want this, right?”

  “I’m at fifty-fifty, I told you.”

  “Yes but you’re here, which means you’ve decided which fifty.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Alice took a seat and rolled it closer to Naya’s spot, toward the corner of the rectangular table. God, these chairs and their wheels. Naya and Alice used to occupy tables in one room, with a narrow aisle between them. When Naya needed to talk, she’d glide over to Alice’s side of the room, and vice versa. It was a tiny thrill to experience it again...to hear the wheels on the floor, to anticipate the words said in confidence.

  Tiny thrills got her through the years she spent in this place. Discovering that a job would feel life-draining was to be expected, and after that, she clung to little things that made it even a little fun. Alice. Gossip. That rush of accomplishment after the thing one created turned out exactly as envisioned. Good coffee, most of the time, and office-provided cold water that was inexplicably better than water she had at home.

  But mostly gossip.

  “Word is they’re looking for someone to replace him,” Alice hissed.

  “Him?”

  “One and the same.”

  Naya and Alice’s direct project leader—he was called JR in the office—was the reason Naya quit, and the person she had rage-quitted to. Another “little thing” that kept her going, then? The constant murmurs that he would be replaced. That he might be moving on. That they were looking for someone to take over the project instead. But then months would pass and he would still be there. He was always the least-informed in every meeting, but still made the final decisions, still got to throw tantrums and not lose his place.

  Many times it was explained to Naya that this wasn’t rare, and it happened everywhere. Sad as fuck.

  “They’ve said that a million times,” she told her friend. “You still believe it?”

  “I’ve never been deputy before. Never got to see if there were real contenders among the applicants. Or if there even was a job posting out there. And now I’ve seen them.”

  “It’s real?”

  Alice nodded, excited and tense. “It’s real. The applications coming in look legit, and a few are frankly from more qualified people. I don’t know how real it’s going to get when they’re negotiating, because I don’t think we can afford some of them, but still. It could happen soon, Naya.”

  “Excuse me if I’m not exactly jumping for joy? Because what the hell is taking so long? Surely something should have eased him out of being the boss long before now. He’s the worst guy to lead this thing worth millions and he’s still around. Maybe you missed something somewhere? He’s not going to let go of this scam. Easiest money he ever made by pretending he knows anything about what this is about. I don’t think he’s ever going to leave.”

  “Naya,” Alice said, “you have the docs for your employment clearance?”

  “I do.” There was an NBI clearance laid flat inside a brown envelope, in front of her. She’d be able to send them certification that she was drug-free and medically fit to work. She even had a letter of recommendation from a former media production professor, because they did a project together and was probably Naya’s most recent work credential who wasn’t Melly and a guest on a tour. This wasn’t going to be difficult.

  “All you need to do is submit them and sign the contract. Maybe he’s here another few months, maybe not. If you want to come back I can make it easier, and maybe it won’t be as bad as before.”

  Naya’s side of fifty-fifty, on most days, was to come back. Swallow the pride, smile better, take on another boss tantrum or questionable work order with grace. She was older by a few years; maybe it would be easier.

  What kind of day was it, today?

  Make good days. The thought popped up, surprising her.

  18

/>   Carter Pacific Hotel, 6:15 p.m.

  * * *

  Fresh orange juice, that was what she said she wanted. And baked mussels. They seemed to do the trick, because Naya wasn’t just laughing, and happy—she was in charge again. Ben had been waiting at the reception area the whole time she was at her meeting. About half an hour later, she emerged, said they should go.

  He asked her how it went, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it. And she said she wanted orange juice and baked tahong.

  “I think what we can conclude here,” she was saying, “is that you’re kind of bad at scheming, and I have to do this.”

  “I came up with the plan! Well, some of it.”

  “I had to fix most of it, even in this planning stage. This isn’t a heist movie, Ben.”

  Wasn’t it? It looked like one to him. The lounge of the Carter Pacific was where the adults at this hotel went for drinks, but it was designed like they were in a scene from a sci-fi dystopian film. A heist sci-fi dystopian film, and this was when the well-dressed minions plotted to steal from their overlords. Gray, shiny columns all around them curved, merged into reflective walls, creating pockets of space that seemed private enough. Ben could hear female voices; live performers singing on the other side of the closest wall, but the sound was muffled somehow, not intrusive. He could talk to Naya and hear her, and feel assured that the other tables wouldn’t hear them. He could barely see them too.

  “It’s like stealing,” he said dryly. “I think of it as stealing my job back.”

  “Based on how you tell it, you weren’t supposed to lose that job.”

  “You believe me, don’t you?”

  She smirked. “That’s the question, isn’t it? I’ve only spent two days with you. Barely.”

  “Touché.” The baked mussels were excellent, by the way, an explosion of mussel and garlic and cheese in his mouth. She liked it; he liked it. How many dishes would they have to eat together, would he have to watch her taste, for them to feel okay with this? What was the acceptable number of days to know someone, before trusting them with your career? Maybe not two. Ben worked very efficiently, he liked to think. No days wasted. “But still, you probably have a better handle on what happened to my job than even I do.”

  “You’re very trusting, Ben.”

  “I’m not, Naya.”

  “Did you look me up before you got back in touch? Checked me out, if I lied to you about anything?”

  “I looked you up, sure, but not for those reasons. I just missed you.”

  Naya lifted the fancy, slim glass to her lips and said nothing.

  He continued, “And nothing you said to me contradicted what I saw, when I looked you up. That sunset series, that was awesome.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That video you did, right after the summit, when you went to the places behind the motorcade barriers they put up—it was excellent.”

  “Oh, that.” She exhaled and it was heavy. “The reason why they held my last pay. They wanted me to take that down. It’s weird—I mean that video still took two weeks from end to end to do, you know? It wasn’t an impulsive thing. It takes work to wake up and get up and do that thing for days and not think you’re making a mistake that’ll anger your ex-boss and have him ransom your salary.”

  “I didn’t know that. I never saw the video before, but it wasn’t inconsistent. No lies.” On the contrary, seeing Naya’s principles in action, seeing her slightly younger self demonstrating passion, made him feel things during his own rock bottom. Like hope. “Did anything about how my resignation was covered make you change your mind about me?”

  She was chewing, and she made him wait for her answer. She chewed slowly, thoughtfully, tapped her fingertips on her lips before licking them and finally speaking. “No.”

  “Great. That’s all?”

  “I looked you up too. I was looking you up while we’re in the van, on the day you walked into it. You were...all right. I mean, based on what I saw.”

  “I’m not lying about anything.”

  “What’s your phrase...not inconsistent. And give me some credit; I don’t regret what we did.”

  “Thank God.” Thank God.

  “And I’m flattered you’d come to me for help.”

  “You are on top of my list of trustworthy and capable people.”

  “I’m kind of concerned about that, because you should know better people.”

  He shrugged. “I do know people. I also know I can’t trust them.”

  “Ben. Is this job really worth stealing back then?”

  “I told you it is.” He told her, in the car on the way to the hotel, and then in the hotel as they waited for their order, and during another famous Manila Bay sunset, that this was his epiphany, and what he decided after he got out of his funk. He believed in what he was doing, in what he could do, and he was not going to do it for anyone else. David Alano did not deserve to have Elmo Laranas running his comms. For the past two months, Ben began working for his mentor Tana Cortes, and the first step to making sure Elmo was replaced was getting David into a meeting with Tana. Something Ben couldn’t do himself—both he and Tana were pretty much blacklisted from David’s office. “Elmo has been the rot on that ship for years, and he keeps insisting he’s needed. He’s not.”

  “Tana can’t just call David?”

  “She won’t.”

  “They can’t just set up a regular meeting? She has a legit consulting company.”

  “They can’t be seen together. Not yet, not while Elmo’s in the picture.”

  “But we have to make sure they meet in person.”

  “She’ll be able to convince him of things, in person.”

  “God, you people are messed up.” Then things clicked for Naya, and her eyes widened with glee. “They fuck, don’t they? Silver Fox Senator and your Boss Woman. Oh my God.”

  Ben was drinking apple juice, also in a fancy slim glass, and nearly choked on his last gulp. Because he had assumed that, yes, though not in those words. Inappropriate to think of his ex-boss, and his mentor and new boss, but… “They’re involved. I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Wow. They totally are. What kind of wild campaign were you guys running?”

  “A successful one, thank God,” Ben admitted. “We were polling in the middle, but it was enough. It did get tense a lot, because of Tana and Elmo. Tana and David met in school overseas, a long time ago. She was working for a non-profit and he brought her in for comms. It was his first national campaign, and she’s good. She really is.”

  “And Elmo?”

  “Elmo...had money. Or knew people with money. He knows how they speak, what they respond to. You can imagine they had arguments.”

  “That, and Tana and the Candidate were involved.”

  “No one knew that for sure, okay? I mean, they were never demonstrative. She was probably harder on him than anyone else. And they were working together. And Tana’s got a kid, with another guy. Can’t two people be platonic friends for over a decade?”

  “Is she still with the baby daddy?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Naya’s eye roll was a wide and visible arc even in the dim lounge light. “Fine, maybe they’re not. But if they are, it’s too bad they have to hide it. Can’t two people who have complicated lives fuck sometimes in secret and maybe it’s no one else’s business?”

  Now that she mentioned it, that segment of Ben’s life flashed before his eyes, and of course the possibility was likely. He knew some of the staff gossiped about them, and he tried to stay out of it. How things had changed—now he was in the middle of it, orchestrating a reunion of sorts between the two.

  So he could get his job back.

  “I understand why Elmo would stay and Tana would go.” Naya’s words cut into his flashback sequence. “Because guys like that thrive on proximity to power. No matter how gross their methods. And you think if Tana were to replace him, things would be better?”

  “You can
look her up. Her track record is stellar, and she’s taught me everything I know.”

  And then she was doing it; typed a search, tapped on photos, read some pages. They had some time before David was expected at the hotel, and...this was probably their first date. Technically.

  “She’s gorgeous.” Naya held her phone to him discreetly, showing him a recent photo of Tana. “I ship.”

  “They’re my bosses. But...but whatever makes them happy, I guess.” But if they did do that—if David and Tana were in that kind of relationship for that long—how did they stand being apart? The other relationships, the proximity of working together forcing emotional distance, the stress of it all? “Do you think…? I don’t know.”

  “Do I think what?”

  “You’ll think it’s corny.”

  “You don’t know what I’ll think.” She straightened up in her seat, all the better to survey the round table between them, holding the plate of tahong shells and a glass of juice and water each. “Spit it out, Ben.”

  “Do you think people can just do that? Be classic drama love-of-their-lives and then decide to stay apart?”

  She frowned, making a tiny crease on her forehead. “Yes, two people can just do that. They can do whatever they want. Sounds like their lives aren’t so fun, and maybe it’s not the healthiest thing to stay together. I don’t know, maybe it makes sense to fuck once in a while but keep it at that.”

  “But what if they’re good together?”

  Naya shrugged. “They’re like, forty by now, right? They’ve been at this longer than us, maybe they know something we don’t.”

  All of these were acceptable, and correct. The last thing Ben would recommend as someone on a senator’s comms staff was to draw attention to the senator’s sex life. The same way Ben would never have trashed Jacqueline Buena for her decision to have a kid. All of these were fine.

  But when you find someone who fires up all sides of yourself, what do you do? Fuck once in a while and keep it at that seemed disrespectful.