by Thessa Lim
Zara had been working in the writing department of the travel magazine Biyahe for three years, but she had only been contributing bits and pieces of the content that Gaea asked for. Gaea controlled the composition and focus of the feature stories.
Suddenly, Don stepped out of his office and headed toward Zara’s direction.
Uh-oh.
Zara sat up straighter, scanned her screen, and jotted a few notes in a pad, in hopes that Don would pass by without saying a word. He stopped right beside her desk and peered at her.
“Zara, can you step into my office?” he asked.
“Sure.” She snatched her notebook and a pen, then followed him.
Don sat on the chair behind his desk and motioned for her to sit down.
“Gaea called me. She was in an accident last night. A man on a motorcycle tried to grab her bag as she was walking home.” Zara gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth. Don shook his head. “Why she’s walking on the goddamn streets so late . . . I don’t know why. She fell. Got a bad sprain, gashes, and bruises . . . She had to go to the emergency room.”
“Is she okay? Where did this happen?”
“She’s traumatized, but she said she’s recovering. Maybe you can check on her later. Then let me know if there’s any improvement there.” He paused, took a deep breath, and studied her for a moment. “She told me she’ll send me the feature on Intramuros tonight. Actually, I wanted her to start on the next cover feature this week. Since she won’t be physically able for another week . . .”
He continued, “I have some doubts . . . It’ll be your first time to take the lead . . .” Suddenly his eyebrows furrowed at her. “You haven’t even taken the advanced journalism course, have you?”
Zara opened her mouth to say that she was registered to take it the next month, but he held up a hand.
“I need you to write the article on the Hundred Islands.” He clasped his hands in front of him and rested his chin there. “Consult with Ingrid on which of the photographers you can take with you. Can you do this?”
“Yes!” Zara almost shouted.
Don’s lips thinned. “Good. I want a food article and a cultural perspective on the towns nearby.” He leaned back in his seat. “Try out the kaleskes[17] and pigar-pigar.[18] Check with Leslie on the budget, will you?”
Her heart throbbed. “Sure. I’ll do my best, Don. Thanks for this.”
“I heard you got Gaea’s assignment.” Andrea, another writer, beamed at Zara.
Zara had just hung up the phone after talking to Ingrid, the art and design director.
“Yes! I feel bad about Gaea’s accident, but I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” Zara grinned at her. “It’s the Hundred Islands.”
“What’s that again?” A voice behind Andrea made them cringe.
It was Matt, Andrea’s senior writer and Gaea’s office rival. He and Gaea always competed for the best places to report on and to write the cover, the mainstream feature, or the cultural feature. He stood up and narrowed his eyes at them.
“I pitched that idea to Don,” he grumbled, ruffling his hair with his fingers.
Zara noticed this quirk of his. With the competition between him and Gaea, she had decided a long time ago that she did not like him.
“Well, I’m going to do my best with this assignment. I won’t mess this up—,” Zara started.
“Shoot. I had ideas for that cover already.” His right hand went to his waist, and he pursed his lips.
“Care to share them with me?” Zara gave him her sweetest smile.
He stared at her for a while. “Sure . . . maybe.” Then he sat down again.
After Zara called Gaea and made sure she was tucked in bed and drinking ginger ale, Zara pulled out every online article she could find on the Hundred Islands National Park—history, geography, sites, and whatnot. She got in touch with the two photographers who were assigned to the feature, checked the budget for nonsponsored covers, and forecasted the expenses.
They would need a guide to take them around, somebody who knew the islands and the town. She phoned their contact in the Department of Tourism to ask about the accommodations, attractions, and tours. Their contact gave her five hotels and three local guides to check out. She found out that all of the hotels were midrange resorts with limited facilities.
After being on the phone for a couple of hours, she decided on getting Ramon, one of the guides recommended by the DOT and the most frequently mentioned by the hotel staff she spoke to. Deciding to book at the Alaminos Sunrise Resort, since the manager knew Don and was keen to appear in the magazine, she asked the hotel to get in touch with the guide and left her contact details. Ramon would need to pick them up at the resort on Thursday and take them out on a pump boat to island-hop.
She outlined her activities, making sure she would not miss a single thing. It was Tuesday. She would have to complete the paperwork for the trip the next day. Her team would have to leave Manila early Thursday morning.
She then called Laine. “Want to go to the Hundred Islands with me?”
“I want to! But when?”
“This Thursday.” Zara heard pages being flipped from Laine’s side and guessed she was checking her calendar.
“I think I can make it. Let me see if I can go on leave. This is for a feature, right? And we can laze around and swim?”
“Uh-huh.” Zara reached for a postcard of a pink sand beach on the Sta. Cruz Island of Zamboanga that was on her cubicle wall. There were five other postcards beside it. “Get your swimsuit ready.”
Anne and Jazmine could not make it for the weekend, so Zara had driven to Alaminos, which was the best takeoff point when touring the national park, with only Laine in tow. When they arrived at Alaminos, Zara spotted a black SUV parked outside the hotel they were going to stay in. Zara frowned and cursed. She hopped off her car and marched toward the SUV. She knocked on the driver’s window.
“Matt, what are you doing here?” she asked as soon as the window was open. Matt smirked at her from inside the vehicle.
“Don asked me to assist you on your assignment.”
“The hell,” she muttered under her breath. “You’re taking over? I’ve been really hoping for this break, you know. If I do well, Don might get me to do main features.”
His grin grew.
The devil has the nerve to grin right now. Does he want me to beg or something?
“Well, I just thought, it’s my pitch, so I should have some say.” He shrugged and leaned an arm over the window frame.
She drew in a breath.
“I can take care of this,” she insisted.
He burst out laughing and then shook his head. “I’m just messing with you. You should’ve seen your face just now.”
When she heaved a sigh of relief, he continued, “Seriously though you need help on this because it’s your first cover feature.” He leaned his head toward the window and eyed her. “Do you have an angle you can work on?”
“Yes, I have lots,” she snapped. She shook her head at herself. Trying for a softer tone, she said, “Sorry. I mean, I have lots.”
He stared at her for a while. “Good.”
Gaea seemed to get her angles only during the fieldwork, but I’ve got plans A, B, and C. I should be able to pull this off, right?
“If you want to, y-you can go back to the city,” she suggested.
Please go back.
“As much as I’d want to do that—it’s almost weekend after all—Don asked me to at least get an angle of my own in case you don’t come up with something solid.” He raised his hands, indicating his innocence in the idea. “His words, not mine.”
She seethed. “Did you tell him I won’t be able to do this?”
I’d just have to do my best and let my work speak for itself.
“Of course not.” He smirked. “I can’t say he doesn’t think that though.”
Her jaw ticked. He was so sure of himself, but she knew it was for a good reason. He was Don’s
golden boy and knight in shining armor. He threw ideas at meetings that made management nod their heads, smile, and then concede. When Zara read his features for the magazine, she always felt a sharp curiosity for the places he described.
“You—”
“Excuse me,” a voice beside her cut off her tirade. “Are you Zara?”
Her head snapped to her left. A man in his midforties approached her, and she knew she was going to have to put the battle on hold for Ramon.
“Mang[19] Ramon, what’s that island over there?” Zara asked.
Since that morning, Zara, her team, Matt, and Laine had been on a boat, hopping from one island to another. The group had visited five islands earlier, about which Zara did not learn any more than what she already had through the Internet.
Zara’s team consisted of JT and Keith, the photographers, and Missy, the designer. She had worked with Missy and JT before and did not hesitate sharing her ideas with them and giving them directions. However, Keith was a senior photographer who just joined the magazine. He only grunted after being talked to and went about his own way on each island with his equipment. If Gaea were there, she might already have called him out on his aloofness, but Zara would not dare risk vexing him.
Ramon looked at where she was pointing and answered, “That’s the Black Island. That’s not part of our usual tour packages. There’s a cave on the island, but people don’t go there . . .” His eyebrows furrowed and he looked away. “Because of the bats.”
“A cave on an island? What about the locals, do they go there?” She continued to stare, narrowing her eyes at the small island surrounded by white sand and made more prominent by the brooding cave flanked by trees.
“They prefer not to. There’s a local legend about a man and a woman who pledged to leave Alaminos to be together—their families forbade their union. They planned to meet one night over there . . . at the Black Island, then sail to Dagupan to start a new life together. Too bad . . . there was a storm the night they were to escape. The woman got lost at sea, drowned. The man arrived at the island and waited. He waited for days until he couldn’t deny it anymore—he had lost her to the sea. He grieved in the cave and eventually killed himself . . . That’s why it’s called the Black Island.”
Mysteries and legends . . .
“Everything sounds so ominous . . . Let’s go!” Zara grinned at the group.
When they reached the Black Island, Ramon led them around the island. On their way back to the boat after the excursion, Zara had a huge grin plastered on her face, and her mind was working in overdrive. Black Island was just the angle she was going to use to make the feature intriguing. Matt saw the grin and immediately knew what she was thinking.
“This would’ve been my angle too.” He patted her on the back and smiled at her. “I can share my thoughts with you if it’ll help.”
She regarded him for a while. “Thank you.” Then she mumbled to herself, “As long as you promise not to sabotage this for me.”
The next day after breakfast at the resort, the group went to the small port of Alaminos. Zara had arranged for parasailing. She hoped they could get some aerial shots of the islands. There was only one speedboat in town, and the parasail was for pairs. Keith and JT were sailing through the air as the speedboat glided through the water.
“Zara, I’m not going parasailing. You know I’m scared of heights,” Laine insisted as Zara prodded her to join her on the parasail.
“Scared of heights?” Matt quipped.
Laine nodded. “I’m a scaredy-cat.”
“A scaredy-cat who’s gone night diving.” Zara rolled her eyes. “Don’t believe her. She’s a certified advanced diver who cleans up our seas regularly.”
“That’s ironic, but I get it.” Matt smiled at Laine with new regard. He turned to Zara. “You want company up there?”
Zara gawked at him.
I’m not really keen on going up there with you.
“I can hold your hair when you puke.” His eyes egged her on.
Zara gave him a black look. “Fine, we can go together.”
“Just so you know, Zara has gone parasailing a number of times on different islands.” Laine stared Matt down.
He simply chuckled and shook his head.
“This is a nice view!” Zara yelled and turned to Matt.
From above, they could see the islands that they had visited the day before and the many limestone islets that earned the attraction its name. He chuckled and nodded in agreement. He took out his mobile to take pictures.
“Just let me know when I need to hold your hair.” He turned to her and winked.
“Why do you tease me so? I know you’re a senior in the department, and I’m just a junior staff . . . but still.”
“You’re not so junior, Zara. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten this gig. Don actually likes you, which is why he’s taking this chance.”
“Really?” She beamed at him.
He nodded as he continued taking pictures. “As for me, I’m just being sociable.”
“Well, if that’s what being sociable means . . . ,” she grumbled and pursed her lips.
Matt laughed as he stared at her. “You’re pretty cute when you’re pouting.”
Zara muffled the gasp that escaped her, but before she could say anything to Matt, he was back to taking pictures. She decided to dismiss his comment, but her mind acted on its own and busied itself by putting all sorts of meaning into what he said. She tried to shake the thoughts away.
That night, Zara and Laine went to check out the only bar in town. Missy decided to turn in early because she was tired. Streetlamps flickered, but the girls walked leisurely along the dimly lit road outside their hotel. The moon shone, and the stars twinkled on the quaint town of Alaminos.
Kapitan’s Bar was a rough and rowdy place with bamboo tables and chairs spread out in the open air. A group of tipsy old men sat by the table nearest the videoke. Judging from their homey wear, they were locals out for the night, just drinking Pale Pilsen and taking turns singing Tagalog love songs. One of them was singing Pedrito Montaire’s “Be My Lady.” Or slurring is more like it.
Matt, JT, and Keith were already there when Zara and Laine arrived. They were drinking beer and chatting. Even Keith was all smiles, his face already pinkish.
“Well, they’re so chummy,” Zara muttered. “Argh! He’s got such tight connections at the office.”
She zipped up her cotton jacket and hid her hands inside the sleeves as they made their way toward the matey trio.
“Why is that a bad thing? He seems to tease you fairly often.” Laine grinned at her. “I can see you’re reining back your irritation with some effort. You’ve never mentioned him to me before, and yet . . .”
“He’s my boss’s backup plan in case I screw this up,” Zara grumbled. “So I hate him.”
Laine cringed at this piece of information but then grinned.
“Do you hate him? Or do you think he’s hot? I know your type, Zara, and he’s pretty close,” Laine teased.
Zara gasped. “Shut up.”
She stole a glance at Matt. He was wearing a black long-sleeved sweater and board shorts. The wind blew at his short tousled shag. Every now and then, he reached up and brushed his hair back with his fingers. She gulped.
“Zara, if you like this guy, please don’t sing here tonight.” Laine laughed.
Zara gawked at her. “First, you know I don’t sing when there are people from the office. Second, I don’t like him.”
Zara only sings around her three best girlfriends and for good reason; every time she sang, and she always did with heart, her friends either cringed or laughed out loud. Tonight, she was just a writer, an observer to the local festivities.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jazmine and the Mommy Highway
He did not roar like an alpha lion whose reign was over. No, he wailed like a banshee.
Liam would not stop crying. No matter what song or sway Jazmine tried, he
just would not stop. She tried breastfeeding him, but after nursing for a while and falling asleep, he would spit up, wake up again, and wail like she was the worst mother in the world. His crib sheets had been soiled by his spit-ups, but she never got the chance to change them.
Why do women in breastfeeding photos look so calm and peaceful? Those advertising campaigns are so misleading!
She prayed with her eyes clamped shut and her lips pursed that Liam would calm down already and go to sleep. It was four o’clock in the morning. Only a weak night-light glowed at one corner of the room. She had slept for only two hours before Liam woke her up.
Lord, please let him go to sleep!
She sang a nursery rhyme she had not tried that night, lightly bouncing her arms up and down as she held him close. Her arms ached, and she was out of breath. However, she had no choice but to try over and over again; there was only her, after all.
Lord, please let him go to sleep. Please let him go to sleep.
Slowly, Liam closed his eyes. His breathing deepened. Not wanting to risk another crying episode, Jazmine waited for five more minutes before heading to the rocking chair with Liam still in her arms. Even as she moved, she continued to bounce him up and down and sing the same song over and over again. When she sat down, she held her breath.
Would he feel the difference? Thank God he didn’t wake up!
She dared not lay him down in his crib. She settled herself in the chair, putting as many pillows around her arms so that she would not drop him, and she drifted off to sleep herself.
Liam woke up again after a couple of hours.
Two more hours of sleep . . . Yeeeey . . .
With her arms aching from cradling him for hours, she managed to open the top buttons of her shirt and breastfeed him. Her head bobbed up and down as she struggled to keep awake.
“Jazmine, how are you and Liam?” Fiona smiled at the mother and son as Jazmine came to drop Liam off that morning.
“Tita, he kept me up all night last night. I’m so sleepy right now.” Jazmine looked down at her son.
