Of Heads and Hearts in the Metro

by Thessa Lim

  Both girls glared at each other for a while.

  As Laine’s boldness began to dissipate, Anne retorted, “Fine. Just don’t expect me to do it.”

  “F-fine,” Laine snapped. “I’m leaving now. I’m going to take a cab home.”

  “No objections from me.” Anne turned around and stomped toward the parking lot.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Four Years Ago

  Zara took an impish look at the freshly baked sugar-glazed doughnut she was cradling at the tip of her fingers. She groaned and laid it back down on the plate. God forbid she would take a bite out of her food before company arrived. She was, after all, here in the doughnut café to meet a potential work colleague.

  A social business call—is there such a thing?

  She planned on waiting for the media executive wanna-be to arrive before sinking her teeth in the moist cake, but it was taking a lot of effort from her to do so. The girl was late after all. And she was the one who wanted to meet at this place of delectable temptations. Zara took a sip from her cup of hot chocolate instead and sighed in satisfaction.

  The door to the café opened, and a strong gush of wind filled the room. October made its presence known by the cool breeze and the early sunset. Zara had shivered and pulled at her sweater at the office most of the day because the centralized air-conditioning in the building had not been adjusted to the new season yet.

  Which is why this hot cup feels so good in my hands.

  When she looked up from her source of delight that evening, she spotted a familiar-looking lady standing by the door, looking around the café with seeking eyes. Her orange balloon skirt and pastel pink frilly top posed a sharp contrast to Zara’s black pencil skirt and navy blue Peter Pan–collared blouse. When their eyes met, Zara waved her over.

  Anne eyed the half-empty cup on the table and grinned sheepishly, just then realizing that she was a half hour late.

  “Zara, right?” Anne asked.

  Zara nodded and held out her hand, which Anne shook with gusto.

  Strong handshake. Seems promising.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. I had some trouble looking for a parking spot.”

  For thirty minutes?

  “That’s fine.” Zara waved a hand.

  Anne opened her mouth as if to elaborate on her excuse but then closed it. She sat down on the empty chair.

  “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a long time.” Zara smiled and crossed her arms on top of the table.

  “I’m good . . . Jobless actually.” Anne rolled her eyes. “Thanks for replying to my text. Liv gave me your number after she and I talked.”

  Anne looked at the counter, eyed the doughnuts on display, and grinned.

  “Want to get something before we talk?” Zara asked, offering to take her out of her misery.

  When Anne returned with her order, Zara started the conversation right away, but not before she finally took the long-awaited bite out of her doughnut. It was getting late, and she wanted to go home to read, before she slept, the travel magazines she bought from a newsstand just outside. One of the magazines featured the Batanes Islands. She liked the way it depicted the islands as an adventure destination with rough terrain and weather–it was a fresh perspective, one that was not commonly used on destinations in a tropical country.

  “Liv told me you quit your job a month ago and are interested in media?”

  “Yes! It was a lousy job. No challenge at all.” Anne waved her hands up and rolled her eyes.

  “What were you working on?”

  “I was a management trainee at a real estate company.”

  “Which one?”

  Anne told her, and Zara whistled.

  “That doesn’t seem like a bad place to start.”

  “Yeah, well, I want something more fast-paced, something more exciting.” She flashed her hands in front of her with sass.

  Zara bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Well, I’m working at a multimedia company. My department is the one that decides on the TV program lineup, the theme, commercials, et cetera.”

  “That sounds like fun.” Anne beamed.

  “You were studying BS . . . ?”

  “Management. BS Management.” Anne leaned back and tapped a finger on her chin. “I like the idea of working in a media company. I think it’ll be an interesting world.”

  Zara leaned in to study her face as she said, “You’ll have to start as a trainee though, if you don’t have any prior related experience.”

  “Maybe . . .” Anne mulled over this for a moment. “I can ask your manager to let me start as an associate. From what I’ve seen, trainees are given all the boring jobs.”

  Zara pursed her lips.

  Try talking to Vera.

  She asked Anne some more questions about her courses in college or what she might have learned at her previous job. Liv and Zara were tight during college, and she did not want to let her down too quickly. Liv had, after all, said that Anne was a family friend. Zara sighed when she eventually found that there was nothing too off about Anne to not refer her to her boss.

  “It seems our company might be a good next option for you. You can send your CV to my email address, and I’ll pass it on to my manager.” Zara smiled and leaned back in her seat, ready to call it a night. “It’ll be up to her though whether to get you or not.”

  “Yey!” Anne raised her fists in victory. “This is a good start. I’ll send my CV to you tomorrow morning.” She leaned in. “Let’s celebrate!”

  Zara shook her head. “Oh, I plan to go home in a while actually.”

  “Oh, sure, that’s fine. Do you have drinks at home?”

  Zara’s mouth fell open. “Wha-what? I actually do, but I meant that . . .”

  “Perfect! Let’s go. Let me grab another box so we have something to munch too.”

  After Anne stood up cheerily and headed for the counter again, Zara took a deep breath and shook her head. When the two stepped out of the café, Anne had already planned to convoy after Zara’s car.

  A cold breeze blew through the street just then. Anne squealed in delight and grabbed on to Zara’s arm. Her skirt blew halfway up before she giddily grabbed on to its sides to keep from exposing more of herself. Zara froze at the close contact but then forced her body to relax. She smiled hesitantly at Anne as the chummy hugger laughed.

  “Where’s your car? I’m parked over there.” Anne pointed at an old-model Benz parked across the road.

  A rich girl. No wonder. God, why did Liv drag me into doing this? If Vera doesn’t like her, she’ll take it against me.

  “I’m parked over there. The red Corolla. Just follow closely behind me.”

  Zara considered losing her in the traffic. Her brother had taught her how to do that.

  Darn it. Liv.

  Anne stepped into the condo unit and turned green with envy when she saw the insides. It was clearly a young urbanite’s home. The unit was not expansive, but the space was enough for two tenants. Shoeboxes were stacked up high beside a couple of shoe racks by the door. Flyers of food delivery, water refilling stations, and laundry services were pinned to a wallboard above the telephone in the living room. The television was tuned in to a sitcom rerun.

  God, when will I dare to leave my parents’ home and get my own pad? Ahh . . . but nothing can beat having household help. Not to mention the gourmet meals that Mom is so fond of. And Dad’s espresso machine.

  Anne pouted at herself.

  Two girls sat on the couch, watching the television. The girl with round hazel eyes sat up quickly when Zara closed the door behind her. The girl was in homey shorts and a T-shirt.

  Roommate?

  The morena in a grey pencil skirt and a floral-print chiffon top just smiled at the newcomers. A pitcher of orange juice, along with two glasses, was on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

  “Oh, Laine, I didn’t realize you were having company tonight,” Zara exclaimed.

  “Oops! I sent you a text a
bout ten minutes ago.” Laine threw her a sheepish look.

  “That’s fine. I was just surprised. I brought someone as well. Laine, this is Anne. Anne, Laine. Laine is my roommate . . . since a week ago. Anne wants to go into media, so we were just talking about work.”

  Sleepovers whenever you want, and the television can be as loud as the fun calls for. Maybe we can watch racy movies here.

  “This is Jaz from work. She’s in clinical research.” Laine gestured to the girl beside her, who was taking a sip from a glass.

  “Nice to meet you,” Anne chirped, sensing a bit of awkwardness in the air, and waved at them.

  “Well, we’ll just be over there at the dining table.” Zara led Anne to the other side of the unit and motioned her to sit down. “Make yourself comfortable. We can pop open a bottle.”

  Anne beamed and set her box of doughnuts down. “Sounds great!”

  After Zara managed to open a bottle of wine and pour them each a glass, she sat down and propped her legs up on another chair. Anne smiled and did the same. She glanced at the two laughing in front of the television.

  “Aren’t you going to offer them wine as well?” she asked her host.

  Zara pursed her lips. “We’re not that close yet. I think she doesn’t drink alcohol either.”

  “What?” Anne hissed. “No way. I don’t think that I’d get along with her then.” She giggled. “Sometimes, I find that alcohol is my only friend.”

  Zara chuckled. “That’s refreshing to hear but a little sad.”

  Anne shrugged flippantly as if to say, what is is.

  “Anne, I’m going to be frank with you. You look like you come from a rich family. You can correct me there if I’m wrong. You can quit your job whenever you want . . . Media is a tough place to work in. We work long nights, and people have to argue a lot to get their ideas through. Are you really game for it?”

  Anne frowned, looking down at her glass. “I haven’t found what I want to do with my life yet. I’m willing to give anything that perks my interest a shot. Although . . .” She paused and studied Zara’s face. “Is it really me you’re asking? You don’t seem very enthusiastic about the job.”

  Zara blew out a breath. “Well, to be honest, I’ve been thinking about quitting. I don’t get that feeling, that feeling that I’m doing what I really want to do. I want to tell stories and share experiences. I know media does that, but TV . . . TV is just too flashy. We have a face to put on. Everything has to be bright and attractive.”

  “Ahh . . .” Anne grinned and mulled over this. When Zara raised an eyebrow at her, she said, “Just thinking about what you said.”

  “Well . . .” Zara raised her wineglass, tipped it toward Anne, and said, “Here’s to us finding out what we want to do with our lives.”

  Anne swirled the wine in her glass and clinked it with Zara’s. “Here’s to our hazy dreams turning into realities.”

  Laine looked wistfully at the two girls lounging by the dining table and making wine toasts. She frowned. She had wanted to start a friendship with Zara since she moved in. But with her shyness and old-fashioned ways, she had put her off. When Zara offered her a drink the other night, she refused because she does not drink alcohol. When Zara offered her chips on the weekend, she declined because she does not eat junk food.

  Me and my rigidity. When will I ever learn? Maybe I can learn to flip my hair back like a city girl. But what will Tatay[23] think of me then? He’d probably laugh at his little probinsiyana[24] trying to be all grown-up in the metro.

  Zara was always busy with work, usually coming home late and tired. Laine would try to start up a conversation then, but after a quick exchange of small talk, Zara would say that she was hitting the sack and would enter the bedroom.

  Laine turned to Jazmine and smiled. Their rapport had been easygoing. When Jazmine went into the Human Resources office earlier that day, wanting to talk about her career plans, it had been effortless for Laine to start up the discussion and ask the right questions. Jazmine even shared her personal and financial goals.

  Jazmine talked about starting medical missions within the company, wanting to go to poor communities and distribute medicines to children and elderly people. Unfortunately, the pharmaceutical company they were working in outsourced their charities to nonprofit organizations. Laine resonated with the ideas that Jazmine threw out, which was why she invited her to dinner that evening.

  Plus, she likes my favorite sitcom of all time.

  “Oh, I like this part! This is so funny.” Laine giggled even before the scene played out.

  Jazmine laughed at the television screen. It was nice to go out for dinner that night and just relax. Laine was not from Metro Manila but had studied at a university in the city, just like her. They found out that they came from the same alma mater but were a year apart.

  If our paths had crossed then, we could have been good friends for a long time already. And she makes delicious fresh orange juice. Who has the time to do that?

  She took a sip from her glass leisurely.

  Suddenly Laine bounced in her seat and grabbed her own glass. “Let’s toast to the start of a new friendship.”

  “I like that!” Jazmine cheered and clinked her glass with Laine’s.

  “No, wait, you got to toast for something too.”

  “Umm . . . can I toast to my sister’s first sem at school?” Jazmine chuckled to herself.

  When Laine shook her head, Jazmine looked up at the ceiling, willing her mind to come up with something.

  No man in my life. Except my good friend Gabe. But then he’s just a friend. My job has become depressing to me. What else could there be?

  “I really can’t think of anything.”

  “No,” Laine groaned. “You’re supposed to toast to something for yourself. Like . . . to finding a way to help those in need.”

  “Okay, that then!” Jazmine cheered.

  They clinked their glasses again and grinned at each other.

  “Oh, oh, you got to watch this part,” Laine quipped, pulling at Jazmine’s arm for attention.

  When Laine and Jazmine laughed out loud a tenth time since Zara opened the bottle of wine, Anne’s curiosity was piqued.

  “I wonder which episode they’re watching.” She grinned.

  Zara stood up, walked toward the couch, and took a look at the screen.

  “Oh, it’s the episode where that . . . that lady there with the dark hair becomes a head chef!” she exclaimed. She waved at Anne to come over and watch. Turning to Laine, she asked, “What’s her name again?”

  Before Laine could answer, Anne pulled up a chair beside the couch and cheered, “Oh yeah, this is the episode where the men are going to party!”

  “You gals know this too? I’m just so out of it,” Jazmine moaned. “This is the first time I’m watching this series.”

  “You should watch it from the beginning. It’s a great story about friendship,” Laine quipped.

  “Yeah, it’d be great to have friends like that.” Jazmine grinned at Laine.

  “Yeah!” Laine cheered.

  Anne looked at Zara with wide laughing eyes. Zara just grinned and tried her best not to snicker.

  “Care for a doughnut?” Anne asked the giggling pair on the couch.

  “Sure!” Laine answered immediately. She had been eyeing the box since they arrived.

  “Wine?” Zara invited.

  “Can I have a little bit?” Jazmine asked.

  “I have some delicacies from my hometown,” Laine offered.

  A bustle of motion filled the room as the girls grabbed for what they had on hand and rushed back to the couch. Food and drinks were exchanged, as were smiles, nods, and thank-you’s. As the hour passed, spurts of laughter filled the room every now and then.

  The October night was cold outside, but within the four walls that surrounded them, the four girls, much to their surprise, found that they were merry, that they were snug, and that they were warm.

  CHA
PTER EIGHTEEN

  Hearts Are Tested

  After exhausting her body, Laine floated on her back in the swimming pool at the sports complex nearest their condo. The Olympic-size pool had eight lap lanes for paying swimmers, but only two lanes were in use that night.

  She stared at the stars on the sky and sighed. If she could count the number of sighs she had heaved that night . . .

  This was the first time she had wanted to be away from the girls. She did not even want to go home yet, knowing that if Zara were there, she would ask a hundred questions about Anne. And Laine did not want to talk nor think about Anne. Laine texted Tony after she and Anne fought. Tony had not replied yet, and it had been three hours since.

  God, my first time to fall in love and I lose him in a matter of weeks. What’s he doing? Thinking? Why doesn’t he want to talk to me anymore?

  Anne just keeps pushing me. Grr . . . All the time. And I tell her to do one thing . . . One thing. And she barks at me.

  Tatay, where are you? Tell me what to do. Might Nanay know? Will you tell me that I don’t need him, I deserve better? You know I’d believe you. Only, it hurts . . .

  She relaxed her neck, and she sank. She blew air from her mouth, forming bubbles in the water, and closed her eyes.

  Perhaps if I calm down, I could hear Tatay’s answer . . . Right.

  Anne plonked on her bed and scrubbed her face hard with her palms. Laine had not answered any of her calls. Anne kicked her bag off the sheets, let it fall to the floor, and growled.

  I am right, right? What does she know about my parents? Just because her father and mother are parenting role models, church role models, socially responsible role models—ugh—doesn’t make her an expert on mine.

  She heaved a sigh and shook her head.

  If I was right though, why do I hate myself right now?

  She growled again.

  Because I snapped at her. I really shouldn’t have. I got to make some grand gesture. She’s always putty for that . . . Right? But what? I got nothing . . . I really should pay more attention to details . . .