by Thessa Lim
ANNE
Anne, wearing a carmine woven gauze V-neck romper, dragged her luggage through the door. She walked down the hallway that would lead to the living room, where she knew she could take a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label Scotch whisky from the mahogany bar cabinet and take shot after shot. She could only last eight though.
Or maybe a junk food binge would be better. Then I can watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s. With a bottle of tequila. Yeah, I can last far longer with tequila.
As she passed by the living room, a movement caught her eye. Priscilla, dressed in a black-and-white Aztec-patterned wrap dress, was looking through the magazine rack that was beside the couch. She looked up just as Anne was about to scamper away.
“Hi, Mom,” Anne breathed. “I just came back.”
I hope she doesn’t notice that my eyes make me look vampy. I should’ve worn sunglasses.
“Hi, honey.” Priscilla smiled and, after grabbing a newspaper, sauntered toward Anne. “How was your trip?”
Anne tensed as Priscilla closed in. “It was good. Had fun. Went diving.”
Priscilla kissed Anne on the cheek. “Did all of you girls go diving?”
Priscilla brushed Anne’s bangs to the side with her fingers. Anne watched as Priscilla’s eyes centered on hers, as her mother’s lips tensed in a line, and as her eyebrows furrowed.
Shit!
“W-we all did. Except Jaz.” Anne let out a chuckle and a smile. “She really should take diving lessons. She’s missing out on a lot.”
“Well, diving is expensive and considering Jaz’s priorities . . .” Priscilla frowned and looked Anne over. “Was Daniel with you girls?”
“Y-yes, he was.” Anne’s grip on her baggage tightened. “Umm . . . but Jaz doesn’t dive because she has a fear of the water.”
“Hmm . . . sometimes people have concerns that they don’t want to talk about.” Priscilla slid an arm around Anne’s shoulders. “So they bring up other things instead.”
“Mom,” Anne groaned, “please don’t talk in riddles. It’s much too early in the day.”
“I’m not talking in riddles.” Priscilla scolded her, “And you just came back from a vacation. Why are you moody?”
“I’m not—” Anne sighed and looked down at the ground. “Just an early morning flight.”
I almost gave myself away there.
“Anne . . .” Priscilla nudged her daughter’s chin up. “Are you okay?”
Anne continued to stare downward.
Oh God! Don’t!
But Anne’s lips quivered, and her eyes watered. She sucked in a breath, and the tears fell.
Priscilla held her by the shoulders. “What happened?”
Anne shook her head.
Nothing. Nothing happened. That’s the problem.
“Nothing . . . ,” Anne breathed.
I can’t tell you. It’s too embarrassing.
Priscilla pulled Anne to the couch.
“Mom, I don’t want to sit down. I don’t want to talk about this with you—”
Priscilla grabbed her arm and yanked it down. Anne yelped and wiped her tears away.
“You know, when you were young,” Priscilla shared, “you’d cry every time I left the house.”
“Really?” Anne grumbled, even though she could remember the fits she threw back then when her mother would say goodbye.
“Yes. When your sisters were about that age, they’d cry too, but you . . . you wouldn’t just cry. You’d run after me all the way to the door. When I closed it behind me, I could still hear you kicking at it.”
Anne harrumphed.
“I know you still resent your Dad and me for having Daniel investigated, but that’s only because . . .” Priscilla took a deep breath. “I feel that you trust people too much, too soon.”
“W-what?” Anne murmured.
Priscilla repeated, “I feel that you trust people too much, too soon.”
“I don’t, Mom.” Anne shook her head. “I just take a shot with people.”
“I know.” Priscilla sighed. “And in that, you leave yourself vulnerable. Because people may hurt you.”
“They don’t have to be perfect—” Anne choked on her words. “They don’t have to be perfect for me to care about them.”
“I know. And it’s not . . . always a bad thing. I’m just here to look out for you.”
Anne frowned at her. “So you were the one who had him investigated?” Anne’s eyes widened as she asked, “Dad had nothing to do with it?”
Priscilla heaved a sigh and looked down at the floor. “Y-yes . . . It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just . . . I’m still a mother. Even though I’ve let go of looking after your sisters, I can’t seem to let go . . . of you yet.”
Anne nodded and stared down at the rug.
“I suppose you’re still mad if you refuse to talk to me about what happened,” Priscilla reckoned. “If you refused to have coffee at Figaro with me last week.”
Anne covered her face with her hands and whispered through her fingers, “It didn’t work out between Daniel and me.” Anne let the tears fall, but her breaths were less hurried now.
Priscilla drew a sharp breath. She wrapped her arms around Anne and patted her on the back. “Hush, honey. Don’t let this tear you down.” Then in a barely audible whisper, she added, “If I could bear your heartache for you, I would.”
Suddenly Raul passed by the hallway. When he saw his wife and youngest daughter in an embrace, he stopped in his tracks and frowned. Priscilla looked up, shook her head, and waved him away. Hesitating, he left them to themselves for the moment.
JAZMINE
“Ms. Jazmine, your phone is ringing,” Helen called out from the kitchen.
Jazmine giggled as Liam placed his wet lips on hers.
That’s gross but sweet.
“Okay. Hold on,” Jazmine replied and placed Liam back in the crib.
Maybe it’s Tita Fiona.
Jazmine scoffed.
She has no hold on Liam now. Braden’s name will be officially removed from Liam’s birth certificate in a few weeks.
She jogged to the kitchen and picked up the device vibrating on the counter. When her eyes landed on the screen, she gasped and could not press the answer button any sooner.
“Tin!” Jazmine exclaimed.
Helen glanced at Jazmine, her face a question as she stirred chicken broth on the stove. Jazmine waved a hand to say nothing was wrong. She heard Liam call out to her from the bedroom, but it had been months since she had talked to her sister.
“Ate!” Christine responded.
Jazmine could hear the roar of engines and honks of vehicles from the other end of the line.
“Tin, how are you? I haven’t heard from you in a while.” Suddenly an ill feeling came to the pit of Jazmine’s stomach. “Are Tatay and Nanay okay?”
“Yes, Ate. They’re okay,” Christine answered. She took a deep breath and said, “Ate, I hope you won’t get mad . . .”
“What is it, Tin?” Jazmine pressed.
“I-I’m in Manila now,” Christine murmured.
What’s she doing here? Did she drop out of school? Is she here for a few days? I can see her!
Jazmine asked, “Why are you here?”
“I-I told Mama that our class has a field trip to Naga for the weekend . . . ,” Christine whispered. “Umm . . . I used the money you put in my bank account to come here.”
Jazmine tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder, went to her bedroom, and picked out a pair of jeans and a tee from a cabinet.
Christine added, “I promise I didn’t tell Mama about the money you kept sending me.”
“Where are you right now? Are you staying with me?”
“If you don’t mind . . .”
“Of course I don’t mind. What are you talking about? Where are you exactly?”
“I’m at the Cubao bus terminal.” Christine’s voice lifted. “I can take a bus to Mandaluyong.”
“Okay
. I’ll meet you at Jollibee—the one in the Mandaluyong Circle.” Jazmine struggled to slip into her jeans while balancing the phone on her neck. “Do you remember it?”
“Yes, Ate. I’m walking to the main road now, to get a ride.”
“Okay. The Jollibee with two levels, okay? And ride the bus with the sign that says ‘Mandaluyong–Sentro,’ not the ‘Mandaluyong Road.’”
Christine giggled, and Jazmine relaxed.
“I remember, Ate. Don’t worry.” Christine paused. “Uh . . . I wanted to see the baby.”
“His name is Liam.” Jazmine took a deep breath and smiled. “Of course you’ll see him. He can’t wait to meet his aunt.”
Christine sighed. “Okay, Ate. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“If I get there before you do, shall I order a couple of chocolate sundaes?”
Christine laughed. “They’ll melt!”
“You always wait for it to melt.” Jazmine rolled her eyes.
The two bickered on about the best temperature ice cream should be in when one ate a serving. Christine giggled yet again, and Jazmine realized how much she missed hearing her sister’s voice and laugh. Suddenly that part in her heart that was especially reserved for her family did not seem so empty anymore.
LAINE
Michelle, one of Ganoop’s facilitators, looked up from her laptop and declared, “We need a mentor on financial literacy to make this project complete.” She sighed. “For this to be comprehensive enough to make a difference for these teens.”
“That’s true. Parents rarely teach their children about money,” Grace agreed. “Especially when they don’t have enough in their own bank accounts.”
Michelle and Laine sat in front of Grace’s mahogany desk inside her office. They were called in that morning to update her on the status of their different projects.
“I’ve tried to get in touch with some professors in different universities. Let me follow up with them in a couple of days,” Michelle put in, already on the last topic of the agenda.
“Good. Let me know if anything’s turned up by the end of the week,” Grace requested. “With all the projects we have on hand, I’m a little wary about taking on a new one. But this new project will increase funding for your areas.”
Michelle let out a soft groan, having just reported on eight different projects.
Grace chuckled, holding both her palms up. “I know, I know. I hear you, Michelle.” She crossed her arms over her desk and turned to Laine. “I’m not hearing any objections from your end yet, Laine.”
Laine glanced at Michelle, who stared at her with wide pleading eyes and pursed lips. Laine looked back at Grace and answered, “What’s the project about?”
“Well, the benefactor is interested in sponsoring a series of youth empowerment events. Not just one but several.” When Laine merely nodded, Grace continued, “It won’t start for another three months, but if the deal pulls through, the program will run for a year.”
Laine hesitated for a couple of seconds and then answered, “I-I’ll stretch myself.”
Grace let out a sigh of relief and beamed. “Good. Laine will take charge of this then.” She reached for a black clear folder at the side of her desk. “We’ll sort your projects by priority when this one kicks off.” She patted the paperwork and warned her staff, “You’re going to get busier though.”
“I don’t mind.” Laine paused as she stared at the fresh sheet of paper on her notebook. “I want to get busier.”
Michelle raised her eyebrows.
“Great. You’ll get busy, but”—Grace grinned—“there’s a perk that’ll likely come for you.”
Michelle leaned forward in her seat.
“The benefactor is abroad,” Grace shared. “So there’s a big chance you’ll get to travel.”
Laine’s shoulders lifted. “That’d be nice.”
Michelle frowned. “Where? Which country?”
Grace finally opened the folder. “The benefactor company is based in Baltimore. In the U.S.”
ZARA
The four girls were at Laine and Zara’s apartment that weekend. Zara and Matt had set camp at the dining table. Papers, photos, and a bag of chips were lying about in front of them. Matt had asked Zara to look over an article he was working on.
Zara said, “Keith’s landscape shot is awesome for this,” as she lifted up a photo of Mount Pinatubo.
“Yeah. I’m pretty glad Don got someone of his caliber. He’s somewhere up there with Oliver,” Matt replied.
From the couch, Laine asked Jazmine, “Why don’t you ask him now before he can run away?”
“Are you gals talking about Matt?” Zara asked.
He glanced at the girls by the couch.
“Zara and her Vulcan hearing,” Anne muttered.
Jazmine took Liam from Laine’s lap and walked over to the dining area.
“Matt, can you please hold my son and talk to him?” Jazmine asked him, mustering as much desperation as she could into her eyes.
“What?” he blinked and shook his head.
“Please. There’s nobody male present in his life right now. So can you please hold him just for a while? I read that the male touch is very essential to a newborn baby.”
“Is this really necessary?” He frowned down at Liam, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised. He scratched the back of his head and rumpled his hair.
“Yes. Since he only has us girls now, you got to help me. Please, just for a few minutes.”
Zara choked and turned red. Anne and Laine peered at Matt in sheer amusement. He looked at the three of them, begging with his eyes for somebody to save him.
Jazmine pleaded some more, “Look at his face and tell me he isn’t cute.”
Matt cursed. “Zara Castillo, you are so going to owe me for this.” Then turning to Jazmine, he held out his hands to get Liam. "I don’t even know how to hold a baby. If I drop him, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”
“You’ll be fine.”
Matt tried to balance Liam in his arms.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he grumbled.
“This is priceless. I’ve never seen Matthew Villanueva flustered ever.” Zara grinned, studying his face.
Matt and Liam stared at each other.
“Can you please say a rhyme or two? Like ‘Humpty Dumpty’?” Jazmine requested.
Zara bent over in laughter and earned a glare from Matt.
Then Jazmine pressed again, “Please. I’ll bring food the next time you come over.”
He considered this for a moment, then said, “I like pizza.”
She grinned. “Deal.”
When he recited the nursery rhyme, Liam cooed, and the girls craned their necks to watch the man and the baby. Matt then motioned Jazmine to sit beside him. Several rhymes afterward, she was clapping her hands at the coos Liam was making.
When he finished “Jack and Jill,” Matt said, “Okay. I think this is getting much too cutesy for me.”
The girls laughed but continued to stare at Liam. Zara grinned at Matt as Jazmine took her son and returned to the couch.
“Thanks.” Zara chuckled. “Although I think they were really just making fun of you. Liam seems to like you though.”
He shrugged at her and said, “I guess, I got the natural charm.” He cleared his throat and looked her in the eyes. “It’s okay. Whatever it takes to get your friends to like me.”
She blinked and quickly turned her gaze down to the table.
Sinking fast . . . Quicksand.
Zara spread five travel magazines on her office desk the next morning. They were from five different publications—a mix of local and international. She had set some time to read up on the competition. Suddenly tapping came from behind her. Matt stood there, with a notebook tucked under his arm. Her heart picked up a pace, and she looked around to see if anybody glanced their way.
Matt cleared his throat and took a step toward her. She could smell his cologne now, and she wanted to close
her eyes and smell the musk and talc.
He leaned forward and whispered, “Coffee in half an hour?”
She snapped back to reality, smiled, and nodded.
“Same place?” He grinned. “You look beautiful by the way.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
A blush crept up her neck. She had nitpicked at her outfit that morning, spending half an hour looking through her closet and considering pieces. The periwinkle frill Bardot dress accented her slim shoulders, and she had blowdried her hair to let it cascade down in mild waves.
He took her hand in his. “Want to go somewhere this weekend? Maybe drive to Tagaytay? Have a nice lunch?”
The corners of her mouth turned upward. “Hmm . . . fresh air, indulgent food, a handsome date?” she teased. “How can a lady say no?”
He squeezed her hand. Her eyes widened when a faint pink hue touched his cheeks.
Slow down, Zara. You’re not ready for this.
He grazed his thumb from the inside of her wrist to the center of her palm.
“The handsome gentleman,” he crooned, “will make sure it’ll be worth the lady’s while.”
He made his way to his desk. She watched him, his strides, his easy gait, the muscle of his shoulders, and the strength of his back.
I’m so going to get my heart broken again.
Mom, Manang Tanya, and Kristy, thank you for reading the many versions and iterations of this book, for giving me the time of day despite your busy schedules. If that isn’t love, what is?
Thank you, Papa, for having always known that I’d someday publish my own book. You knew even before I graduated from grade school.
Olivia Claire, I’ll always be grateful for your editorial inputs and optimism. When I doubt my writing, you lift my spirits up. Keep smiling, keep shining, Livvy!
Aiza, Tricia, Angela, Paula, Abigail, Anne, Diana, Pauline, thank you for letting me use you as guinea pigs for this project at one time or another!
Fran, your insights helped shape this book, build it up, and make it what it is today. Thank you, thank you for your amazing skill and talent. Thank you for working with me on this project. I’d never have reached this point without you.
