Once Upon a Sunset

by Tif Marcelo

  Tears bubbled just below the surface of her eyelids, but Margo kept them at bay.

  “If …” Colette’s thumb ran along the lip of her cup. “If you decide you’d like to stay longer, you are absolutely welcome. Even if no one else says it, I would like to invite you to stay, for me.”

  That was it, Margo let the tears go. For what came with Colette’s invitation was something she hadn’t planned on when she arrived in Manila. She’d hesitantly signed up to learn her family history, and what she’d received was so much more. She’d found a connection. A tangible connection by DNA and an emotional connection to this woman.

  “Sorry, I’m just … overwhelmed,” Margo said.

  “I hope in a good way?”

  “Yes.” Margo laughed, just as the pot bubbled. She turned the burner to low, and now she had a raging appetite. “A very good way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  On the boat trip to Corregidor Island, Diana shifted her focus from the quiet man next to her to the whirr of the engines and the rock-and-roll motion of the boat. With the wind blowing and the choppy water sending drops of water overtop, it was a relief from the heat.

  She had not been completely honest with her mother: she was thrilled to find out that they would be going their separate ways this morning. In truth, Diana had missed Joshua as soon as she left his arms just shy of 5:00 a.m. Their night of glorious intimacy, as perfect as it had been, was not enough, and she clamored to be with him, one-on-one. To chat, to be.

  But at the moment, something didn’t feel right. Sure, Joshua greeted her appropriately, was kind in the car; he joked as they boarded the boat, but he was holding back. Something was wrong. She wasn’t a woman who subscribed to public displays of affection, but he wasn’t showing any signs of any difference in their relationship.

  She ran the night over in her head. His hands, his kisses, his caress, his teasing words—it all felt organic. Natural. Comfortable. Had she been too cold? Too clingy? Was he not satisfied?

  He sure had acted like he was.

  Joshua turned to her then. He’d taken off his sunglasses, now hooked onto his V-neck tee—Diana decided that the V-neck shirt was the sexiest style, ever—with an arm resting behind Diana, his right leg crossed over his left knee. “Look if you’re not going to ask me what’s up, then I suppose I should just tell you.”

  “I knew you were upset.” She barked a laugh, then realized how insensitive that sounded. “What I meant was, I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out what I missed.”

  He sighed. “I didn’t …” But his words became indecipherable, and Diana didn’t catch the rest of his sentence.

  “What’s that?”

  He repeated his sentence, and still, she didn’t understand.

  She leaned in closer, gesturing for him to repeat it once more.

  “I didn’t appreciate you leaving me in bed while I was asleep!” he declared, promptly shushing the rows of tourists packed around them. He slumped lower into the bench.

  “You’re mad at me for leaving your room?” she asked. She took in his hurt expression.

  “Mad isn’t the right word. I … wished that you woke me. There should be some etiquette about it, about waking the person after a night of s-s-s—” He looked around and lowered his voice. “Sex.”

  She stifled a giggle, though her heart squeezed at his sincerity. God, he was so … sweet that she couldn’t help but tease to cover up how she was melting into a puddle. “Doing the deed? The horizontal hokeypokey? The nail in the—”

  “Must you?”

  “Oh, must I? How are you suddenly so proper?” She crossed her arms. “I am a doctor, by the way, in obstetrics and gynecology. Sex is biological.”

  “But it’s also private, so if you would please, I don’t want half this boat in this majority-Catholic country to burn us at the stake because you and I frolicked last night.”

  “Frolicked?”

  “What?” He was laughing now.

  Diana could have done another round of banter and teasing, but his message seeped through. This man cared about her, and he was asking her to consider his feelings. Whatever this was between them was beside the point. He wanted respect, so she would make sure he received it. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I just didn’t want an awkward moment with Colette or anyone else, like we had with my mom. And I knew we were seeing each other this morning. I guess I didn’t think twice about it.”

  He took her hand in his, brought it to his lips to kiss it. “I’m sorry, too. I just don’t like to be surprised, not when it’s about the coming and goings of people.”

  “Point taken.” She nodded. “And I’m the same, in many respects.”

  “I know. You’ve gone over your travel itinerary several times in the few days I’ve known you, remember? Although, it surely wasn’t that way last night. You were quite … open to the possibilities.”

  Heat blazed through her at the change of subject. Jumping into the water might be a good thing to cool her suddenly naughty thoughts. “Shhh.”

  “What happened to ‘sex is biological’?”

  “Shut up.” She looked over her right shoulder. Surely everyone could see how she had turned McIntosh-apple red.

  “What would our family say,” she joked, though when she said it, she bit her lip.

  He frowned, sensing her concern. “And here we are again, to the awkward conversation of family …”

  The scattered voices of tourists flittered around them. From the left, someone yelled, “Ticket ko!” and a singular rectangular ticket fluttered between them in a curlicue trajectory over the hull of the boat.

  “I’ll get it!” Diana jumped to her feet just as the ticket fell within arm’s reach, but as she got there, it took flight, going the opposite direction. She followed it and lunged at the ticket in the air, promptly collided into Joshua’s chest, smashing it between them.

  “Oh, thank God! I needed that for my album.” The woman plucked the ticket between them. “But napaka cute naman kayo.” She winked, waving the ticket flirtatiously.

  Joshua laughed, while Diana sorted out the syllables. Napaka, meaning “so much.” Cute?

  Cute? Them?

  She jumped back at the realization that his arms were locked around her waist, and that the woman thought that they were a couple. Because sex was one thing, but couplehood? Them? He was stubborn. She, possibly more so. They were oil and water—it was evident even in the few days of them knowing each other. And while they threw off sparks in the sheets, reality put them on opposite sides of the world, and in the same family tree.

  Which put their relationship, or whatever this was between them, in trouble.

  * * *

  “It’s unforgivable our history hasn’t been told enough.”

  Diana turned her head to the dissenter during the Corregidor Island tour. She had been distracted most of the tour despite her best effort to keep up with the history of World War II in the Pacific. Her mind jostled between Joshua, who listened with rapt attention, and her mother, who had yet to respond to her text for an update. But this was the second time this visitor had spoken up.

  “Filipinos thought the Holy Grail was to leave their own country, only to work as migrant farmworkers being paid pennies on the dollar, to fight in the war, and then to be discriminated against, ostracized, and ignored in the history books.” The man, dressed in a T-shirt and basketball shorts, pointed to an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair, graying and frail. Whiskers white, hands clasped within themselves, he was unperturbed by the man speaking for him. “My lolo was an Alamo Scout, but it took decades for him to receive recognition.”

  As the tour moved on, Diana hung back until there was some distance between her and Joshua and the group.

  “What’s an Alamo Scout?” Diana asked.

  “Special Forces.” Joshua stuck his hands in his pockets. “US Special Forces, though it wasn’t just manned by White American soldiers. Filipinos, Native Americans, and La
tinos staffed them, too. But their stories are rarely told. Many times, they weren’t awarded the accolades they deserved.” He glanced at her. “When I was in college, I didn’t hear of how Filipinos took an active position during the migrant farmworker riots. Did you know?”

  Diana looked down, ashamed. “No, I didn’t, not until I read Antonio’s letters.”

  “Not enough of our history is out there to be taught and celebrated. And it’s so important to know it. It’s our identity, our pride in being both Filipino and American. When I lived in the US, it felt so … so confusing, to be me, to defend my heritage, though not really know enough about it. I’m a US citizen because of Lolo Tony, but I returned here to Manila to grapple with what I’m made out of, and who I want to be. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I … I think I do.” Diana croaked out an answer. “I think that’s why I’m here, too. To learn.” Because now that she thought of it, she really didn’t know a damn thing. She’d lived her life in the status quo: a good job, a steady relationship with Carlo, a simple if sparse family tree. These things comprised her identity.

  What was she now? Now that she risked being unemployed, was single, and suddenly part of a family on the opposite of the world? What had she ignored altogether?

  “Lolo Tony was proud to be both Filipino and American, though at times he felt like he was living a contradiction—he told me that, once. I understood what he meant by it, because sometimes one must choose. Where to live, what language to speak, who’s history to believe.”

  Diana took half steps to hang back from the tour group as it moved. He did the same.

  “And Antonio chose the Philippines,” Diana said. “The question is, why?”

  Why did he choose Flora over Leora?

  Why did he choose Manila over California?

  “I don’t know why he did it. But I chose the Philippines because of him.”

  “Is this why you’re so protective of his stuff, even with the rest of the family?”

  “I’m protective of his stuff because I loved the man. He was getting old, and he knew Colette would need my help whenever it was time for him to retire. Colette is a talented chef, but she didn’t want to manage the hotel. She and Philip always talked about having a family. But, yes, I take personal responsibility for his things because that is our specific family history. When you first arrived, I thought that you were here for his wealth, even though now I realize that it’s Lolo and Lola who have, or had, a lot of explaining to do.” For a moment, he looked stricken. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  “Surprisingly, I took no offense at that. It’s fair.” Diana stopped, and he turned back to look at her. “I understand protectiveness because I feel the same way toward my mother. She’s all I have in the world. We don’t always see eye to eye, but she has been through a lot. No offense to your family—even though I’m related to them, and you’ve been so gracious—but my mother is trusting, emotional, and I’m scared that all of this is just another fairy tale to her.”

  “That’s fair, too.”

  The island was silent except for the occasional sound of a bird chirping. Yards down, someone laughed. Light burst through the trees, and in the sun’s filter, Diana’s respect for this man grew. It blossomed in her chest.

  “Look, Joshua.”

  At the same time, Joshua said, “Diana—”

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  He settled his hands on her hips, tugged her gently toward him. They were so close, she saw the specks of black in his brown eyes. It was a tiny public display of affection, but it felt as intimate as the night they spent in bed. His lips were inches away, and she watched him bite his lower lip before he said, “I like you, Diana. I suppose that’s why I was a little bent out of shape that you left without even a note. I don’t want to get this wrong. We can’t get it wrong.”

  “I agree … with all of what you said. I mean, the feeling is mutual.” Her face burned. She envied people who just said what they felt, while she mulled over every word. “What do you propose?”

  “I’d like to hear what you think first, because I’m pretty sure I will go with whatever you choose.” He grinned.

  It was sweet, this back-and-forth nature of his, from grumpy, to unsure, to complete honesty. It was also utter bad luck that Joshua was who he was. “I … I don’t want to stop what’s happening between us.”

  “Well, I don’t want to stop, either.”

  “But I’m only here a few more days. Can we make this work, without …”

  “Without getting serious?”

  Without getting hurt. She nodded. “Can we try?”

  “I would like that.”

  The rumble of his voice made her knees go weak. He stared at her intensely, as if he was undressing her. Or maybe that was her wishful thinking. His lips grazed hers in an almost kiss, a seduction Diana knew she would fall for time and again.

  She swallowed her desire and said, “Good. Me too.”

  “What do we tell your mother, my sister?”

  “Why do we have to say anything at all?”

  He laughed. “Because I’m sure they’ll ask.”

  “Hello. Yoo-hoo!” the tour guide called. She waved at them from several yards away. “We’re moving to the next stop.”

  “Let’s think about it, then,” Diana said.

  “Okay.”

  But as they raced to catch up to the rest of the group, hand in hand, now with one question answered, Diana was left wondering if her mother’s had been, too.

  Marysville, California

  April 24, 1944

  Dearest Antonio,

  Receiving a letter from you is like Christmastime. Even my father, who is usually too cross to notice my presence, commented the other day that I was smiling. Yes, it was a day I received two of your letters at once.

  It gives me much relief that you have found friendship there, that you have people to speak to and are not alone. As for me, it has been quite busy here at Mrs. Lawley’s. I’m now staying at her place past supper so I may read to her. She says she is loneliest right before bedtime, and since she will pay extra for my time, my father has agreed.

  At first, I wasn’t keen on the idea of spending more time with the woman. You remember her hard exterior and her cutting insults. However, these days, she has fewer harsh things to say, but more advice. In all honesty, I don’t mind her company, either. On the days I don’t get a letter from you and the loneliness is heavy in my heart, a chat with her brings up my mood.

  Her family came to visit from Washington, DC: her daughter, son-in-law, and two grandchildren. They took the train across the country! While here, I overheard them trying to convince her to move, saying she should retire now that she’s a widow, but Mrs. Lawley says it is too cold out east, that she prefers the climate of Marysville. Then her family suggested that I move with her and be a permanent caregiver.

  No, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry about me running off. I will be right here when you return. My father would never agree. While he acts angry, he needs me, needs my contribution to help with our own home. I know I have spoken ill of him on more than one occasion, but he is still my father, and my place is with him. That is, until you return.

  I haven’t been feeling well as of late. My usual weak stomach is upset most of the day. Joy, another girl that works at the shop, thinks I might have developed a sensitivity to cow’s milk, which would be such a great disappointment. But that doesn’t seem likely, all of a sudden.

  As for your father, I have seen him time and again, sometimes taking a break behind the restaurant. While he and I haven’t spoken, I can tell he misses you in the slump of his shoulders, like the energy has been drained out of him. The restaurant itself is busy, as the asparagus harvest has begun, and there are more workers in town. Since so many boys have left for the war and the farms continue to bloom, more workers have come from up north to fill the need.

  The tension has increased here. Farmworkers want more pay and be
tter living conditions. They want water and rightly so! When Joy and I are in town, we hear things. Yes, we eavesdrop! No one seems to notice us in the background, us girls. She and I hear about violence and, at times, we see it, too.

  Sweetheart, I don’t want you to worry. I am sleeping on a bed, under a roof, whereas you are … you are in a land I cannot fathom. Your description of the ship was foreign enough, and now in New Guinea, I feel very far from you. Yesterday, I found a map in one of Mrs. Lawley’s books and drew a line with my finger from the United States to New Guinea, imagining what it’s been like for you to take that trip across the world to a brand-new country.

  It’s only now, as I write that sentence, that I realize your trip to New Guinea was not your first such journey. You did the same coming from the Philippines. How brave you have been. How brave your father was. I declare now that if you can cross the ocean, my dearest, I can do it, too. I can very well survive being lonely without you.

  As for me, it is more of the same. I wake, I work, and I go home and think of you.

  I love you,

  Leora

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ah, you stayed.” Flora’s hoarse voice lured Margo into the dark expanse of her bedroom. Behind Flora stood Edna, who assisted her to a sitting position. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

  “No. I busied myself,” Margo smiled, tentative. Flora looked markedly more tired this afternoon, despite having slept most of the day.

  “You should smell the kitchen, Manang.” Edna nodded at Margo, eyes gleaming. “Manang Margo made arroz caldo.”

  “For me?” Flora’s voice was a squeak, and she cleared her throat.

  “Um … sort of … though, don’t judge if it’s not what you expect.” Margo shied at the idea of serving Flora her arroz caldo. While Colette said it was delicious, she was surely just being nice. “Here, let me help you, Edna.” She picked up her step, took Flora’s other side, and slid her hand under her armpit, to help position her the rest of the way. Once she was propped by pillows, Edna fixed the oxygen tube running from Flora’s nose to the tank below.