by Tif Marcelo
“I’d better be a ninang,” Diana said, letting the rest of her worry slip away. “This will be my first godmother position, and I intend to be the very best in the world.”
Colette threw her arms around Diana, smashing her belly between them, then stepped back.
“It’s time for me to go,” Diana said, warmth coursing through her. Her eyes misted with the start of tears. Everything would be okay in the end, romantic happily-ever-after be damned.
And as she recalled her and Joshua’s conversation about happily-ever-afters, her heart squeezed in bittersweet pain.
“I’ll walk you a little ways down,” her mother said.
Colette gestured to a bench and grinned. “I’m parking my butt right here.”
Diana and her mother walked silently to the start of the security line, where they turned to each other.
“I know he’s not here, but don’t hold it against him, sweetheart,” Margo said. “This transition can’t be easy, and he’s only been gracious toward me. I believe in him.”
“I don’t know how you do that, Ma. How do you let the small good things outshine all the stupid stuff?”
“It was something your Granny said.” A pensive smile graced her face. “A penlight is enough to shine through a dark tunnel. For me, the penlight was you: your birth, challenges you’ve outgrown, how you’ve been one of the strongest people I know. Did you know that? It was you who brought me to the end of the tunnel, which is here. Which is right now.”
“And what’s that?”
“Doing something we’re most scared of doing. Taking a big leap. Learning a little more about ourselves.”
Diana thought of what was waiting for her now. An empty, broken home, an equally broken heart, and a meeting that she would have to face in forty-eight hours that could possibly end in a broken career. “And what if I mess up? What if things go downhill anyway?”
“Then we mess up. Then things go downhill. But next to your grandmother you are the most capable woman I know. The kindest. Most loyal. You are and have always been someone I admire. And, I am here and so is your granny in spirit. Sam, Roberta, and Cameron. And now, now you know after this trip that you have more behind you: Colette and Flora. Joshua. We are your family, and we’re not going anywhere.”
Diana leaned in to her mother for one final hug. She relished her strength.
“And oh, Diana?” her mother said into her hair.
“Yes, Ma?”
“Thank you for liking all of my pictures on Instagram. I love you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I want to start,” Diana said as she sat down at the head of the table in Alexandria Specialty’s admin conference room. Five male faces stared blankly at her, so she drove on before nerves got the best of her. “Thank you for being willing to see me today. Dr. Sarris was kind enough to ensure that I was given a fair chance to speak my mind.”
She glanced at her boss, seated against the wall. Aziza emitted a hopeful smile, though they both knew that it would take a miracle for the board to keep her on staff.
“Go on,” said the person sitting opposite her, the CEO, Dr. James Meyer.
She nodded. “I had quite the speech planned on my plane trip back. I just returned from Manila, Philippines, where I was visiting family, and it was an upheaval. I discovered a lot of things about my family and about myself in the last couple of weeks during my hiatus. But the bottom line is this: I would like to offer my resignation. Not because I don’t believe that what I did was right, because it was one of the most right things I’ve done throughout my life, but because I realize now that I’ve always had a choice, and I’m taking it. Without getting too personal, I am … was … the kind of person who needed to know the answer right then and there, and I’m choosing now not to know it all. I’m choosing to discover.
“I’m going to be what my mother and grandmother were: a woman who takes risks. I’m choosing to continue to be that woman who took the risk that night to admit that patient into the VIP suite. Thank you, Dr. Sarris, Dr. Meyer, and to all of you for allowing me to work for Alexandria Specialty. It’s been an honor, a privilege.”
And with that, Diana stood and shook each of the men’s hands, hugged Aziza, and walked out the conference room door without, for the first time, a concrete plan for what the next step would be.
* * *
An hour later, Diana took a seat in a less brightly lit location—the Whistling Pig, an Old Town bar locals frequented. The place was still deserted, as it was only 11:00 a.m. But it was five o’ clock somewhere, and in Manila it was 11:00 p.m, and a good enough excuse. She stuck her purse on the barstool next to her to save for Sam, who was just about to take a lunch break, but mostly because she wanted space. She ordered a white wine.
At the moment, her body was spent, tired from her flight and from a restless night. And she was freezing, still not acclimated to the change in weather. But her skin tingled with excitement. She was free. Unemployed, true, but she tamped down the negativity of that phrase. She would hit the job boards later, but right now, she was celebrating.
She was scanning the menu when giggling from across the bar captured her attention. It was a couple who’d just toasted with their beers. They looked like they had not a care in the world, eyes only for each other, faces animated in their storytelling. She imagined the banter they must be having, the fun and the tenderness between them, and not for the first time since she left Manila, she thought of Joshua.
“Get a room, am I right?” a man said, two stools away.
Mid-sip of her wine, Diana coughed, swallowing tentatively, eyes glued to the couple in front of her, who had since looked up at the commotion.
It can’t be.
No, she was delirious. It was someone who only sounded like Joshua, because there was no way the man could be in the United States because … because that would be simply ridiculous.
She dared herself and snuck a peek. Turned her head just until she caught the man’s profile at her periphery. Dark hair, tan complexion. She twisted an extra centimeter, and then she caught it. His sardonic smile, mischievous expression. Though it had been only three days, he was a cold drink on a hot summer day. He was the antidote to the heaviness she’d carried since she boarded the plane from Manila.
“Joshua?”
“May I?” He gestured to the seat next to her. When she nodded, he placed her purse on the bar.
“How did you …”
“Well, I have this thing called a US Passport. And you’re not the only one who can do research.” He turned his body so it faced outward as hers faced inward, déjà vu sparking. “Actually, your mom put me in touch with Sam. I left on the flight after yours and Sam put me up for the night.”
“She did?” Diana said, impressed.
“I’m here to deliver a letter.” He slipped it out of his pocket.
The thought of another letter, from anyone, turned her stomach. The high she had felt upon seeing him crashed down. “In person? You couldn’t just have mailed it?”
He shook the envelope, a sign for her to take it. “You and your questions. Read it, please.”
So she accepted the letter, but this time, read it aloud.
Pacific Ocean
Dear Diana,
I’m writing you from somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. It is only now—midair—that I’ve gotten the courage to put words to paper. I’m in awe of how Lolo Tony and your grandmother did this during a time of duress, when nothing—not even the basic comforts of life—was guaranteed for either one of them. Your grandmother, in her letters, was so hopeful. Yes, I read them. Your mother was kind enough to share their correspondence with me so I could understand.
Their letters inspired me to write to you. My first plan was to write this letter and simply send it over snail mail as they did so long ago. You wouldn’t have had to wait long. Maybe a few days for it to cross the ocean on a plane, then be sorted by machine to reach your door. But I didn’t think it was good enoug
h for what I wanted to tell you. Which is something I regret not saying in person the last time we spoke.
I didn’t want you to go, Diana. I wanted to see where this—you and I—could take our few days of bickering and intimacy. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my entire life. In one week you completely upended my world. From the moment we met, I haven’t gotten you out of my mind, and especially our discussion about happily-ever-after. You had said that the happily-ever-after was just a snapshot.
But to me, it’s more than that, because there is this thing called hope. The hope of the happily-ever-after keeps it so the snapshot is always of the high.
That snapshot, for me, is the two of us. While I don’t have the answers of where we both need to be in the future, I have a passport, and I am here, now.
Will that be enough? I hope it is, because you are enough for me.
Yours,
Joshua
Diana looked down at their intertwined hands, at how he gripped hers with fervor, begging for a response. For the life of her, she didn’t have a single rebuttal. Instead of words, what emerged was a goofy smile that split her face.
Yes, this was enough. This, having him here, was enough to go on while she figured out the way forward, to face what she wanted with her brand-new life.
“Is this a ‘I want to work it out with you’ smile or ‘I’m about plan your destruction’ smile?” he asked.
Diana leaned in, her lips within an inch of his and said, “It’s a let’s ‘kiss and make up already’ smile.”
To her relief, he crossed the way and planted his lips on hers.
Epilogue
Three Months Later
Whenever Diana entered a delivery room, she became the person in charge. It was an automatic assumption; this was her calling.
But here, in Makati Medical Center, she was a nobody.
“Her BP’s climbing,” she nagged at Colette’s nurse for the second time.
The nurse glanced at the machine and then at her chart. “Just a little.”
Colette stifled the conversation with a gasp—the beginning of her contraction. She gripped her husband’s hand; Philip screwed his face into pain, though he didn’t say a word. She’d had an epidural, but the doctor had stopped the infusion an hour ago. Diana looked at the clock—Colette had been pushing for the last half hour.
With the next push, Diana coached Colette on her breathing and instructed Philip how to properly support her legs. But this time, the baby’s heart rate dipped after the contraction.
“Looks like the baby isn’t tolerating the contractions,” Diana said. “Let’s lay her on her side.”
The nurse eyed Diana with disdain, even as she assisted Colette to her side to help bring the baby’s heart rate up. The nurse turned to pick up the room phone. “I’ll call Dr. Campano.”
Objectively, yes, Diana knew she was meddling. Too many cooks spoil the broth, but she was a doctor, damn it.
And even more than that, Colette was her cousin.
Her cousin.
Her heart squeezed at the thought. No, she couldn’t let herself fall apart, not now—she was a professional! She blinked her tears away and focused: Colette gripping her hand, the too bright overhead lights, and the beeping of the machines. She bent down so she was level to Colette’s face. “What do you want to do right now?”
“I want to get off my back.”
“Okay, we can get you off your back, maybe sit you up.” Diana pushed the hair out of her eyes. “You’ve got to give it all you’ve got, okay?”
“Okay.” She took two breaths. Panic flashed in her eyes. “Maybe the baby doesn’t want to come out? Maybe it knows that I’m completely irresponsible and I don’t even make a good adult. I can barely take care of myself …”
Philip bent down and whispered something in his wife’s ear.
“Don’t tell me everything is going to be okay!” she yelled. “Must be easy when you’re just standing there!”
Philip’s eyes rounded into large discs.
This was normal, the lead-up to the final finish, but Diana wanted Colette to have the perfect experience.
Every woman deserved the best treatment in labor. Every. Single. Woman.
It had become her mission ever since she quit her job. Now, she worked with Sam at the center, mostly as a community liaison, where she networked with businesses to fund-raise. It was also something she could do remotely, to manage her house renovation and sale, and to allow her to spend time in Manila for big occasions such as these. She and Joshua had just taken a small vacation to Bohol as he had suggested months ago, complete with the unencumbered view of the sunset, when they were summoned to Manila for Colette’s labor.
Even Carlo didn’t mind. The more she traveled, the more time Carlo had with Flossy, who had helped him snag a date or two, especially thanks to Flossy’s new Instagram profile.
Dr. Campano returned, donned a gown, slipped on goggles, and ensconced his hands in sterile gloves—the uniform for battle. “Are you ready, Colette?”
“Can I, can I sit up?” Colette breathed out. “I don’t want the stirrups.”
“Well …” The doctor glanced at the nurse, a scowl forming on his pursed lips. He glanced up above their heads—to the clock, Diana presumed. She thought of how she would have acted in his place, at how she’d acted toward her patients in the past. Had she expressed impatience or a lack of flexibility? At her worst, did she insist on her way?
Diana opened her mouth.
“Let me speak for myself, Ate Diana. Damn it. You are not in charge,” Colette said.
Diana stilled.
“I want to sit up,” she demanded.
The doctor backed away from Colette’s opened legs, the sign. The nurse all but bounded from bedside, lowered the bottom half of the bed, and attached the squatting bar. The nurse took the other side of the bed from Diana, and both women assisted Colette to her feet.
“Are you okay? Can you do it?” Diana asked.
Colette leaned on the bar, squatting. “Yes. I already feel so much better.” With the next contraction, she pushed, grunting. From her side, Diana watched her cousin’s face, lined with determination and strength. Something sparked in Diana. A longing, the joy in the moment, the hope in the possibility that life was soon to follow.
It was almost time.
“I can do this,” Colette gasped, gripping the life out of Diana’s hand.
“Yes, you can,” Diana whispered.
“Another contraction,” Colette warned, panic in her voice, her breathing erratic. She inhaled deeply, and she bore down.
And she birthed the most beautiful baby Diana had ever seen.
“It’s a girl!” Dr. Campano announced, lifting the baby to Colette, now on her back, who accepted her with open arms. The baby wailed, protesting the light and the fuss around her, from the blanket draped over her, the nurse toweling her face dry, and Philip showering her with kisses.
And from Diana, who had burst into tears.
“Leora,” Colette said, gazing at her child, then up at Philip. “Her name is Leora Marilou Cruz Macaraeg.”
“She’s perfect. And the name …” Diana pressed a tissue against her eyes and backed away from the bed. Her cousins needed their time alone with their daughter—her niece, oh, and goddaughter, too!—without the emotional godmother hovering around. Taking out her phone, she texted the Cruz family group chat with one line: It’s a girl! In a separate text to Joshua, she wrote: Iniibig kita.
Then she went to the west-facing windows, where she discovered that the sun now hovered just above the horizon.
Sunset, as if Granny had planned it.
Author’s Note
Once Upon a Sunset is a story close to my heart. It has churned inside me ever since I was fifteen years old, when I visited the Philippines. It was a solo trip from the United States, at a time when I was searching for my identity. During that summer, I reconnected with relatives and met new ones. Notably, I
spent many an afternoon with my Lolo Naldo while he sat in his rocking chair, and in the ebb and flow of his memory he told me stories. At times he simply had someone bring each of us a banana cue and we’d sit there in silent companionship.
He was an immigrant, a lawyer, a US Army soldier, a community builder, a father, and a grandfather. He was also a writer and my pen pal; he inspired my patriotism.
Once Upon a Sunset came from the question of what if as it pertains to my personal family history, and some details were inspired by my grandfather’s stories and records, but the work is fiction. However, if you are interested in learning more about Filipino-American history, I suggest these books:
Little Manila Is in the Heart: The Making of the Filipina/o American Community in Stockton, California by Dawn Bohulano Mabalon
Strike!: The Farm Workers’ Fight for Their Rights by Larry Dane Brimner
America Is in the Heart: A Personal History by Carlos Bulosan
Shadows in the Jungle: The Alamo Scouts Behind Japanese Lines in World War II by Larry Alexander
And the following links:
“An Untold Triumph—The Story of the 1st & 2nd Filipino Infantry Regiments U.S. Army,” www.youtube.com/watch?v=pU-kSnAXu7s
Alamo Scouts Historical Foundation, Inc., website, www.alamoscouts.org
“The Alamo Scouts,” armyhistory.org/the-alamo-scouts/
“New Film Depicts Filipino regiments’ exploits,” the.honoluluadvertiser.com/article/2001/Nov/30/ln/ln03a.html
“California in World War II: The First Filipino Infantry Regiment and San Luis Obispo County,” www.militarymuseum.org/1FIR-SLO.html
“Callout to all 1st Filipino Infantry Regiment Families,” www.hawaiipublicradio.org/post/callout-all-1st-filipino-infantry-regiment-families#stream/0
“Congressional Gold Medal for Filipino World War II Vets Is an Honor ‘75 Years in the Making,’ ” www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/congressional-gold-medal-filipino-world-war-ii-vets-honor-75-n814436