by Jay E. Tria
“That’s as good as a B at least,” Ana assured Miki.
“Good. I deserve banana cue.”
Nino and Son had run off the moment class was over, chasing their own chores before the band had to meet up again for work that night. Miki and Ana went on a banana cue hunt on their own, and the cafeteria at the College of Economics did not disappoint. Miki consumed two sticks, drowned with a can of Coke as Ana combed through each minute of her presentation, picking through things she loved and things she would’ve changed.
“What is the moral of the story?” Miki spoke through a mouthful of sugared fruit.
“Never take a Marketing class ever again.”
“Fair enough.”
Ana took one swig from his can of soda before she leaned closer, smiling up at him. “You’re very good at this. Did you know that?”
“At commercial jingles? Nino and Son were pleased too. They’re building a back-up plan in case this music career fizzles out. They’ve included jingle-writing in the list.”
Ana nodded then shook her head. “At teaching too.”
“Teaching?” He doubted that.
“I couldn’t have pulled off this miracle without you.” She touched his arm. “Ah! Why not include teaching in the back-up plan?”
Miki had reached out to pinch her cheek. His brow furrowed, confusion settling like dregs inside his brain. Ana was still beaming at him. When she opened her mouth for her next words, Miki had zoned in on the trail of her thoughts.
“I know what you’re trying to do.” He squinted at her, tearing through his fifth piece of fried sugared banana.
Ana’s eyes were round and wide, claiming innocence. “What?”
“I don’t want an MBA degree.”
“I know you don’t.”
“No one needs it.”
“Again, thank you.” Ana raised her gaze to the heavens, but when she returned it to him her next words had not lost their vigor. “Anyway, I know an MBA is not for you. You like the geekier stuff. Like that undergraduate course you took that you love, although you never thought you were good at it.”
“I wasn’t terrible at it. I just needed to work harder than most.” Than Jill, he specified.
“And you can help people do the same. Work harder. Procrastinate less, maybe. They offer Masters in Economics here.” She spread her arms wide. Miki knew she wasn’t referring to the empty cafeteria. “Apparently, students taking that degree get to teach the Economics 100.1 classes.”
He had a vague memory of that. Boys and girls a few years older than him taking charge of classes in the auditorium, the Economics course that most non-majors were required to take in their freshman year. Miki remembered the gaunt masks on the faces of these teachers-and-masters-in-training. It wasn’t one of the kinder Masters degrees. He suspected it would require more sleepless nights than touring across cities with the band on Mars’ packed schedule.
“I’m just putting that information right here.” Ana wiggled her eyebrows. “Up to you what you want to do with it.”
“Because we both know you don’t tend to get pushy.”
“Hey! Just so you know that would be a total win-win for me.”
Miki discarded the last stick of his snack, focusing all energies on Ana’s new scheme. “How so?”
“If you start teaching that means I’d be dating a rock star and a teacher. Two checks on the fantasy list right there.”
Miki smacked his burning cheek with his palm, shaking his head. “Stop watching chick flicks please. They poison your mind and give us boys ideals we can never live up to.”
Ana leaned over and gifted him with a lingering kiss, licking the sugar off of his lips. “You’re doing pretty well, stranger,” she murmured when she pulled away.
Heat flooded his stomach, the words hitting him like a train. Miki blamed her kiss, and her words that planted bold ideas inside his head. Daring him to do more than what he was today, telling him she believed in him with a blind and unconditional force. Don’t look at me like that, sprung the panicked thought in his head. I could do it. I could break your heart without meaning to.
Ana’s eyebrows crossed at his long silence. “What?”
“Nothing.” He crumpled his empty can of soda, deciding to focus on things he was sure of. “I’d like to share something about my current job, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m listening.”
“You know how we’ve been touring Metro Manila for endless weeks now?”
“Do I? Why I think I’ve already memorized all alternate routes to get from one gig to the next.”
“Sometimes we take airplanes to gigs. Like this next one for an event called Rock Isko Rock in Cebu. I’m not discounting air traffic, but it’s not as bad as the one on land.”
Ana’s eyes lit up. “I’m in. When is this?”
“Uh, tomorrow,” he muttered, recalling Jill’s text reminder minutes ago.
“What? Why are you telling me only now? Don’t they keep you in the loop?”
Miki sighed out his apology. “I think it’s only Kim who bothers to keep up with the schedule these past months. The rest of us just go where Mars tells us to.” He put his hand on the table, palm up. “Still in?”
Ana clasped his hand, accepting the invitation. “As it happens, I’ve never been to Cebu.”
October 11, Sunday, night
Ana had been pacing the length of the airport’s departure area, unbothered by the swelling crowd as more passengers bustled into the cramped space, lugging their cabin-size luggage and pulling along crying children. The scene was a true test of temper, and Miki had learned long before that the best thing to do when subjected to this horror was to pick a spot to stare at—one spot—and ignore the madness of teenagers shooting selfies, businessmen yapping importantly on their phones, and grandmothers holding conversations in elevated decibels.
Today Miki picked Ana’s face, and it was a moving spot. The chaos around her didn’t bother her at all. It even seemed to fuel her excitement. She hadn’t stopped skipping since she said yes to this trip. Apparently it was not only her first time to go to Cebu, but it was also her first time on a plane.
“Oh my God I’m a groupie.” She stopped in front of Miki to beam at him before she went back to her skipping.
Miki laughed, following her progress from his hard metal chair seat. He, on the other hand, had been to Cebu three times now thanks to events like this. And if he had learned one thing from the other flights he had taken with the band, it was that he wasn’t very fond of airplanes. To him planes were no different from buses; only that they smelled nicer, boasted of working air conditioning, and drove through clouds and air pockets instead of rugged pavement. But he wasn’t going to ruin this important first for Ana.
“You should feel honored,” he called out to her over the din. “You’re my very first groupie.”
“Why thank you. That’s exactly what I said to my boss when I called him to file my vacation leave. I’m not sure he got it, but either way, his best tax accountant won’t be coming in tomorrow.”
Nino was seated at Miki’s right. He had been watching Ana pace in front of them too, a frown deepening on his brow. “How can you talk about your job with that smile on your face?” He turned to Miki. “Your girlfriend is weird. But I guess I wasn’t expecting any less from you.”
Ana stopped her elliptical walk, parking herself on the empty seat on Miki’s left. She leaned forward to Nino. “Rock stars aren’t the only ones allowed to love their living.”
“Touché,” Miki said with an approving nod.
“We respect that, Ana,” Son agreed, sitting across from them. “But I don’t think we will be including corporate slave in our list of possible occupations for our backup plan.”
“What do you have there now?” Ana inquired.
“We’ve got DJ—because of, of course, idol DJ Diego—, indie filmmaker, barista, band manager, and commercial jingle writer. That last one is thanks to you of course,” S
on enumerated, ticking off his fingers as he consulted the list from memory. “Yesterday we thought to add ‘pilot’, since we heard that the industry is booming. I mean look at this place. It’s like the wet market on a Sunday payday morning before Christmas!”
Miki knew about the full contents and details of this list that Son and Nino had been building, so he didn’t need to pay much attention. He stared past Son, past more rows of white metal chairs and swarming people behind him, watching the narrow escalator where lines of passengers streamed down to the departure area. His fingers closed on the phone in his hand, itching to hit number one on his speed dial.
“She’s late. Again,” Kim muttered to his ear. He was seated right behind Miki, but his head was craned towards the escalator too. “If she misses this flight she won’t make it to our set. We’re cutting it close enough as it is.”
Miki swore under his breath. “Why did Mars book us flights this late anyway?”
“Because they’re cheap.”
“Right.” Miki swiveled to face Kim. “How can she be late when she was the one who reminded me of today’s trip? I told her this is not first period,” he snarled. “When I get my hands on Shinta Mori—”
“You will do what?” Kim shot him an amused look.
He had thought long and hard about it, and Miki had decided that no matter what Ana thought, he believed that Shinta wasn’t the type to throw punches. If he was, Miki could always duck.
“I will tell him to please make sure his girlfriend arrives on time every once in a while,” he muttered to Kim. Since he was so perfect, maybe he could manage it, where Miki and Kim had failed. “Especially when it’s a flight that won’t wait for her like I do.”
“Passengers of Flight 5J 561 bound for Mactan, Cebu, this is your first boarding call. You may now proceed to the gate. Thank you.”
Miki bolted upright, hitting speed dial and whipping his phone to his ear. He had made several long strides towards the escalator when Jill came hurtling towards them.
“Present!” she hollered, screeching to a halt in front of Miki. Her backpack was hooked on her right shoulder, a guitar hard case dangling from the left. “Present,” she huffed out, bent over, steadying her breaths with both hands on her knees.
“Good,” Miki spoke over his sigh of relief. “But you’re in trouble, young lady. We’ll talk later.” He looked past her, expecting to find and (maybe) confront the cause of her delay. “Where’s Shinta? I thought he was coming.”
“He’s not.” Jill straightened up and flicked her gaze away from Miki, pivoting her heels towards the gate without another word.
“What? Wait. Jill—”
Miki felt Ana’s arm slide around his waist. “We’re boarding,” she said, smiling up at him. “Come on. I’ve got the window seat!”
His mouth moved to a quick smile, and he nodded, his fingers knotted with Ana’s as she pulled him towards the gate. His eyes trailed Jill as she stomped after Kim, Nino, and Son to the queue.
***
They made it to the event with hours to spare, and it was chaos. The good kind. They could always count on this kind of welcome in their out-of-town gigs. It made the bumpy one-hour-plus tumble in the skies and the airport traffic worth it.
People swarmed the parking lot that housed Rock Isko Rock, lured by the sounds booming from the speakers that marked the perimeter of the event. Trainman was the third band on stage, and it was a good time to claim it, as lights from the concert tempted more people out of the nearby mall.
Miki watched the crowd swell as they went through each song, his brain disengaged from the hands that strummed his guitar. Trainman had been playing this set for months now, a rotation of three new tracks, interspersed with random anthems from older albums. Even before this extended promotional tour for To the Moon, they had been rehearsing the set list for weeks, playing them over and over until they sounded perfect enough to record. So Miki could afford to be disengaged, trusting his hands to play the chords from memory.
Jill didn’t look like she needed to focus too much on her strums either, or on the words she was singing as her mouth kissed the mic. On a normal night she would be dancing, hips swaying to the beat of Nino’s drums, legs shuffling to the rifts of Kim’s guitar. But tonight her feet were planted firmly where she stood, and she looked out at the crowd, her gaze unseeing.
Miki followed her distant gaze. He spotted Ana on the front row. She was dancing, jumping with the crowd of strangers around her, laughing and spinning the same way she does with her pop-R&B playlist.
Ana caught Miki’s gaze. She waved and waved. Miki nodded back, grinning, then he closed his eyes and locked his consciousness to the weight of his guitar, to the sting of its strings against his fingertips as he moved through each chord.
***
One thing Miki liked about out-of-town gigs was that it made him feel unknown. Another ghost among the crowd. He slid through the mob, blending in with the jeans and sweaty shirt uniform they all wore. One con of out-of-town gigs though, was that it was harder to find Jill when she slipped away.
Miki was forced to give up his blind search and resort to calling her phone, like a regular human who didn’t play hound dog or amateur sleuth. She was sitting on a bench outside a brightly colored Mexican restaurant, a good few minutes’ walk away from the parking lot. The place was deserted, closed for the night.
“Are you here to tell me off for the airport situation?” she said by way of greeting.
Miki took the seat to her right. “There was no airport situation.”
“Good. But I am sorry.” Jill awarded him with the first smile he had seen on her all night. Small and tight, but it was her smile all the same. Letting the airport situation go was a good call. “Where did you leave the guys?”
“Where do you think? It’s Cebu.”
“They’d be snacking on lechon and Pale Pilsen then. The best way to die young.”
Miki chuckled. “Still ranking at number one, yes.”
“Ana’s there too?”
“Yep.”
“Oh right, I heard about your class presentation. Way to go, you marketing genius!” She held up her hand for a high five that Miki put up in a heartbeat. “Nino and Son won’t shut up about that jingle by the way. You didn’t tell me you wrote about toilet paper love!”
“The well of my talents go deep, woman.”
Jill laughed. “I wish I was there. That sounded fun. Presenting in front of a class that I’m not graded for.”
“Well, you’ve been busy.”
“I guess.” Jill extended the silence. Miki figured she was doing the same thing he was, replaying the last few weeks in his head, wondering why he had not been spending much time with his best friend. All while knowing exactly what—or who—was the reason for this new tilt in their otherwise constant universe. She turned to him with a wry smile. “I still don’t think it’s okay for you to leave Ana with Nino and Son.”
Miki shrugged. “Kim is there to equalize things. Besides, Ana thinks Nino and Son are funny.”
“Tell her to give it a few more months.”
“I did. She seemed pleased.”
Jill released a soft laugh, her gaze on the rave and riot a few meters in front of them. The band that was playing was new, a few months into the scene. But they had a catchy debut single, and Miki listened as the lyrics played on Jill’s lips, louder with each verse.
She broke off before the bridge. “Why does it feel like I haven’t seen you in a long time?” she blurted out, confirming the singular line of their thoughts.
The gigs they played didn’t count, nor the rehearsals under Mars’ watchful eye, nor the convenience store junk-food festivals post-set. Hours spent with the band while Ana and Shinta were in attendance also didn’t count. Miki and Jill both knew that.
“Because that’s how it feels to me too. Like I haven’t seen you in a long time.” This would be the feeling more commonly known as missing you, but he wasn’t going to be the
one who said it.
“So this is you with a girlfriend huh?”
Miki released a grunt, his sights on the air between them. “Is it weird?”
“Very.” Jill nodded once. “Are you happy?”
Questions answered with questions were the best way to not say the truth. Miki wondered if Jill was also dancing around it, or if it was only him. Happiness is a relative condition. He wanted to knock his head against stone even before the thought held form inside his head, drawing rigid lines around the images of Ana’s face, boxing them in.
Wasn’t happiness about spending time with someone you care about? Wasn’t happiness about long hours together over a laptop, surrounded by rolls of toilet paper (clean, unused), an acoustic guitar, and cans of cold coffee? And mornings waking up to someone who looked at him like he was someone bright and beautiful?
Yes. The thought was truth in Miki’s head. I am happy. Ana makes me happy. But that wasn’t the point of this conversation. That truth didn’t stop him from leaving Ana with his friends so he could find Jill.
“The issue here, Jillian Marie, is that you don’t seem very happy.” He inched toward her on the bench, lifting a hand to her elbow, forcing her to turn her eyes to him. “What did he do?”
Jill flinched. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t use the same ‘what did he do’ tone that you used when I would fight with Kim.”
“Why not? Isn’t a fight a fight?” Wasn’t a boy just another boy? Weren’t they all out to break her heart?
Jill would still not look at him when she released the words. “He’s not Kim.”
Miki watched as Jill pulled her knees up to her chest and started rocking back and forth. “Fine,” he heaved out. “What happened?”
“Oh nothing really. The usual problem of expectations versus reality.”
“I’m not a mind reader, Jill.”
“What? All this time I thought you were!”
Miki took the soft skin under her elbow and pinched hard.