Of Heads and Hearts in the Metro

by Thessa Lim

  After the crepes arrived and Anne had eaten her fill, she piped up, “During the postwedding party, I’d like to do a silly little dance for Daniel.”

  Laine scratched her head. “What kind of dance and which song?”

  “The song is Al Green’s ‘Let’s Stay Together.’ You know that?” Anne sang the lyrics, “I’m . . . I’m so in love with you.” They all nodded at her. “And then I’ll go dance like this.”

  She stood up in front of their table, not caring about the other people in the café.

  “I’m”—she pointed to herself while moving her hips to the beat—“I’m so in love with you.” Then she pointed her two hands to her heart and pumped her shoulders up and down to the beat.

  The three other girls’ eyes widened. The two women at the table next to theirs glanced at Anne and exchanged looks; one actually shifted her chair to watch the rest of the show.

  “Whatever you want to do”—she pointed her index fingers at them and poked the air in front of her repeatedly, all the while still swaying sideways—“is all right with me . . .” She waved her upper body to the right and sent winks their way.

  Zara snorted and hid her quivering lips behind her hand. Jazmine and Laine still stared ahead, frozen.

  “’Cause you . . . make me feel so brand-new . . .” Anne curled her two fingers at them, as if calling to them to join her.

  “And I . . . want to spend my life with you . . .” She pointed at them with a flourish, ran a hand through her hair, and shimmied.

  At this point, the three other girls broke out in fits of laughter. This did not deter Anne though. She continued singing and dancing, enjoying the moment. When a group of guys from a couple of tables away whistled, Laine stood up and ushered Anne back to the table, but not before she waved at her newfound fans.

  When Zara managed to pull herself together, she said, “Okay. Sort all that out first.” She waved her finger, pointing all over Anne. “Then we can put that in the precious notebook.”

  Jazmine and Laine broke out in fits of laughter again.

  Anne pouted but still smiled. “What? It’s cute! I want to do it!”

  The three girls laughed even harder.

  Laine finally managed to say, “Anne, if you do that on your wedding day . . . without so much as blushing red and laughing at yourself . . . I’ll definitely bow down to you and praise you for being a great thespian.”

  Anne accepted the challenge. “Mark my words, you’ll do just that on my wedding day.”

  Jazmine said, “Anne, I really hope this marriage works out. It’s a great deal to get married.”

  “I hope so too. Daniel is honestly the most awesome man I’ve ever been with. He’s sweet, thoughtful. And,” Anne groaned, “he’s so hot. Plus, financially stable.”

  Zara crinkled her nose again. “He sounds just about perfect, Anne.”

  “He is, right?”

  As Anne chattered on about Daniel and his perfectness, Jazmine took a long, deep breath.

  Laine turned to her and whispered, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Jazmine whispered back. “Just a little tired. Plus this is all a little too fast. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

  Laine nodded and patted her on the back.

  Zara asked, “Do you want to go to the spa a few days before the wedding, like a bridal shower or something?”

  “Zara, that’s a great idea! Let’s please. Let’s do it during one of Liam’s naps. Somewhere close to Jaz’s place.”

  “Thanks, Anne. It’d be nice not to miss a single thing in this wedding.” Jazmine smiled at Anne.

  Zara jotted this down in the notebook on the “Bridal Shower” page.

  Anne pouted, staring at the notebook with want. “Do I get to keep my wedding organizer?”

  Zara quipped, “Only after the wedding. Let me fret over the details. Just . . . if you think I missed something out, let me know right away.”

  “It looks so pretty.” Anne reached out for it, but Zara swatted her hand away.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Wedding Gown

  “Zara . . . umm . . . ,” Jazmine breathed uneasily over the phone. “I’m not in touch with that officiant anymore.”

  “Oh, okay. But do you still have his number? Maybe you can text him and just see if he’s still available for Anne’s wedding?” Zara whispered as she tapped her pen on her desk.

  “O-okay. I’ll try . . .” Jazmine sighed. “Zara, I’m not so . . . thrilled about the wedding . . .”

  “Really? Is it because Daniel has barely hung out with us? We don’t know that much about him?”

  A long pause. “Yeah, maybe. I guess . . .”

  “I think it’s all happening very fast. But Anne is so sure about wanting to do this. I don’t think any of us can change her mind.” Zara chuckled.

  A pause yet again. “Okay . . . I’ll let you know if the guy texts back.”

  “Thanks, Jaz!”

  Zara put down her pen and grinned at the color-coded schedule she had prepared for Anne’s wedding. She ran a hand over it. Pink for Anne’s schedule, blue for Daniel’s, green for Ronnie’s, and purple for the girls.

  Now, whom should I call next? Maybe there’s something I’m missing . . . What can I take care of now?

  Her mobile rang. She glanced at the screen and snatched it up.

  “Hey, Laine! What’s up?”

  Laine hissed at her in low tones, “How can you ask Jaz to book the officiator?”

  “Wha-why?”

  “The officiator she knows was supposed to be for her and Braden.”

  “Oh shit!” Zara hit her table with a fist and cringed when Andrea stood up from her desk and peered at her. She waved her colleague away and grumbled, “I totally forgot! I haven’t seen that man in months, and he still gives me problems.”

  “You better call Jaz. Let her take care of something else . . .” Laine paused and then chuckled. “Like maybe nothing?”

  “Okay, okay. Ugh. I wasn’t thinking. One of the rooms that Anne wanted was reserved by the resort owner, and I was negotiating with them to give it up for us. Let me call her again and make something up.”

  She speed-dialed 3.

  “Hey, Jaz. I just remembered I know somebody who’s a licensed officiator. Let me take care of that, okay?” she fibbed, hoping her voice was cheery enough to convince her.

  “Huh? Oh . . . okay . . . Are you sure? I can totally help out with that,” Jazmine countered, but her voice broke.

  “Yeah, yeah. I just forgot.”

  A moment of silence. “You never just forget people you know, Zara. Laine talked to you, didn’t she?”

  Zara sighed. “Yeah, she did. I’m sorry. I was so insensitive.”

  “It’s okay. No, I’m sorry. I should be helping out more.” Her voice lifted when she said, “I can go with Laine when she and Anne look for a dress.”

  “Sure, if you think that’ll be fun. They’re going tomorrow . . . I guess I’ll catch up with you guys after that then since you’re all going.”

  The bridal shop was small, but its name was big. Brides-to-be who wanted a fashionable gown and could afford it went to Lucy Miller, who won The Runway Project Philippines last year. Racks of striking gowns stood by the walls. A white leather couch with a leopard-print throw allowed the brides-to-be’s companions, obliged or willing, to rest their feet. Today, there was only one other party looking around the shop aside from them.

  Laine looked at the long mermaid wedding gown she had pulled from the racks for a closer look. It had a bateau neckline and paillettes covered with Chantilly lace. She grinned like a little girl, and her thoughts flitted to a time when she marched down the aisle as a flower girl for an aunt. She had a toothy grin on all her pictures at that event. In every wedding she went to then, she would always crane her neck from the front pews to watch the bride march from the church doors, down the aisle, until her father gave her away to the groom. She had loved looking at wedding dress catalogues when he
r mother was in the dressmaker’s shop; she thought the white lace, frills, and lines decorated a woman’s body best.

  All of a sudden, her thoughts drifted elsewhere: a particular man stood in front of her as she donned a long white wedding gown, her face covered by a tulle veil.

  Laine’s eyes widened when she recognized his face, and she shook her head.

  No, it can’t be. He would never . . .

  Her hand let go of the dress like it was on fire, and her shoulders slumped.

  Zara should’ve been the one to come.

  She looked over at Jazmine, who was helping Anne adjust a dress on her body.

  She looks like she’s in even more pain than I am. This was a horrible, horrible idea.

  “What do you girls think?” Anne asked, her smile reaching her ears.

  She stared at the full-length mirror in front of her and scrutinized what she saw.

  “I still don’t get that feeling,” she mumbled as she flicked the skirt to the right.

  She turned around and watched herself from behind, looked at herself from the side, and then shook her head.

  “This isn’t it, gals,” she grumbled and then headed for the dressing room again.

  “God, can she at least shortlist dresses first?” Jazmine complained and slumped on a couch in the shop. She buried her face in her hands.

  Laine patted her on the knee. “We still have two more shops to go to.”

  “It isn’t even that. God, this is such hell.”

  Before Laine could react to that, Anne stepped out and announced, “I’m done here. Can we go to the next shop? It should be just around the corner.”

  Jazmine stood up and walked over to her. “Anne, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go home already.”

  Anne’s face fell. “But . . . we still have a few shops to check out.”

  “Yes, but . . . ,” Jazmine started, and her eyes scoured the ceiling. “Anne, I’m sorry. I really can’t take any more of this.” Her eyes watered, and she turned on her heel and walked out the door.

  Anne’s mouth hung open. Laine pursed her lips and watched the shop’s door close behind her friend. She slid an arm around Anne and squeezed her shoulders.

  “It’s the ghost of Braden.”

  Anne gasped. “And how are we supposed to get rid of him? He will haunt us forever!” She glared at the door, willing Braden to appear so that she could lash him. “She’s got to . . . She’s got to . . .” She sighed, shook her head, and then clenched her fists in front of her. “I hate that guy!”

  Jazmine ran, wanting to get away from all of them.

  Where’s the main road?

  She bumped into somebody when she turned the corner that led to another street.

  “Jaz!” Zara exclaimed, grabbing her by the arms. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Jazmine breathed. She glanced at the road ahead. Jeepneys drove by.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to go home. Liam.” She turned her head and stepped away from Zara’s hold.

  “Oh, okay . . .” Zara hesitated. “Are they still at the shop?”

  “Yes, they’re still at Lucy’s. I got to go, Zara.” She half-ran to the main street. When she saw a jeepney with a familiar street on its plaque, she boarded it right away.

  Zara could only watch her as she stepped into the vehicle. Something was off.

  “So how’s the dress shopping?” Zara asked as soon as she found Anne and Laine.

  Laine looked up from the couch and grumbled, “Anne doesn’t like anything in here. And Jaz walked out.”

  Zara shook her head and face-palmed herself. “Jaz can’t let this get to her. She’ll want to miss the wedding, and she’ll regret it if she does. I better go and check on her. Can you look around the shops with Anne?”

  When Zara reached Jazmine’s apartment, Jazmine begrudgingly let her in. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair tied up in a disarrayed ponytail. It was still afternoon, but the curtains were drawn. There was something stewing in the kitchen; the smell of pork, chili, and tamarind filled the air.

  “Where’s Liam?”

  “He’s sleeping in the room.”

  “Jaz, why’d you walk away?”

  Jazmine dropped her eyes to the pillow in her hands. “I was supposed to be the first to get married among us.” She looked up and glared. “Don’t judge me.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You gals . . . you weren’t there as much for me as you are now for Anne.” Jazmine threw the pillow on the couch and began tidying up the living room.

  “Jaz, back then . . . it just happened to be on a really bad week.” Zara sighed. “Laine was going back home for almost a week. Jake was in town, and we were making up for lost time . . . And Anne . . . She had that anniversary party for her parents.” She moved toward Jazmine and laid a hand on her shoulder. Jazmine shrugged it off. “But we did do stuff together the week after, right? Only, Braden kept cancelling on us . . .”

  “No, no, no. Even then you were all caught up with your own affairs. You all even looked . . . almost grateful whenever he postponed because then you could go back to your own business.” She jutted her chin out at Zara.

  Zara opened her mouth, but she had no comeback. Jake had just flown to Manila, and she had tried to spend most of her waking hours with him.

  “See, you can’t even deny it.” Jazmine choked up. “And now . . . I see you running around for Anne like a celebrity was in town . . . ,” she growled. “It’s so unfair! How can you be so happy for her now but not for me then? Doesn’t she have enough grown-up sisters to help her?” She hiccupped. “Do you remember the time when I was searching for a dress in Baclaran? Of all places, Baclaran, God.” She laid a palm on her forehead and stared up at the dark ceiling.

  “Yes, and I remember I went with you then . . .”

  “Yes, but you had to leave halfway through. And I had no idea what to do there by myself. I was so lost. No, I was so stupid, actually thinking we’d get married. He didn’t even propose.” She shook her head. “We just talked about it, and it seemed like the next best thing. And you gals weren’t around . . .”

  “We did—”

  “And Anne said she would come and pick me up, but she came with that bald guy she was dating. I had to sit in the backseat while they yakked about something that her mom said to her. And they kept making googly eyes at each other,” Jazmine vented and rolled her eyes. “When she dropped me off, she gave me business cards she’d picked up, but we never got to those.”

  “I didn’t know you felt this way. I’m sorry . . .” Zara threw her hands in the air, searching her mind, hoping an excuse, a good one, would come, but none did.

  “Well, it’s too late now.” Jazmine hung her head. “I think you better go back to Anne. She needs you more than I do. Just go, Zara.” Before Zara could protest, she added, “I don’t think I should go to Boracay anymore.”

  “Jaz, you can’t—”

  “I don’t want to talk anymore.” She headed for the bedroom, went in, and closed the door behind her.

  Zara could hear metal quivering against metal in the kitchen. All that she could smell now was the tamarind, and so she left.

  “I . . . I thought of Tony when we were at Lucy’s earlier,” Laine said to Anne as they walked out of the last shop on their list.

  Anne grinned at her like a Cheshire cat and groaned, “Laine, you’re so cute! You’re in love!”

  “Am I? But he doesn’t talk to me anymore.”

  Bells chimed as a woman entered the bridal shop behind them.

  “He probably thinks you don’t like him because he’s slept around.” Anne giggled, studying her friend’s flushed face.

  “I don’t like that he’s done that, but . . . it doesn’t mean . . .” She gasped. “Oh my God. I judged him. He’s going to think I’m a religious prude who judges people,” she groaned and buried her face in her hands.

  “I don’t think so. He’s probably slamming
himself, not you. Why don’t you text him?”

  “Seriously?” Laine groaned. “Doesn’t that make me seem aggressive or . . . desperate?”

  “No, just pretend you’re a friend who’s checking up on him. Like you would if you haven’t heard from me for a while.”

  “Okaaaay . . . I have to think about it.” Laine shook her head. “Anne?”

  “Yep?” Anne asked, making the word pop in her mouth. She looked up and down the street.

  Laine let out a breath. “I really think you should tell your parents about the wedding.”

  “Laine, I don’t want to.” Anne glared. “They brought this upon themselves. If they can stop treating me like an incompetent, then they can be at my wedding.”

  “I don’t think they see you as that.” Laine frowned. “They’re just really protective of you.”

  “They are, because they think I’m incompetent,” Anne argued.

  “I . . . I don’t think—”

  “Laine.” Anne held up a hand. “I know my parents more than you do. Why do you keep pushing this?”

  Because I know for sure that my father won’t be in my wedding—if I am ever going to have one, that is—and I wish to God that he could be.

  “My parents are not like your parents.” Anne huffed out a breath. “They went behind my back . . . It’s about time I leave the house.”

  “Our parents are not the same, but your parents also wish the best—”

  “Laine, please!” Anne exclaimed.

  Laine took a step back. Anne had never raised her voice at her before.

  “I know you’re hurting right now with Tony, but can you please just be happy about this?”

  “What? This has got nothing to do with Tony.” Laine’s eyebrows furrowed, and her heart began to pound against her chest. “Every time you push me to do something, I give your advice serious thought. Maybe you can return the favor this time.”