Between Then and Now

CHAPTER THREE

Bonita

M y car won’t start. I’ve already turned the key in the ignition several times, hoping for a miracle, but the engine remains stubbornly silent. Frustration bubbles up inside me, and I realize I have neither the patience nor the interest to figure out why it has chosen today to malfunction. With a sigh, I pull out my phone and call a service to have it checked. After I arrange for the home service, I quickly run inside to my dad, asking him to keep an eye out for it and to handle any details the service might need.

Realizing that I still need to get to work, I decide to take the bus if there are any available routes nearby. I lock the car and begin walking down our quiet street. The morning sun is just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the neighborhood. Birds are chirping, and a few neighbors are out walking their dogs or jogging.

I see Manong Jose return from the market, carrying bags of meat and vegetables to get ready for later. He sells the best barbecue skewers in the afternoons, and it’s very rare for my day to go by without at least having one. I wave at him and smile.

“Want to order for this evening, Bonita?” he says as he approaches me.

“Yes, please. Five barbecue sticks for me. Extra spicy sauce!” I say as I reach for my wallet to pay him.

“I don’t have change with me, Bon. Just pay some other time. I’ll drop off your order around six?” he asks.

“Okay, if I’m not home yet just hand it to my parents.” I smile and we go our ways. Despite my earlier frustration, I can’t help but greet everyone else I encounter. It’s a blessing and a curse to be me.

I wave at Freida, our annoying neighbor, even if I don’t really like her. In my defense, Freida is a stuck-up, conservative, mid-40s buzzkill whose life mission is to judge girls wearing short skirts. Sometimes, Haley walks by in volleyball shorts just to spite her.

I smile at Tita Frances—Haley and Kate’s mom and Tita Elena, Emily’s mom, as they gossip on the sidewalks.

“What’s the tea this morning?” I ask as I walk past them.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.” Tita Elena points to the yard across, where Manang Linda is waving at me. I smile and stop by her house. Even when I’m running late, I can’t resist veering over for a quick chat. Hashtag priorities.

“Bonita,” she says my name like it’s a song–her raspy voice adding allure to it all. Manang Linda is an endearing and feisty old woman with a crown of white hair that contrasts sharply with her impeccably dressed appearance. No matter the time of day, she always looks as though she's ready to attend a social event, with her neatly pressed dresses and a hint of makeup. She says the secret reason she maintained her spunky appearance was because she had no man in her life, therefore no stress. Honestly, if staying single means I can age into a fabulous, stress-free diva, sign me up.

Despite her age, Manang Linda's sharp eyes and quick tongue make her a formidable presence in the neighborhood. She’s never short on gossipy tidbits about our neighbors, always eager to share the latest scandal or amusing anecdote. And surprisingly, a town as small as Magnolia Heights has something new and amusing to offer every day .

Her porch is the unofficial hub of the street–where people linger and laugh and talk. Within ourselves, the girls and I fondly call her our neighborhood’s Lady Whistledown. Which is honestly perfect because she also runs the homeowners’ newsletters.

“Good morning, Manang Linda! How are you today?” I ask, walking up to her.

“Oh, just the same, just the same. But you, Bonita, look at you rushing off. Is everything alright?” she asks, her eyes twinkling with concern.

“Just a bit of car trouble, but nothing major. I’m heading out now.”

“Well, don’t you look like a ray of sunshine despite the trouble.” She smiles and then she walks towards me. She’s wearing a sundress, a headscarf, and sunglasses. Minus the small portable fan she’s holding, she looks like a still photo from the sixties. She grabs my arm for support and whispers, “Did you hear about Mr. Santos down the street? I saw him sneaking out early this morning with that young woman who’s been visiting. Not his niece, I tell you that!” she says, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of gossip.

“ Manang Linda, you’re too much!” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Someone’s got to keep this street lively! You know how boring it can get around here without a little spice.” She pulls her sunglasses down to give me an exaggerated wink. “Anyway, if you need anything, you know where to find me. Not that I can help you with car troubles, but I can offer entertainment while you worry.” She pats my hand.

“I’m sure you can. You always know how to make my day better,” I reply, smiling .

“Of course I do.” She winks. “Go on now, don’t be late.” She waves at me as I continue walking down the street.

Once I reach the main road, I pull out my phone again to check possible commute options for today. As I scroll through the routes, I notice that there is a bus stop just a few blocks away that can get me to work with only one transfer. I feel a small sense of relief knowing that I won’t be too late.

As I walk towards the bus stop, a black SUV slows down beside me. “Where are you off to?” Ryan’s familiar face pops out the window.

“The studio, supposedly. But my car won’t start, so I was looking for options. There’s a bus leaving in fifteen minutes” I hold my phone up and wiggle it to emphasize my predicament.

“Your studio’s on my way to the hospital, right? I’ll drop you off.” He gestures to his empty passenger seat.

“Oh my gosh, lifesaver,” I say as I wipe the sweat off my face and climb into his car. I am wearing a yellow sweater, thinking it would be cold today (because the weather app said so!), but as usual, Manila weather betrayed me, and the sun is up in the sky, turning the city into a steamy cauldron and torturing all commuters.

Ryan, bless him, increases the fan and lowers the temperature of the AC when he sees how sweaty I am. We drive in silence for a while, until he glances over at me, still frantically fanning myself to cool down. At this point, I’ve already taken off my sweater, but it’s still frustratingly hot.

“You know, if you just stop fidgeting, you’ll cool down,” Ryan says calmly.

“You know, if you just stop over for an iced coffee, maybe I will.” I look at him with a smile. He looks at his watch and thinks about it .

“I don’t really eat or drink in my car,” he says with a frown. “And I won’t start now, especially since you have a history of being… not careful.”

I gasp in mock offense, holding a hand to my chest.

He glances at me and scoffs. “Oh, stop that. I’ve seen your car, Bon. It’s a cheeseburger graveyard on wheels,” he says with a disgusted expression.

“Okay, fine,” I admit, “but come on. I won’t spill a drop! And you need to take more risks and break a few rules in your life. Live dangerously, Miller.”

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t speak or show any sign of emotion.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on,” I chant, poking my fingers on his arm in rapid succession.

He sighs. “I should’ve just let you take the bus.”

“So… is that a yes?” I ask, my eyes wide with fake innocence. “I’ll even pay for the coffee—for both of us. You know you need it as much as I do.” I don’t give him a chance to back out, already pulling up the directions to the nearest drive-thru café.

“Fine,” he mutters. “If one drop lands on my seats, you’re banned for life.”

“We both know you won’t do that to me; I’m adorable.”

“Adorably annoying,” he shoots back, deadpan.

I lean back in my seat, smirking. “All I’m hearing is ‘adorable’.”

Ryan shakes his head again, but this time, a playful smile is tugging the corners of his mouth.

“Anyway, how’s work, Bonbon?” he asks as we order through the window .

“Terrible,” I exclaim with a dramatic sigh. Ryan raises an eyebrow inquisitively, prompting me to vent further. “I feel like a glorified errand girl. It’s all ‘fetch this type of paper, photocopy that, churn out a dozen copies of this document’. Add a watermark here, grab some props there—you name it. Basically, every task that screams ‘no creative input needed’.” I roll my eyes dramatically. “Not to mention, my boss Natasha is probably Satan’s spawn, or Satan himself in human form.”

I work as a film producer at a local studio specializing in indie films and documentaries. I just graduated so I expected to start small, but I didn’t anticipate feeling so sidelined.

“And don't even get me started on the coffee runs,” I continue, my tone laced with sarcasm. “I'm convinced they send me out just to test my knowledge of every barista's life story within a ten-kilometer radius. Newsflash, I don’t need to know that Dana from the cafe down the road just found out she’s pregnant with twins, and that the smell of coffee is now something that she repels.”

Ryan claims our coffee from the window and hands me my iced caramel latte. “It feels almost wrong to give you coffee now; looks like you’ve already had more than a year’s share,” he says.

“Ry, I buy coffee. For other people. I barely get one for myself.” I shrug as I poke the straw through the lid. I look over to his order and see that it’s a plain black coffee. I chuckle to myself, but Ryan notices.

“Why?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Nothing. Just… this is so on-brand for you,” I say, pointing to his cup.

“What is? Coffee?” He glances at me with eyebrows furrowed .

“No, black coffee. It fits the whole vibe you have going on there.”

“What vibe?” His eyebrows now look so confused.

“The whole Count Dracula meets Captain America vibe. You know. Mysterious and quiet. And brooding. Like... Edward Cullen! Yes! That’s exactly who you are.” I snap my fingers in recollection, then I sip some coffee. Some good, sweet, creamy coffee.

“The sparkling vampire?” he asks, his tone flat.

“I’m surprised you know, Miller.” I nod approvingly. “But yeah, that.”

“I know because the guys and I sat through endless reruns of the Twilight Saga with the four of you fighting over vampires and werewolves—none of which looked remotely like the ones usually displayed in fiction. Sparkling. Tsk.” He shakes his head slowly as he takes another sip of coffee.

“For Edward Cullen, you’re quite the complainer.” I make a face.

“I’m not—” Ryan sighs and frowns. I chuckle because it’s too easy to toy with him and annoy him. He looks at me frustratingly and says “Anyway. Enough about coffee judgments and sparkling vampires. Did you ask them?”

“Huh? Ask who about what?” I ask, suddenly distracted. I’m convinced that good coffee is an actual drug that can change the way a person thinks or feels, especially in the morning when the brain doesn’t want to work yet. Although there’s also a very possible reason that I forgot what we were discussing because I have the attention span of a toddler.

“Your bosses. If there are projects you can get involved in.” Right. We were talking about my job.

“Oh yeah, they said I should just wait a while since I had no credible productions yet that they can refer to.” I shrug. It’s annoying how I’m expected to stay on the sidelines because I have no credible productions, but the only way I can get credible productions is to wait for their advice. I frown at the irony.

“Then maybe you can ask them if you can work on one. While waiting for an opportunity,” he says. We stop at a red light, and Ryan adjusts the straps of his watch to fit him better.

“I never really thought of that…” I admit. “Can I do that?” I ask.

“I don’t see why not.” Ryan shrugs. “Besides, if you can’t, then at least you tried, right?”

“Huh. You’re right, maybe I should ask that. I could produce a short film or a documentary of some sort. I have the camera and the editing tools. Yeah, I could do that. To give myself some credibility… I’ll think about it,” I say, more to myself, as if realizing this could be a good idea.

“You’re welcome,” Ryan says and bows his head in a mocking way. “As long as you don’t have sparkling vampires in your film, you’re gonna be golden.”

“I will not tolerate any Twilight slander,” I joke.

We continue our drive, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as the caffeine begins to work its magic. By the time we reach the studio, I feel more energized and optimistic. Ryan pulls up to the entrance and I unbuckle my seatbelt, turning to him with a smile.

“Thanks again for the ride and the suggestion. Edward Cullen would be proud of your chivalry, you know that?” I say with a grin, teasing Ryan one last time before I leave.

He groans playfully. “Don’t start that again. ”

“Also, I didn’t spill a single drop. You should be proud of me,” I say, holding up the almost-empty iced coffee like it’s a trophy.

He glances at me with a smirk. “I’m not exactly disappointed.”

“Oh my gosh, call the authorities, Ryan Miller just gave me a compliment.” I say dramatically.

He rolls his eyes, but he chuckles anyway. Once I gather all my stuff and open the door, Ryan asks, “What time will you be done?”

“Around six, I think. But Kate’s picking me up; we’re shopping for her school event.” Kate has a preschool story-telling event, and she needs buy costumes and props, so I offered to accompany her.

Ryan nods and says, “Let me know how it goes with your bosses.”

“Yes, sir,” I curtsy playfully once I’m out of the car. He snickers one more time, then goes on his way, his car seamlessly blending back into the Manila traffic.

When I enter the office, I go full-on assistant mode—getting office supplies, brewing coffee, and ordering snacks for talents. Ryan’s suggestion momentarily slips my mind as I get swamped with various tasks, but it creeps in every now and then.

Maybe it’s too ambitious to try; maybe it’s not. Either way, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s about to change.