Between Then and Now

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ryan

O ne month with Bonbon on a remote island is a horror movie waiting to happen. I know it, she knows it, and I will not subject my colleagues to a month of Bon’s incessant yapping.

I park my car and walk inside our house after a long day at the hospital. I think I’m having one of those strange nightmares because I can hear Bon’s voice, like she’s haunting my subconscious or something. But then all thoughts of the supernatural vanish as I see her sitting on our kitchen counter, talking to someone.

As I move closer, I realize she’s with Richard and Rob. Rob is here to watch the game. It’s the Philippines vs. Vietnam today, and our chances are looking really good because of the rookie. Commercials are playing in the living room, and they’re preparing snacks in the kitchen as I overhear their conversation.

“Ugh, that Michael Lee is so hot, he should be a model,” Bon says, peering out into the living room to catch a glimpse of the TV.

“He’s busy carrying the Philippine basketball team, Bon. Save the modeling gigs for the less talented,” Richard replies. Before I can make my presence known, Bon hops down from the kitchen counter.

“There you are!” she says, her voice cheerful. She walks–no, skips–toward me and stops just as I’m about to turn to the kitchen. “I was just talking to these idiots, and I found out something.” She keeps her voice low, as if making sure the others won’t hear.

“What is it?” I ask .

“I know what will make you take me on your medical mission,” she says. And when I don’t respond, she continues. “I can help you talk to that girl you like.”

My eyes grow wide. I don’t remember telling my brother, Rob, or anyone else, about Alexa. So, I can’t help myself as I blurt out, “How do you know about Alexa?” I pull her in the direction of the living room.

“Aha!” Bon exclaims, pointing at me as we walk toward the sofa. “I knew there was a girl. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.” Her triumphant reaction makes Richard and Rob turn to us. I wave them off as they go back to eating their pizza.

Bon grins, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re so predictable, Ryan. I knew there had to be someone you were interested in. And now that I know her name is Alexa, I can definitely help you out.”

I rub my temples, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on me. I should have listened to myself when I doubted that Rob and Richard knew nothing. But who am I kidding? If not today, Bon would find another way eventually. Her enthusiasm is infectious, but it’s also overwhelming. One month of her energy could be a disaster.I have to be very careful about how I’m going to approach this.

“Look,” I say, trying to regain control of the conversation. I sit on the couch, and she follows suit. “It’s not that simple. This is serious, and we can’t afford any distractions. Plus, getting approval for you to join isn’t just about me asking nicely. There are protocols and procedures, and–”

“Don’t hit me with that protocol nonsense,” she interrupts. “It’s a volunteer mission. I’m sure they won’t mind another person joining in. Now, tell me about Alexa.” She nudges my arm. “Is she pretty? Out of your league?”

I sigh in defeat. There’s no way Bon is letting this go, so I play along. “She’s incredible. And I can’t bring myself to ask her out... I’m not exactly a very pleasing person.” I frown.

“Oh, good, so you know. Self-awareness is important,” she says, and I look at her with a deadpan expression. It doesn’t faze her, though, and she continues. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret. You are the Grinch. The ruiner of all good things in life. The Mojo Jojo to my sugar, spice, and everything nice,” Bon adds, placing her hand on my knee. “And Miller, I will sprinkle your life with some sugar so you can ask out your dream girl.”

“I don’t see how you can help me with that,” I say, genuinely puzzled. Bon’s ideas are always unpredictable, often bordering on chaotic. I hold her wrist and remove the hand from my knee.

She puts it back anyway, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, ye of little faith. I’ve got a plan.”

“Bonita, just yesterday, you were the person who never plans anything. And now you expect me to believe you have a plan for this documentary and for Alexa?”

She sighs, shaking her head dramatically. “Oh, honey. You see, Alexa is like any other person; she’ll appreciate genuine interest and effort. We’ll start small: casual conversations, shared interests, and maybe a grand gesture to show you care. And who better to orchestrate that than me?”

I raise an eyebrow. “And you think dragging you along on a medical mission will somehow facilitate this master plan of yours?” I turn to face her.

Bon jumps up and stands in front of me, placing her hands on both my shoulders and shaking me. “Exactly! We’ll be in close quarters, with plenty of opportunities for you to naturally interact with her. Plus, you’ll have me coaching you every step of the way. Think of it as a personal wingwoman in a very intense, very immersive setting,” she says, too enthusiastically.

Despite myself, I chuckle. “You make it sound like a reality TV show.”

“Life is a reality TV show, Ryan. And we’re about to make your love story the season finale.” She winks.

I sigh, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me for it,” she shoots back, grinning. After a few seconds, she places her hand on my shoulder. “Ryan. I will help you with your dream girl, and I will not be a burden, I promise. Pleeeeeaaaaaasssseeeeeeee.”

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms, trying to gauge if she’s actually serious this time. She means well, but she has a knack for getting herself into situations that need bailing out. “Are you sure about that? Are you absolutely positive you won’t need my help every five minutes?”

“Puh-lease, Miller. I am perfectly fine. I won’t need you,” she says, crossing her arms in the same way.

“What if we get there and you become so focused on filming that you forget to stay out of the way?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Multitasking is my superpower.” She rolls her eyes. “And I will keep a safe distance from your medical procedures. My camera and I will behave, I swear!”

“What if you get sick all of a sudden?”

“Then I will pop a pill and power through like an adult. You don’t have to babysit me,” she huffs.

“What if you faint at the sight of blood?”

“I’ve watched enough horror movies to be desensitized, Ry. It’s the fake stuff that actually bothers me.” She shrugs.

“What if there’s an emergency and I need you to move? ”

“I’ll be a ghost. You won’t even know I’m there.” Her confidence is almost convincing, but I’ve seen her in action before. She’s not exactly subtle.

“What if the equipment is too bulky, and you can’t keep up with us?”

“Now, that’s just offensive. I have portable gear. And I walk fast,” she says.

“And what if–” I start.

“What if,” she interrupts, “you stop worrying and let me do my job? I’ve got this, Miller.” She places her hands on her hips.

I stand up, trying to shake off the lingering doubt. I know she’s capable, but I also know how unpredictable these missions–and Bon–can be. “Just… what if you actually end up needing me?”

“Then I’ll admit defeat and call in the cavalry.” She winks. “But trust me, for the hundredth time, I’ve got this. I promise to be the most professional filmmaker slash wingwoman you’ve ever seen. And you can ignore me for the entire time because I won’t need you, I promise.”

I look at her for a moment as she pouts like a terrified puppy. “Alright. I’ll talk to them,” I say. Bonbon's reaction is instantaneous. She squeals so loudly she sounds like a screeching bird. Before I can even brace myself, she flings her arms around my neck in a tight hug, which almost makes me stumble, but I manage to plant my feet on the ground. She’s still hugging my neck as she lifts her feet in the air and I’m practically carrying her entire weight. I remain unmoving, though, giving her time to celebrate. Her exuberance is overwhelming, and in mere seconds, she’s back on the ground, jumping up and down with glee.

“You won’t regret this, Ryan!” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement. And then she makes a sound that borders on shrieking.

I can’t help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. “Just remember to stay focused, alright? This is important.”

“I will, I will!” she says, barely able to contain herself. “I’ve got so many ideas already! Oh my god. This is going to be amazing!”

Just when I think she’s done celebrating, she lunges at me for another hug. This time, I’m caught off guard and stumble backward onto the sofa. She squeals as she tumbles down with me. With her arms still wrapped tightly around my neck, our foreheads collide, making us both wince in pain. Bon immediately pulls one arm away to rub her forehead, which is already turning a shade of red from the impact.

I guess the pain is distracting us both from the fact that she’s now sprawled across my chest, my hands instinctively on her back to keep her from stumbling sideways, and her knees are awkwardly propped between my legs for support.

“Sorry,” she mutters, wincing as she delicately rubs my forehead too. Her hand smells like coconut and berries, and I can’t help but take another whiff. “Aaand… sorry,” she adds sheepishly. With a bit of awkward fumbling, she pushes against my shoulder, using it as leverage to stand up.

She dusts off her clothes like she didn’t just push me to death and then smiles at me so eagerly. I’m still sitting on the couch, staring at her in disbelief.

“You tackled me,” I say, reaching out an arm. She grabs my hand with both of hers as she pulls me up from the couch .

“Pretty weak for a giant man,” she says, tapping my shoulder dramatically. I frown at her and shake my head as we return to the kitchen.

We sit across from Richard and Rob, and we each take a slice of pizza. It reminds me of simpler times when we were kids. Richard, Rob, Bon, Haley, Kate, and Emily would gather to watch movies, with Josh and me reluctantly playing the roles of supervisors. Officially, Josh was in charge, but I was at that age when I wanted to be part of the cool crowd, so I pretended to keep an eye on them too. Pizza nights were always a highlight, with Bon requesting her slice to be topped with odd combinations like crushed nuts or whatever caught her fancy that day.

Glancing over at Bon's pizza slice now, I notice she’s added raw tomatoes on top of her melted cheese. It’s an unusual choice that makes my stomach turn a bit, but it also reassures me that even when most of us have changed and moved away, some things remain the same.

“So, how’s long distance, Rob?” Richard asks as he opens a can of beer.

“I barely talk to Emily these days, but she’s busy and I understand,” Rob replies.

Bon, who has been quietly munching on her unconventional pizza, eyes him suspiciously. She takes another bite, her gaze still fixed on Rob. “Do you?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Because Emily is always talking to me, you know.”

Rob looks taken aback, the casual mask slipping for a moment. “Really? She never mentioned that.”

Bon nods, her expression serious. “Yep. She misses you, Rob. Maybe you should try harder. ”

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of Bon’s words hanging in the air. Richard clears his throat, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, who remembers the time Bon tried to top her pizza with mac and cheese?”

“Comfort food on comfort food. I was saving myself some time,” Bon replies flatly, and the tension evaporates as we all laugh.

“How about the canned corn?” Rob asks, and Bon scowls.

“Sweet and salty. Perfect, if you ask me,” she says.

“The mango?” Richard adds.

“There’s already pineapple there. What’s another fruit?” She shrugs.

“The most disgusting one had to be the crushed sweet potato chips,” I say with a grimace.

“It adds crunch,” Bon defends. Then she stands up. “You know what, screw all of you, I’m leaving.” She playfully takes a final bite of her pizza. “I will pester you tomorrow, Miller.”

When my brother looks up, Bon clarifies, “Not you, sweetie, the other Miller.” She pinches my nose, then skips out of our house, leaving us with grins on our faces as we continue to watch the game.

I watch her leave, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m worrying too much—or not enough. She’s determined, and I have to give her credit for that. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Bonbon, it’s that nothing ever goes exactly as planned.

Bonbon is right. My superiors don’t mind another person joining in. When I approach Dr. Fernandez about Bon’s request, she barely hesitates before nodding in approval. “It could be good publicity for the hospital,” he says thoughtfully. “And a way to document the impact we’re making in the community. Just make sure she stays out of the way of the medical procedures.”

She even requests a copy of the documentary once it’s finished, which is more enthusiastic than I expected.

When I tell Bon, she squeals over the phone again, which makes me rethink ever calling her at all. I’m usually the texting type of person, anyway. Phone calls give me the jitters, but with my family and friends, including Bonbon, I don’t mind. Unless she squeals again and my eardrum breaks.

The next few days are a whirlwind of preparations. Bonbon is like a whirlwind herself, juggling her current workload while diving headfirst into planning the documentary. She spends hours researching, making lists, and preparing her equipment. I have never seen her so focused and driven.

Maybe tagging her along will be a good idea after all.

Three days before our flight, I go to Lily’s to buy some last-minute toiletries for the trip. Just as I’m walking out, I almost slip on a cane sprawled in front of me. I look to my right and see Manang Linda sitting at the bench outside the store, drinking a soda.

“You’re going on a trip with Bonita,” she says. It’s a statement, not a question. She doesn’t follow up with anything, so I don’t really know how to continue this conversation.

I just reply with, “...yes.”

“Take care of her,” she says, staring me down through her spectacles. Today she’s wearing a polka dot dress and a matching headband. She’s holding a cigarette in one hand and the soda can in the other. All the things that aren’t good for her aging body. I’d call her out, but then I’d risk getting whipped with a cane, so I ignore it .

“It’s not really that kind of trip,” I say. “It’s a work thing.”

Manang Linda raises an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. She adjusts her spectacles and leans forward slightly. “Is that what the young ones call escapades these days? ‘Work things’?” she retorts, her voice tinged with amusement. I chuckle nervously, unsure how to respond to her blunt assessment.

“Back in my day,” she continues, her tone growing more animated, “when a man and a woman went on a trip alone, they were either siblings or a married couple. But I was never really the traditional type.” She winks. “So, I always went on trips with boyfriends. Yes, hun, plural.” She pauses. “But you know what I never went on?” She taps her cane loudly on the ground. “A platonic trip with a boy-friend. That’s just bullshit.” She pauses between the words boy and friend for emphasis.

I blink in surprise, taken aback by Manang Linda’s candid admission. She has a way of cutting through pretense and getting straight to the point.

“Well, Manang Linda,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, “I assure you, this trip is strictly professional. Bonbon and I are friends. Have been for more than a decade. I’m just going to help some residents, and Bon will film and document.”

She narrows her eyes thoughtfully, considering my words. After a moment, she sighs dramatically.

“Fine, fine,” she relents, waving a dismissive hand. “Just remember, young man, Bonita is like a firecracker–bright and full of surprises. You might find yourself wondering how life managed to mix business with pleasure.” She winks again as she stands up, throwing her empty soda can into the open garbage bin .

“Now, remember what I said about looking out for each other. And don’t forget to bring me back a souvenir!” She waves as she walks away, continuing to roam around.

I nod, grateful for her advice, though unsure of how to respond. As Manang Linda walks away, I can’t help but notice the can she discarded—it isn’t just cola, but whiskey-cola.