Between Then and Now

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Bonita

I blame the stupid stars and the stupid view. Yep. There’s nothing else to account for my internal organs somersaulting into each other. I can barely ingest my tea because I’m pretty sure any newcomer to my stomach would be promptly evicted through a very unappealing episode of Vomiting My Guts Out.

Ryan is my friend, and I’m helping him date his dream girl. Even the first phrase feels harder to accept these days. Yet, it doesn’t mean it’s not true, because Ryan is my friend. He has been for the longest time. And whatever I’m starting to feel right now shouldn’t change anything.

Besides, I only think he’s a little cute. Big deal. It’s not like I didn’t notice it before. He’s always been good-looking. The only reason I’m giving it extra attention today is obviously because of the stars, the view, and the whole practice-date situation going on where we’re sitting on the too-small hood of the car, causing our knees to brush against each other. Take all that away and he’s back to being just Ryan, my grumpy friend. Ryan, who hates marshmallows on his cocoa and only likes cheese pizza. Ryan, whose wardrobe is eighty percent white and twenty percent other neutrals. Ryan, who drinks plain coffee and plain tea and scoffs at my sugar-infused choices because he’s boring as hell. Ryan, who repels the good things in life.

I’ll get over this… This feeling–or whatever the hell this glitch in my system is. It will fade away in due time. I give it three days, tops. As I’m starting to convince myself, a strong gust of wind blows our way, making Ryan’s shirt cling to his chest and tousling his hair over his face. He brushes his fingers against it and… were his arms always this big? And when did his chest turn into hard pecs? And I think his shoulders are broader than they were this morning.

Oh my god, what’s happening to you, Bon?

Ugh. Everything that’s been going on tonight is something planned by the minions of hell to make me feel uneasy and question everything I’ve ever known about Ryan and myself. I’m pretty sure they orchestrated everything–from the perfect alignment of the constellations in the sky to that strong gust of wind, to the strange flutters in my stomach.

I shake my head to bring myself back to reality. We start driving back to the inn in silence. It isn’t our usual comfortable silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable either. The night air is filled with the distant melody of waves crashing against the shore, a soothing backdrop to the turmoil in my mind. We continue in the silence until we make our way back to our shared room after Ryan parks the car in front of the inn.

I take a deep breath. I will not let this bother me. I’m allowed to find my friend attractive and still not want to date him. This whole situation is absurd, and I need to shut down my overactive brain before it spirals into more unnecessary thoughts.

“You’re gonna kill it on Saturday. Just don’t be weird, okay?” I say as we enter the door, attempting to salvage this evening from any awkwardness–awkwardness which, I admit, might just be conjured by my weird brain.

Ryan looks at me and chuckles, a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’m never weird.”

I roll my eyes, but a small smile tugs at my lips. We’re gonna be fine.

I just need a Ryan detox. I’m convinced that a day without seeing him will flush all these flutters out of my system. So, when he asked me to grab breakfast earlier this morning, I told him I had to interview other doctors that were stationed in the other areas. Which is actually true. My documentary is coming together quite beautifully, I’ve already captured enough footage of the main inn triage and the town proper. I’m now going to film those stationed on the beaches and in the deeper parts of the countryside, even those conducting house-to-house.

Pulling my wagon full of film gear, I don’t notice John in front of me, and we almost collide.

“Sorry!” He says as he peeks from the boxes and handfuls of stuff he was carrying. “Where to, Bon?”

“Off to interview the ones down the coast. You?” I reply, adjusting my camera bag.

He holds up his pile of equipment and says, “Off to duty at the coast,” with a smile. “Looks like we're headed in the same direction.”

We walk together for a bit, exchanging stories about our work. John is one of those people who always has an interesting anecdote or a funny observation, and he always has a cheerful demeanor–in all three times we’ve spoken–which reminds me a lot of, well, me.

“How’s the film going?” he asks as we enter the sandy area of the beach.

“Great, so far.” I offer him a hopefully warm smile.

“Until there is enough footage of me, I wouldn’t call it great,” he playfully says.

“Well, maybe today’s your lucky day,” I say, gesturing to my camera .

“Alright, then. I’ll make my entrances more cinematic. Maybe add a wink or two?” He turns so he’s facing me instead of walking beside me, then he winks. It makes me chuckle, and I admit that it’s also cute in a way. But not the way that makes my traitorous stomach do weird flips. That act is something that the bastard reserves for conversations with my friend.

“Careful, John, or you’ll end up being the star of this documentary,” I tease, nudging his arm.

“I’ve always said to myself that I’d be an actor if this doctor thing doesn’t work out,” he says in a serious tone that makes me fall silent, wondering if he is being honest. Before I could ask, he continues, “I’m kidding, Bon. But it’s nice to know you’d believe that.”

I laugh, relieved. “You had me there for a second. But honestly, you’d probably make a decent actor. You’ve got the charm for it.”

He grins. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to saving lives. More job security.”

“Good call,” I say, nodding. “Plus, you get to wear those cool scrubs. They’re basically a superhero costume.”

John chuckles. “True. And I get to use phrases like ‘stat’ and ‘code blue.’ Very dramatic.”

We laugh all the way to the tents at the coast. When we arrive, I start to set up my film gear. My stomach suddenly growls, protesting the absence of breakfast, so I head over to the nearest tent to ask if they have a biscuit or something.

“I have some saltines,” a voice says from behind me. I whirl around to find Alexa approaching with a warm smile. “Here, have some, Bon.” She hands me a pack of crackers. I take one and grin back. There’s no denying that Alexa is pretty—like someone who could waltz right off the runway at a Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

“I heard you and Ryan are going on a date this weekend,” I say once we’re alone in the tent, a touch of curiosity in my voice.

“Yeah, he was really cute trying to ask me out,” Alexa replies, starting to tie her hair up. “Was he always that awkward?”

“I guess you could say that,” I say, feeling a bit uncertain about how to steer this conversation. “He’s only like that when he’s self-conscious, especially around someone he likes.” And since he’s so relaxed around me, it’s clear he doesn’t see me that way at all. And that’s completely fine because neither do I.

Alexa blushes, and I watch as the color spreads across her cheeks like a soft blush of pink. “Well, I kinda liked him since med school. I just never imagined he would like me back. Guess I’m the lucky one,” she chuckles.

As much as I want to find a reason to dislike Alexa, just to validate the weird flutter in my chest whenever I think about them dating, I can’t bring myself to. The woman is too precious for her own good. “Girl, what are you talking about?” I ask with a hint of playful disbelief. Alexa looks a bit surprised by my tone. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve seen in ages. Any guy would be lucky to be liked by you. Not the other way around. Don’t ever doubt that. You’re the prize, hun.”

“Thanks, Bon,” she says, her smile warm and genuine. Just then, residents and tourists start to flock into the tent, and Alexa begins giving them aid with practiced efficiency. I set up my film gear, preparing to capture the necessary footage.

As I’m filming, I try to focus on the ambiance here. It’s different from the triage by the inn. There are more children and people relaxing by the beach, more first aid instead of planned consultations, and there are also more tourists.

I can’t help but find it ironic how I’m here filming and documenting everyone’s lives–from the doctors to the locals and the tourists–while my own life feels so out of structure, it’s like a blooper reel. I try to refocus on capturing the perfect beach scene for fillers in my documentary. I want to not only capture the essence of the medical mission but also give the viewers a glimpse of life on the island.

I glance over at Alexa, who’s busy handing out supplies and managing the small crowd. Her movements are graceful and efficient, and she seems to have a natural ease about her, making it clear she’s good at what she does. And my thoughts shift to how perfect they are for one another. Ryan is the same–efficient, practical, attractive.

And as if a huge beach ball has been thrown at me, my mind detaches itself from thoughts of the documentary and involuntarily goes back to our practice date last night. It was doing well, and I was handling it better than I expected until our scene at the cliff. I almost lost it. I distance myself from the tents and sit on one of the rocks by the shore to compose myself.

Back home, I’ve always been teased by my friends every time I go on dates. They say I morph into someone I’m not. And I deny it, but they’re right. I try so hard not to let my entire personality show because as a child, I was consistently told to tone it down or stop acting too much. I know I come across as someone who’s confident and opinionated, someone who’s so sure of herself. But there’s this part of me that, truth be told, is constantly battling with the urge to dial it all back.

It's like I have two versions of myself: the one who’s bubbly, loud, and unapologetically quirky when I’m with friends, and the one who tries to be more restrained and reserved when I’m on a date or any situation where I’m trying to impress someone. It's not that either version is wrong or fake. I know both are genuine parts of me, but it’s like I’m constantly toggling between them, trying to find a balance that feels right. It’s more like they’re two pieces of a puzzle that somehow don’t always fit together. I suppose I’ve built these versions of myself to fit into what I think people want to see.

And last night, my brain was confused. Because Ryan is my friend, and he knows who I am—quirks and all. But in the illusion of a date, it felt like I was performing for an audience that already had front-row seats to the other version of me. The line between who I am and who I think I should be blurred, making it even harder to navigate. That’s probably the only reason why I was so disoriented.

I gave him advice to just be himself, but I have yet to follow that advice. It’s ironic, really. Here I am, doling out pearls of wisdom like I’ve got it all figured out, while I’m still fumbling around in my own mind. I’ve never met anyone with whom I felt comfortable enough to shed my layers, to let them see the unfiltered version of me.

Just as I’m deep in thought, John sits next to me, handing me a bottle of water.

“You okay, Bon?” he asks as he opens the lid for me. “You’re staring at nothing.”

“I’m staring at the horizon,” I say defensively.

“Same thing,” John chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners with that easygoing humor I’ve come to appreciate.

I take the water bottle and sip, the cool liquid a welcome distraction. “Just thinking,” I admit, trying to sound casual.

“About what?” he asks .

“Uh... Life… Stuff.” I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.

John nods, looking out at the horizon with me. “Life stuff is tricky, which is why I usually just ignore it,” he agrees.

I’m not used to thinking about life this deeply either. I don’t like dwelling so much on things that are meant to be enjoyed. I usually prefer to embrace the moment and let worries float away. But now I realize that maybe it’s because I’ve never had the opportunity to care about something enough to really worry.

For the longest time, I’ve been so focused on keeping things light and fun that I’ve avoided facing the heavier stuff. It’s easier to get lost in a good movie, dive into a new project, or laugh with friends than to confront these swirling thoughts about who I am and what I want.

“Yeah, me too,” I say to John, who’s smiling at me. And maybe it’s me deflecting and avoiding again, but I tell him, “Sooo, enough thinking, right?”

John raises an eyebrow, as if he's contemplating whether to push me further or let it go. “Right. Sometimes, it’s all about just living in the moment and enjoying the ride,” he says, handing me an already open bag of chips.

“Thanks,” I mutter as I take a handful. As we sit there, munching on potato chips and shifting the conversation to silly anecdotes, I feel slightly better. Maybe it’s okay to confront the heavier stuff later. And as I look at John, I think to myself that maybe it’s also okay to let someone else in.