Between Then and Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Bonita

I t’s been two days since the kiss . I’ve been trying to act as normal as I can. I don’t really know what’s happening in my head right now, or how it impacts my relationship with Ryan. All I know is that the kiss was something I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried. And I tried. Hard.

I spend the day in the room, intending to catch up on editing my film. With the amount of footage I’ve gathered, I feel confident that I have enough to craft a compelling documentary. As part of my process, I asked all twenty doctors the same question when we first arrived: “How do you think this experience will shape your medical career?” I plan to pose this question again before we leave to gauge any changes. Here’s what some of them said initially:

Mia: This mission might inspire me to incorporate more community outreach into my practice back home

John: I hope this mission will give me a deeper understanding of how to provide care with limited resources

Ryan: I expect to learn new medical techniques that are used in resource-limited settings, which could be beneficial for my practice.

Alexa: I think working in a different cultural context will help me become more adaptable and sensitive to diverse patient needs.

I’m eager to see how their answers evolve by the end of the mission. My goal is to capture any shifts in priorities or perspectives, revealing how the experience has transformed their professional outlooks.

As a filmmaker, I’ve been reflecting on the same question. At the start, I believed this mission would advance my career by allowing me to handle every aspect of filmmaking myself—from shooting to editing and reviewing. However, my perspective has shifted. Now, I see that this mission has clarified what my career is truly about. It’s not just about producing visually pleasing content; it’s about capturing the unexpected moments, giving a voice to the voiceless, and creating a platform for the unseen.

While editing the color grading of my film, my mind swirls. I wonder if this will be good enough for the people back home and if it will be enough for them to see me as more than an amateur. I wonder if this will finally land me a real film project. More importantly, I wonder if this will finally get me out of being Natasha’s personal assistant slash dog walker. At the same time, even as I think all that, a quieter voice in my head tells me it doesn’t matter what they think. I’ve poured my heart and soul into this project, and that’s worth something. Even if my bosses don’t see it. Even if nobody does.

Suddenly, as I’m adjusting the brightness on one scene, Ryan’s face appears on my screen. The camera caught him in a rare candid shot, one where his stoic expression is softened but still there. I zoom in and realize I’ve never really noticed the details before: the small mole above his left eyebrow, the freckles dotting his cheeks and nose, or the way his jaw is both strong and soft. His eyes are a mix of blue and gray, like the color of the sky when rain clouds cover it.

I prop my elbows on the table and rest my chin on my hands as I stare at Ryan’s still image. There are so many things I want to ask him. For starters, why the hell did he have to complicate stuff when he kissed me? Though, I suppose, that’s also a me issue since I wholeheartedly kissed him back. And wholeheartedly enjoyed it. And wholeheartedly want to do it again.

Nope .

I shake my head to bring myself back to reality. This won’t do. I need to focus, but every time I glance back at the screen, thoughts about Ryan consume me. I can’t stay cooped up in here any longer. I look out the window and see that the sun is starting to set. The perfect time for a walk, I decide; maybe the fresh air will clear my head.

I grab my camera and head outside, planning to walk along the beachfront by our room. But as I step out, I’m met with a sea of tourists from the neighboring inn, their voices and laughter filling the air. The view I was hoping for is obscured by a wall of people, so I change course and head toward the medical triage set up on the far side of the beach.

There’s a warning sign saying that children are discouraged from swimming today because of the crashing waves. Instead, there are multiple surfers by the shore, inviting people to try it out. I walk barefoot, taking video footage of the beach, the locals, the tourists, and the mundane activities.

Look at these people, enjoying their vacation without a care in the world. I wonder how many of them are battling with their noisy heads like I am. How many of them are here to distract themselves? I doubt any of them kissed their friend and are now battling feelings they never even knew existed.

Just as that thought lingers, I hear footsteps in the sand, quick and uneven. I turn, and John catches up to me, stopping right in front of me, breathing heavily.

“You walk fast,” he says.

“Maybe you walk slow,” I counter.

He smiles and asks me, “I’m just gonna blurt it out, Bon. Do you have plans this Saturday?” This Saturday. That's Ryan and Alexa’s second date. I look at John, his hair a mess from the wind blowing past us .

“No, I don’t,” I smile. Maybe I planned on watching another horror movie but it doesn’t really count.

“Do you wanna get dinner with me? I never get more than one conversation from you.” He smiles sheepishly and I chuckle.

“Now whose fault is that?” I look at him with a smirk.

“So, is that a yes?” he asks.

I linger for a moment, my mind racing, flashing back to my inexplicable feelings for Ryan. It doesn’t make sense—I’ve always seen him as just a friend, right? Just a friend with annoyingly perfect hair and a smile that could melt butter. But ever since that kiss, that mind-blowing, earth-shattering kiss, and the way he looks at Alexa, it’s like there’s a knot in my stomach I can’t untangle. The truth is, I don’t want to date anyone right now. My emotions are an utter mess. The last thing I need is more confusion.

But then, why not have a little fun? John is sweet, charming, and clearly interested. Besides, it’s just dinner, not a lifelong commitment. And I deserve this, don’t I? I deserve someone who’s explicitly interested in me.

As I wrestle with my thoughts, I see Ryan in the distance, talking to Alexa. They’re laughing, and a pang of something—jealousy, maybe—hits me, but it also gives me the courage to say yes. If Ryan can move on from a relationship that doesn’t exist, then so can I. Besides, I’m not some brooding protagonist in a sad indie movie. I can tackle anything.

“Sure, why not?” I finally answer, smiling up at John. My voice sounds steadier than I feel, but hey, fake it till you make it, right ?

His face lights up, and he breaks into a wide grin that makes me think of sunshine and daisies. “Great! I’ll pick you up at seven? I heard there’s a new Italian place that’s all the rage.”

Ew, Italian . I don’t want to sound rude by declining so I say “Sounds perfect,” feeling a mix of excitement and uncertainty bubbling inside me like a shaken-up soda can.

I spend the next few minutes convincing myself that I made the right decision to go on a date with John. I shouldn’t be worrying about what Ryan might think; it should be the least of my concerns.

But when I glance over at him again, our eyes meet, and then our gazes hold for a few lingering seconds. The moment stretches until I finally turn away, my heart racing with feelings I can’t—and don’t want to—define.

At that moment, a child runs in front of us and heads straight for the ocean. His tiny legs move faster than I would have thought possible, and his father, a few feet behind, is running to catch up. But the waves are crashing with a ferocity that makes my heart skip a beat. I see the child stumble and the water rise around him. Without thinking, I sprint towards the water, my feet pounding against the sand.

“Bon, wait!” John shouts, but I barely register his voice. All I can think about is the little boy’s terrified face as he’s pulled further into the waves.

I plunge into the cold water, the shock of it stealing my breath. The waves crash against me, trying to knock me off my feet. I push forward, reaching out to grab the boy. He’s crying, his small hands flailing, but I manage to get a grip on his arm. I pull him towards me, using every ounce of strength I have to fight against the current .

“Hang on, I’ve got you,” I say, my voice trembling with effort. The boy clings to me, his tiny body shaking with fear. With a final surge of strength, I drag us both back toward the shore. His father reaches us, his face a mask of relief and gratitude. He takes his son from my arms, holding him close and thanking me profusely. I manage a weak smile, feeling the weight of my waterlogged clothes dragging me down. And just as I’m about to step back to the shore, the waves grow larger.

It’s only when the angry waves devour me from the shore and pull me further into the ocean that I panic. Not because the saltwater stings my eyes. Not because I see John’s panicked expression. Not because I see Ryan running from a distance. Not even because I’m holding my camera, now surely broken, putting my entire film at risk. I panic because I’m suddenly reminded that I can’t swim.