Between Then and Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Bonita

T his is already the worst date of my life, and I haven’t even seen my actual date yet. Last night, I went to buy some tea from the restaurant when I saw Ryan and Alexa hugging each other. And I hate myself for it, but I am so incredibly bothered, so unbelievably upset by it that I’ve ignored Ryan for the entire day.

I know it’s not his fault. It’s not Alexa’s fault either. But I can’t pretend like nothing’s wrong, like I’m not jealous of them. Ryan probably hasn’t noticed because he’s been busy today. But I tried my best to steer clear of him. Part of me wishes I’d just gone home with my parents today and saved myself from all this. But for the love of my documentary and redemption, I stayed.

I glance at Puppy’s empty bed. He’s probably frolicking around the inn again. No one ever claimed him, but I think the dog-loving inn owners will keep him. He sometimes even sleeps with the other dogs under the front desk. I must admit, I’m a bit attached to the little thing, and it’s going to be hard to leave him when the time comes.

I start getting ready and put on a black dress that I stole from Emily’s closet. It’s so unlike me, I know, but this is an official date, and I feel like I have to start a blank slate. Sure, John has seen me and talked to me, but I want date-Bon to be more… acceptable. I guess I haven’t fully embraced the whole find-someone-who-really-sees-you advice my mother gave me. I remove the curlers on my bangs to give them volume and apply makeup.

I put on my shoes and sit at the foot of my bed, waiting for John to knock.

The door opens and Ryan bursts in. He looks at me and stops in his tracks. “Who are you and what have you done to Bonbon?” His smile is tentative, searching for reassurance. I manage a weak smile in return but say nothing, my mind swirling with too many thoughts.

“Okay, Bon, what’s happening?” He puts his medical bag on his bed and approaches me. “You’ve been ignoring me all day.” Okay, so he did notice.

“I’m not,” I lie, trying to sound as normal as possible, but my voice betrays me with a slight tremor.

“Yes, you are. What’s wrong?” he says as he approaches me. “Just yesterday, we shared this moment by the beach and–”

“Exactly, Ryan,” I say, unable to control myself. I stand up and look at him. “We shared that moment. We shared a kiss. We even shared a near-death experience.” I sigh, wondering if I should continue. “We… we shared moments where we looked into each other’s eyes with so many unspoken emotions that I deluded myself into thinking they were unspoken promises. That maybe we’re not done yet. That we’re only starting to figure it out.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off, unable to stop the flood of words. “I even went so far as to ask my mom for advice because…” My voice breaks, and I swallow hard, fighting back tears. “Because my mind and my heart are a jumble of feelings, and I haven’t felt this way before. I feel like my whole world is spinning out of control, and the only thing that makes sense is what I feel about you. And it sounds absurd because how can something so confusing make the most sense?”

Ryan’s expression shifts from confusion to a mix of guilt and sadness. He takes a step closer, but I hold up a hand to stop him .

“I just… I just thought we had something special,” I continue, my voice cracking. “And I know it’s stupid. I know we set our boundaries, and we set clear lines, and that I’m the one in the wrong here. But I can’t help how I feel.”

Tears start to well up in my eyes, and I can feel my resolve crumbling. “I may have mistaken your affection to be directed at me. But I heard you talking to Alexa by the car last night, and I saw you hugging her when we arrived. And it felt like a punch to the gut. Like everything I thought we had was just in my head.”

“Bon,” Ryan says softly, his voice thick with emotion. He stands up and reaches out to me, his eyes pleading. He puts a hand on my cheek but I back away.

“No,” I say, shaking my head as tears spill over my cheeks. “I’m sorry if I took it out on you. It’s not your fault. I brought this upon myself, I know that. But it hurts. And I don’t know how to deal with it. And I thought it would go away if I ignored you for a while.”

Ryan’s face is a mask of anguish as he steps closer, his hand hovering in the air as if unsure whether to reach out or not. “Bon, please, let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

But before he can say more, there’s a knock on the door. I turn, wiping my eyes quickly, trying to pull myself together. “You don’t have to explain. And I have to go,” I say.

I walk over to the door and take a deep breath. I open it to see John standing outside.

“Wow, you’re stunning, Bon,” he says. “Ready to go?”

“Give me five minutes,” I say and I go straight to the bathroom.

Inside, I lean against the sink and stare at the mirror. Geez, what did I do? Did I just really confess my feelings to my friend by getting mad at him? Is that the kind of monster I’ve become? And to add insult to injury, I’m going on a date with his friend. I sigh. Nothing about this evening is going well. I wish I could just stay locked up in here and sob to my heart’s content. But instead, I power through. I’ve been doing a lot of powering through lately, what’s one more night?

I reapply my eye makeup and take one last look in the mirror to practice my smile. It looks terrible, but it will have to do for now. I get out and see Ryan and John waiting for me. John looks cheerful, like he always does. His face is lit with an easygoing grin that I normally have on mine but can’t seem to produce today.

Ryan is standing a foot behind John. His expression is a complex mask of anguish and restraint. He’s trying to smile, but it’s strained, like a rubber band stretched too thin. I want to go over there and say sorry for what I said.

Instead, I smile at John and say, “Let’s go.”

I’m not a fan of Italian cuisine, but I appreciate the authenticity they tried to display here. The rustic décor, with its checkered tablecloths and vintage posters, gives the restaurant a cozy, welcoming atmosphere.

I try to pull myself together. After that episode with Ryan, I don’t know what to make of my day. All I can think about is what’s going to happen when I return. I’m thinking about bunking with the others. Even Dr. Fernandez seems like a better option right now. Hell, even bunking with Puppy under the front desk sounds more sensible.

I look at John, and he’s smiling at me. “Are you always this quiet, Bon?” he asks gently .

“What? No. No, I’m actually quite the opposite,” I say, managing a small smile. Inside, I feel a twinge of guilt for not being my usual self. John is being so nice, and I feel like a terrible person for not reciprocating the energy. I clear my throat, determined to be a better date. “Sorry, I’ll try to be more present. It’s just—since the accident, so much has happened to me,” I add, my voice softening. It's true, though I don’t mention that much of it revolves around our friend Ryan.

John’s expression shifts to one of understanding. “I get it. It must have been awful,” he says, his tone sincere.

The rest of our evening is filled with conversations about his medical work, my career, our friends, and families. Ryan is mentioned a few times in passing, and I try to be indifferent about it, though each mention feels like a small jab. We talk about a multitude of things—his recent missions, my favorite films, the quirks of small-town life—but none of it is making me return to my animated self. I feel like an unlit match trying to light itself and failing repeatedly.

Right after dinner, and after John pays for the bill (I ate pizza the conventional way, so nothing was memorable about that meal), I glance at the next table and notice Tom–one of the volunteers. I wave a hand to him, and he returns it. John follows my gaze, and they exchange greetings. Tom stands up and motions that he’s going to have a cigarette break. Ironic. Doctors who smoke.

“Hey, Bon, do you mind if I take a few minutes out with Tom? I’m just so full,” he says. I’m still finishing my drink, anyway, so I nod in agreement.

As I sip my drink, I try to shake off the unease that’s been nagging at me all evening. The restaurant is bustling, filled with laughter and conversation, but I feel strangely disconnected. I watch John and Tom step outside, their figures illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights.

When I’m done, I slowly open the door to go outside but stop short at the mention of my name. I linger in the doorway, hidden by the shadows.

“I didn’t expect her to be so… boring,” John says to Tom. “I know it’s probably because of the accident, and I’m being an ass, but I guess I expected her to be more fun to be around.”

Tom chuckles, but he talks in a serious tone, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Hey, it must have been hard on her.”

John shakes his head. “Yeah, I know, man. I was hoping for a distraction, something light and fun. But maybe she has too much going on. I feel bad, really. This night is not as good as I expected it to be.”

My heart sinks, and I feel a lump forming in my throat. I take a step back, my mind racing. I had tried so hard to be present, to push through the lingering effects of the day’s events, but hearing John’s words feels like a punch to the gut.

As I stand there, frozen, I overhear more of their conversation.

“I thought she had a thing with Ryan?” Tom asks, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“She keeps saying she doesn’t, but she keeps bringing him up, even if it’s just in passing. Even I’m a bit confused, to be honest,” John replies, sounding frustrated.

I take a deep breath, willing myself to move. I can’t stand here and listen to any more of this. Quietly, I turn and head back inside, my mind swirling with emotions. Before I wallow in all of it, I think of an exit plan. I quietly cross to the other side of the restaurant and open the door to the outdoor dining area. I subtly exit and head in the direction of the beach, I think. All I know is I need to go away. I walk and walk until I’m sure the restaurant isn’t visible when I look back.

I stop for a while and pull out my phone to text John.

Me: Sorry. Had to run. You can go back without me, I’ll take the next jeepney in .

After a few seconds, my phone buzzes.

John: Everything okay? I can take you back to the inn.

Me: Nah, I wouldn’t want to impose.

Me: PS. You’re not exactly fun, either. And you don’t have a near-drowning experience to justify that.

And then I block him. Even if he texts me back, I won’t know. And I honestly don’t want to.

I look around me to see that I am at some church. Thankfully, there’s a bench outside, so I sit down. And then I let the tears fall.

The tears keep coming, and I bury my face in my hands, feeling the weight of all the times I've tried to fit into someone else's mold. I think back to those relationships, the constant pressure to change, to be quieter, to be less. Each time I thought I found someone who could appreciate me for who I am, it turned out they wanted something different, something I wasn't.

And then today, I was called boring. Boring. As if my entire existence, everything that makes me who I am, can be reduced to a single, dismissive word. As if the laughter, the stories, the passions that fill my life mean nothing. I’ve always prided myself on being vibrant, on having an energy that draws people in. I love deeply, I care intensely, and I live passionately. But now, to be labeled as boring? It feels like a slap in the face, a cruel joke.

Maybe I’m doomed when it comes to romantic relationships. It's like I'm constantly walking a tightrope, never finding the middle ground where I can just be me. It’s either I’m too much or I’m too boring. I wonder when I can ever be just enough?