Between Then and Now

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Bonita

I am sitting in the conference room of our studio as Mr. Ramirez and a few other colleagues watch my documentary film. I stayed up all night last night to finish it and submit it. At first, the bosses were skeptical because I was too early on my submission, but now they’re ooh-ing and aah-ing at all the right moments.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Ms. Santiago,” he says as the film ends and we’re alone in the conference room.

“Told you I was great,” I say with a sheepish grin.

Mr. Ramirez chuckles and says, “This is just in time, too.” I raise my eyebrows at him, curious. “You know it’s our company’s anniversary tomorrow and management is giving out awards. I think you deserve one.”

Believe me when I tell you that I freak out. I squeal so loud I don’t care if I’m heard outside. “No way,” I say. “You’re serious?” A surge of excitement and disbelief rushes through me.

“Absolutely,” he says, his expression sincere. “You’ve demonstrated exceptional talent and dedication. This film is proof of that.”

I feel like I’m about to levitate out of my chair. “Thank you, Mr. Ramirez,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I really appreciate it.”

He smiles warmly. “You’ve earned it, Ms. Santiago. Keep up the excellent work. We’ll keep in touch on the event details and draft your return contract, assuming you still want to be here. ”

“Of course. It’s not every day I get to be an asset.” I wink playfully as Mr. Ramirez laughs again.

“Any special request before we draft it?” he asks.

I ponder quietly, but it doesn’t take too long before I answer. “Yes, can I not be under Natasha, please?”

Mr. Ramirez just laughs and nods. Thank goodness. Bye bye, laundry errands and dog-walking sessions! Good riddance, Natasha!

As I leave the conference room, I feel like I’m walking on clouds. All the sleepless nights paid off. I can’t help but do a little celebratory dance in the hallway, earning a few curious glances from my colleagues. My grin is so wide it could light up the entire building. I want to scream, shout, and maybe even burst into song. This is my moment, and it feels absolutely incredible.

But as the initial euphoria begins to settle, a sobering thought hits me. There’s only one person I truly want to share this achievement with, and I left him in Batanes with nothing but a note that signified my cowardice.

I sigh as I drive back home. I try to convince myself that this is the right thing to do. That Ryan doesn’t deserve a half-ass girlfriend who can’t even make up her mind about who she should be. But there’s a nagging feeling that keeps on asking me: if I’m doing the right thing, then why do I feel so wrong?

When I arrive back in the village, I stop by The Corner Bistro to get my favorite sandwich.

“Bonita Santiago.” I hear a female voice from behind me. I turn to see Haley and Kate sitting in one of the booths. I make my way over to them with the sandwich in my hand.

“Yes?” I say as I sit down and begin eating .

“Can you please explain to us why Ryan’s Instagram account looks like a montage of you? He posted eight times in the last fifteen minutes,” Haley says.

“Did something happen?” Kate interjects. “Wait, this feels wrong. We have to call Emily.” She gets her phone to Facetime Emily and strategically places it on the table so we’re all visible.

Em’s face pops up on the screen. She’s in bed in her pajamas. I check the time and see that it’s past noon, which means it’s past midnight where she is. “Is this the part where Bon admits that she hacked Ryan’s Instagram account?” she says.

“I have no idea what you’re all saying.” I furrow my brows and look at them all with confusion because I don’t think I’ve seen these posts. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ryan post anything. I pull my phone out of my pocket and open my Instagram account to type in Ryan’s.

And there it is. The “Follow Back” button is still there. I guess I forgot to follow him back when I set up his account, so this is the first time I’m actually seeing his profile.

His profile looks like… me. From the very first photo to the last. Most of his posts have ten photos each (since ten is Instagram’s limit). I scroll through each one of them, feeling the girls’ stares burning into me.

There’s a photo of me eating ice cream, a photo of me with a lizard on my head, a photo of me scraping the bottom of a halo-halo glass, a photo of me in the sunset, a photo of me at the lighthouse, a photo of me with the new bracelet charm, a photo of me looking at my camera, a photo of me smiling wide. And the last one is a photo of us–not the one where he kissed me, but one from that moment. Every single photo on his profile is of me. Photos I had no idea he took. Photos I hadn’t even thought of. But he captured them all.

“Bon?” Kate says. “Are you okay?”

I’m speechless, my mind racing to comprehend what I’m seeing. My heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest. “I… I had no idea,” I stammer. Despite everything, I chuckle. Because I haven’t really taught Ryan social media etiquette, and now he’s the guy who posts the face of the same girl eight times in fifteen minutes.

Emily’s voice comes through the phone, more serious now. “Bon, what’s going on? Are you and Ryan… together?”

I shake my head, still scrolling through the pictures. He even captured a photo of me in my Elmo pajamas. “No, we’re not… I mean, we haven’t really talked about it.” I stutter. “Well, we–he tried. Because we kissed, and then we… yeah. And then I left him in Batanes with a note, and now… this.” I say.

The girls are wide-eyed. “That’s a lot of information to get in ten seconds,” Haley starts.

“Can you start over?” Em says on the other line. She’s now propped up instead of lying down, obviously eager to be alert for this story.

So, I tell them everything. I tell them about the Alexa situation that brought me there in the first place. It seems like ages ago when I was helping Ryan get the girl. I tell them about the practice conversations, the practice date, the practice kiss. I tell them about the near-drowning experience. I tell them about the date with John and what he said. And lastly, I tell them about the night before I left.

The booth falls into a hush as I finish recounting the whirlwind of events. The girls are listening intently, their expressions shifting with each twist and turn of my story .

Haley leans back, folding her arms across her chest. “So, let me get this straight. You went there to help him get over his nerves with Alexa, went on a practice date and had a practice kiss with him too,” she recounts slowly. “That part alone is already bonkers, by the way. But then you almost drowned, and he saved your life, and then he admitted his feelings for you, and then you kissed and slept together. And then you… left?”

I nod, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “Yeah, I left.”

Kate’s eyes widen. “Bon, that’s like… a whole movie in itself. Why did you leave?”

“I panicked,” I admit, fiddling with the sandwich wrapper in my hands. “I didn’t know how to handle it. Everything happened so fast, and I just... ran.”

“I don’t buy it,” Emily says. “Why did you really leave, Bon?”

I sigh. “Fine.” I take a bite of my sandwich, their gazes fixed on me. “I’m a mess, you guys,” I say as I feel the tears accumulating in my eyes. And this is probably the most terrible sight ever because I’m crying, chewing, and talking at the same time. Kate holds out a sympathetic hand while Haley just looks at me in disgust.

“I know you’re all used to me being the happy friend, the fun one, and all that. And you know how I change every time I have a new boyfriend.”

“The alter-ego,” they all say in unison.

I glare at them, “Is that really a thing?” I say, and they all nod simultaneously.

“Anyway, when I was in Batanes and I was starting to feel all these confusing feelings for Ryan, I realized that it was so hard to pretend that I didn’t care. It was so hard to portray a fun friend. And then, when I drowned, I just became gloomier, because, well, I almost died.” I chuckle half-heartedly.

“And then my parents arrived, and I talked to my mom and she said something about how love is something you won’t know unless you try, blah blah. And then John told me I was boring. And everything in me implodes. Ryan was there to see all of that, and he says he accepts it all. But what if, one day, he doesn’t?

“I guess I’m just scared. Scared that my mask is off and I’m seen for all I am. And it’s scary to be this vulnerable. Like I don’t have a shield. That if I fall—and I did—it will be so bad. Because Ryan is my friend. And if we’re together and that fails, what will happen to us?” I sigh.

After a few moments of silence, Emily speaks. “And you say I’m the overthinker.” Haley and Kate nod in agreement.

I frown at her and say, “Spare it, Em. My brother already lectured me about that. He said I overthink when I care. And apparently, he’s right.”

“Ten points to Joshua,” Emily says. “But Bon, we all wear masks to some extent. The people who truly care about us see beyond them, though. They see the real us and love us anyway.”

“That’s true. In fact, Bon, we don’t love you because you’re the fun one… we love you despite that,” Haley says, and I throw a rolled-up napkin at her.

“And I think that’s the beauty of falling in love with someone you’ve known your whole life,” Emily adds. “You don’t have to pretend. You don’t have to hide. He’s seen all sides of you, and he accepts them. And if you’re worried that one day he wakes up and doesn’t like what he sees anymore, then it’s his loss, Bon. Because you’re amazing. And coming from a chronic overthinker, believe me when I say that you shouldn’t deprive yourself of the chance to experience things by destroying it all in your head before it even happens.”

I feel the tears welling up again.

“I didn’t know you had that many feelings to share, Em,” Kate says with a chuckle. “Is that how you felt with Rob?”

Emily rolls her eyes. “My feelings have an off switch. That I control. I only turn them on for moments like these,” she says. “As for Rob, I don’t know. That’s a story for another time,” she adds. We all look at each other with warning glances and decide to let the subject drop.

“They’re right, you know,” Kate says. “Vulnerability isn’t a weakness, Bon. It means you’re strong enough to go through this relationship without reservation. Just completely yourself.”

I’m still crying and still eating my sandwich. “What should I do?”

“What do you want to do?” Kate asks.

“I want to tell him how I feel,” I say with conviction. “He’ll be back in a week; I think I can handle that much.”

I look at my friends, their words sinking in. They’re right. I’ve been so afraid of being seen, of being rejected, that I’ve been running away from what I truly want.

“Thanks, guys,” I say, my voice steadier. “I needed to hear that.”

“Now that we got that sorted out, I’m going back to sleep. Keep me posted.” Em turns off Facetime.

When I was in college, I had a boyfriend named Greg. He was the kind of guy that seemed perfect on paper–you know, the one who has his future mapped out and includes you in his plans, all that. But like most relationships I’ve had in the past, I was different with him. I’ve had parts of me that I kept hidden behind an invisible wall. For a while, it worked. We were together for a year when I started to let the wall fall down, little by little. I tried to show him pieces of who I really was–through the quirky clothes I wore, the movies I watched, the music I listened to, the odd food I loved. But every time I did, he would shut me down. He’d tell me to stop acting so weird. To “behave”. To “take it down a notch, Bon.” As if my true self is a glitch that had to be fixed.

Eventually, though, my bottled-up feelings erupted and I confronted him. I stayed true to myself and told him to accept me or leave. And then he left. Just like that. That’s the reason why Greg was the last boyfriend I had. I couldn’t bear to go through all that again.

But now, everything feels different. This. Is this what it feels like to be really in love? Genuinely, truly, unconditionally in love? If it is, then it’s scary. It’s terrifying, actually. Because love like this comes with no guarantees, no safety nets. So many thoughts swirl in my mind, making my heart race with both hope and dread. But it’s also exciting. It’s like my heart is a kite caught in a fierce wind, tugging and pulling, desperate to soar but scared of being torn apart.

I’m sitting alone in my room tonight, contemplating. In these quiet moments, everything is clearer. In these quiet moments, I’m allowed to be honest with myself. And in the spirit of being honest, I know that letting go of love like this–letting go of Ryan–is scarier than the possibility of it not working out. The thought of never knowing what we could be is scarier than any risk this love imposes.

So, despite the knots in my stomach and the flutter in my chest, I know I have to tell him. I know I have to try. Because life is too short for hesitation, too fleeting to let love pass by unspoken. For the first time in my life, I’m ready to dive in headfirst. If we work out until the end, then it’s perfect. If we don’t, then it’s still worth every moment I spent living it. Because some things in life are too important to leave to chance, and this–and Ryan–is one of those things.