Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
ISABEL
I think about what Kieran said about course correcting.
How I’ve been led by my pride this whole time.
My intentions were all wrong. I wasn’t going into the work wanting to criticize class disparity—at least not entirely.
It was a bid for vengeance. Even if she’s been cruel to me, I came here with the expectation that she would still be a giant bitch, and that wasn’t fair to her.
People should be judged for who they are now, not who they used to be.
It was wrong of me to discount Natalia because she hadn’t extended an olive branch the way I wanted her to.
There’s a lot to be said for apologies, but I’m here.
She invited me. That counts for something.
No matter how she treats me, that invitation is as good a sign as any that she wants me here.
I spend the night journaling: confessing to the page the errors of my ways, scrapping the idea of mining these people for ideas altogether.
There are more ways to criticize the rich than to make it a personal vendetta.
I can depict inequality without returning cruelty to people I know in real life.
I would simply have to be more creative.
At breakfast, I sit next to Natalia, determined to spend more time with her. We’re all capable of change, of making amends. Through prayer, I’ve realized that, deep down, that’s what I’ve been wanting this whole time. For us to bury the hatchet. To possibly even become friends.
That would go a long way, I think, in healing me. More than writing a book.
“Good morning,” I greet.
She’s still groggy. She pours herself a glass of cucumber water and says nothing.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask. A maid sets a cup of coffee down next to her plate. Natalia thanks her, but still I get no response.
I try to remain chipper. “What’re we doing today?”
She glares at me. “It is literally too early in the morning for this shit, Sugar.”
Okay. Ouch. I turn to my own plate. We’ll try again later, then.
“Goooood morning!” Ravina greets, carrying a pale pink tumbler and sitting across from me.
“Morning, gorgeous,” Natalia greets with a smile.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Ravina asks.
“Depends on what you guys want to do. There’s a new exhibit at the museum. I was thinking maybe Kieran would like that and we could all go? It’s not open to the public yet, but obviously—” She shrugs.
The museum, as in the Aranaz Museum in downtown Makati, is home to historical, modern, and contemporary art. It’s the premier museum in Manila, second only to the National Museum.
“Sorry, I would like what?”
My heart hiccups at the sound of Kieran’s voice. I turn just as he claims the seat next to me.
“Good morning,” Natalia greets. Her smile stretches from ear-to-ear. “You’re up early. Sugar, swap places with Kieran, will you?”
I move to stand, but Kieran stops me. “I’m good here,” he says. “You were saying?”
“There’s a new exhibit at the museum, if you want to check it out,” Natalia says.
“Cool.” He pours himself a glass. “Are you going?” he asks me.
“I—”
“We’re all going,” Natalia answers.
Kieran winks at me and I burn. Must be that Philippine summer sun, right?
* * *
At the museum, I try to catch Natalia alone. But she’s always trailing behind Kieran, and Kieran’s always glancing back to make sure I’m following.
I barely get to look at the art. It’s a retrospective of a Filipino artist’s entire oeuvre. The write up on the wall said the artist passed away late last year and that his family loaned their collection to the Aranaz Museum to honor his legacy.
Kieran stops to inspect a large canvas depicting plates of seafood and a basket of native fruits on a banana leaf, the sea in the background, a bangka parked on the shore.
Natalia whirls around to face me. “Get lost,” she whispers urgently. “Stop trying to hump my leg.”
“What?”
She widens her eyes at me. “Are you deaf? I said: get lost.”
Her words sting harder now that I’ve opened my heart to her. I don’t understand. I blink rapidly, willing myself not to cry. I glance at Kieran’s back. He’s too absorbed in the work to hear or notice us.
“Sorry,” I say, then leave. Kieran asks a question I can’t make out, and Natalia’s sweet voice answers.
I find an empty gallery and sit on the bench in the center of it. I really don’t understand. I ping-pong between feeling like we’re making progress and like I was invited here to be her personal punching bag.
Ravina drops down next to me with a sigh. She’s staring at her phone.
I hesitate, not wanting to get accused of trying to hump someone’s leg again, then ask, “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been trying to come up with a caption for this photo dump since this morning.
” She turns the screen over to me and swipes through the pictures.
In one of them, I’m smiling with everyone else, dressed in that beautiful opal dress.
If you didn’t know me, you would think I was one of them. That I belonged.
My heart aches for the girl in the photo. If only she knew what was to come.
“I was thinking, life lately, but that’s so cliché, you know?”
I swipe to the next photo. Ravina is in Natalia’s bathroom, leaning over one of two sinks and applying lipstick. Half of Erin is visible in the background, snapping the photo.
“What about—um—thrilla in Manila?” I cringe at my own idea. It’s the first thing that came to mind, and arguably one that should have stayed there.
Nevertheless, Ravina gasps. “I put the thrilla in Manila!” She types furiously on her phone. I can’t believe she likes it. When she clicks post, she smiles over at me and kisses my cheek. With her bright red lipstick, I know it leaves a mark.
“You’re the best, Sugar,” she says.
After some time, she looks around us and groans. “I wish Natalia would just fuck Kieran and get over it. This is so boring.”
“Do you not like art?” I ask.
She tilts her head from side to side. “My parents are crazy about it. Like, I’m talking, our house is filled with all sorts of it. This lead sculpture fell on my brother’s finger once. It split into three parts.” She shudders. “He’s okay now, though. They stitched it back up.”
I imagine what that must be like, to be surrounded by so much art your whole life that you become desensitized to it. I always thought exposure to art might make one more appreciative of it, but I guess sometimes it’s treated more like stock or investments.
The others start to file into the same gallery.
Cisco’s got his arm wrapped around Chiara’s neck as they look at each painting piece by piece.
Erin, Luz, and Bo are taking turns hitting Luz’s vape.
I’m pretty sure you can’t smoke in here, but I guess the rules are different when you’re Natalia Aranaz’s friends.
Jaime comes in last. He joins Cisco and Chiara. Our eyes meet—once—and he immediately looks away.
When they gather around Ravina and I, Bo puts one foot up on the bench by my thigh. “Who wants to bet Kieran and Natalia are making out in one of the rooms right now?”
Ravina’s hand flies into the air.
“That’s never going to happen,” Luz says, catching me off guard. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard her say anything less than stellar about Natalia. I thought she lived perpetually up Natalia’s ass.
“Why not?” I ask. Of course, I know why; Kieran doesn’t feel the same way. I just wanted to see if everyone else had finally caught up to it.
Luz takes a drag out of her vape. “Because if they haven’t already, they never will.”
“But I thought—?” Ravina starts to ask.
Luz shrugs. She pushes Bo’s foot off the bench and sits next to me. As if on cue, Kieran strolls in, followed by Natalia.
“Told you,” Luz says to me under her breath.
Kieran makes a beeline straight for me. I watch him move as if in slow motion. In the few seconds it takes him to cross the room, I make my decision: if Natalia refuses to be friends, then the least I can do is not piss her off. If that means avoiding Kieran, then so be it.
“Come here,” he says, holding out his hand. “I want to show you something.”
My hand betrays me. It settles on his palm, and his fingers wrap gently around mine. He pulls me up and leads me to a different room.
My treacherous heart skips a beat.