Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
ISABEL
Chiara pulls me into our room and locks the door shut behind me.
“You and Kieran?!” she whispers under her breath. I’m afraid she’ll slap me until she squeals and throws her arms around me. “Oh my God, I don’t know how I never saw it before, but you guys look so cute together!”
Relief washes over me. So, I had at least one ally among the girls. That isn’t so bad. In fact, just one is all I need.
“Cisco told me everything,” she says, leading me to sit next to her on her bed. “But I want you to tell me again. I need to hear it from you.”
So, I tell her the full story. The late nights and early mornings.
The sneaking around. I swear to her that I changed the sheets in Oikos before she got back, which makes her laugh.
When I tell her that we exchanged the L-word, Chiara swoons, dropping back on her pillows dramatically before jumping up to her feet.
“We need to make you look hot. I mean, you already do, but hotter. Make his jaw drop.” She spins and rifles through her clothes.
“I love your clothes, don’t get me wrong,” she says as she pulls out a little black polka dot halter dress, “but they’re too dainty for what we’re trying to accomplish. Can you try this on?”
I change in the bathroom and step out nervously.
It’s definitely out of my comfort zone, the skirt is short and barely a few inches below my ass.
The strap of the halter is so thin it’s practically just the suggestion of it.
But it’s sexy—and feminism doesn’t bar women from wanting to be sexy in the eyes of their lover.
Chiara gasps.
“Look at you, you little minx. A fucking vixen. Kieran won’t know what hit him.”
I glance at my reflection sheepishly. “You don’t think the others will wonder where we went?”
Chiara shrugs. “I’ll tell them we’re going to see your friend. What’s her name?”
“Rocío.”
“Yeah. Her.”
“And it won’t be suspicious that Kieran and Cisco are heading out, too?”
Chiara shakes her head. “Cisco gets restless pretty easily. They’re used to him making his own plans.”
I want to ask if the other girls will ostracize her for going out with me. If she knew anything about why they were acting so cold with me. But I’m so happy to be back in someone’s good graces that I don’t dare bring it up. Her warmth is a relief after being frozen out by everyone else.
I slip my bag over my shoulder, the familiar weight of my journals pressing down on my hip.
“Uh-uh,” Chiara says, taking the bag off of me and setting it on my bed.
“Wha—”
“You are not wearing that dress just to cover it up with your messenger bag. You need a purse.”
“I don’t have a purse,” I say. Not one that can fit my meds and my journals, anyway.
Chiara waves me off. “I have several. They’re hand-me-downs from the other girls, but they’ll work. Hold on.”
She rifles through her designated closet, holding up this bag and that until she settles on a small, glittery silver purse that looks like it could hardly fit anything beyond my phone and a tube of lip gloss.
What about my wallet? I raise this concern with Chiara, who shrugs and says, “That’s the point. ”
I’ve never gone anywhere without my wallet or my journals. Chiara must see me hesitating, because she tugs me closer to the door. “Come on. You’ll be fine.”
For good measure, I shove my bag under the bed.
“Is your dildo in there or something?” Chiara teases.
Worse. My whole heart and soul are within those pages.
Well, the parts of my heart that aren’t in Kieran, anyway.
* * *
Along a street in Legazpi Village, there is a little free library where you can take books or donate some.
On the third shelf from the top, there’s a fishbowl with rolled up strips of paper.
Read your fortune! a sign says. We each dig in to find out what the world (or this fishbowl) has to say to us.
“Luck is coming your way,” Chiara says.
“Success will be yours,” Cisco adds.
Kieran waves his in front of our faces. “Love is in your future.”
“I’d argue your fortune’s a little late,” Cisco says.
The air is lighter around the four of us, as if any and all pressure to perform has been blown away. Without the others, I find that I get along with Cisco more than I expected. He’s a nice guy, and it’s clear he really cares about Chiara.
“What’d you get, Sabs?” Chiara asks.
I laugh. What are the odds? “Love is right in front of your eyes.”
Kieran stands in front of me. “Wow. Crazy how accurate that is.”
I pocket my fortune as we head down the street in search of Blue Moon Studios, a boutique gallery Kieran says he’s been wanting to visit.
We cut through the park with maids walking dogs and runners getting their daily exercise in, the summer sun turning the asphalt gold through the slants between skyscrapers, the sparse lines of trees casting blue shadows on the road, all the way to Salcedo where Blue Moon Studios sits pretty on the ground floor of an old condominium building.
We step in, greeted by the cool air-conditioning of the gallery. It’s small, its walls a bright white and adorned by frameless abstract art. A woman in glasses sits behind the front desk and stands to greet us.
“Hi, Jeanette?” Kieran asks. Jeanette nods. “I’m Kieran. We’ve been in contact through email.”
“Kieran! Yes, of course.”
Cisco stands with an arm around Chiara. He winks at me.
“I spoke to my boss about your email—we can pencil you in for maybe around October? We’re booked until then...” Jeanette continues talking, but I don’t hear the rest of it. My ears ring in sync with my racing heart.
October? Is Kieran planning on having a show here? Does that mean he plans to come back? How many paintings can he make before then? Will it be enough for another collection, or is it going to be a capsule?
Chiara tugs on my hand. I snap back to reality and let her lead me to one of the paintings, a giant canvas of black, gray, and red.
“Do you know what that was about?” I ask her.
A small smile pulls on her lips. “He hasn’t told you?”
“I wouldn’t be asking you if he had.”
“Fair enough.” Chiara links our arms and walks to the next painting, all black and gray and red again, this time in a different arrangement. “Cisco says he wants to stay here. Be with you full-time.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“Isn’t that so romantic?” Chiara gushes. “He’s so in love with you. I never thought he was the grand gesture type, but it makes sense.”
I’m lightheaded. I feel as though I’m about to faint. I sit on a bench, inscribed with the name Abueva in one corner to catch my breath. Chiara sits next to me and places her hand over mine.
“Do you not want him to?” she asks.
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just—it’s just a lot to take in at the moment.” I picture the end of summer, watch my future with Kieran stretch out beyond it. Everything is suddenly more real than it was several minutes ago. This isn’t a dress rehearsal anymore; it’s do or die.
“He really, really likes you, Sabs,” Chiara says. “I’ve never seen him like this. Ever. Cisco says he hasn’t either.”
I hold my head in my hands. “Natalia is going to kill me.”
Chiara grimaces. Not only have I addressed the elephant in the room, I just stood behind a podium and gave a speech.
Chiara sighs. “Natalia’s... She’s complicated. I know you know that better than I do. But in the end, if it’s you Kieran wants, there isn’t much she can do about it.”
“She can call me a home-wrecker,” I point out. “She can hire a hitman to kill me.” There’s nothing a scorned Natalia Aranaz can’t and won’t do to make herself feel better.
Chiara starts to tell me not to worry when the boys join us.
“Sorry,” Kieran says. “Work stuff.”
“You didn’t tell me you were planning on having a show here,” I say.
“Surprise?” He looks sheepish. “I’ll tell you more about it over dinner.”
I stare at him, exasperated. Shouldn’t we have discussed this together first?
My phone beeps.
Rocío
OMW!!!!!!!
“We should head to the coffee shop,” I say, flashing them my screen. “Rocío will be there soon.”
Kieran reaches for my hand as we file out of Blue Moon Studios. I’m still reeling, but all my worries dissipate when he kisses my knuckles.
We can do this, right? Long distance or not, we’ve got what it takes to make this last.
I want to make this last. I just need to get over my crippling fear of getting caught by Natalia, as if he and I have committed the unforgivable crime of falling in love.
* * *
Rocío is seated at the table at Hiccups, this cafe she recently discovered and has been raving about. I think she’s sent me a photo of her mint mojito latte every day over the past week.
I nearly burst into tears at the sight of her. Her hair, which has grown a little longer since I last saw her and somehow looks even silkier than I remember. I hadn’t realized how much I missed my best friend until she pulls me into her arms and squeezes me tightly.
“Oh my God, he’s so cute,” she whispers in my ear. I laugh as I pull away and make the introductions.
“Okay, okay, go order,” Rocío shoos us, “and tell them to put it on my tab. It’s my treat.” She points at me and flicks her finger up and down, brows wiggling at me. Love the outfit, she mouths.
I’m not big on caffeine, so I opt for the toasted milk ube latte sans the espresso shot. Kieran orders the banana bread latte, Chiara the orange cardamom latte, and Cisco tries their mint mojito latte at Rocío’s recommendation.
I’m bursting with excitement when we get back to the table. “How are you guys enjoying the Philippines so far?” Rocío asks, that charming smile of hers ever present on her face.
“Oh my God, I love it,” Chiara gushes. “I never want to leave.”
Rocío laughs. “Most of us want to leave.”
“I think that’s how it always is when you’re local some place,” Cisco says. “Except me. I love New York. I’m never leaving.”
I catch Chiara shift uncomfortably. Is this what they were fighting about? Did she have plans to move away for medical school?