18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Nonblesse Oblige
SAL
Sal took it upon herself to remain silent as they traveled to their new destination, the National Museum of Fine Arts.
Theola parked her car a little far off since there were few available parking spots, but the walk to the museum was worth it.
The heart of old Manila was dusted with old buildings, modern roads, and a mix of architectural hits and misses.
It was part of its charm. She believed that’s what made her homeland special; it was a melting pot of culture, a mix of all the things the people had been and fought for, and in a way, weren’t we all like that too?
The National Museum of Fine Arts stood proudly in stark white as a neoclassical gem in the center of Manila’s busy streets.
They walked up the long white stairs leading to the grand columns like giants welcoming their visitors to the hallowed halls, brandished with ornate columns and fixtures that beckoned feelings of nostalgia.
Before they entered the museum, they were required to surrender all liquids and water bottles to the concierge.
Willow and Sal obliged. She reached for her phone by force of habit and noticed it wasn’t there.
She rummaged through her bag and panicked.
“I can’t find my phone,” Sal said as she continued to vigorously search her tote bag.
“But weren’t you just holding it in Intramuros?” Willow asked.
Sal continued to look. “I placed it in my bag but…” Then they saw it—a clean slice on the outer pocket of her tote bag.
One of her Moleskin notebooks had pushed against it, making it unnoticeable at first, but now it was obvious.
She had been pick-pocketed. They double-checked her bag and made sure everything else was there.
Her coin purse was also missing, but mercifully, her wallet where she kept all her paper bills and credit cards and her passport were still in the bag.
“Shit.” Sal sucked air through her teeth as she bit her lower lip and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Theola jumped in. “Don’t worry, Sal. I’ll try my best to find your phone.” She pulled both of them aside to speak to them more privately. “We could postpone the visit today…?”
“No.” Sal shook her head with her shoulders squared.
“Let’s push through. Just do what you can, Theola,” she said, letting out a frustrated exhale, “The last thing I want is to be late. I’ll never hear the end from Harmon.
” She eyed her surroundings and saw Harmon already there lining up and straightened her stance. I’ll manage, she told herself mentally.
Harmon joined their group soon after being admitted. “Shall we?” he asked, and on they went. First, they entered a large receiving hall with a huge black statue of former president Manuel Roxas standing tall. Eventually, they split up and toured the place separately.
Sal tried to keep her mind off her missing phone.
What a nightmare for it to go missing on this important trip.
She buried her frustration by focusing on learning more about the museum.
It was interesting to learn that the museum was first built as a national library and then fashioned into the senate building, then ultimately retrofitted to become the National Museum of Fine Arts.
The way places could change through the years, and be experienced differently through each generation, reminded her of how unpredictable life could be.
Everywhere around her, signs of reinvention, sacrifice, and resilience were present, and she resonated with the theme through the journey of her own life.
Eventually, she caught up to Harmon and Willow as she was waltzing through one of the exhibition halls filled with paintings. “The rooms of this museum are color-coded for every subject,” she overheard Harmon saying to Willow.
“Have you noticed all the women in the paintings share some similarities with Sal?” Willow asked, realizing Sal had joined them, and elbowing her.
Sal just grinned at the compliment and languidly walked ahead as she considered Willow’s statement.
Most of the women in the paintings had the same skin tone, with the same thick dark hair, and expressive brown eyes as her.
They were all dressed in lovely Filipiniana gowns, sometimes adorned with pearls, other times accessorized with lavish fans.
Artists such as Fernando Amorsolo, Juan Luna, and Ireneo Miranda had painted these beautiful Filipinas.
It filled Sal with pride to be part of an entire nation of people with different depictions of beauty.
Harmon came up from behind her with Willow. She overhead him ask, “Striking, isn’t she?” Sal looked back at him. He had that glazed look in his eyes again. When Sal looked toward the object of his consideration, she saw a painting that seemed of someone in her likeness.
“Yes, she is beautiful,” Willow replied.
Harmon turned to Sal. “The color of this room adds a touch of vibrancy to the portraits, making them feel lifelike,” Harmon said, switching his focus to other paintings. The warm yellow lighting had that effect on them.
After wandering the halls aimlessly, nothing prepared Sal for the old session hall positioned right on the second floor of the museum.
It opened widely, its ceiling reaching to the very top of the building, and had sweeping panoramic classical murals.
Sal learned from the mounted bronze plaque that it was supposed to mimic a cathedral, hence the shape of the session hall, and then retrofitted to be the old legislative hall where the political minds of this country had gathered for wisdom and debate.
It rendered her breathless, as she sat on one of the benches, and upon close inspection, it did the same with Harmon.
He sat on the other side of the bench, facing the mural and taking it in.
They were seated where the bold and bright stood for democracy in the Philippines.
From the corner of Sal’s eye, Harmon stood up and sat closer to her.
She looked over her shoulder and saw that Willow was pacing just a few feet away, admiring the mural too.
“I like this museum. It’s one of my top choices as of now,” he said.
Sal nodded, not knowing how to respond. Of course he would choose this one. It was grand and beautiful and so very…him. “We still have a few on the list to tour in the major cities,” Sal said. “Maybe reserve your opinion until then.”
“Why bother?”
“So you can have options.”
“No, if I see something I want, I go get it,” he said, looking at Sal intently. Something about the way he looked at her made it seem like he wasn’t just talking about the museum.
Sal broke eye contact. “You’ve made that very clear during the mediation,” she said coolly.
Harmon paused and looked away. “I’m curious, what made you want to leave this country when you’re technically a surgeon here? What happened? Did you get caught up in something bad?”
Sal grinned. “Now, wouldn’t you like to know?” she said again, like all those nights ago in Autumn Town when they first met. “How about you? Heard you also have a colorful past.”
Harmon clasped his hands together. “Raised by a single mother, orphaned in my twenties, and strove hard to be where I am today. Not really colorful,” he blurted.
Sal looked back at Harmon to apologize for asking, but before she could, he stood up. “I’ll go see the museum director later as planned. When you’re done, come to her office too.” He placed his hands in his pockets and walked away.
Sal made her way to the upper chambers after Harmon left and sat there admiring the architecture.
Some time had passed when she was met by a rather frazzled Willow. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Willow let out a long-winded exhale as she briskly walked to Sal, her thick, billowy red hair bobbing as she paced closer.
She looked up at her friend as though coming out of a sleepy daze. Willow could probably tell just by looking at her she had more than one thing on her mind. “I just realized something,” Sal murmured.
Willow sighed and sat beside her. She crossed her legs and leaned back on her palms. After a minute of comfortable silence, she said, “Lemme guess, you realized that maybe your sexts with Rafa will be leaked?”
Sal let out an astonished laugh, and Willow crinkled her nose as she smiled in response. “You needed that laugh.”
“Yeah, I did…” she giggled. “I realized we can’t afford this, and I feel stupid for not asking the total cost of renting something like this beforehand.” Sal rested her elbows on her knees.
“Well, it’s not like we knew they’d be this big.” Willow tilted her head and lilted her voice.
“I knew they were big. Hence, me being short-sighted, Sal responded.
Willow sighed. “We have a lot of other museums on the itinerary, so just enjoy the trip, and if you really want to slash off some museums from the list, we’ll definitely do that,” she said, trying to sound motivated.
Sal nodded and bit her lip. “Harmon might not like removing some museums from the list. He’ll think it isn’t fair, and that we withheld potentially better and more affordable museums.”
“Pfft! Let him. We just won’t go to the ones that are expensive, that’s all.”
“They’re all expensive in Manila, Willow.”
“Well, then… We’ll go to the least expensive ones. Maybe pick the one that will get us the best crowd turnout.”
Sal nodded. “But it’s nothing compared to the market in Manila. We need a competitive museum that people would want to go to.”
“We’ll make it happen, Sal.”
“If I don’t? I would’ve wasted all the money on this stupid wager and lose everything I built in St. Stephenshire.” Sal buried her face in her palms.
Willow patted her back. “Hey, eyes forward. We’ve committed to this, and there’s always a way if you want something badly.”
Sal looked at her friend affectionately. “That’s what you tell yourself when the odds are stacked against you, huh?”