32. Chapter Thirty-One Gloria
Chapter Thirty-One: Gloria
As the driver-slash-bodyguard takes us to the concert, expertly weaving around the chaotic Filipino drivers, Raina squeezes my hand. "I know I'm not London, but we’ll still have a good time tonight."
I take a deep breath. "I know we will."
Raina used her connections to get us VIP passes at the last minute as well as the best seats in the house. But I'd give up all the perks in the world if it meant that London would be here with me.
Yet at the same time, I feel selfish and ungrateful for wishing he was here. My best friend dropped everything to be here with me and cheer me up. And London has his own problems to work through. I need to give him the space to do that .
Outside the concert venue, dedicated fans have set up tables selling handmade merch. Raina spies a table selling plastic fans with the band members’ faces on them, and we line up behind the other SB19 fans to get our stuff.
Part of me is wishing we booked a hotel for the night.
I’ve heard rumours that SB19 stays in the same hotel whenever they perform at the Areneta Coliseum.
If we’d done the same, we wouldn’t need to take a car over, but I’m sweating at the thought of walking the handful of blocks.
The humidity always makes the heat worse.
And we haven’t even entered the arena yet.
SB19 songs stream over the speakers, and a fan is passing out glowsticks by the door. I remember seeing a social media post from a fan account saying we should all wave blue glowsticks during one of their songs—MAPA, I think, a sweet tribute to their parents.
“Isn’t this so fun?” Raina squeezes my hand, her cheeks flushed pink. Her grin is infectious, so I find myself smiling back in spite of all the heartache that’s led me here.
“I’m looking forward to seeing them perform live,” I say. “What’s the last time we went to a concert together?”
I can’t even remember. I spent so much of my time at UCLA studying, pulling all-nighters in the library, and I’ve been working so much, I haven’t taken time off in years.
“It was the Ryder Black concert we went to in junior year of college,” she reminds me. “After the Grammy awards where he punched Naoya Sugawa in the face, remember?”
I chuckle. “I remember now.”
That was a controversial concert. Some concertgoers had signs defending Naoya and others held up signs saying they loved Ryder even more after his televised fistfight. I think both popstars were banned from attending the Grammys for two years .
“I still can’t believe you’re related to Ryder,” Raina says as the line inches forward.
“Keep your voice down,” I say.
Though, it’s so loud here that I can barely hear myself think, let alone expect someone to eavesdrop on us.
While American singers are popular in the Philippines, we’re at an SB19 concert.
The fans here care more about P-pop groups than any American artist. Although, Ryder did give a charity concert in El Nido almost ten years ago, after a hurricane blew through.
It was the same storm that took the life of Eddie’s mom.
We make it to the front of the line. I get a fan with the face of my favourite member—Stell—on it, while Raina gets one with Pablo’s face on it. We browse around the other tables, collecting everything from keychains to glowsticks to posters.
Laden with merch, we enter the concert venue and are shown to our seats by the worker who sees our VIP passes.
The air is surprisingly cool, and I’m thankful for the plentiful air conditioning and fans.
Considering the number of SB19 fans there are around here, the venue will be packed with people, and that kind of heat would be unbearable.
Especially for a pregnant woman in her third trimester.
We wait a while and the opening act comes on, a smaller local P-pop group.
After they've sung a few songs and covered one of SB19's songs, they exit the stage.
Finally, SB19 comes on. Justin, Pablo, Josh, Stell, and Felip open the concert with one of their newer songs, GENTO.
They open with an aggressive rap verse containing a line about baked potatoes that always makes me chuckle.
Still, the beat propels me from my seat to dance along.
For the next few hours, I lose myself in the concert.
Raina and I jump around, singing along and smiling until our cheeks hurt and our throats are sore.
The five members dance in perfectly choreographed moves, flip their hair in a way that would get One Direction overwhelmed, and sing and/or rap their lyrics with way better sound quality than any of their albums.
They sing a sultrier song, I WANT YOU, from their latest EP. We get a slight break from dancing around as the members perform. The lyrics about having a connection that goes beyond just physical attraction hit me with full force. I take a deep breath, and do my best to just enjoy the concert.
Thankfully, Raina doesn’t notice my drop in energy as she’s busy guzzling the horribly overpriced water bottles we bought at the concession stand.
Another emotional song is next on their setlist, MAPA, an emotive tribute to their parents for supporting and guiding them.
All the fans wave their blue glowsticks in the air, rocking side to side with their arms around each other.
They end with their 'thank you' song to their fans, SLMT, and Raina and I sway back and forth to the song.
We're both sweaty, out of breath, and tired, but exhilarated.
By the time the encore is sung and we're ushered toward the backstage area so we can get our merch signed and ask for selfies, I'm ready for bed.
Yet my mind is racing a million miles a minute.
There's no way I'll be able to sleep tonight.
I ask them to sign my shirt and make it out to London. Even though he didn't come, I know he'd want the shirt, at least.
Raina looks at me curiously but says nothing as she asks them to sign her fan.
We all take pictures with all the members before filing out of the room.
They're all cute—more good-looking in real life—with floppy-yet-styled hair and slightly sweaty from dancing and singing for a few hours straight under hot stage lights.
After we get in the car and drive to the hotel, Raina yawns and tells me she's going to bed as soon as we get back. I don't begrudge her sleep, since she's been dancing and singing with as much energy as she would if she weren't pregnant. Maybe more.
When I go to the kitchen for a nightcap, Paulo’s there, too .
I stir a packet of instant Kopiko coffee into hot water. "Couldn't sleep?"
"I've been working night shifts lately at the hospital, so my circadian rhythm is out of sync." He yawns, taking a sip of his coffee that matches mine. "What about you?"
At least I can blame mine on travelling. Even if it's not true. "Jet lag."
We sit in silence for a moment, both of us side by side at the kitchen counter. Then, Paulo asks, “Want to sit on the beach?”
I jump at the opportunity. I rarely go to the beach in L.A. despite living so close. I really ought to change that.
As we sit outside staring at the ocean, Paulo says, “What really happened with you and London?"
I take a sip of coffee. It's a familiar taste, sweet and creamy in a way that the coffee I have back in L.A. never is, no matter how much sugar and milk I add. "He didn't want to come."
"I thought you two planned the trip together."
"He changed his mind." A sob threatens to strangle my vocal cords. "The day before we were supposed to leave, he said he couldn't come."
"Why?" Protectiveness creeps into Paulo's tone, like he's going to fly to L.A. and beat up London for me.
"His parents are getting a divorce. He needed time to process everything." I take another sip of coffee, willing the warmth to comfort me emotionally as well as physically.
"Oh." Maybe he thought London broke up with me, or he flaked out, scared of meeting my family.
"I know."
"I'm sorry, Gloria." He wraps his arm around my shoulders, squeezing me into his side for a moment. "Did you guys break up?"
"No… I don't even know. He said he needed space and time.” Even though he said it wasn’t space from me that he needed, it still feels like it .
“I’m sure you two will be okay. From everything you’ve told me about him—except for him ditching you on this trip—it sounds like he really cares about you.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Yeah. I wish you guys could have met him.”
"I would've liked to meet him, too," Paulo says. "But I can't say that I wouldn't have liked to have words with him, too."
I chuckle. "'Have words with'? You mean you wouldn't whip out your boxing moves on him?"
"We both know I'm a healer, not a fighter." Paulo laughs.
I finish my coffee. "What happened to the girl you were telling me about? The one you were writing letters to?”
“We’re still writing letters. We still haven’t officially met.” He shrugs. “But we’re not here to talk about me.”
A frisson of guilt gnaws at me. “I shouldn’t be laying all my problems on you. I’m sure you have things going on in your life that you want to talk about.”
He sighs. I’m reminded of all the times that we were little, and my parents would say something along the lines of, why can’t you be more like Paulo?
Look how well-behaved he is, and his good grades, and how respectful he is…
On and on the list went of how I fell short in comparison to my older brother.
He’s too old for us to really have been competitive—except maybe when it came to games or karaoke, where we would fight over who got to pick the first song. But other than that, he’s always been a steady force in my life that I mentally compared myself to every time I had any accomplishment.
Maybe that’s why I went to the States and went into law. There, I could compare myself to Paulo less. Even though he was the one who stayed behind to take care of everyone, the one who stayed with our family, the golden child .
“You’re going through a lot right now, it sounds like. We can talk about me tomorrow. But for now… You're my sister, and I've missed you. I want to hear about your life." His brown eyes meet mine.
Momentarily, I wish I was a kid again, before any of this ever happened—before I ever met London. Before I ever moved to the States. Especially before Eddie lost his mom. Just me and my brother, playing on the beach.
"I missed you, too.” I sigh, rubbing my temples before a yawn overtakes me again. "Let’s talk more tomorrow. I should go to bed."
"Me, too." We say our good nights and go back inside. I trudge toward my old room, my feet feeling like bricks.
Exhaustion finally blesses me with a deep and dreamless sleep.