Page 13 of Between Then and Now
Bon nods, her expression serious. “Yep. She misses you, Rob. Maybe you should try harder.”
The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of Bon’s words hanging in the air. Richard clears his throat, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, who remembers the time Bon tried to top her pizza with mac and cheese?”
“Comfort food on comfort food. I was saving myself some time,” Bon replies flatly, and the tension evaporates as we all laugh.
“How about the canned corn?” Rob asks, and Bon scowls.
“Sweet and salty. Perfect, if you ask me,” she says.
“The mango?” Richard adds.
“There’s already pineapple there. What’s another fruit?” She shrugs.
“The most disgusting one had to be the crushed sweet potato chips,” I say with a grimace.
“It adds crunch,” Bon defends. Then she stands up. “You know what, screw all of you, I’m leaving.” She playfully takes a final bite of her pizza. “I will pester you tomorrow, Miller.”
When my brother looks up, Bon clarifies, “Not you, sweetie, the other Miller.” She pinches my nose, then skips out of our house, leaving us with grins on our faces as we continue to watch the game.
I watch her leave, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m worrying too much—or not enough. She’s determined, and I have to give her credit for that. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Bonbon, it’s that nothing ever goes exactly as planned.
Bonbon is right. My superiors don’t mind another person joining in. When I approach Dr. Fernandez about Bon’s request, she barely hesitates before nodding in approval. “It could be good publicity for the hospital,” he says thoughtfully. “And away to document the impact we’re making in the community. Just make sure she stays out of the way of the medical procedures.”
She even requests a copy of the documentary once it’s finished, which is more enthusiastic than I expected.
When I tell Bon, she squeals over the phone again, which makes me rethink ever calling her at all. I’m usually the texting type of person, anyway. Phone calls give me the jitters, but with my family and friends, including Bonbon, I don’t mind. Unless she squeals again and my eardrum breaks.
The next few days are a whirlwind of preparations. Bonbon is like a whirlwind herself, juggling her current workload while diving headfirst into planning the documentary. She spends hours researching, making lists, and preparing her equipment. I have never seen her so focused and driven.
Maybe tagging her along will be a good idea after all.
Three days before our flight, I go to Lily’s to buy some last-minute toiletries for the trip. Just as I’m walking out, I almost slip on a cane sprawled in front of me. I look to my right and seeManangLinda sitting at the bench outside the store, drinking a soda.
“You’re going on a trip with Bonita,” she says. It’s a statement, not a question. She doesn’t follow up with anything, so I don’t really know how to continue this conversation.
I just reply with, “...yes.”
“Take care of her,” she says, staring me down through her spectacles. Today she’s wearing a polka dot dress and a matching headband. She’s holding a cigarette in one hand and the soda can in the other. All the things that aren’t good for her aging body. I’d call her out, but then I’d risk getting whipped with a cane, so I ignore it.
“It’s not really that kind of trip,” I say. “It’s a work thing.”
ManangLinda raises an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. She adjusts her spectacles and leans forward slightly. “Is that what the young ones call escapades these days? ‘Work things’?” she retorts, her voice tinged with amusement. I chuckle nervously, unsure how to respond to her blunt assessment.
“Back in my day,” she continues, her tone growing more animated, “when a man and a woman went on a trip alone, they were either siblings or a married couple. But I was never really the traditional type.” She winks. “So, I always went on trips with boyfriends. Yes, hun, plural.” She pauses. “But you know what I never went on?” She taps her cane loudly on the ground. “A platonic trip with a boy-friend. That’s just bullshit.” She pauses between the words boy and friend for emphasis.
I blink in surprise, taken aback byManangLinda’s candid admission. She has a way of cutting through pretense and getting straight to the point.
“Well,ManangLinda,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, “I assure you, this trip is strictly professional. Bonbon and I are friends. Have been for more than a decade. I’m just going to help some residents, and Bon will film and document.”
She narrows her eyes thoughtfully, considering my words. After a moment, she sighs dramatically.
“Fine, fine,” she relents, waving a dismissive hand. “Just remember, young man, Bonita is like a firecracker–bright and full of surprises. You might find yourself wondering how life managed to mix business with pleasure.” She winks again as she stands up, throwing her empty soda can into the open garbage bin.
“Now, remember what I said about looking out for each other. And don’t forget to bring me back a souvenir!” She waves as she walks away, continuing to roam around.
I nod, grateful for her advice, though unsure of how to respond. AsManangLinda walks away, I can’t help but notice the can she discarded—it isn’t just cola, but whiskey-cola.
CHAPTER EIGHT
