Page 46 of Between Then and Now
“Anytime, Bonbon,” I say, silence lingering in the air as I prepare her food for her. She sits up from her bed and takes the spoon from me, her fingers brushing against mine. There’s a warmth in that touch that sends a jolt through me. As she starts eating, I watch her, making sure she’s comfortable, making sure she’s really okay.
“Ryan,” she says after a few moments, her voice soft. “Seriously. I don’t know how to thank you. For everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I reply. “Just focus on getting better. That’s all that matters.” Normally, I’d crack a jokeby now, but nothing about this moment or what I’m feeling feels funny.
She nods, taking another spoonful of soup. The room is quiet, save for the sound of her eating and the distant waves outside. It’s a peaceful moment, a brief respite from the chaos of the past few days.
I still don’t start a conversation about feelings or any of that unimportant stuff. Instead, I let her recover. I watch as she eats, the color gradually returning to her cheeks. It’s a comforting sight to see her coming back to life slowly.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, trying to lighten her mood.
“My documentary. I lost my camera in the ocean.” She pouts. I know how important her film is to her, so I know how devastated she is right now.
“Did you lose all the footage?” I ask.
“No, just a few I took that day. But I still had a final scene to shoot.” She sets her spoon down and looks at me with a frown on her face. “You remember that question I asked all of you during our first day? I just need to ask it again for a final time.” I nod, just as Bon perks up so quickly it’s like she’s Popeye after he ate spinach.
“What is it?” I ask, genuinely concerned that she might be feeling something unnatural.
“I just had an idea.” She looks at me with apprehension, but continues. “My near-drowning incident made me realize a lot of things. And one of those things is that there’s more to life than my career and perfection. And ironic as it is, the realization is good for my film. I can film it using my phone–the quality is obviously lower, but that emphasizes my point, don’t you think?”
I nod slowly, letting her words sink in. “You mean, the message that life isn’t about perfection or having everything go according to plan?”
“Exactly!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “The rawness, the imperfections—they all add to the authenticity of the message. It’s not about the quality of the footage, but the quality of the story.”
“That’s a brilliant idea, Bon,” I say, genuinely impressed.
She smiles, looking more animated than she has in days. “I’m glad you think so. I was worried it might come off as unprofessional.”
“Take it easy, though,” I say as she gets her phone and starts jotting her ideas down. “You’re not yet fully recovered.”
“Oh, pish posh,” she says.
I can’t help but chuckle at her determination. As she goes back to her notes, I find myself studying her. The way her brow furrows in concentration, the light in her eyes when she’s passionate about something. That’s Bon for you—always pushing forward, always seeing the silver lining. As I watch her scribble down her thoughts, I feel a warmth spreading through my chest.
The next day is a repetition of the previous one. I spend the day continuously checking on her. She’s improved a lot, her usual bubbliness showing on the surface. This evening, she’s even more energetic, her laughter echoing through the room as she catches up on her favorite shows.
“Ryan, you don’t have to hover, you know,” she teases as I once again reach out to check her vitals. It has somehow become a normal thing now. I reach my hand out to her, andshe automatically reaches out in return. “I’m not going to keel over.” She looks up from her laptop.
I chuckle. “Just making sure you’re okay. Can’t help it.”
Her eyes soften, and she reaches out to squeeze my hand “You’re a good friend, Ry.”
The word “friend” echoes in my mind, and for the first time, it feels a bit inadequate. Is that all we are? Or is there something more? It’s been days since the accident, but my feelings haven’t subsided. If anything, spending all this time taking care of Bon has just amplified them further.
Can I really be feeling something else for her? I’ve always been cautious with my emotions, but Bon makes me want to take risks, to step into the unknown. Like she’s done for the rest of our lives.
I was nine years old when we arrived in Magnolia Heights. Bon was younger, but she’s always been the more influential one. We were new to the place, and we were foreigners from another country. Bon immediately invited me and my brother on their playdates. She introduced us to the local kids, ensuring we never felt like outsiders. Her family embraced us like their own, and I felt a sense of belonging that I hadn’t known I was missing.
She was the one who taught me how to eat Filipino street food. I can still picture us sitting on the curb, eatingbalutand laughing at how my brother gagged at the sight. Bon was fearless, diving headfirst into new experiences, and she dragged me along with her. And I always let her.
She had this way of making everything seem less daunting, her optimism and zest for life a constant source of inspiration. She never let me dwell on my insecurities, always pushing me to step out of my comfort zone.
I realize I’ve been staring at her for the past few minutes because she looks up at me, her expression curious. “You okay?” she asks.
I nod, trying to play it cool as I wave her off. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, attempting to redirect my attention back to my reading. But it’s a futile effort. My mind is still fixated on her.
So instead of pretending to read, I make my way to her bed to sit beside her. She scoots over, puts her laptop on her lap, and our shoulders brush as I take a seat. We’ve been in this position so many times, but it feels more intimate today.
