Page 14 of Between Then and Now
Bonita
Mr. Ramirez loved my proposal when I showed it to him last week. He appreciated the relevance of my topic in today’s world, emphasizing the importance of documenting humanitarian efforts. Last week felt like a blur as we worked with the legal team to draft a new employment contract. Completing all the necessary paperwork felt like a formality compared to the excitement building within me right now.
Today, I’m packing for the trip, with my laptop strategically placed on my bed so I can pack and still chat with my friends during our usual FaceTime sessions.
Even though Haley and Kate still live near me, they’re currently on a family trip. They have one of those giant families that hold annual reunions and have matching shirts to commemorate the event. Right now, I think it’s a great-grandmother’s birthday. Or was it a third cousin’s christening? I don’t know, but it’s one of those matching shirt events because they’re both wearing identical blue tops.
“Okay, but one month on a remote island? Can you do that?” Emily asks.
“I can and I will, Em,” I reply confidently, adjusting my laptop camera to get a better angle. “It’s a chance to capture something truly impactful. Plus, who wouldn’t want to spend a month in Batanes?”
Kate chimes in, her face brightening with curiosity. “Do you think you’ll find a romantic subplot there, Bon?” She is such a hopeless romantic, our dear Kate.
I laugh. “I’m going for a documentary, not a love story, Kate. Though,” I add with a mischievous grin, “who knows what adventures await?”
Haley, ever the supportive sister, nods thoughtfully. “Just promise you’ll come back with some good stories to tell. And if you try to get into trouble, at least make it interesting.”
“Hey, I’m there to work,” I reply playfully as they all glare at me. “But seriously, I’m going to make the most of this opportunity—it’s a chance to showcase what I can do with a camera and to shed light on the incredible work happening out there.”
Emily, always the pragmatic one, nods approvingly. “Just make sure you take care of yourself, okay? Remote locations can be tricky.”
“I will, Mama Em,” I assure her. “And don’t worry, I’ve packed enough sunscreen and bug spray to last a lifetime.” She smiles, as if she was just about to remind me. Emily always–and I mean always–reminds us to put sunscreen on before any trip.
“I would tell you to bring some first aid medicine, but since you’ll be surrounded by doctors, I wouldn’t worry too much.”
She’s on mobile, and it looks like she’s getting ready to ride the subway. Her line freezes for a bit, but once she’s back, I hear her say “Keep in touch.”
“You keep in touch. You’re on the other side of the world.” She gives me a glare and we chuckle at how she’s struggling to swipe her MetroCard. On her third and finally successful attempt, we give her applause, which only makes her glare at us more.
As Kate waves from their screen and our call ends, I catch a glimpse of her lavender tattoo, and I pause as I’m reminded of the day we all got matching ones.
It was the summer after our senior year of high school, and we decided to get ourselves matching tattoos–much to the dismay of our parents. Since we would be moving to different universities, we’d see each other less, and we wanted to solidify our friendship in a way that was both beautiful and meaningful. It was Kate’s idea, as are most of the sappy stuff we go through.
It was Haley who insisted on the tattoos, though. According to her, we needed something more permanent than just bracelets. So, we each got a tattoo of different flowers–because duh–that somehow symbolized us.
Em got a rose on her back, a nod to the name her father gave her. Kate got a lavender on her wrist, symbolizing how gentle and soothing she was as a person. A hug from Kate is like a visit to a therapist–comforting in all ways. Haley got a lotus on her thigh, which looked like (and meant that) she was resilient and strong. Haley is the type of friend who would tell the waiter that you ordered curly fries, not potato wedges. And she’s done that for me more times than I’d like to admit. I don’t exactly have any issues with talking to strangers, but I’m not a fan of confrontation or anything that resembles discomfort.
And then there’s me. I got a sunflower beside my collarbone because I always thought sunflowers exude warmth and happiness—something I’ve always tried to maintain for myself. It’s a reminder for me to always seek the light, no matter how dark things might get. And to be that light for other people too. I’m not gonna lie–sometimes it gets tiring to always be everyone’s source of light and happiness, but it’s the least I can do for the people I love.
I continue packing, the thoughts about my friends consuming me. I miss them. It feels almost impossible for us to be whole again after Emily moved out. But I guess that’s thething about solid friendships. They may hurt every now and then, but they’re always there.
On the day of our flight, Richard agrees to take us to the airport. We are still a few hours early despite it being a domestic flight, so Ryan and I decided to get some food before we take off.
“So,” I start as Ryan takes a bite of his chicken sandwich, “what is it about this Alexa girl that you find so endearing? Give me something to work with.” We eat as we walk back because we entrusted our luggage with a stranger at the boarding gates.
“Well, she’s beautiful. She’s smart, obviously. And she looks like a really fun person,” he says.
“Looks like?” I ask in shock, a piece of my panini almost falling off my mouth. I chuckle as I finish chewing my sandwich. “You mean you’ve never actually uttered a single word to her?” I ask as I wipe my mouth.
“I said ‘hey’ once, sometime in the last year,” he shrugs.
“Oh my god. I didn’t know it was this bad. We need to work on your skills, Ry,” I say. We’re back at the boarding gates and take our seats as we finish eating.
“Thank you. I don’t know where to start,” he says.
“We should start simple. You see this?” I say, pointing to my lips. “These are called lips, and they can curve upward. And when they do, it’s called a smile.” I smile widely.
“Are you going to be this condescending the entire time?” he asks.
