There are rumors that when we land in the Philippines, there won’t be much downtime. That the country is crawling with the Japanese and my people are under duress. I don’t know what this means, Leora, or what it entails, though some of the soldiers look to me for advice. But who am I to give them guidance? Though many of them are young, they are not naive. None of these soldiers from America come from a life of luxury. Their hands are torn from fieldwork, faces hardened by the sun. They aren’t innocent, by any means.
And yet, I still feel protective. Me and them, we are all in between—in between two countries where we have endured hardship, even hate.
I apologize for this dreary letter. Take heart, my joy is the sunset that looks close enough to touch, where it feels like the sun is setting all around me. Above, around, and seemingly below as it reflects off the water.
Again, no matter what happens there with the protests, Leora, you must keep yourself safe. I know you. You will want to defend me, defend my father. You have a good heart, always seeing the best in people. But you can’t take part in it. Keep to Mrs. Lawley, to the shop, and I will return to you soon.
I can hear you cluck in disapproval at my attempt to tell you what to do. I know well enough that Leora Gallagher will do exactly what she wants. And I love her for it.
Until next time.
Iniibig kita,
Antonio
Chapter Eleven
That afternoon, Diana placed her keys into Sam’s hand. She singled out each one. “My car. My mom’s car. The front door. The front door dead bolt. The mailbox.” Then she flipped a spiral notebook open. “These are the phone numbers of my contractor, the alarm company and code, and my lawyer. My will is in the safe—”
Sam scoffed. “Diana! You’re going on vacation, not shuffling off this mortal coil!”
“I know, but just in case.”
“Let’s just put it out into the universe that I won’t plan on calling your lawyer because you’ll be back safely here in a week, okay? But, I will be blowing your phone up if your contractor happens to do something tragic to your home.”
“I trust Lenny. There shouldn’t be any issues, but if you ever feel something is awry, I have no problem with you telling them to hit the road until you can get a hold of me.” Diana took a breath. “I’m sorry. Let me know if this is too much.”
Sam leaned back on her barstool. “Nope, I’m good. But how about you? You look like you are in pain.”
“Do I?”
“Face frozen into a half smile. Eyes widened, unblinking. It’s a slightly panicked look.”
“Great, just great.” Diana laughed, unsure how to take it, and because her friend had just accurately pinpointed the sum average of the last week’s emotions.
“Okay. Let me rephrase that question. Do you have everything?” Sam put a hand on Diana’s forearm.
Diana nodded. That question was simple enough. “I have my passport, my wallet, phone, and some clothes. Everything else I can get there. Carlo is on his way to pick up Flossy, which I know he’s thrilled about, but I’m going to miss her. And to be honest, I hate giving him the upper hand.” At the sound of her name, the dog bounded from behind the couch with her stuffed bunny, which she carried by its ear. Diana bent down and rubbed the space between her eyes, her spot.
She looked up at Sam. “I know that look. You’re wondering why I’m getting on a plane and flying to another country where I don’t know a soul.”
“That is a correct deduction.”
“It’s simple. It has to be done. Worst-case scenario: I get to visit a few sites. I know so little about where I came from, and I’ve nearly let the opportunity pass me by.”
“It’s just … it’s not as if things are going well in the work front.” Sam nodded at the television, turned to local news. “With the hospital and all, and the media coverage … I don’t blame you for wanting to get out of here. You are coming back, though, right?”
Diana barked out a laugh, though Sam didn’t join her. “That’s silly. Of course I’m coming back. To quote my PI, ‘This is just a fact-finding mission.’ ” She grinned at her friend, then down at her phone, which flashed another notification. Irritation buzzed through her. “But I’m not going to lie, this VIP issue is all so annoying. Just when I think everyone’s forgotten about it, someone shares the article and tags me.”
“Have you heard from Aziza?” Sam asked.
“Yes, but just to say that she’ll see me when I return.” The way her boss seemed out of touch was a little disconcerting. Usually a day didn’t go by without some kind of communication from Aziza, even if it was a simple forwarded work email.
Another text notification flashed on the screen. Her mother.
I forgot my hair dryer
“Give me a sec.” Diana picked up her phone to return the text. “She’s been nonstop with her texts since they landed in New Orleans. Scratch that, her texts started on the plane.”
“She’s worried about you,” Sam replied, as she hopped off the barstool to refill her coffee.
“If she was worried about me, then she would’ve come with me,” Diana mumbled.
“Ah, you’re applying the if, then argument. You know that that doesn’t work with emotions, right?”
Use the one from the hotel, Ma.
I don’t trust it. It’s one of those hair dryers that have one speed.
Loud.
It’s going to kill my hair.
Air-dry, then.
Diana turned to her friend. “Sometimes I don’t understand her. And I don’t understand this … thing they’re doing.”
“You mean their trip.”
“More like their scramble to reclaim their youth. It’s silly! They’re just doing whatever the hell they want.”
A grin slipped onto her friend’s face. “I’m detecting a little anger in your voice.”
“Not anger. Frustration. Do you see this?” She gestured at the boxes still sitting in her living room, though pushed to the side. “Months, this has all been here, and yet …” She shook her head. “I’m surprised and not surprised. Her priorities are much like her outfits, wacky and a little out of step. I grew up in a chaotic home, you know? She was always in a flurry, always late for deadlines, tardy for everything. She doesn’t commit to schedules. It’s like she thrives in this constant state of the unknown that she sometimes creates for herself. Like this trip. She could come with me and truly find out what happened to my grandfather, but she chooses another excuse to avoid reality.”
Sam brought the coffee cup to her nose. “Have you taken a look at her Instagram feed?”
She shook her head. The Instagram feed—why did everyone always mention it?
At first, Diana hesitated in her answer. She didn’t want to be the kind of woman who judged; she strove to be fair and open-minded, especially with online habits. Just because she didn’t have the inclination to post her entire life didn’t mean that her mother had to feel that way, nor her friend. As it was, Sam was very open in her online life, though in her case, more about her work and her political stances. The thought of being so transparent online gave Diana tingles down her neck. Nope, no way. That was not her style.