Manila, Mindoro, Manila - Part Four (of Six)
Cheers then. Welcome to paradise.
Previously: Her name is Ate Dora. Spelled A-t-e, but pronounced like that: Ah-tay. It’s an honorific, it means older sister. She’s been my primary support here, helped me make all my connections, set me up with all the women I’ve interviewed.
Mindoro
In the morning they went to Mindoro to spend two days on the beach. On the ferry they were two tourists among many, including a middle-aged white man and his Filipina companion. Matt couldn’t say for sure, but she looked at least twenty years younger than him. The rest of the passengers were smiling, pointing, taking pictures, watching dolphins jump next to the ferry, but the woman sat with her hands in her lap and her eyes fixed on her hands. The man sat pressed against her, one hand wrapped around her shoulder, the other hand pulling at her chin. He spoke with an Australian accent.
Come on. Give me a smile. Come on. One smile? We’re at beach. Smile for me.
She tilted her chin towards him, closed her eyes and surrendered a sketch of a smile.
That’s better.
It was already dark when the boat docked. Andrea got down and got away as fast as she could, leaving Matt to collect their bags and give out tips. He was already on the beach when the Aussie took a place next to him, right at the end of the boat ramp. The Aussie held out a hand to each person as they stepped off — There ya go now, watch your step now — and then offered to help an older couple carry their luggage to their hut. Matt could hear the Australian asking the couple where they were from as he and they and his companion walked away from the boat, down the row of huts, in the direction of the restaurant at the center of the resort. It was long past time for dinner, and Matt wondered, as he gathered the bags, tipped the luggage attendant and declined an offer to be escorted by flashlight, if Andrea would join him for a quick bite, or if she was in for the night.
She was in for the night. She said she was tired and wanted to rest, wasn’t feeling hungry anyways. Matt said he needed something to eat and she told him fine, go ahead, eat if he really needed to eat. He felt chastised by her tone, guilty for having an appetite, but he was, in fact, hungry, and there was only one place to get food. He promised to be quick.
In the restaurant, he saw the Australian and his companion at the bar. The Australian motioned for him to come over. He hesitated for a second before accepting the invitation, reasoning that he was lonely, he’d never met an Australian before, and maybe it wasn’t what it looked like after all.
The Aussie extended his hand as Matt took the stool next to him.
Hey mate, flyin’ solo tonight, are ya?
Matt accepted the hand, which was softer than he expected an Aussie’s hand to be. Less rugged outback, more comfortable corner office.
Yeah, she’s in bed already.
You the night owl?
I’m the jet-lagged owl.
Jet-lagged owl needs a beer, then.
The Aussie bought three beers, even though the woman he was with had finished less than a third of her first. Matt played detective, looking him over, with quick glances, for reasons to like him, reasons to hate him. He didn’t have a wedding ring, he wore a light blue t-shirt over broad shoulders and a developing beer belly, tan shorts, and flip-flops. His blond hair was cut short, parted to one side. His fingernails looked as if they’d been manicured, and he had a watch that looked like maybe it was priced in the thousands, so he was making money in that imagined corner office. Matt guessed he was between forty-two and forty-six-years-old. He saw no reason not to like him, expect for the fact that he was with a Filipina who looked a year or two shy of eighteen, who was probably not sitting there for free.
The Aussie picked up his beer and tilted it towards Matt.
Cheers, mate.
Matt reciprocated. The two bottles clinked.
Cheers. Thanks.
Name’s Brian. This here’s Maria.
He leaned back and pointed a thumb at the woman, who was hunched over, looking at — no, looking into — her cell phone. Matt reached across to shake her hand. She took his hand with the ends of her fingers and gave a slight shake and nod, without looking his way.
Matt said, Nice to meet you.
She replied with another nod and released his hand. Brian put his arm around her.
She’s quiet at first, but once she warms up, she can be a feisty one.
The way he said feisty, kind of growled it out, like he was talking to a puppy, made the back Matt’s neck stiffen just a bit, his jaw tighten just a touch, and a small knot form in his stomach. In an open-air restaurant, on a wide, flat beach, next to a deep and endless sea, Matt felt trapped. He couldn’t imagine how the girl felt. Brian was pulling at her chin again, and again asking her to give a smile.
Well, if not for me, how ‘bout for our new friend here? Will ya do it for — Sorry, mate, I didn’t get your name.
Matt finished his beer and placed the empty bottle in front of Brian.
It’s Matt.
Brian pulled Maria’s chin more firmly and kissed her on the mouth.
The bartender took the empty bottle and quickly wiped the table, careful not to make eye contact or seem obtrusive or even present in any way. Brian released Maria and turned his attention back to Matt.
First time in the Philippines, Matt?
Matt didn’t want to admit how provincial he was, saw it as a kind of weakness, but he was too provincial to even begin to be able to fake having been to the Philippines, or anywhere, before.
Yeah. First time out of the country.
Wow. Cheers then. Welcome to paradise. Lemme get you another beer.
Before Matt could say yes or no, Brian was signaling for more beers, one for Matt, one for him, one for Maria. Maria hadn’t taken a drink since Matt arrived; the beers she had were getting warmer and flatter by the second. Nonetheless, Brian said, Drink up, love. Shame to waste perfectly good beers.
Matt remembered being nineteen, home from college for the summer, at a party with friends from high school. After the party, he rode home with those friends and a girl they’d all met there, a young girl, fifteen, maybe sixteen. Matt was riding shotgun, Mike was driving, and the girl was in the back with Derrick and Tony. She was passed out drunk and his friends took turns with her, even stopped the car so Mike could take a turn. They asked Matt if he wanted a turn. All the way to Matt’s house. None of them knew the girl’s name. Matt said no, but did nothing to stop them. They dropped Matt off, and presumably kept going until they got tired. Matt didn’t go back home for summer after that.
As Brian kissed and whispered to Maria, Matt reached for a cell phone he didn’t have, a nervous tick, a wish for a graceful way out of the situation. There was no television to look at, not even many other people: the bartender on the other end of the bar, two blonde women over by a window, and Maria and Brian.
Brian asked, Where in the States are you from? I’m assuming the States, right?
Matt wiped his hands on his thighs as he answered.
Yeah, the States. Pennsylvania. Erie is the city.
Erie? That’s the name? Sounds bleak, mate.
It is.
Well, this is the place for you then. Like I said, paradise.
Matt noticed how tan Brian was, and how white he was, how relaxed Brian seemed, compared to how tense he felt, how at home Brian acted, verses how out of place he was.
You seem like you’ve been here before.
As if to prove the point, Brian took out his phone, to check a text message he just got.
Yeah, I’m here for business quite a bit. Mostly in Manila. This trip wrapped up quicker than planned, so I have a few extra days. How ‘bout you, what brings you here?
My girlfriend is doing research for a book she’s writing on the sex industry.
Matt surprised himself with the directness of his answer, but it was also a relief, a sudden change of pressure, a river reversing its flow.
Though he couldn’t know for sure, it looked to Matt like the back of Brian’s neck stiffened just a bit, his jaw tightened just a touch, and a small knot formed in his stomach. Brian dug his thumbnail into the label etched in the beer bottle. Seeing the shift in Brian’s demeanor made him feel strong and bold. He imagined telling Andrea about his night, he imagined her proud of him. Maria was hunched even more, curled inward, trying to crawl inside herself.
Brian said, I guess that’s quite a problem, isn’t?
I guess so. You’ve been around. Have you seen any of it?
If he had been at a bar back in Erie, he wouldn’t have been so brave, but on the beach, in the Philippines, he felt a courageous mix of an outsider’s freedom with insider’s knowledge. He didn’t have to defer and deflect like the locals; he could play by different rules, be direct, assertive, look at Brian, and Maria, and the Coca-Cola signs around the restaurant and see the larger system of oppression that he would help disrupt by continuing to ask just the right questions.
I mean, from what I hear from my girlfriend, it’s foreign business that drives a big part of it.
Brian squeezed his bottle tighter and dug his nail in deeper.
You’ll have to ask your girlfriend about that, mate.
Matt had never been in a fight in his life, and he didn’t necessarily want his first to be with a large Australian, even one with soft, manicured hands, but something about the jet-lag, and the feisty, and the two beers, and the salty air, had him feeling aggressive. He looked around Brian, to Maria.
How did you two meet?
Brian squared his shoulders to Matt, blocking Maria from his sight.
Are you gonna buy the next round, mate? Or are we done here?
Matt stood up, and saw the bartender over Brian’s left shoulder, wiping and re-wiping the same spot on the bar, looking like he wanted them all to go to bed.
I think we’re done. Thanks for the beers.
He looked around Brian to speak to Maria.
It was nice to meet you.
She hadn’t moved much.
Thank you for reading. Up next:
When Matt woke up the next morning, he was alone in the bed.