Not too far up the beach, they turned into the White Sands Resort. I’d stayed there myself once. The small resort was designed so guests didn’t feel like they were staying at any old hotel. Individual grass-roofed “huts” surrounded a central main building and swimming pool-the perfect place to bring your family, wife, or new Filipina girlfriend.
I closed the gap a little and followed them past the pool, toward the huts to the right of the main building. At number 23, the fat guy unlocked the door and they went inside.
I made my way back to the bar next to the pool and ordered a Coke. I wasn’t sure what I should do next. After all, I couldn’t just walk up, knock on their door and ask, “Can Isabel come out and talk?”
When I’d been sitting alone in my hotel room in Angeles, finding Isabel seemed like the hard part. But now that I had found her, I realized the talking would be the most difficult. Would she really want to revisit a past she’d probably spent the last few years trying to forget? Just because I’d been unable to dull the memories didn’t mean she’d been having the same problem. Was it even fair of me to put her through that?
As I put my empty glass back down on the bar, I’d all but decided my being here was a mistake. Let her live her life, and you go on living yours, buddy.
I put a hundred pesos in the cup on the bar in front of me and left.
The next morning I woke thinking about home. If I left Boracay by noon, I could catch a flight out of Manila that evening. I had a new life in Thailand, and I was anxious to get back to it. I could actually wake up in my own bed tomorrow. A phone call to Thai Airways confirmed there was a flight that night with a few seats available. But when the operator asked if I wanted to purchase a ticket, I hesitated.
As much as I wanted to be done with the Philippines, I knew if I didn’t at least try to talk to Isabel, I never would be. And that wouldn’t be fair to my new life, to Natt. Instead of booking a flight for that night, I made a reservation for one leaving two days later. That should be enough time, I thought, to find her, to talk to her. Assuming, of course, she’d talk to me.
I’d lived in the Philippines for six years, all in Angeles City. For a while, I had planned on spending the rest of my life there. But things changed.
I changed.
So I escaped while I had the opportunity, because if I hadn’t, I would still be one of the old, fat, dumb white guys. Or, rather, older and fatter and dumber…and drunker.
Bangkok was my home now. I’d found a wife there. We owned a couple of struggling English-style pubs. We were even talking about having a child. I had begun to regain myself, as much as I could, anyway.
When I got the call about the offer for my stake in the bar, I talked about it with my wife. Natt knew what my life had been like in the Philippines. She knew what I used to do. I’d told her everything before we got married. So, though it probably shouldn’t have, it surprised me when she said I should return to the island and finalize the deal. When I then suggested she come with me, she kissed me and said one of us needed to stay and take care of the business. What she was really saying was, “You need to go on your own. Do what you need to do, then come back to me whole.”
Contrary to popular belief back on Fields Avenue in Angeles City, Isabel and I never slept together. Our relationship wasn’t like that. In truth, there was something about her that reminded me of Lily, my stepdaughter-former stepdaughter, that is. Lily had been the best part of my marriage to Maureen. It had hurt her so much when her mother and I divorced that she had to be pried off me the day I said goodbye. It still hurt me every time I thought about that.
The normal age for girls to start work in the bars along Fields was eighteen, but Isabel arrived in Angeles at the ancient age of twenty-one. I think it was her smile that reminded me most of Lily, that and her innocence. I guess that’s why I took her under my wing. For the first several months, I was able to steer her away from anything too harmful. Until Larry showed up.
On Boracay the next morning, I ate breakfast around eight a.m. at the small hotel where I was staying, then set out to find Isabel. When I arrived at the White Sands Resort, I did a quick walk-through of all the common areas but there was no sign of her or her friend. I guess I didn’t expect it to be that easy, but I had hoped.
I ordered a tall glass of orange juice from the outside bar and took a seat next to the pool, hoping Isabel and her date would make an appearance. By then, it was after nine a.m., and half a dozen others were eating in the restaurant. As was my habit since arriving on the island, I was wearing my swimsuit under my shorts, so after I finished my juice, I decided to go for a dip.
It was sometime during my sixth or seventh lap when I saw Isabel’s friend walk by. At first I thought he was alone, but a moment later, one of the hotel staff followed, lugging a large suitcase. No Isabel. I pulled myself out of the water, toweled off quickly, threw on my shirt and shorts, then made my way after him.
The fat man was in the final process of checking out when I caught up to him. I recognized his accent now-Dutch. And this close to him, I realized I’d seen him before. His name was Henrik or Hendrik or something like that. He used to be a once-or-twice-a-year visitor to Angeles, and I assumed he still was. Like many of the regular visitors, I had bought him a few beers back in the day. But while I knew who he was, there was no way he would recognize me.
As he turned to leave, I took an innocent step to the side, blocking his way.
“Excuse me,” he said.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. As I stepped out of his way, our eyes met. “Aren’t you…? Yeah.” I grinned. “You’re the guy who was with that real beauty last night.”
He returned my grin, but said nothing.
“You leave her sleeping back in the room?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Just checked out.”
I nodded in comprehension. “There’s always the next trip, right?”
“Right.”
He headed for the front door.
“Hey,” I called out just before he exited. “You mind letting me know where you found her?”
He stopped and looked back, grinning again. “Angie’s,” he told me. “Her name is Crystal.”
I knew exactly where Angie’s was. It wasn’t really a go-go bar. They didn’t officially have those on the island. It was just a bar that happened to be frequented by girls who’d go home with a guy for the right price. If Isabel had indeed returned to the life, it would be the logical place to find her. I had actually paid Angie’s a visit the first night I arrived but Isabel hadn’t been there. It looked like I’d be making another visit.
By Angeles standards, the place came in on the low end of the scale. Small, unpolished, even dirty. When I walked in, the latest pop-music crap blared from several speakers mounted on the walls. The only other person present was the bartender, a woman who looked to be in her thirties, with hot pink lipstick and her hair in pigtails in an attempt to look younger. To me it only made her look sad. A former dancer, no doubt, forced to move on to other duties.
I sat on a stool toward the middle of the bar and ordered a San Miguel Light. I didn’t drink that often anymore, but I didn’t want to look out of place.
“Nice bar,” I said, after she put the bottle in front of me.
Just like Angeles, there was an insulated beer holder wrapped around the bottom of the bottle and a napkin wrapped around the open top. The idea was to use the napkin to wipe off the lip of the bottle before taking your first drink.
“Your first time here?” she asked as she began stacking glasses on the back bar.
“A buddy told me about it. Thought I’d check it out.” I raised my bottle and took a drink.