That night he bar fined Cathy and took her to The Pit Stop. While they were eating dinner, he asked her in a calm voice, “Cathy, do you love me?”
“Of course I do,” she said automatically.
The intent of his question didn’t even register with her at first. But when his benign, silent stare was his only response, she realized something was up.
“Why you ask?” she said.
“Because I think maybe you don’t.”
“I said I do, so I do. Okay?”
Again he gave her that half smile, a longing for what had been, or what he had thought had been. “Mariella said you told her you don’t.”
Cathy’s eyes opened wide, and in that moment she realized two things. The first: she’d been betrayed. The second, and more immediately damaging: she had not hidden the look of fear that had flashed across her face. The look told Manus everything he needed to know, that Mariella had been right, and Cathy had not been telling him the truth.
So what had originally been the night Manus would have offered Cathy a new life abroad, instead became the night he gave Cathy back her same old life on Fields. Of course, she didn’t know what he had originally intended to do. That bit of information was delivered later by Mariella, who, practically in the same breath, denied ever telling Manus that Cathy didn’t love him.
It fell to me to pick up the pieces, one of my first counseling jobs in Angeles. It took a while before Cathy trusted me, but when she finally did, she told me everything.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I remember that trip to Boracay as one of the highlights of my time in the Philippines. I hadn’t expected that. In fact, I was almost dreading getting on the plane with the others. A vacation was something I absolutely needed, but, by the time we were leaving Angeles, I had circled back to thinking the only remedy to the tension that had overtaken me was a vacation alone.
We left early in a van Larry hired to take us to Ninoy Aquino International Airport in Manila. From there, the flight was an hour south to Kalibo on Panay Island. Larry had been told that the bus from Kalibo to Caticlan was air-conditioned. It wasn’t. Something wrong with the compressor, the driver said, as he handed out cold beers to help take our mind off the heat. From Caticlan, we took a boat across to Boracay Island.
Larry had booked us at the Royal Boracay Beach Resort. He’d been considerate enough to get three rooms, but mischievous enough to make sure Cathy’s room and mine were next to each other.
We spent the rest of the afternoon hanging around the pool, drinking margaritas, and, at least in my case, dozing off every now and then. Dinner was also at the hotel, then at Isabel’s suggestion, we went out dancing.
Despite my larger-than-average size, I wasn’t a half-bad dancer. I did resort at times to the white-man overbite, but, for the most part, I comported myself well. Usually, Cathy was my partner, although on a couple of occasions Isabel would cut in. It seemed like after we got going, the only time I would actually leave the dance floor was when a slow song came on. That was more for the girls’ benefit than my own as my shirt was drenched in sweat.
I don’t know exactly what it was, maybe being away from Angeles, maybe not having to worry about any of my girls, but I felt happier than I had in months.
No, not months. Years.
I’d been wrong. A vacation with friends was exactly what I needed, perhaps what we all needed, because it was impossible to ignore the fact that each of us was feeling exceptionally good.
That night we were free. I wasn’t a papasan, Cathy wasn’t a bartender, Isabel wasn’t a bar dancer. We were just friends on a real vacation from our surreal lives.
I think we got back to the hotel around two in the morning. We stopped at Isabel and Larry’s room first and had a quick nightcap from their minibar. I was still sober enough not to stick around too long. To give the happy couple some privacy, I told them I was bushed, then put an arm around Cathy and headed out the door.
It was a couple of minutes’ walk to our rooms, but that entire time neither of us said a word. I still had my arm around her waist, but, honestly, was only thinking of lying down and going to sleep. I really was exhausted. With the exception of a few hours of sleep the night before, I’d been up and on the go for nearly thirty-six hours.
I can only guess what was going on in Cathy’s mind. She unlocked her door and lingered in the threshold for a few minutes, telling me what fun she’d had, what a great dancer I was, how she was too excited to go to sleep. I guess what she was trying to tell me should have been obvious, but the fatigued, inebriated mind only hears in fits and starts.
I think I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead before saying goodnight. I do know I said goodnight. And when I unlocked my own door and opened it, it didn’t strike me as odd that she was still standing in her doorway, looking at me. I waved, went inside and was asleep five minutes later.
The next morning I woke up before ten, only slightly hung over and with the vague recollection that Cathy had all but tried to drag me into her room the night before. I glanced around to be sure I hadn’t later gone and invited her over, but I was alone.
After a quick shower, I threw on a pair of blue shorts and my brown, vacation-only, Hawaiian-print shirt, slipped on my sandals, then went outside. It was sunny and hot and humid. Back home in Angeles, weather like this was one of those things that had begun to annoy me, but here it felt wonderful and right.
I found Larry drinking a cup of coffee alone on the raised deck that overlooked the beach.
I grunted a good morning as I took the seat across from him, then motioned to the waitress that I’d have a cup of what Larry was having. Service was quick and soon I was properly caffeinated.
“Isabel still asleep?” I asked.
“Don’t think she’s used to getting up before noon,” Larry said.
I chuckled, my head hurting only slightly from the reverberation. “I know the feeling.”
“Cathy asleep, too?” Larry asked.
“I assume so.”
Larry raised an eyebrow. “Assume?”
“I slept by myself if that’s what you’re asking.”
Larry took a sip of his coffee. “She really likes you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I know,” I admitted.
“What about you?”
I shrugged, but said nothing.
“Not that I want to sell out my girlfriend or anything,” Larry said. “But just so you know, it was Isabel’s idea to bring Cathy along.”
“It’s okay,” I said, reaching for my cup. “I don’t mind.” It was beginning to dawn on me that I really didn’t mind. That, in fact, I might be happy she was here.
We sipped our coffee and watched waves for a while. There were already several people lounging on the white, sandy beach, and not far from shore two small boats sailed leisurely by. The water was clear and blue and near the beach you could see all the way to the bottom.
“Some of my friends back home couldn’t understand why I wanted to come here again,” Larry told me. “They said, ‘If you want to go to an island, why don’t you go to Hawaii?’ Hawaii’s nice and all, but…” He trailed off, his eyes never leaving one of the sailboats as it made its way down the coast.
“But Hawaii doesn’t have Isabel,” I said.
He looked at me for a moment, surprised at what I said, then smiled. “Exactly right. Hawaii doesn’t have Isabel.”