There was a part of me that was appalled I had been letting this go on, but another part of me wondered if I should really care.
“Analyn,” I said, waving her over. “I want someone to collect the cell phones from any girl who has one and put them in my office.”
She looked at me for a moment like she hadn’t understood what I said.
“They know the rules,” I told her. “Do it now, please.”
I never heard from Larry before he left. Of course now I know why. I thought perhaps he was pissed off at me, but as he was dealing with finding Isabel a new place to live, he probably didn’t even give me a second thought.
It was better that way. If I’d seen him, I would have apologized and told him he was right, and in effect given myself a pass to slack off again because at least I admitted my problem. But since I didn’t get that opportunity, I was forced to look inside and really examine what the hell was going on with me.
Within two weeks, The Lounge was back to the shape it should have been. I’d also hired two new papasans, two Brit ex-pats named Andrew and Mark. Now, including Dandy Doug and me, there were four of us, more than enough for me to cut down on my hours.
I found myself spending more and more time alone at my house by my pool. And for the first time since I’d moved to Angeles, I began to wonder if this was really the place I wanted to spend the rest of my life.
When Isabel returned to work, she told me about her new apartment. When I asked her what Mariella thought about it, she got kind of quiet, shrugged, then suddenly noticed a customer who needed a drink.
The old me, the numb me, probably wouldn’t have connected the dots, but I was awake again and immediately understood what was going on.
At around ten that evening, Mariella showed up. I watched as she scanned the room before finally walking over and sitting down on the stool next to me. I knew who she had been looking for, but Isabel was nowhere to be seen, no doubt hiding in back somewhere.
“Hello, Papa Jay,” Mariella said, smiling.
“Hey,” I replied.
“No beer tonight?” she asked, then laughed.
She hadn’t been there the night I’d gotten drunk, but one of the girls must have told her about it.
I tilted my bottle of water toward her in a silent toast but said nothing.
“It’s hot in here,” she said. “Is your air conditioning working?”
“It’s fine.”
“Maybe it’s just me. I probably should have something to drink,” she said expectantly.
As our nightly visits had become more regular, I had started buying her a couple of beers. We would flirt for a while, and then she would leave. The thought of continuing those games suddenly disgusted me.
“That’s up to you,” I said.
Her mouth opened in mock shock, then she hit me softly on the shoulder with her open hand. “You’re not going to buy me something?”
“Nope.”
This time there was nothing mocking about the look on her face. Her surprise was genuine, but she quickly tried to hide it behind another one of her smiles. “Is my cousin here tonight?”
“Haven’t seen her,” I said.
“Is Larry still here?”
“Haven’t seen him, either.”
“I see, I see,” she said. “Maybe they went out of town.”
“Maybe.”
We sat in silence for several minutes, me doing my best to ignore her, and Mariella occasionally glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, probably trying to figure out why I was acting so different.
“Maybe we can go out of town sometime,” she finally said, smiling playfully and turning in her stool so her leg rubbed up against mine.
I stood up. “I don’t see that happening.”
I walked across the room and greeted a couple of customers I recognized. When I looked back at the bar, Mariella was gone. As far as I know, she never set foot in The Lounge again.
About a month later, I received a call from Larry. It was only the third time he’d ever phoned when he wasn’t in town. I was at work, and when I looked at my cell phone, I didn’t recognize the number. But I could tell it was from the States, so I went ahead and answered.
I didn’t recognize Larry’s voice right away, so I asked who it was.
“It’s Larry,” he said.
“Larry? Oh, sorry,” I said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” There was a moment when neither of us spoke. I was on the verge of telling him I was sorry for how I’d acted the last time we’d talked, when he spoke first. “How’s Isabel?”
“She seems fine,” I said. “She told me about her new apartment. Your doing, I suppose.”
He hesitated before he spoke. “It was necessary.” His words were measured, as if he were unsure where I stood as far as Mariella was concerned.
“Getting her away from her cousin was probably the best thing you could have done for her,” I told him.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, sounding relieved. “She hasn’t been around has she?”
“Who? Mariella?”
“Yes.”
“She came by once or twice,” I said.
“Did she talk to Isabel?”
“No.”
“Good,” he said. “Listen, I’ve got to run. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“Everything’s fine,” I said. “But hurry back. I think she misses you more than usual.”
“As soon as I can.”
After we hung up, I realized I hadn’t apologized. I promised myself the next time I saw him, I would buy him a beer and do just that.
“I’d only been in the apartment for six weeks,” Isabel said. “No one ever visited me there. Only Larry.”
The night had become quiet. While in other parts of Boracay there would be drinking and dancing and singing until dawn, at my hotel, most of the guests were asleep. We were sitting on the edge of the pool now, our legs dangling in the warm water. The fresh scent of the earlier rain shower still hung in the air.
Isabel looked up at the night sky. “I never wanted to have anyone but Larry there. It was our place, and I didn’t want to ruin that.”
“That’s why you never invited me over,” I said.
When she answered, her voice was serious. “Yes. That’s why.” She glanced at me, then looked back at the sky. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I understand.”
“No,” she said. “I should have offered to show you. After she’d been there, what did it matter?”
“Mariella?”
She nodded.
We sat that way for several minutes, looking at the stars, lost in our thoughts.
“What happened?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“I let her back into my life.”
It wasn’t quite that easy, but essentially, that’s what happened. Mariella appeared at her doorstep, her eyes dark and tired, her smile missing. Her head was even bowed slightly, as if she expected Isabel to slam the door in her face.
Isabel should have, but couldn’t. Mariella was family.
“I’m sorry,” Mariella said. “You should hate me, but I hope you don’t. I’ve only been trying to help you, but sometimes, maybe, I was not right. You can forgive me for that, can’t you? I…I know you found your box.” She paused. “It was wrong of me to cut up the pictures, but I was so mad and hurt, I couldn’t help myself. Please, Isabel, please. I ask that you forgive me. Look.” She held up the soft-sided suitcase she was carrying. “Your clothes.”
“My clothes?” Isabel said, confused. “I thought you threw them away.”
“Why would you think such a thing? I was only having them cleaned for you. See? They are all here.”
She set the bag on its side and unzipped it. Inside were all Isabel’s clothes, clean and folded.