Work Text:
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
.
.
.
It starts, more than anything, with a feeling.
She's at the bus station blowing warm air into her hands, hoodie drawn low over her ears. The mid-February amihan air hurts a little as it pulls through her nose, and Jhoanna shifts her weight from one foot to the other, strangely anxious.
She doesn’t know why she's here. This morning, she’d woken up on her back, a peculiarity of its own, she can’t remember the last time she slept without being curled around something. Then the throbbing at her temples hit, full force, and she'd only barely managed to stumble out of her apartment, following the tug in her gut.
It’s something Maloi laughs about, most days. “Masyado kang maraming ‘instincts,’” she always says, complete with air quotes; Jhoanna never bothers rising to the bait. The facts are these: when you’ve been stamped a lost cause for most of your life, you stop caring about dead ends. You get a whiff of purpose, you seek out the direction it’s from, because you have nothing to lose.
So when the intercom crackles, “Last call for La Union,” and every muscle in Jhoanna’s body seizes with the need to run, get on that bus, go—
She does.
*
The beach was empty, as it was February and because of the looming threat of a thunderstorm in the area. But there is a lone figure that stands on the beach, the collar of her jacket drawn high about her neck.
Jhoanna watches her from a distance. The wind rustles the beachgrass, and Jhoanna has to keep her hand on her notebook to prevent the pages from flapping too much. Usually, she sketches buildings, slanting ceilings and airy rooms, but she has a sudden urge to draw this scene: the wet slap of the waves, the sand undisturbed but for a single path of footprints, the stranger and the tuft of hair that falls over her forehead.
As if sensing Jhoanna’s gaze, the woman turns.
Quickly, Jhoanna looks down at her notebook, where she notices a jagged edge from a page she doesn’t remember ripping out, and frowns.
*
On the bus ride home, the bus is mostly empty; Jhoanna uses that to justify the way her eyes keep stealing over at the woman sitting across the aisle.
The same one from the beach.
Jhoanna’s not usually one to stare. Being friends with Maloi has made her adept at tuning people out, when needed, but there’s something transfixing about the way the woman shakes out her newspaper, the gleam of her necklace under the lights. Carefully, Jhoanna picks up her pencil and makes the first stroke, the curve of what will become the woman’s shoulder.
She works like that, eyes darting between her subject and her canvas, graphite scratching softly against paper as the bus rattles onwards. She's just glancing over again—she wants to make sure she gets the texture of the hair right—when she finds the woman looking back at her, a small smile on her face.
Cheeks burning, Jhoanna slams her notebook shut and jerks her head toward the window.
Tanga, tanga, tanga, she thinks angrily, headache returning with a vengeance.
“You didn’t have to stop.” The voice is warm, faintly amused, and close.
Jhoanna stiffens. The woman has moved into the seat in front of her and twists in her spot, reaching over the barrier between them to offer a hand.
“Maraiah Arceta. Most people call me Aiah, though.”
Her hand hovers, waiting for Jhoanna’s response.
“Jhoanna,” Jhoanna finally accepts. Aiah’s grip is firm, but not in the manner of someone asserting her dominance, it’s more a comfort, than anything.
“Are you an artist, Jhoanna?”
Jhoanna’s fingers tighten around her notebook, the edges digging in. “Journalist. But drawing helps me think, kaya—kanina—”
Aiah shrugs off the explanation, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Don’t worry about it. I’m kind of used to people staring.”
Without meaning to, Jhoanna’s eyes flicker to Aiah’s. She feels guilty immediately afterwards, and Aiah catches the expression on her face, says, simply: “It’s okay.”
She can’t be that much older than Jhoanna. Two, maybe three years, tops.
“Sorry,” Jhoanna says, but it’s a flimsy, half-baked thing, and she hates herself for the inadequacy of it, its clumsiness.
“It’s nothing,” Aiah confides, a whole history pressed up against those words. She turns away from it quickly, though, asking Jhoanna: “So saan ka papunta?”
“Pauwi na. Sa may QC lang.”
Aiah’s eyes widen. “Ako rin, sa QC din ako.”
“Small world.”
“It is, isn’t it,” agrees Aiah, and Jhoanna doesn’t want to be drawn in by the twinkle in her eyes but she is, somehow.
Damn it.
*
The walk back to her apartment is cold, and dark, and Jhoanna keeps her hands shoved in her pockets, head bent and wishing for a thicker jacket.
A honk from behind startles her. Jhoanna spins away from the curb of the sidewalk as a car pulls up beside her, headlights dimming.
“Gusto mo bang sumabay?” Aiah asks, winding the passenger side window down.
“Sinusundan mo ba ako?” Jhoanna counters, but there’s little real bite to it.
“Not intentionally,” Aiah says sheepishly. “Pero since nandito naman na ako, I was wondering if I could convince you to finish that drawing you were making of me earlier. Sayang naman kung hindi mo tatapusin, and I’ve been told that I look pretty kaya bagay maging muse.”
She's flirting with you! Maloi’s voice is gleeful in the back of Jhoanna’s mind; Jhoanna pushes it away, refusing to let it intrude on the moment.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she retorts, reaching for the door handle. The inside of Aiah’s car is clean and smells like trees; Jhoanna takes note of the small airplane charm dangling from the rearview mirror.
“Just so you know,” she adds, buckling her seatbelt, “Marunong ako manuntok, so if you try anything…”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Aiah chuckles, and then they’re pulling away from the curb.
*
It should bother her, maybe, how easy it is to be familiar with Aiah. Nahahawa na ata ako sa pagiging friendly ni Ate Maloi, Jhoanna thinks as they finally arrive at her apartment and Aiah kills the engine, the cozy warmth of her car curling around them.
“Thanks,” Jhoanna says, after a stretch.
“No problem.” Aiah unlocks the doors with a simple press of her finger, and Jhoanna likes it, how conservative she is with her movements, how Aiah exudes a certain calm.
There’s nothing left to say. “See you around,” sounds too much like a promise, and Jhoanna doesn’t give those out easily. She pushes open the door, one hand fishing for her keys.
She's halfway up the steps when she stops, breath rising, and turns. On her way back down, she almost slips on a patch of water but catches herself on the handle of Aiah’s car and fumbles the door open, tongue thick in her mouth with the way the night seems to have condensed into this moment, Aiah’s face turned toward her, wondering, cut jagged by the shadows falling across the dimly lit street.
“Gusto mo bang…” Jhoanna starts, stops. “Gusto mo bang pumasok muna?”
*
In Jhoanna’s apartment, Aiah sits on the couch gingerly, soaking in everything. It’s been a long time since she's had anyone over other than Colet and Maloi, and Jhoanna suddenly regrets not tidying up earlier. She picks up some books from where they were perched on top of her TV, placing them back on a shelf. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Aiah lean over to inspect the copy of Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair lying on the coffee table.
“Gusto mo ba ng maiinom?” Jhoanna asks over her shoulder, moving toward the kitchen. “Meron akong coke and…juice.” She winces at the emptiness of her fridge, remembers that she'd intended to go grocery shopping earlier, before the impromptu trip to La Union.
“Coke’s fine,” says Aiah.
The can is cold in Jhoanna’s hands as she offers it. She sinks into the couch with none of Aiah’s delicacy—this is her apartment, after all—and watches as Aiah mirrors her, easing back into the cushions, popping the tab of the can and bringing it to her lips.
“I like your place,” Aiah says, easy as anything, and Jhoanna feels something catch in her chest, like a spark.
two days earlier
*
“Well hello to you, too,” Maloi said as Jhoanna pushed past her, shrugging off her jacket.
Jhoanna shot her a flat look over her shoulder. “Nasaan si Ate Colet?”
“Nandito!” came a shout from the bathroom. Jhoanna followed the sound, Maloi trailing behind her.
“For the record, sabi ko sa kanya ako na tutulong sa kaniya, but Colet insists that you have steadier hands, or whatever.”
“Okay, Ate Maloi,” said Jhoanna, pushing open the door. Colet was down on her knees on the bathroom tile, a flashlight held between her teeth.
“Buti naman nandito ka na,” she said, motioning for Jhoanna to crouch beside her. “Pahawak nga nito, tapos paabot na rin ako ng screwdriver.”
“Pinapunta mo ako para dito?” Jhoanna asked, dumbfounded, as behind her Maloi spoke, indignant, “‘Di ba? It’s the simplest job on earth but Colet still won’t let me do it.”
“Kasi kailangan kong mag-isip, at di ko kayang gawin ‘yon kapag nasa gilid kita’t dumadaldal ka,” said Colet. “‘Tsaka pwedeng pa-check nung soup na niluluto ko baka sunog na pala?”
“Fine,” Maloi grumbled.
When she'd left them in peace, Jhoanna asked: “So bakit mo talaga ako pinapunta dito?”
Colet glanced up from where she was adjusting the sink’s pipes. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Jhoanna.”
“So?”
“So, ewan ko, maybe we thought it’d be nice to have you over.”
Jhoanna’s grip on the flashlight tightened, but she kept it steady. “Right.”
“Jhoanna.” Colet sighed and sat back on her knees, the job completed. “Don’t be like that.”
This was how it had always been between them, since they’d first become friends. Maloi’s idea of bringing Jhoanna out of her shell was to poke at her until Jhoanna became so riled up that she snapped back. Colet, on the other hand, motivated through faith rather than frustration. She didn’t give up on anyone, and that knowledge alone was enough to make you want to live up to her expectations, to meet her on whatever ground she stood.
“Tama ka.” Jhoanna looked down, chastised. “Thanks, Ate Colet, for thinking of me.”
Colet’s eyes softened. “Was that so hard?” she said, at the same time that Maloi yelled from the kitchen: “Luto na ‘yung dinner! Pwede nang kumain para masamahan niyo naman ako dito!”
*
Jhoanna was on her second helping of soup when Maloi finally asked the question.
“So, uh, Jhoanna, nakita mo na ba…siya, recently?”
“Pwede mo namang sabihin ‘yung pangalan niya,” said Jhoanna, while Colet kicked Maloi under the table, warning, “Maloi.”
“Oh, thank god,” exhaled Maloi. “Akala ko magiging si Voldemort na siya’t kailangan nang tawwaging, ‘She Who Must Not be Named’…” She trailed off, narrowing her eyes when Jhoanna raised an eyebrow. “Oh wait, hindi mo nga pala binasa ‘yung libro.”
“I haven’t seen Aiah,” announced Jhoanna, mostly so that Maloi would shut up.
“Sabi ko nga.” The expression on Maloi’s face had shifted; she looked suddenly, uncharacteristically sad. “Gaano katagal na ba, since your fight?”
“Three weeks.”
“So ganun na lang ba ‘yun? You guys are…” Maloi made a halfhearted motion with her hands, bringing them together and then apart. “…over?”
What was the last thing that had been said between them? I don’t need you.
Jhoanna turned her eyes toward the table, following the whorls in the wood. “Siguro. Hindi na rin naman kasi namin napag-usapan. Dapat bang—” She hesitated, loathe to dwell on the relationship for longer than she had to, but it was Maloi and Colet, who’d been there from the start and were here, now, at its messy end.
Almost four years, she thought, and then stopped.
“Dapat bang hanapin ko siya? Dapat ko bang gawin ‘yon? Find her and— and end things officially?”
“No,” Maloi said quickly, exchanging a look with Colet from across the table. “No, hindi mo naman kailangang gawin ‘yan. Minsan— baka mas madali na lang na iwan na lang nang ganiyan. Let them fade away naturally, you know?”
Jhoanna didn’t know. Before Aiah, there hadn’t been much. A few hookups in college—Maloi had been one of those—and then they’d graduated, and she'd gotten her internship and hadn’t really had time to meet anyone else. Until the beach party. Until La Union.
And then, impossibly, it was over.
Jhoanna knew it was over because she'd gotten the last word. She’d looked over the edge, and then she'd jumped, and Aiah hadn’t pulled her back.
*
Maloi tended to get affectionate past midnight.
They were lying on the carpet, shoulder to shoulder, and Jhoanna felt warm with cake and wine. Not warm enough, however, to forget that her car was outside and she should be heading home.
Reading her mind, Maloi yanked her back down when Jhoanna sat up.
“Oy, hindi pwede,” Maloi grumbled, burying her face in Jhoanna’s shoulder. “Uuwi ka lang sa apartment mo para tumulala at mag-senti, and Colet and I are not allowing that, not on Valentine’s Day.”
“Technically, February 15th na,” Jhoanna pointed out.
“Shut up, Jho. Maulan pa sa labas, baka ma-stranded ka lang sa baha. Just stay the night, you can sleep on the couch. Kung gusto mo matulog ka rin sa kama.”
“Okay lang ako sa couch.”
“Ikaw bahala.” Maloi turned to Colet, poking her arm. “Colet, inaantok ka na ba?”
“Hindi pa, pero gusto ko na matulog.”
“Ako rin,” said Jhoanna, shrugging out of Maloi’s grip. “Meron ba kayong extra damit? Gusto kong magpalit, medyo malagkit na ‘tong suot ko.”
“Sure, meron, kuha ka lang dun sa drawers ko,” Maloi waved from the floor, before she was overtaken by a huge yawn. “Wow, okay, parang kailangan ko na rin matulog.”
“Hay salamat,” grumbled Colet, and Jhoanna rolled her eyes at both of them as she made her way up the stairs.
Maloi’s room was vaguely familiar. Jhoanna had been in it a few times, when Colet and Maloi had first bought the place, but their gatherings were usually confined to the first floor. She started with the top shelf—empty—and worked her way down.
If Maloi had an organizational system, it made no sense to Jhoanna. She’d buried her T-shirts under her underwear, and as Jhoanna pulled out a shirt, a scrap of paper fluttered down to the carpet.
Frowning, Jhoanna made to put it back, before she caught a glimpse of something printed on it.
What—
She brought it closer. Registered, dimly, the sender—BLOOM Inc.—but focused more on the message below:
Dear Ms. Ricalde:
Your friend, Maraiah Queen Arceta, has had the memories of her relationship with Jhoanna Christine Robles erased. Please do not mention the relationship or Jhoanna to our client ever again, and do not show this card to either of the parties involved. Your cooperation is much appreciated.
*
“Totoo ba ‘to?”
“Totoo ang alin?” Maloi asked, toothbrush sticking out of her mouth as she emerged from the bathroom.
And then she stopped short, eyes widening. “Shit. Saan mo nakita ‘yan?”
“In your underwear drawer,” Jhoanna managed, at the same time that Colet appeared, looking absolutely furious.
“Doon mo nilagay ‘yung card mo, Maloi? Sa drawer mo lang nilagay kung san pwede makita ng kahit sino?”
“I’m sorry, okay, hindi ko naman naisip!” Maloi yelled back. “Shit, Jhoanna, listen to me—”
But Jhoanna’s mind was spinning. Lost, she turned to Colet. “Ano ulit sinabi mo? ‘Yung card mo,?’ So meron ka rin?
“I…” Colet’s face was a cliff side right before it crumbled. “I’m sorry, Jhoanna.”
She felt on the verge of panic and something else. Laughter, maybe.
“Joke lang ‘to di ba? Hindi naman pwedeng— basta burahin lang ‘yung memories ng isang tao. Hindi ‘to totoo.”
“Tinignan namin, nag-search kami,” Maloi started, hesitant. “BLOOM Inc.— hindi siya gaanong kilala, because of confidentiality agreements and whatnot, and hindi rin namin alam ‘yung procedures, but…” She held her hands out, a helpless gesture. “Totoo siya."
“Bullshit.” Jhoanna pushed past them, disgusted, crumpling the card in her fist as she reached for her jacket, as she started to open the door—
“Wait, Jhoanna, wait lang!” Maloi was at her side, tugging her back, and Jhoanna turned to punch her, shove her, she didn’t know what, but Colet grabbed her other arm, pinning it in place.
“Teka lang, Jho. Mag-isip ka muna, Jhoanna, okay?” panted Colet, clutching her jacket. “Mag-aalas dos na ng madaling araw. Saan ka pupunta? Sa BLOOM? Kay Aiah?”
Jhoanna flinched. Maloi, seeing it, relaxed her grip slightly.
“Mag-isip ka muna. Wala kang idea, diba? Kasi ganyan ka, sugod ka lang nang sugod. Bukas ng umaga, dalhin mo yung sasakyan ko, hanapin mo kung sino gusto mong hanapin. Okay?”
It couldn’t be real. It made no sense—how could they possibly make Aiah forget, why would she want to forget—
“Okay, Jhoanna?” Maloi said, shaking her, and Jhoanna snapped out of it, finally, saw Colet and Maloi, how worried and miserable they were. They’d never looked that way at her before.
“Okay,” Jhoanna said, and she hated how her voice broke on it, how she had to will her fingers apart so that they could drop the card back in Maloi’s hand.
If suddenly you forget me
do not look for me
for I shall already have forgotten you
The tinkling bell of the coffee shop set her on edge.
All around her, customers milled, dumping cream into their drinks, oblivious to the ticking time bomb in their midst. Jhoanna made her way to the counter, where Gwen was working the register; she saw her glance up, saw the panic catch fire in her face as she watched her approach.
“Jhoanna. Wala ka dapat dito—”
“Nasaan si Aiah?” she demanded.
“Umuwi na.”
“Sinungaling.”
“Jho, please, para sa ikabubuti ninyong dalawa—”
“What’s going on?”
And it was habit, to turn toward that voice, like a sunflower reaching for the light.
Aiah had just emerged from the backroom, a bag of coffee beans hoisted over her shoulders. Jhoanna inhaled sharply, floored, more than anything, by the normalcy of it. How many times had she visited to find Aiah in that exact pose—the same white tee, the blue apron, the quirked eyebrow?
But Aiah wasn’t looking at her; she was looking at Gwen.
Gwen grimaced at Jhoanna, full of regret—I tried to warn you—and turned, clearing her throat.
“Ah ‘yung customer lang, Ate Aiah. Sabi ko naman busy ka, pero gusto ka raw niyang makausap—”
“Ako ‘to,” Jhoanna said, tripping over the words in her rush to get them out ahead of Gwen’s lie. “Ako ‘to. Si Jhoanna.”
For a minute, she and Aiah just stared at each other.
And then Aiah set the bag down.
She moved out from behind the counter, wiping her palms on her apron and stretching out an arm, saying, “Nice to meet you, Jhoanna; I’m Aiah, the owner of this place.”
And every part of Jhoanna curled inwards, singed, because Aiah’s eyes were warm, but it was the warmth reserved for new faces, a polite, unassuming blankness, and this isn’t happening it isn’t real how could it be possible—
She stumbled back. Her heel caught the edge of someone’s chair; someone snapped, annoyed, “Mag-ingat ka nga!”
But Jhoanna didn’t care because she'd already burst out the door, more action than thought, fingers shaking as she started up Colet’s car and drove.
Two streets away from Colet and Maloi’s house, Jhoanna pulled over. She couldn’t face them, not right now. Their expressions would only confirm what had happened in the coffee shop, and Jhoanna still couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow herself to believe it was real.
Maraiah Queen Arceta has had the memories of her relationship with Jhoanna Christine Robles erased.
Please do not mention the relationship or Jhoanna to our client ever again.
Outside, a car darted across the street.
Impulsively, Jhoanna brought her hand down on the horn. It blared loudly, a mournful, hollow sound that startled the birds out of the trees, and something dark and desperate rose within Jhoanna as they flew away, turning into little black incisions against the wintry sky.
*
From the name, Jhoanna had expected a sleek office building, but BLOOM Inc. turned out to be a small clinic, easy to miss. Inside, all manners of people waited: a young woman, brown hair curled softly over her shoulder; an elderly man who flipped, resolutely, through one of the magazines; a middle-aged woman who stared blankly at the wall, a haggard look on her face.
At the front desk, a woman with pink hair hummed to herself, alternating between typing things up on her computer and sealing envelopes. Jhoanna went to her and stood, awkwardly, before finally clearing her throat.
“Yes? Is there something I can help you with, Ma’am?”
“I’m here about this.” Jhoanna handed over the wrinkled card.
“Oh. Wala ka dapat nito, this is—a terrible mistake, terribly unprofessional of us— I’m assuming that you are the other party?”
The other party. Like it had been a contract drawn up between them and then dissolved, like it hadn’t been something she'd lived and breathed for the better part of four years, like—
Jhoanna sucked in a breath. “Yes.”
“Well.” The receptionist looked at her sadly. “Pasensya na po, but our procedure is irreversible and strictly confidential between us and the client, who willingly consented to the operation, so frankly I’m not sure how this would play out in court—”
“Hindi ako nagpunta para magreklamo,” Jhoanna interrupted.
“Hindi?”
“No, I’m,” she swallowed, Maloi’s words ringing in her ears: just stop and think for a minute, Jhoanna, but that was the problem, wasn’t it? Thinking hurt too much. And if it had been too much for Aiah, then how the hell was Jhoanna supposed to—
“I’m here to have the procedure, too.”
The woman blinked. “Oh. Oh, okay po, i-sched ko po kayo ng appointment; I believe we have some openings next week—”
“No,” Jhoanna interjected, urgent. “No, kailangan ko ngayon. Ngayon na.”
“With all due respect, Ma’am. This is one of our busiest times of the year—”
“Stacey?” A female’s voice, rich with a tone Jhoanna couldn’t place, sounded from around the corner. “Is there a problem out here?”
“Doctor Lim!” Stacey pushed back in her chair, springing to her feet. “Not at all! I was just explaining to this lady about how booked we are…” She drew closer to the doctor and showed her the card Jhoanna had given her, murmuring in her ear.
Mikha considered her. Had she given Aiah the same bright-eyed appraisal? At her side, Jhoanna’s hands curled into fists, fingernails biting into her palms.
Mikha’s gaze softened; she dipped her head.
“Bring her to my office, Stacey.”
*
—In order to carry out this procedure successfully, gagawa muna tayo ng mental map. Kailangan mong kolektahin lahat ng gamit na konektado sa relationship niyo at dalhin dito. Photos, damit, letters. Lahat. Once we have those, we’ll begin to construct a rough timeline of your history together. The process works in reverse, so we’ll delete your most recent memories first, back and back until we get to the beginning.
—Parang ang dami naman nun.
—It is, isn’t it? We are altering your brain’s pathways, after all. But I can assure you that the effects aren’t excessively damaging. Ang pakiramdam nito pagkatapos eh para ka lang sobrang nalasing. Wala namang mangyayaring masama sa iyo.
—So dadalhin ko ‘yung mga gamit, and we make that mental map, and then what?
—And then you go home. It’s important that you wake up in your usual environment to prevent any sort of mental dissonance tomorrow. Take this pill at eight o’clock, and make sure to leave your door unlocked. Makakatulog ka, at pupunta kami sa bahay mo para i-connect ka sa equipment namin.
—Then sa umaga?
—In the morning you’ll wake up, and it’ll be like none of it ever happened.
*
You shouldn’t make decisions when you’re angry.
Sino nga ulit nagsabi sa kaniya nun? Si Aiah?
No. Forget Aiah.
Her mother, maybe. But that had been so long ago.
Had it been Maloi?
It didn’t matter.
I’m not angry, Jhoanna thought as she swallowed the pill. I’m not angry.
Her eyelids began to droop.
Just tired.
*
(Maganda rin pala ‘yung bahay niya.)
(Don’t touch anything, Stacey.)
(Alam ko, alam ko. Tignan mo, we can set the monitor up over here.)
(Excellent.)
(Naghihilik kaya siya? Uy tignan mo, hindi ba meron din si Ms. Arceta ng ganito?)
(Put those back!)
(Oo na, masyado ka namang seryoso. Head gear is good to go.)
(Are all systems online?)
(Yes, everything’s in place.)
(Good. Magsimula na tayo.)
*
Jhoanna knew how to navigate Aiah’s apartment in the dark.
By the door, she toed off her shoes and shrugged out of her jacket before sneaking to the refrigerator. Squinting against the light, she grabbed a bag of frozen peas and brought it to her jaw. As the chill set in, Jhoanna rested her forehead against the cool steel of the fridge and closed her eyes. Breathe, Jhoanna, breathe.
The kitchen flooded yellow, suddenly bright. Recognizing the battle had already been lost, Jhoanna turned.
Aiah stood, dressed in a gray long-sleeved shirt and ragged red pajama shorts, eyes weary but strangely sharp. Her gaze flickered between the clock, the frozen peas, and Jhoanna’s expression, and Jhoanna could see Aiah sorting through it all in her head, weighing what to address first.
“Late na.”
“Sabi ko naman sa'yo 'wag mo na 'kong hintayin kung may coverage ako eh.”
“Nag-alala ako, Jho. And for good reason, too.” Aiah stepped closer, placing her fingers under Jhoanna’s chin; Jhoanna let the frozen peas drop away from her face reluctantly, exposing the mottled bruise.
“Jhoanna,” Aiah said, voice pained, “Ano—”
“Nagko-cover lang ako sa rali, hindi ako 'yung unang nanakit,” mumbled Jhoanna, because that was all it boiled down to, in the end. At the children’s home and all through college, it was always: sinong unang nanuntok?
“Wala naman akong sinasabing ikaw ang nag-umpisa ng gulo,” Aiah said, as Jhoanna had known she would, because Aiah wasn’t like everyone else. But it helped, sometimes, to pretend. That way it hurt less when Jhoanna disappointed her.
Aiah was waiting for an explanation. It sat there, on the tip of Jhoanna’s tongue. She wouldn’t have to say much to be understood. Just: there was a man. He was drunk. He was going to get into her car. Aiah would know; she would fill in the rest: Mr. and Mrs. Robles leave behind a young daughter, Jhoanna, only eight years old.
But something had cracked open inside Jhoanna back in that parking lot. And it was easier to bury those shards, to shrug away from Aiah and say, “Ayoko nang pag-usapan.”
Aiah’s lips flattened, a thin line. “Ganyan ka naman palagi.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Alam mo kung anong ibig kong sabihin, Jhoanna.”
“Then you shouldn’t have a problem saying it.”
Aiah closed her eyes and took a breath—one of her calming exercises. “Never mind. Pagod na tayong dalawa sa trabaho; ipagpabukas na lang natin 'to.”
She'd given Jhoanna an out and both of them knew it. On a normal night, Jhoanna might have taken it. Arguing with Aiah was too often like throwing yourself at a wall—you tired in the face of that enduring patience. But Jhoanna felt raw with something wild and slightly self-destructive; she wanted, with a sick sense of anticipation, to see what it would take to break through that calm.
“Hindi. Ngayon na. Ikaw naman 'tong laging gustong mag-usap eh.”
“All right, fine,” said Aiah, crossing her arms and drawing herself up higher. “Pag-usapan natin kung paano ka bigla-biglang nawawala para mag-cover ng kung anu-anong delikadong balita tapos hindi ako nagtatanong, kasi alam kong trabaho mo 'yan at pangarap mo 'yan. Pag-usapan natin kung paanong ala-una ng madaling araw tapos nandito ka sa kusina ko na mukhang—” She gestured toward Jhoanna’s face. “Mukang ganiyan, without any explanation. But for God’s sake, Jhoanna, let’s talk, because that’s what people in relationships do. They share things with each other!”
Aiah’s voice had turned slightly ragged, and she pushed a hand through her hair, the white tuft standing on end. “Alam mo ba kung anong pakiramdam para sa'kin, 'yung ni isang text wala tapos sa balita ko na lang makikita na nagkagulo sa rally na kino-cover mo? 'Yung naghihintay kung uuwi ka ba? Kung buhay ka pa ba? Alam mo ba kung anong pakiramdam nu'n?!”
“Of course I do!”
“Do you really? Because sometimes I wonder. I love you, Jhoanna, and for me that means I never want to see anything bad happen to you. But your idea of love…your idea of love is putting a knife in someone else’s hands.”
“So tingin mo—ano, para sa'kin puro balita lang? Na wala akong pakialam sa'yo? Na hindi kita mahal?”
“Hindi. Tingin ko masyado kang nagmamadali, na wala ka nang pakialam sa safety mo makuha lang 'yung scoop mo, at hindi mo 'ko hinahayaang mag-alala para sa'yo—”
“Like you’re in a position to help! I’m the one who has to talk you down from your nightmares every night!”
It was a low blow. Aiah recoiled, sucking in a breath, eyes flashing with hurt.
“I know what you’re trying to do, Jhoanna,” she said finally, voice low and tightly controlled. “But lashing out isn’t going to make me turn away.”
“Stop it,” Jhoanna hissed, suddenly infuriated by Aiah’s martyrdom. “Just stop it, Aiah, okay? You’re my girlfriend, hindi kita editor-in-chief para diktahan kung anong pwede kong i-cover! I don’t— Do you want to know what the real problem is?”
She felt it rise within her, her vision crystallizing into a million tiny points. The too-bright kitchen. The peas, now softening in her hands. Aiah’s arms, still folded across her chest, and her fingers, tightening against her biceps as they waited for Jhoanna’s utterance.
“The problem is you can’t stop thinking of yourself as broken, and that makes you go around trying to fix everyone else. Pero maayos ako bago ka dumating. Kinaya ko ang trabahong 'to nang mag-isa. I don’t need you.”
The four words landed like hammer blows. The killing stroke had been dealt. The color bled from Aiah’s face; she stood, a marble statue among ruins. One more tap and she would shatter into a hundred pieces on the checkered tile. And Jhoanna, who couldn’t bear to face the aftermath of what she had caused, whirled around, grabbing her jacket and shoes and stumbling out the door, dizzy from the damage she had wrought.
The street was quiet. Buttery yellow light leaked through the window blinds of some of the houses. All these other people, with their own private triumphs and trials, and her, alone on the sidewalk, the winter air cutting through her as easily as if she were made of paper.
Aiah had said that Jhoanna thought of love as putting a knife in someone else’s hands. She hadn’t been wrong; she just hadn’t realized that Jhoanna had been the knife. Because that’s what love did: made you into your own best weapon. Made it so that you knew exactly how to hurt, and where.
Jhoanna stared up at the stars, overwhelmed, suddenly, by a fierce sense of loss. She'd seen it all coming, earlier, as she'd rounded the corner of Aiah’s street; it had been her first thought, through the throbbing in her jaw: Aiah’s going to be so mad. And still she hadn’t prevented it. She'd barreled straight into it, as inevitable, somehow, as the pair of headlights wobbling around a bend seventeen years earlier, the two bodies zipped up in black bags at the side of an icy road.
(And—deleted.)
One by one, the streetlamps went dark.
*
(We’re making good time. Might even get through this all before 5 AM.)
(Just start the next one, Stacey.)
*
Growing up, Jhoanna had loved Legos. There were no cast-offs; every piece had the capacity to become part of something bigger. Cars, planes, towers—she built them all, and drew, and dreamt.
The dreaming happened more often, nowadays, snug against Aiah’s chest. The two of them sat in Aiah’s bed, leaning against the headboard: Aiah held a book in one hand, reading, her other arm tucked loosely around Jhoanna as Jhoanna worked on a draft. And Jhoanna liked it, the gravity of their bodies—how they had their separate orbits but returned, with a comforting constancy, to meet at points like these.
She'd been thinking a lot, lately, about that. What it meant, to come back to the same person day after day. Permanence, of a sort. And it frightened her, a little, because she had no blueprint for it, didn’t know if she was going too fast or if Aiah was even on the same page, if a year and a half into a relationship was too early to have an inkling that you might want it for the rest of your life.
“What are you thinking about?” Aiah’s nose nudged against her hairline.
I’m thinking that I love you, and you know that. But do you know that I want to build us a house? I keep seeing it, in my head, some combination of your place and mine. Ours. You could finally have a garden. Maybe we could get a cat. I’m not sure yet. But I want to make all these plans, Aiah. I want so much that I think I’m going to explode with it. Does that scare you? Because it scares me.
“Nothing,” she lied.
Beside her, Aiah stilled. Her breath stirred Jhoanna’s hair, sounding a lot like a sigh.
“All right,” she eventually said, pressing a kiss to Jhoanna’s temple. It seemed more perfunctory than anything, mechanical, and Jhoanna turned to stop her, to say—
But Aiah had disappeared, leaving behind only a cold absence, an empty column of air.
*
Days that dripped with the smell of coffee roasting in a pot. Nights where she sank into bed, heavy, and woke up feeling—not lighter, not quite, but like she had shouldered the burden of another day and come out better for it. An airplane swinging from the rearview mirror, its plastic golden wings catching the sunlight. Her feet propped up on the dashboard, the red light coloring Aiah’s face like a blush as they smiled at each other over the center console.
Seconds and minutes and hours that folded in on themselves like ribbon and then unraveled, slipping through her fingers, lost to the void.
*
It was a blurry sort of happiness.
Colet and Maloi had left at least an hour ago. Outside, the new year tapped at the windows, trailing fireworks from its fingers, pop-pop-pop, but here in Jhoanna’s room, it was blissfully quiet. Just the slow drag of Aiah’s mouth against hers, her spine lit up like a fuse beneath Aiah’s fingertips. Something in Jhoanna’s stomach pulsed, not a star so much as an ember that had sat there all along before being stirred, finally, to life. It crawled under her skin, emerged as an exhale, a wisp of smoke:
“I love you,” she found herself saying, before she'd even fully conceived the thought.
At the base of her throat, Aiah’s lips stilled.
“Jhoanna?”
“I do.” Jhoanna swallowed, opening her eyes to find Aiah’s outline in the dark.
Aiah was quiet. “Okay,” she said. Nothing more.
“Hindi ako lasing,” Jhoanna clarified, because she could read the hesitant look on Aiah’s face. She had had a glass earlier; she remembered the way it had fizzed down her throat. But that buzz had long since faded, replaced by a keen awareness, icy in her veins. “Ask me how I know.”
“How you know you’re not drunk?”
“No, Aiah,” and she was burning up from the impatience of it, the need to prove. “Ask me how I know I love you.”
“Okay.” Aiah rested her hand on Jhoanna’s knee, as if bracing herself. Jhoanna saw her throat bob once, twice, felt the cool touch of Aiah’s hands through the fabric of her pants. “How do you know you love me?”
“Because,” said Jhoanna, and then she was fumbling out of her shirt, bare-chested and pale in the moonlight as she reached for her switchblade and flicked it open, pressing the handle into Aiah’s hand.
“What—” Aiah recoiled, but Jhoanna pushed forward, urging: “Trust me.”
She put her hand around the back of Aiah’s neck, pulling her so that their foreheads leaned against each other, so that she could see the frightened gleam of Aiah’s eyes. With her other hand around Aiah’s wrist, she guided the knife so that it rested against the bottom of her ribcage.
“Because this,” said Jhoanna, and released her grip. The flat of the blade pressed against her skin, bright and cold as a star.
Aiah’s whole body tensed. She alone held the weapon, now, and Jhoanna watched Aiah process it all—surprise and confusion and fear and then, slowly, understanding.
They stayed like that, two statues in the half-light. Jhoanna closed her eyes and breathed in, out, felt her body swell with it, pushing against the metal, but still it did not cut, still she did not bleed, because Aiah held it perfectly in place and Jhoanna loved her, loved this woman who walked heavy with hurt but wrapped her gentleness around others so easily, who was strong and fragile and steady, always so steady.
And then, snick, the blade went in, tossed aside—Jhoanna heard it clatter on the floor—and Aiah kissed her, hands cupped on either side of her face, trembling.
*
“Aiah. Aiah.”
The older woman shuddered awake, gasping. Jhoanna hovered over her, propped up on one elbow, watching Aiah’s eyes slowly gain focus as she stared up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling.
“Sorry.”
Jhoanna shook her head. “Don’t be.”
“I’m just— it’s so vivid. ‘Yung kulay, 'yung amoy... nasa medical tent lang kami noon, nag-aayos ng mga bakuna para sa mga bata tapos biglang sumabog 'yung kampo. Ang daming usok, ang daming dugo... parang hindi ako makahinga..”
Aiah’s hands gripped the sheets on either side of her; Jhoanna reached out, touching the back of each lightly, first the metal, then the flesh. Waited for Aiah to continue.
“And the thing is, I can’t stop thinking about those kids. I got to come back home. But for them— that was their home. They don’t get to leave. Wala silang matakbuhan. Kung ganito kahirap sa'kin, paano pa kaya sa kanila?”
Jhoanna pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, considering. “I can’t give you the answers to that,” she started, slowly. “But…back at the children’s home, there was this thing one of the nurses did, whenever it got to be too much.” She reached for Aiah’s left hand, turning it over, tracing the life line with her finger. “She’d tell us to do this and say: I’m still here. I’m doing my best. I have to let that be enough.”
How many times had she repeated those words to herself, late at night and aching for home? I’m still here. I’m doing my best.
Let that be enough.
Aiah’s breathing began to even out. Jhoanna continued the motion of her fingertips, found Aiah’s eyes in the dark.
“You did everything you could, Aiah. That’s all anyone can ask of you, least of all yourself.”
She didn’t know if they were the right words. No two scars were the same, and everyone wore loss differently. Sometimes the world spun out from under you and you just grabbed whatever you could. Held tight with all you had left.
Wordlessly, Aiah closed her hand around Jhoanna’s fingers and turned on her side, tugging Jhoanna’s arm with her. Jhoanna let her, sinking back into the pillows.
“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Aiah said eventually. “All these beat up parts and rough edges.”
Jhoanna pressed her forehead to the soft cotton at Aiah’s back. Memorized the way they curved together.
“Well, maybe I like the way we fit,” she murmured, drifting off to sleep.
*
She woke up back in her apartment.
The memory hit her like a wave: it had been early in their relationship, everything green and tender. She'd had to fight to convince Aiah to stay the night, much less take the bed and let Jhoanna sleep on the couch. But it had been worth it. It had been like blooming, to open her eyes and see Aiah puttering around in the kitchen in the morning.
Jhoanna threw the blanket off, feet hitting the hardwood floor. Aiah turned to look at her over her shoulder, reaching up with a hand to tousle Jhoanna’s already horrendous bedhead.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” Jhoanna grinned, arm darting around Aiah’s side to steal a piece of piping hot bacon.
“Wala ka man lang ka-prutas prutas dito sa kitchen mo,” Aiah told her, almost reprimanding.
“Bakit? Ayaw mo ba sa banana chips ko?” Jhoanna teased, grabbing a carton of milk and pulling down two glasses from the cupboards.
Aiah shot her a withering look. “There is so much unnecessary sugar in that chips I don’t know where to begin.”
Jhoanna, meanwhile, was opening the packaging of her banana chips, doing her best to appear innocent as she bit into one. “Hmm.”
“Funny,” commented Aiah, bumping Jhoanna’s shoulder with her as she moved toward the trash can, scraping some fatty bits from the pan. She handed the skillet back to Jhoanna, nodding toward the plate of food she had prepared. “Ayusin mo na ‘yung mesa, itatapon ko lang ‘tong mga basura.”
“You don’t have to do that,” said Jhoanna, depositing the iron in the sink. “It’s my place, ako na bahala diyan.”
Aiah smiled at her, already tying off the bag. “I don’t mind.”
Jhoanna had forgotten the effect that smile had, like someone had shoved spring and all its wild bounty into her chest. But accompanying the surge of affection came a bubbling sense of panic. It’s just a memory. One she would no longer have once Aiah walked out the door.
“Wait.” She grabbed Aiah’s wrist, not sure whom exactly she was speaking to or whether Stacey and Mikha could even hear her plea. “Wait, don’t— ‘wag ‘to, please. Let me keep this, at least.”
For a minute, nothing moved. And then Aiah’s head swiveled, voice eerily calm as she asked: “Keep what?” with a dead-eyed stare.
Behind her, the doorway had started to go dark at the edges. Aiah herself was becoming translucent; her hand disappeared completely, leaving Jhoanna clutching empty air.
“Wait,” Jhoanna repeated, desperate. “Stop. Kailangan kong—” She stumbled back, spinning around the kitchen for some source of inspiration—come on, Jhoanna, wake up, wake up, gumising ka—
Pain flared from the index finger of her left hand. She'd slammed it in one of the drawers, hoping the shock would trigger something, and for a second everything in the room turned sharp again, clearly defined, and then the vision warped—
(Mikha, she's gone off the map.)
(What? Let me see.)
She was in a hallway, the lights overhead casting a faint bluish tinge on everything. Tiny green and yellow triangles in the gray carpet beneath her feet. A galaxy print hanging on the wall. The potted ficus tree beside it.
She'd passed all this on the way to Mikha’s office. Which meant…
Jhoanna ran.
Around the corner, on the right. The brass plaque. And, through the blinds, her past self, easing back into the white chair, hands braced on the armrests.
You understand, then, that this process is irreversible, Mikha said, clicking something on her computer screen as Stacey drew out the first memento from Jhoanna’s box of belongings.
Yes.
And you are set on your decision?
“No,” Jhoanna said, rattling the door handle, her finger still pulsing with pain, “no, binabawi ko na—”
Mikha and Stacey turned toward her, faceless, and then the doorknob began to melt under her hands, the window and wood turning liquid, and Jhoanna was yanked back, head over heels, weightless.
*
Tuesday afternoon in the park. A group of kids laughing and shrieking as they played tag. Her pinky linked with Aiah’s, a dunkin donut in her left hand. Too sweet, she thought, handing it over. Aiah took a bite from it and chewed, thoughtful.
“Anong nangyayari sa’tin?” Jhoanna asked, voice small.
Aiah tilted her head back and closed her eyes, the breeze ruffling her hair.
“They’re erasing me. But you knew that already.”
Already, Jhoanna could not recall what came after. It yawned open inside her, a snaking road devoid of all its original landmarks.
“Hindi ko na sila hahayaang magbura pa ng iba,” she swore. “They can’t force me to forget the rest.”
Aiah’s mouth quirked a little sadly. “No, no one’s ever been good at forcing you to do anything.”
I would have followed you anywhere. The thought landed inside her like a bird, sinking its claws into her heart. Not in this moment, not yet, but later. How do you forget something like that?
“Itatago kita,” Jhoanna decided, mind racing.
“Saan?”
“I don’t know—”
*
“No.” The silverware rattled as she brought her fist down on the table, the water sloshing in its glass. They were in a steakhouse restaurant, the smell of roasting meat and spices heavy in the air, a steaming slab of steak between them, and Jhoanna’s throat closed up because they were so close to the beginning—to the end.
Aiah surveyed the restaurant and brought a cup to her mouth, eyes deepening as she arrived at the same conclusion Jhoanna had. “You have to hide me somewhere far back, Jhoanna. Mas malayo pa dito.”
“I don’t—” Jhoanna sucked in a breath. “Hindi ko alam kung kaya ko.”
“You have to, Jhoanna. If you don’t want to lose me, you have to let me in.”
*
(Nawawala siya ulit.)
(Find her!)
*
It was gruesome to behold.
The bird had had half its wing torn off already and laid in a crumpled heap of feathers. All around it, the children had gathered, drawn to the scent of decay just as surely as the ants had been. The ants that swarmed, now, over the body, nibbling at flesh, stark black against the exposed bits of bright white bone.
It was still alive. Kathryn, one of the older girls, picked up a stick and poked it. The bird twitched, wretched, and a sound tore out of her—
“Stop.”
Heads turned, some in surprise. Quiet Jhoanna, who kept her head down. Who saved her smiles for Colet and Maloi and the occasional adult.
Who walked, now, to stand over the bird.
She forced herself to look down at it. The unnatural angle of the wing. The curled talons. The oozing pink skin around the one beady eye, glazed with pain but still bright with awareness, that stared back.
Jhoanna’s stomach rolled, threatening to rebel. The ants were on her, now, swarming up her shins, over her neck, into her ears: that steady prickle, the crawling sensation that she got sometimes at night that made her want to claw out of skin—you are alive you are alive you are alive—
The other kids would think her foolish for what she was about to do. The younger ones because they didn’t know, yet, that some things were beyond saving. The older ones because they didn’t want their spectacle stolen from them.
Jhoanna dropped to her knees and reached out.
She ignored the ants that transferred to her skin, biting into her palms, as she gently scooped the broken creature into her hands. She cradled it against her chest, trying to block the wind, trying to offer a warmth it had already lost. For a fleeting second, the bird leaned into her touch. Then, with a shallow, rattling gasp, its tiny chest collapsed, and it went entirely still.
Such a strange double vision:
There she was, ten years old, alone, a helpless sanctuary in the foster home’s courtyard, feeling the exact moment a heartbeat faded into nothing. And then she stood, older and at a distance, Aiah’s hand on the small of her back, silent in her understanding.
One Jhoanna stared down at her trembling hands, bearing the weight of a body laid to rest.
The other closed her eyes and turned away, burying her face in Aiah’s chest.
*
Black asphalt, bloodied knees. Two long shadows in the sun, blended together so that no one could tell where one ended and the other began. Dad, sitting in a lawn chair on the driveway, an amused look on her face.
“Ready?” her mother asked, hands braced on the bike seat.
“Ready,” said Jhoanna, pushing off. Her foot fumbled, trying to find purchase on the pedals as she kept the handlebar straight. Loud puffs of breath followed her—her mother, trying to keep pace, her hands holding the bike steady.
“Bitaw, Ma,” Jhoanna said, feeling the wheels spin under her. She wouldn’t fall this time; she knew it in her bones.
The bike wobbled. Jhoanna held on, still pedaling. Her mother’s shadow split from hers, growing shorter as Jhoanna drew away and Jhoanna turned, half in her seat, filled with a joy so big it felt like terror.
She kept her eyes on her mother’s face until she rounded the curve and then focused forwards, leaning low over the handlebars, ready for the road ahead.
*
(And…got her.)
Jhoanna met the next memory with a strange sense of acceptance.
Colet’s birthday was coming up. Which explained why Jhoanna stood in the cookbook section, debating whether Kawaling Vegan Pinoy Cookbook fit the bill for Colet’s recent foray into vegetarian dining.
She frowned at the glossy pages, decided they would suffice. Jhoanna turned, ready to march over to the cash register and be done with it, when a familiar face walked by.
Instinctually, she whirled around and pretended to be busy scrutinizing the shelves once more. She'd known that Aiah lived in the same town, but they had forgotten to exchange numbers at the beach party, and some days she felt like their meeting in La Union had been just a dream. It felt weirdly intrusive and out of place to see her in the mundane lighting of the bookstore when for the past week or so Jhoanna had kept revisiting that moment in the sand: the dark water lapping gently in the background, the moonlit curve of Aiah’s cheek.
“Jhoanna?”
“H-hi.”
“Sabi na nga ba ikaw eh.” Aiah approached, grinning, before raising an eyebrow and dipping her head toward the cookbook in Jhoanna’s hand. “Is that a recent development? Kasi sa pagkakatanda ko puno ng ribs and burger ‘yung plato mo last time eh.”
“Para kay Ate Colet ‘to,” Jhoanna blurted. “Her birthday’s coming up, so…” She gestured aimlessly.
“Makes sense,” nodded Aiah, tucking a hand in her pocket as she leaned against the bookshelf.
She was close. Jhoanna was dizzy with it, which was stupid because that was so high school and—
“It’s nice to see you,” Jhoanna said, though it came out sounding a bit standoffish, since she'd forced the words through gritted teeth in her effort not to blush.
Aiah’s smile stretched wider, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Want to grab a cup of coffee?”
“I’d like that,” Jhoanna said.
(Almost done.)
*
Their headlights cut through the night on the way home. Maloi’s god-awful music blared from the car speakers as Colet drove while, in the back, Jhoanna rested her head against the window, periodically tracing random shapes in its fogged surface.
“So.” Maloi’s teeth flashed pearly-white in the dark as she twisted around in the front seat to look at Jhoanna, eyebrows dancing suggestively. “Ate Aiah, huh? Nakita ko kayong naglalakad nang magkasama…”
“Ewan ko sa’yo, Ate Maloi,” Jhoanna said, but she was smiling.
*
Why anyone had decided to host a beach party at the beginning of September, Jhoanna had yet to figure out.
She'd gone through the cursory introduction to the hosts, which mostly involved Maloi dragging her by the arm, before retreating to the wooden steps with a plate of food. From her vantage point, she could see Colet whistling cheerfully as she flipped burgers while Maloi stood off to the side telling a story, complete with exaggerated gestures and the requisite sound effects. It wasn’t the worst event Jhoanna had attended, and even though she was going to have to shake the sand out of her shoes and socks later, she could forgive that in the face of the glazed barbecued ribs in her lap.
“Mind if I sit?”
Jhoanna spared a glance upwards, shrugged.
The woman sat down on the other side of the railing, reaching under it to offer her hand.
“I’m Aiah.”
Jhoanna wiped sauce off her fingers. “Jhoanna,” she replied, eyeing Aiah. Sturdy, but with gentle eyes. A grip that could have crushed, but didn’t.
“Got it overseas,” Aiah explained, catching Jhoanna's gaze and indicating the faint, jagged scar on her forearm.
“I was going to ask about the hair, actually.”
Aiah’s eyes sparked, surprise mixed with appreciation as she reached up to pull at the brown patch. “Pina-kulayan ko nung nakauwi ako from my duty. My own way of remembering, instead of…” She rubbed the scarred arm absentmindedly, offering a half-shrug
“Bagay sa’yo,” Jhoanna commented.
Aiah shot her a sidelong glance, resting her arms on her thighs and leaning forward to observe the guests down closer to the surf. “Are you a friend of Ate Nadine or kay Ate Julia?”
Jhoanna snorted. “Wala actually. But my friends Ate Colet and Ate Maloi have this idea that any friend of theirs should be a friend of mine, kaya nandito ako.”
“And you aren’t one for mingling, huh?”
“Eh ikaw ba?”
That earned her a chuckle. “Fair enough.”
They lapsed back into silence. Jhoanna picked up her corncob, rotating it in her hands.
“You know,” said Aiah, tilting her head back and closing her eyes, breathing in the beach air, “I think I might go for a jog along the water.”
It was a beautiful day, all things considered. And it had been a long time since Jhoanna had met someone she wanted to keep talking to.
“Is that an invitation?”
Aiah cracked one eye open, smiled. “If you want.”
*
When the stars came out, Aiah and Jhoanna stood near the surf, tossing pebbles into the waves. Farther down the beach, the campfire blazed; Jhoanna turned away from it, toward the private bubble of warmth she'd stumbled into here in the darkness.
“Pangarap ko dati maging astronaut,” Aiah was saying, hands tucked in her pockets as she studied the moon. “Some other life, maybe.”
Jhoanna eyed the horizon, bringing her arm back and throwing the next rock as far as she could. “Ako naman pangarap ko dati maging Idol,” she confessed. “Parang masaya mag-perform eh.”
Aiah turned toward her, assessing. The attention was not entirely unwelcome.
“I can see it,” she finally said, smiling.
Jhoanna’s ears burned.
“Yeah, right,” she mumbled, bumping against Aiah’s side before realizing what she had done.
Maloi’s voice saved her from further embarrassment.
“Jhooooooo,” came the call, drawing closer. “Nasa kotse na si Colet— Uwi na tayo.”
Jhoanna stepped back, jerking her thumb in the direction of her summons. “I should…”
And she knew how it went, from here. Aiah would nod, say: Yeah. Ships in the night, going their separate ways, only this time they weren’t going to meet up again, this time the goodbye was for good. It’ll stop hurting in a little, Jhoanna told herself. Matatapos din ‘to. Naalala mo ‘yung sinabi ni Mikha, in the morning you won’t even remember—
“Wait,” said Aiah.
In the sand, Jhoanna froze. “Hindi ganito ‘yung nangyari.”
Aiah’s hand rested on her shoulder. Jhoanna closed her eyes, willed herself not to turn into the familiar grip.
“That’s what I wanted to say. On the beach, bago pa talaga tayo naging magkakila— I wanted you to stay. At nung gabing nag-away tayo—”
“Hindi ko dapat sinabi ‘yon sa’yo.” It burst from her like shards of glass. “I shouldn’t have— Hindi ko naman ‘to dapat gagawin—” She turned, vision blurry from the tears pricking her eyes. “Why, Aiah? Bakit mo—”
“I’m sorry,” Aiah said, strangled, metal hand cool against Jhoanna’s cheek. “I was angry and hurt and I’d forgotten that I could feel that much and I—” Her voice caught, full of regret. “Akala ko mas magiging madali. I wanted, just once, for something to be easy.”
“Don’t let go, please, ‘wag mo akong bibitawan” Jhoanna said fiercely, twisting her fingers into the fabric of Aiah’s jacket. “If we just stay here— if I don’t wake up—”
“Jhoanna,” said Aiah, lips gentle over her eyelids, “Jhoanna, that’s not an option. You have to wake up.”
“But—”
Aiah brought their foreheads together. “You’ll find me,” she promised, little more than a whisper. “I know you will.”
And then all of it—the sand, the salty sea spray, the stars bright and immobile above them—was gone.
present
*
She wakes up with an uncomfortable crick in her neck.
Blearily, Jhoanna looks around. Circular stains on the coffee table. Two empty coke cans. She must have fallen asleep on the couch.
She hadn’t been the only one, it appears. Aiah sits beside her, head lolled against the cushions, arms slack at her sides, though Jhoanna notes that her hand has curled into a fist.
It should freak Jhoanna out, to wake up next to someone who is still, for all intents and purposes, a stranger. But the sight fills her, instead, with a strange sense of calm.
She reaches out to adjust the pillows, but Aiah stirs, eyes fluttering before she jerks fully awake.
“Hi,” Jhoanna manages, because that seems the safest place to start.
Aiah frowns and pushes herself up into a better sitting position, dragging a hand down her face. “Hala, anong oras na?”
Jhoanna glances at the clock. “Nine.”
Aiah grimaces. “Sorry for crashing." For the first time, she looks awkward, a little embarrassed; Jhoanna finds it comforting. “Hindi ko napansin ‘yung oras.”
“Don’t worry about it."
Aiah looks at Jhoanna, then back at the clock. “Mauna na siguro ako.”
“Probably.”
Neither of them moves.
And then, slowly, Aiah stands up. Jhoanna follows her to the door, grabbing Aiah’s jacket from the peg and handing it over, and as their fingers brush, Aiah pauses.
“It was nice meeting you, Jhoanna,” she says, hesitant. “Maybe we could do this again, sometime.”
“Yeah,” replies Jhoanna, and tries to figure out why it feels like they’re both missing something important.
*
On her way back from the grocery store, she picks up the mail.
The usual: coupon booklets, an issue of some magazine courtesy of Maloi. A manila envelope catches her eye; it doesn’t have a sender, but her name and address are clearly printed on it. The heavier, square-shaped bulge toward the bottom shifts back and forth; Jhoanna frowns. CD case, possibly?
At home, she dumps the contents of the envelope onto her kitchen table, bracing her elbows against the counter as she reads the enclosed letter.
My name is Sheena Catacutan. You don’t know me, pero kilala kita. Or at least, may idea ako sa mga pinagdaanan mo.
My brother has been missing for a year. It hit our family hard, especially with my dad already gone. And sometimes “he’s still out there” isn’t enough. Minsan, nakakalason din 'yung patuloy na umasa.
Ganito 'yung nangyari sa mama ko. Like all of you, nahanap niya ang BLOOM Inc. She chose to forget. Umuwi ako isang araw at nakitang burado na ang lahat ng bakas ng kuya ko. Pictures, mga gamit, wala na lahat. And the worst part of it all was that I had no one to turn to. My mom was just a shell of herself. May mga flashes of memory siya minsan, pero natatakot akong sabihin sa kanya 'yung totoo. I don’t know what it’ll do to her. Kapag ganoon na karami 'yung nawala sa'yo… baka tuluyan lang siyang masira kapag pinaalala ko pa.
My brother’s name is Sean. He has black hair and terrible eyesight. I have one picture of him left.
Since my mom’s procedure, I’ve been monitoring BLOOM Inc. closely, trying to see if there’s a way to safely reverse what she had done. It might be too late for her, I’m afraid. But not for the rest of you.
I’ve hacked into BLOOM Inc.’s systems. I’ve listened to your stories, trying to understand. There’s a lot of pain here. All of you chose to forget for a reason. I won’t begrudge you that.
But, just in case, there’s this.
In case you ever choose to remember.
Jhoanna puts the letter down and picks up the CD, narrowing her eyes at the label.
Jhoanna Robles (2/15)
Only yesterday.
With a shaky breath, she starts the recording. Hears her voice, slightly hoarse:
“My name is Jhoanna. I met Aiah five years ago, at a party in La Union. Ate Colet was the one who got invited—she and Ate Maloi just thought it’d be fun to drag me along. I’m not much of a party person, so I was kind of sitting away from everyone else, and then…”
“And then what, Jhoanna?”
“And then Aiah came over and asked, ‘Mind if I sit?’”
*
The knock, when it arrives, echoes in her bones.
Aiah stands in the doorway, a CD of her own clutched in her right hand. The shadows under her eyes have deepened. For a moment, they just regard each other, and Jhoanna tries to come up with a description for the expression on Aiah’s face.
Haunted, she decides.
And then Aiah moves forward, a puppet cut from its strings: “Jhoanna.”
“Wait.” Jhoanna swallows, stepping back. She doesn’t know how to reconcile this with the frustrating blanks in her head, can’t wrap her mind around the fact that the woman standing before her is someone she has touched, held, lost.
Aiah freezes, hand dropping to her side.
“We were together,” starts Jhoanna, mouth dry. “For four years.”
The line between Aiah’s eyebrows deepens. Jhoanna thinks: I must have run my finger down it, once. “Yes.”
“And then we just— erased it. Just like that.”
“Don’t say just,” Aiah says, still holding herself rigidly. “It was never just anything, with us.”
“You’re here because you want to try again,” Jhoanna realizes.
Surprise flits across Aiah’s face. “Don’t you?”
Your idea of love is putting a knife in someone else’s hand.
Do you know what that’s like?
I don’t need you.
“Nasaktan kita.”
“Nasaktan natin ang isa’t isa.”
“So what’s the point?” Jhoanna asks, willing her voice not to shake. “What if maulit lang natin ‘yung lahat ng nangyari?”
“Is that what you think is going to happen?”
Jhoanna reaches out, placing a hand on either side of Aiah’s face. Something opens up inside her: a hole already dug, a body laid to rest. “Hindi ko alam,” she answers honestly.
And Aiah, filled with enough faith for the both of them, turns her cheek into Jhoanna’s touch.
“It’ll be okay, Jhoanna,” she promises. “We’ll do better. And even if we don’t, I’ll keep it, all of it. You’ll be my favorite scar.”
Her lips ghost over the lifeline on Jhoanna’s palm. Jhoanna follows the motion, thinks:
We’re still here. We’re doing our best.
It’ll be enough.
.
.
.
But if each day, each hour
you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness
if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me
ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten