He had just finished, and was about to head to his car when he got a text. Kira.
Grim Reaper-nim, My informants tell me that you’re in Makati and that you have a car.
Santi chuckled, despite himself. He was surprised that everyone in Lipa was appraised of his whereabouts; he didn’t think they noticed when he left to go back to Manila.
Yes. Was about to leave for Lipa. What can I do for you, Sunny-ssi?he replied, because he could be smooth that way.
Can I hitch a ride? I’m in Legazpi.
Ironically, Santi had been closer to Legazpi Village before lunch. Oh well.
Also, OMG YOU WATCHED GOBLIN. I am so proud!
The address led him to a restaurant on Rada Street, a row of restaurants mixed among condominiums and office buildings (because urban planning? Was that a thing?). Santi watched Kira step out of the restaurant wearing ripped jeans and a sheer magenta blouse, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that swished when she turned her head. So different from the loose pants, soft shirt, chunky black sandal combos that she liked to wear. This was Kira blending in to Makati and the other similarly dressed people in the restaurant. She was even wearing dark lipstick. It suited her.
“Thank god!” she exclaimed, and the way she beamed at him when he lowered the window to call her over made him much more busog than anything he’d eaten at the restaurant had. “You saved me.”
“From?” Santi asked, reminding her to put on her seat belt before he peeled away from the curb and headed for the Skyway.
“Small talk, urgh.” Kira stuck her tongue out, and placed a paper bag Santi hadn’t seen before on her lap. “I mean, she’s my friend, and I know she works in advertising, but I don’t have to know anything about advertising to be her friend! Am I supposed to care what her boss said to this other person? I don’t even shop there!”
“Shop where?” Santi asked, confused. He’d only seen her this flustered, or talk this fast, when she was coming to him to ask about the difference between a bond and an equity, or why her uncle insisted she get a credit line for the Laneways. Which, he figured, only meant that this really, really bothered her.
“I wanted to ask her how her family was doing, how her trip to Singapore was, if she had a hard time finding the shop I asked her to buy from.” Kira shook her head. “We used to be close, you know. Now she’s...anyway. Thank you for picking me up. I would have had to hang out at the mall until Kuya Jake finished tonight otherwise.”
“So why did you meet her, whoever she was?” Santi asked curiously, as the buildings and structures of Makati fell away. Driving on the Skyway always made him feel like he was driving far, far away, and it made him feel like it was a little easier to breathe, somehow.
She was quiet for a bit, like she was seriously considering her answer.
“Well, because she’s still my friend. I still care about her enough to rearrange my entire day just to see her. I asked to make pasabuy from Singapore,” Kira explained, indicating the paper bag on her lap. “Hay, the things I do for KPop merch. What’s your excuse?”
“I need an excuse to be in Manila?” he asked her. “I live here.”
“You have three businesses in Lipa,” Kira pointed out. “And a house across the park from mine, also in Lipa. You don’t fool me, Anton Santillan. You’re just as Batangueño as I am at this point.”
He’d told himself that buying that house in Haraya Subdivision was an investment choice, but that of course didn’t stop him from buying the more comfortable bed for the place, from having the kitchen built out the way he wanted it because the oven that came with the house wasn’t as good as the one he had in Ortigas.
“So you’re really not going to tell me what you were doing in Makati?” Kira asked, and he quickly threw her a glance as if to say she was being nosy. “Are you secretly seeing someone? Did you need to buy something thatwasn’tin Uniqlo Lipa?”
“What is it with you and Uniqlo?” Santi asked.
“Uniqlo is the chosen wear of the Ateneo/La Salle millennial when they want to seem relatable.” Kira shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”
“They’re comfortable clothes that fit me well.” Santi didn’t know why he was defending his sartorial choices, because Uniqlo really did come with a variety of styles, but good to know that Kira found it amusing. “And hey.You’rean Ateneo millennial, too.”
“Yeah, but their jean sizes are for tiny people.” Kira laughed.
“Yes, because Birkenstock sandals and flared cotton pants are the true peak of fashion,” Santi said, which made Kira laugh even harder. Look at him, making jokes. He was feeling better already.
“Lakas mo mang-asar, ha,” she warned him, but there was no actual anger in her tone, just a playful glare that made Santi smile. “The last time I saw you, you were wearing a suit jacket and leather shoes. In Lipa.”
“I always dress appropriately when the hotel has events,” Santi argued. “Luckily I did, the debutante’s father invited me to drink with him for a bit.”
The next two hours flew by that way, the two of them arguing about style, about the best place in the city for lomi, if Lobo or Laiya was closer by driving. They made a definitive ranking of all the food Kira tried at La Spezia (the pesto was number one, surprise) and talked about their friends (“IknewSari and Gab would be well matched!”) and their childhood memories. She talked to him like they were the oldest of friends, and they hadn’t lost the last twenty-plus years to Manila, to his family, like he hadn’t been keeping his distance from her for the last three years.
She’d always known how to draw him in to her, whether it was the offer of Royal Tru Orange in a plastic bag, the manong with the fishball cart showing up at his house, or sitting and talking with him in a car headed back to Lipa. Her eyes sparkled with delight every time he said something she agreed with (“Chinese garter shoulddefinitelybe an Olympic sport”), and he liked that she turned to face him while he drove, her back to her window, her knee on the passenger seat. He would have liked to look at her, if he wasn’t driving.
He was picturing them in Rome again.
