“Aha! Mara, there you are.” Tito Bong, her father’s youngest brother, tipped his fedora at them. Mara knew that Tito Bong had agonized over that hat choice for at least a week. The Barretto siblings were always well dressed and loved to impress. Even Mara’s father had especially commissioned a beautifully embroidered piña cloth barong from Laguna—a four-hour drive back and forth.
Tito Bong was holding a bottle of craft beer in one hand, and a bright red envelope with gold Chinese lettering in the other. He held up the envelope to her. “Here.”
“Here?” Mara echoed, confused by the appearance of the ang pao. It was a pretty thick envelope, too. “For Marina?”
“For you,” Tito Bong said, which only confused Mara further. “For the wedding.”
“I’m not the one that got married…?”
“Bongs naman, fix the meanings of this!” Tita Claudine rolled her eyes at her baby brother, making Mara laugh. Yep, the drama was inherited from one side of the family, and one side of the family only.
Tita Claudine gently took Mara’s wrist, the same one that was still holding on to the surprisingly thick envelope. “Mara. I’m sure you heard this na, but there’s a tradition that when the younger sibling marries before the oldest, the oldest gets a gift from the younger. It’s usually gold.”
“That’s a tradition?” Mara asked, the first time she’d heard this. Although maybe someone had mentioned it in passing? It wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. “Is that sukob?”
Tito Bong and Tita Claudine looked at each other, confusion and surprise evident in their eyes. Unfortunately neither sibling seemed to have the answer and wordlessly shrugged at each other. Basta, it was a thing, so it was going to be a thing that they honored. Tradition!
“Sukob is when siblings get married in the same year. That’s malas,” Tita Claudine explained, tutting her lips and whispering, as if talking about sukob at a wedding was bad luck in and of itself. “It’s also a Kris Aquino movie. It was ok lang.”
“Ate,” Bong said behind her, holding his beer away from his body. “The point. It’s way over here with my craft beer.”
“Yes, the point,” Tita Claudine huffed, making sure to direct a glare at Tito Bong before giving Mara a warm, gentle look. “The point is, Mara. Nalipasan ka.”
Jusko, would she ever escape that fucking word? “And…?”
“And so, money.” Tita Claudine pressed the envelope into her hands. “It’s a luck thing. Marina got hers, passed it on to you, and as her new ninang and ninong sa kasal, we added to it.”
Mara had no idea what to feel as she held the surprisingly thick envelope in her hands. On one hand, free money. On the other hand, just because they said it wasn’t a consolation prize, didn’t mean it didn’t feel like one. As if she lost out on something, because her baby sister had gotten married first.
But then again. Free money.
“Use it for something fun,” Tita Claudine urged her, “or something really, really stupid.”
Japan was lovely in the spring. As was Seoul in the fall. Or she could buy new underwear in Melbourne, since her size didn’t exist in Asia. New underwear was always nice.
“Just don’t use it on food,” Tito Bong said, rubbing his larger stomach. “Collectively our family’s done enough damage to buffets from Manila to Tagaytay.”
Mara was a good daughter and a fucking awesome niece because she knew that Tito Bong was aware that his little comment was absolutely uncalled for. And while millennials and Gen Z kids acknowledged they had shit to unpack when it came to their body image, it was way harder trying to convince the boomers of that.
So she smiled at her tito (pitying him a little that at his age, he was still so unhappy with himself that he needed to bring her into his self-hate) and excused herself to head to the reception area, saying she needed to check on the flowers.
This Barbie needed a fucking break.
FOUR
Making her great escape to the ballroom felt like a gasp of air after breaking the surface of water. There really wasn’t any need to check on the flowers—she trusted her team and received updates on their work chat throughout the day. But it was an excuse to escape, and Mara was going to grab that excuse by the horns and wrestle with it if she had to. Besides, updates were one thing. Actually walking into a completed setup for the first time was another. It always took her breath away, seeing a vision come to life and the comfort it provided to a room.
And not to brag, but Mara had really outdone herself with this one.
Marina had requested red for her intimate Tagaytay wedding. Just one hundred guests, on a weekday. She wanted a red that invoked love and romance, the kind that they saw in movies with ending scenes in rooms like this. And because Game of Thrones had ruined red for weddings (among other things) forever, Mara and Marina compromised and fully leaned into Fall vibes. Nothing that would clash with the main ballroom’s elegant decor.
On days where the ballroom wasn’t filled with wedding guests, it was a restaurant. It didn’t need much in terms of adornment, honestly. There were chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, white beams adorned with crown molding, black-and-white patterned floors. The couple’s table was set against a wall of mercury glass mirrors, the tables for the parents, ninongs and ninangs across, guests surrounding them. With details like this, one had to be subtle or go balls to the walls with their concept, and Wildflower was all about the balls to the walls. Just like that one time, when the PBA hosted a reception, and Mara used old basketballs to put flowers up on the walls.
Anyway. The Marina-David nuptials had dozens of burgundy red roses on the tables, matched with birds of paradise, peonies and dahlias of varying shades of red, orange and pale peach. The place screamed autumn romance, with the dried, dyed flowers filling the emptier spaces. Mara approached the arrangement at the couple’s table, rearranging some of the blooms. Even as she straightened up some of the flowers, she couldn’t help but think about the money burning a hole in her pocket. She’d peeked at the envelope earlier. There was enough for a plane ticket abroad, a trip to Boracay, a night at a swanky hotel.
It’s Marina giving you luck, she remembered Tita Claudine said. What was Mara supposed to do with that luck?
Go away.The idea was tempting. Too tempting, really.
