Love in All the Right Places (Chick Lit bundle) (23 page)

Chapter 15: Fade In, Fade Out

I dealt with the situation the only way I knew how—I dove into work. I was in the boardroom thirty minutes before meetings. I handed in proposals even before Ms. D asked for them. I took in extra work. I stayed late. I worked weekends.

Bea and I had brief talks over the phone—it was the best we could manage given my self-imposed schedule.  But fashion sense was the first to go. I had no energy left for mixing and matching. I went back to my jeans-loose shirt combo, which even looked more ridiculous on me because of the weight I had lost.

In between lulls at work, I allowed myself to feel the anger, the hurt, the guilt. But most of the time, I had my game face on, not allowing anything Vince-related to muddle my life.

But one other person managed to squeeze into my thoughts—at least in my subconscious.

One night I dreamt that I had ended up like Mama Maring, old yet perfectly turned out, my hair done in auburn ringlets, my nails gleaming in deep plum. I was living in a roomful of indie film DVDs, discarded laptops, folders of printed screenplays, and a mountain of my old clothes, bags, and accessories. And after I died, my sister’s daughter sold them at a rummage sale, unknowingly sealing the family’s curse of spinsterhood upon herself.

* * * *

“How are you, Crissy?”

Since I had walked in her office five minutes ago, Ms. D had been too busy to actually look at me. So far she had shuffled her papers, squinted at the computer screen, and fiddled with her phone. Not that I was complaining; I didn’t want to make eye contact with her either.

“Oh, good. I’m good.”

“I’m glad to see that you’re your old self again. You’ve been working hard.”

Finally Ms. D looked at me. “For a while there, I was worried. You were letting deadlines slip. It seemed you didn’t take our ‘talk’ seriously.”

Then she leaned back, shaking her head and smiling. “But you got over it—whatever it was. And I’m glad you’re back.”

I nodded my head absentmindedly.

“Which is why I’ve decided to promote you to production manager.”

I almost fell off my seat.

“I thought it wouldn’t be offered after at least a few years.” I smiled weakly.

“Why wait?” Ms. D replied briskly. “Just keep working hard, and in no time, you’ll have all these.”

She swept her hand across the room, and I took it all in—the big office, the posh furniture, the awards, and Ms. D herself, perfectly polished, decked in designer wear from head to toe. There was something missing in the room, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

“You know, I see a lot of myself in you.” Ms. D looked at me knowingly. “You have passion for your work. You know your priorities. You know you can’t let your personal life stand in the way of success.”

And then it hit me—I knew what was missing in Ms. D’s office.

* * * *

To Whom It May Concern:

This is to inform you that I am tendering my resignation, effective next month. 

This will give me ample time to prepare my clearance while turning over my responsibilities to senior producer Leo Cabrera, who has proven himself an excellent and capable leader on one occasion when I have been unable to fulfill my duties.

I would like to thank the company, my second home for the past six years. My work has molded me into the person that I am today, and I am forever grateful for the experience and skills I have gained from people whom I deeply respect.

Thank you for your kind consideration.

Sincerely,

Cristianna M. Lopez

Executive Producer, Profiles

* * * *

Ms. D didn’t have a single personal photograph in the room—not even a photo of herself. I realized that I didn’t know anything about her outside the office—not a hint about her family or even her friends.

I remembered Mama Maring’s wake. The room overflowed with guests—not just from family but also people from her work. She might have resigned over twenty years ago, but people still remembered her for her cheerfulness and generosity. Even the families of colleagues who have gone before her had come to pay their respects, sharing how Mama had helped them in different ways.

Then there were her friends—from mahjong, from ballroom dancing, from the subdivision’s senior club. She worked hard, not to escape, but because it was her passion. And she made time for other things—family, friends, and even for herself.

That was how I wanted to live my life. And that was how I wanted my death to be—surrounded by people whose lives I had touched and vice versa.

It was difficult to explain all this to my workmates. So each time I was asked why I was leaving, I just said that I needed a break. No, I wasn’t going to transfer to the rival network. And yes, I was going to bum around for a while. No, that wasn’t probably wise given these tough times. But yes, I was going to do it anyway—and yes, at my age too!

And so I had decided to end a chapter—and believe me, it was not as romantic as it sounded.  Tying loose ends took
a lot
of work, leaving me no time for anything else. While dealing with the office red tape to get my clearance done, I had to go over several years’ worth of material, decide which ones had to be kept, and arrange them in neat files, to be turned over to Leo. 

As soon as I decided on my resignation, I had dutifully informed Mia that I was moving out in a month because, aside from the inevitable lack of funds unemployment would bring, I also needed a change of scenery. 

I steeled myself for her violent reaction, but to my surprise, she just stared at me.

“Oh,” she finally said. “Actually I was planning to tell you that you might have to move out soon.”

“What?” I said incredulously. “You were planning to kick me out?” 

Mia, the warrior woman, hesitated. For the first time, she seemed to be at a loss for words. “I-I, well, I just have this, um, thing.”

The tables were turned. At that moment, I was the alpha female. I raised an eyebrow. “What
thing
?”

She finally caved in. “Oh, all right. I met this guy over the Internet.”

This time both my eyebrows shot up.

“Crissy!”

“What? I didn’t say anything! And . . . ?”

“And well . . . we’ve been chatting for almost a year now.”

I had to keep myself from doing a double take. It really was possible to share a roof with someone and
still
not know what was going on in her life.

“We’ve finally decided to meet up. At first he wanted to come here, but I told him that I’d meet him there—in California, I mean. So I’m thinking I could hit two birds—well, actually three—with one stone. Aside from seeing him, I could finally join my family since they’ve been forever bugging me to go there, and I can start fresh—with a new career, a new life, or whatever.”

I looked at her in awe. “Wow, you’re actually doing this.”

Her face went all red. “I just want to start dating again. Women here seem to have an expiration date—like you can’t hope for a love life once you’re at a certain age. Back there, it’s different. It’s normal to be dating even if you’re past forty.” She finally met my eyes and said with conviction, “So I plan to leave at the end of this year. And I’ll be selling this condo unit.”

Impulsively I reached out to give her a hug. “I’m so happy for you, Mia! I think you’re making the right decision.”

She hugged me back, laughing. “Thanks, Crissy. And thank
you
for keeping me company all these years.”

Chapter 16: Denouement

The doorbell rang, and I rushed to answer it. There stood Bea in flannel shorts and a T-shirt, gawking at me.

“Did I miss something?” she said. “Is this a sleepover or a night out?”

I was wearing my latest UK find—a tube dress that flowed down to my ankles, printed with bold V stripes of orange, royal blue, yellow, and purple. I had paired it with my rope-soled mocha sandals with straps, which I tied around my ankles. Plus I was wearing makeup.

“I just came back from the grocery to get us some snacks,” I said, ushering her in. “And I just felt like dressing up.”

I led her to my bedroom at my parents’ house, which now doubled as a storage room for Mama Maring’s personal records and photos. We didn’t know what to do with them, so here they were, in perpetual limbo.

We dug into our junk food stash and, while aimlessly channel surfing, proceeded to have our talk.

“So I just realized that life was too short,” I said, hugging my knees. “Sure I got hurt in the process of having an actual life, but good things happened too. We got to go to Boracay, I met some amazing film people, and I finally kicked the Benj habit for good. I mean, I have to take the good with the bad.”

Bea smiled and mussed up my hair. “Aww. Little Crissy is all grown-up!”

I grinned. “Anyway, enough about me. How have you been?”

Wordlessly Bea reached into her bag, pulled out a velvet box, opened it, and slipped the content on her finger.

“Oh my god! You’re
engaged
?!”

Bea nodded happily. “Yup, two weeks ago. I couldn’t tell you then—you were so depressed!”  She wiggled her fingers, and the solitary diamond winked. “So I had to wait until I thought you were ready.”

That just broke my heart. Bea was the most generous, most considerate soul. I should’ve been the one person she was most comfortable sharing her feelings with, whatever they were. Enough of being a drama diva.

“How did it happen? Tell me everything!” I demanded.

It turned out that Mark had already bought the ring late last year. But just then his company started downsizing, and his job was at risk. He held off proposing until he was sure about his employment. When Bea opened up about marriage, he panicked, choosing to remain silent instead of explaining his predicament.

“Men!” Bea snorted. “They have yet to master the art of communication.”

So they had cooled off, and in that brief month, Mark realized that he would rather lose his pride than Bea.

“So I told him—isn’t that the point of the whole “for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer” thing? At that point, we both broke down.” She shrugged her shoulders. “So his career is still on the rocks. But hey, we still have a whole year to get our life on track. I told him I’d be there to support him all the way.”

“Aww, Bei.” I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m so happy for you guys. I think you’ll be great together for life.”

She squeezed my hand back, and I had a sudden brilliant idea. “Listen, let’s go on another trip before you get married—just you and I.”

Bea’s eyes lit up. “Yes, let’s! Just tell me your free dates, and I’ll take care of everything!”

I laughed, releasing her hand. “No, this time I’ll do all the planning. You just sit back and relax. And I promise, no more boy drama ruining our vacation. Just pure, unadulterated girly fun!”

* * * *

The digital clock blinked 4 AM. Bea dozed off beside me, but I couldn’t sleep—not just yet. In the glow of the nightlight, I studied Mama Maring’s black-and-white portrait propped up on the wall. Finally I understood what made her whole again after the tragic death of her fiancé.

It was herself. Picking yourself up after a painful experience was always a choice. At any given moment, at any given struggle, you always had a choice. Even happiness was a choice.

Chapter 17: Fast Forward

It had been raining erratically for three days straight, and thankfully, today, the sky offered a solid burst of sunshine. I took it as a good sign as I stepped off the crowded MRT. I checked my watch and saw I still had plenty of time. So instead of taking a cab, I decided to walk.

I finally reached the building. After verifying the address with my phone, I went inside and up the elevator, finally entering a small office. Three female faces swiveled my way, and they all smiled.

“Good morning. I’m here for the job interview?”

The petite one with the
chinita
eyes and short pixie hair spoke up. “Oh, hi! You must be”—she opened a folder—“Cristianna Lopez.”

“Please—oh, please—call me Crissy.” I offered my hand.

She gave a small laugh. “Please sit down. My name’s Jona.”

Whoa. I never expected the company owner to look so young and hip. I knew she was a lot older than I was because she was Mia’s college batchmate. She wore sneakers and torn jeans, paired with a fitted tee that featured grinning farm animals stamped with the words “Friends not Food.”

“Well, Crissy, I must say you blew me away with your resume,” she said, scanning my file.  “And Mia speaks so highly of you, which makes me think”—she leaned forward, with concern in her eyes—“that you’re overqualified for this job. As you can see, we only have three employees, myself included, so we’re all used to doubletasking. Like one day I may be directing a shoot or writing a script, the next day I’d be buying lunches for the whole crew or scribbling on idiot boards. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. “I’m pretty flexible when it comes to getting the job done.”

“That’s good.” She smiled. “I don’t know if Mia briefed you, but we’re really just a small company. Basically we produce PR video presentations. Let me show you some of our work.”

She clicked on her laptop; and for the next ten minutes I was treated to an impressive portfolio that showed high-quality production with flawless scriptwriting, direction, and editing. I was surprised that their clients included some of the biggest names in the corporate industry. 

“As you can see, we don’t scrimp on quality. When we can’t handle the workload, we hire talent and rent equipment from the best possible sources. We may be small, but we’re highly competitive,” Jona ended proudly.

But one thing was still bothering me. “My only concern is the work schedule. The reason why I quit the network was that I wanted a slower work pace, so I can focus on my personal projects.”

“I know what you mean.” She smiled and gestured to the
morena
girl talking on the phone. “Camille and I both have kids, so unless there’s a work emergency, we make it a point to leave at 5 p.m. We also like keeping weekends and holidays free. Meanwhile, Teret”—here she points to the bespectacled girl who waved at me—“has her own side projects with other companies while running a small business. So the point is, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work here, you’re pretty much free to do what you want. That’s why our salaries aren’t high, but I’d say they’re pretty decent.”

I surveyed the small office and spotted a free corner, which I pictured as my own nook. The walls were done in lime green, and family photos peppered the workstations. There was even a tiny kitchen with a microwave, where I could heat my home-cooked lunch. There were no egos to step on, no room for office intrigue, and, best of all, the boss considered weekends sacred.

“Well, if given the chance, I’d be glad to become part of your team.”

Jona beamed. “Done! You can start next week.”

My two other future officemates broke into chatters of “Congrats! Welcome to the team!”

Teret looked at me curiously. “If you don’t mind my asking, what are those personal projects that you mentioned?”

“Oh.” I smiled, a bit embarrassed. “I’m making a short film.”

* * * *

Back home, I finally crossed out “Get a job” from my to-do list. After three months of bumming around and draining my savings, I figured it was high time I joined the workforce.

Other things I had yet to cross out:

1. “Finalize script.” To jumpstart my dream of making a short film, I had joined a refreshers’ film class and had finally gotten around to writing an actual screenplay. After endless rounds of revisions, I finally submitted what I hoped to be the final version of my script to our workshop director (fingers crossed).

2. “Move out.” Though I do love my parents, I really wanted to have my own space, especially after realizing that I hadn’t really tried living on my own. A small studio-type apartment would suffice, especially since I wouldn’t be getting the triple salary I had originally targeted.

3. “Visit New York.” Now that I had more free time, I was able to FaceTime often with Ate Jing; my bro-in-law, Henry; and my darling two-year-old niece, Noelle. After finding out about my latest filmmaking venture, Ate had invited me to visit them so I could tour the New York Film Academy and maybe even “snag a scholarship.”
Eeee!

Life was
definitely
filled with possibilities. Finally I felt like I was getting somewhere.

My phone rang. “Hey, Mark wants to try out this hole-in-the-wall ramen place for dinner.  Their menu’s supposed to be the real deal, complete with a cranky Japanese chef. You want to come?”

“I can’t, Bei. It’s my film classmate’s birthday.”

“Oh yeah. That’s the costume party, right?  Have you decided on your outfit?”

I looked at my dress, hanging on the wall, all pretty and pressed, like an eager young girl waiting to be asked out on a date. “Yup, I’ve finally made up my mind.”