Love in All the Right Places (Chick Lit bundle) (30 page)

Chapter 8

#YouJumpIJump

"MAYBE I SHOULD THINK THINGS OVER some more," I told Jesse as we stood in front of the wall display showcasing the people who have jumped. We were back in Macau Tower, this time at the 61st floor where the adventure activities were.

This part of the Macau Tower was different from the one we saw the day before. This floor felt electric. Thrill-seekers were excitedly preparing for their jumps. Successful bungee jumpers were laughing victoriously as they viewed photos from their jump on the monitors. Groups of teenagers were shrieking as they walked around a narrow ledge outside the tower, secured only by harnesses. And there was me, trembling as I stood in front of the counter.

"Come on, Five. You can do this. No backing out, you tweeted about it already," Jesse insisted.

"I am ready to swallow my pride," I gritted through my teeth.

"I'm not letting you." Jesse dragged me to the counter where a smiling guy welcomed us. "Two bungee jumps, please."

"IDs please," the guy at the counter asked. His name tag said Dave, but he looked as Chinese as Chang. "Will you be taking the extreme package? Aside from the actual bungee jump, it includes a commemorative photo and a commemorative DVD, a certificate saying you made the jump, a special t-shirt and membership card that will give you discounts from all our bungee jump facilities worldwide."

"How about the Not Jumping package?" I joked weakly. Jesse just rolled his eyes then grabbed the passport from my stiff fingers, before handing them to the guy.

"Are you scared? Don't be! A lot of our jumpers, even those who were reluctant at first, swear that it's the best thing they've ever done. A lot of them even come back for repeat jumps," Dave cheerfully claimed. "This is the best thing you can do for bragging rights. How many people can boast that they jumped off the highest commercial bungee jump in the world, right?"

"Highest?" I squeaked.

"Highest, according to the Guinness Book of World Records," he confirmed. "Some kids as young as ten even jump in tandem with their parents. They absolutely love it."

"Tandem? That's an idea," Jesse piped up. "If you want, I can jump with you, Five. Can we do a tandem jump?" he asked Dave.

Dave sized us up before replying. "We'll have to weigh you in first to make sure you fall within the tandem jump weight requirement, but offhand, I think you fall safely between the limits."

"Want to do that instead, Five? I don't mind jumping with you."

"You're willing to forego your solo jump to tandem with me?" The idea of having someone to jump together with strengthened me a bit.

"Sure, might be more fun, actually. We can shriek in unison, like BFF schoolgirls," he grinned.

I smiled weakly at the joke. "Okay." I agreed, hoping against hope that I'm making the right decision.

"Awesome, you won't regret this." Dave took our passports then proceeded with the paperwork, giving us waivers to sign and forms to fill in.

"Here you go." Dave handed us back our passports once we're done, then marked the back of our hands with a big fat sharpie. "We'll call you when it's your turn. Have a great jump," he peered down on his computer monitor. "Jonathan and Ma Mercedes."

"Ma Mercedes? Did I hear that right?" Jesse asked as we walked away from the counter to take a seat near the windows. "Did he just say Maria Mercedes? Like the Mexican telenovela?"

I gave Jesse a dagger-eyed stare. "Don't you even go there, buster." My fear was momentarily forgotten once he brought the touchy subject of names up.

"You're really named Maria Mercedes?" Jesse guffawed. He started singing the Tagalog version of the telenovela's theme song that was really popular years ago. Unable to restrain myself, I elbowed his side, just to stop him from singing as people started staring at us.

"Sorry, hahaha! I deserved that," he said when he was finally done laughing. "Fine, Ma. Mercedes is a fine name. But where does the Five come in? Wait, let me guess. You're the fifth of five daughters? Or five children."

"Fourth actually," I grinned when he frowned. I always get that reaction when people ask me about my nickname. "I have three older sisters who all have Ma. prefixing their names. There's Ma. Concepcion, Ma. Remedios and Ma. Librada—that's Libby. That's three right? But the first Maria is actually our mom, Ma. Felicidad. That makes me the fifth Maria, Ma. Mercedes," I explained. I love baffling people with this story and Jesse's not an exception.

"Smart. That's just smart, I love it."

"I know, right? I started using it in high school. Before that, I was just Chedeng. Not a fun name to have when you're a kid. Especially not when a Mercedes-Benz passes by and your friends tease you for being named after a car."

"At least it has character. I've been called Ruiz, Jonjon and Jimboy. Imagine being called Jimboy when you're in high school. No respect, man. No respect."

"At least it wasn't Jhimbhoy," I joked, adding extra h sounds, sending us into more fits of laughter. I was having so much fun joking around that I actually forgot that we're here to jump off a 233-meter ledge.

Until our numbers were called. Weigh-in time. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.

STANDING ON THE JUMPING LEDGE is a spiritual experience. You feel the nip of the chilly air. You see the astounding clarity of the sky. You hear the whoosh of the wind as it blows around you. You understand how fragile your life is as you stand on the precipice. And you smell the fear emanating from your skin as you think, 'F*****t, am I really going to do this? What the f***k was I thinking?'

Opposite me, Jesse was taking it all in stride. He was animatedly chatting with the bungee crew as they strapped us up in our safety harnesses. The crew was happily sharing tales about other jumpers: those who turn back, those who take ages before finally jumping, and those who leaped victoriously, jumping off into the breach without any qualms. Those were the ones they loved the most, probably because they made great promotional videos.

"You ready, Five?" Jesse asked me as the crew members finished strapping him in.

"I don't think I ever will be," I begged. "Can't I just go back?"

"It's non-refundable," he replied.

"They can take my money," I whimpered. "My life is worth so much more."

"Okay, finished. Go to the gate." The crew member who was strapping me in pointed towards a flimsy looking gate. Okay, it wasn't really flimsy, but at this height, anything that wasn't a solid wall looked flimsy.

Jesse pulled my hand. "Come on, you can do this. I'll buy you ice cream later." My knees felt wobbly but by some miracle, I did make it to the platform.

"Is this your first time to jump? Excited? Where are you from? Wave to the camera!" A crew member assigned to man the camera started chatting us up as the rest of the crew added more straps and lines to our harnesses. The most I could muster was a weak grin for the camera so Jesse did the talking for us.

From behind us, another crew member started giving us more instructions. "Stand closer to each other. Closer," he insisted until we were side-by-side. "Slip your arm around each other's back. You'll need to jump together, like you're just one unit."

"What will happen if we don't jump at the same time?" I asked, considering the possibility of staying behind when Jesse jumped.

The guy just shook his head. "Not advisable. You don't want to know. Just jump okay?" His reaction did nothing to soothe my frazzled nerves.

A third guy opened the gate and pointed towards a small gangplank. My knees weakened even more. "You okay?" Jesse asked softly. "You can do this, Five. Come on, you'll be laughing in everyone's faces after this." He tightened his hold on me then helped me on to the platform. It was something I was truly grateful for. At least I had someone to lean on.

"Look down and wave to the camera!" The crew member pointed to a camera at the bottom of the tower. Ulk. Wrong move. I quickly looked back up at the sky. "Now look there." This time, the camera was to the side, taking a succession of still photos. "And the last one." He pointed to another video camera, the one we were waving at earlier. Or at least the one we were supposed to wave at.

"Okay, now walk to the edge of the platform. Three-two-one, I want you guys to jump at the same time, okay? Ready?" I nodded weakly. There was no turning back. Time to conquer my fear, even if I was practically dying from it. Jesse gave me another squeeze, reminding me that I'm not alone. Somehow, that gave me the extra burst of courage to—

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!

The next five seconds were the longest ever in my life. We were hurtling to the ground at breakneck speed. It was as if my body was falling while my heart was left up on the 61st floor. Despite my loud shriek (and Jesse's equally loud man-shriek), I was so aware of the sound and feel of the wind as we sliced through it, my eyes watering as the air hit our faces. But even before I could get my bearings and register that we were falling, we had already rebounded upwards, confusing my insides even more. I didn't know how long we were bouncing, nor how many times we rebounded, but by the time we were done, I was laughing hysterically. Sheer adrenaline was oozing out of every pore and I felt like I just owned the universe.

It was goddamned scary-amazing and I wouldn't trade anything in the world for it. Because that jump? That was me screaming that I could do anything to the world.

Amidst my euphoria, I heard Jesse laugh. He clutched me closer during the fall; so close that I could feel his chest rumble with each laugh. He didn't seem to have any plans of letting me go. Not that I minded. "So, how was that? I take it you're not afraid of heights anymore?"

Still dangling how many feet off the ground without an ounce of fear left in me, I nodded my head vigorously. "Hell, yeah!"

Chapter 9

#66Steps

"I'M REALLY SORRY ABOUT THIS, FIVE." Jesse was apologizing for the nth time as we walked along a long narrow street in the Old Taipa village, searching for the nearest taxi stand. I just shrugged his apology off.

"No harm, no foul," I replied. It was eight in the evening. After we finally came down from our bungee jump high, we found ourselves starving. I claimed the ice cream Jesse promised, but it wasn't substantial enough, so I took him up on his offer to treat me to dinner. I thought we would just have dinner at one of the restaurants in Macau Tower, so I was surprised when we took a cab and he told the cabbie to take us to this celebrated Portuguese restaurant that was listed on both the Michelin and Miele travel guides. It was deemed so exquisite that all the food bloggers were singing praises about it.

I was really excited. He was taking me to a fancy, multi-awarded restaurant. And well, it almost sounded like a date. Or so I thought. The maitre d' quickly approached us as we entered the door. "Good evening, will you be sitting with the bride's family or the groom's?"

"Bride? Groom?" Jesse asked.

Sensing our confusion, the maitre d' explained that there was a private party that night, celebrating a couple's anniversary.  He apologized profusely, but wouldn't budge, even when Jesse begged for even the smallest, worst table in the house.

"I'm really really sorry. I know I should've made reservations," Jesse explained. "Sorry for dragging you all the way here. I'm such a dumbass," he laughed drily.

"Hey, don't beat yourself over it. It's an honest mistake. We're Filipino, we're not the reservation making kind. Besides, we're not exactly dressed for a fancy restaurant. So, provided we can find something to eat within the hour, you are forgiven," I smiled, not just at him, but at myself as well. Two days ago, I would've been snarling at him for making the same mistake. But then, two days ago, we wouldn't even be in this position, planning a quiet dinner together.

"You know what? Why don't you let me take the lead this time," I fished Libby's guide from my pocket. I scanned through it until I found the address I was looking for. "Please take us to
Travessa de Saudade
," I told the cab driver we flagged down.

TRAVESSA DE SAUDADE WAS A SHARP CONTRAST to the Old Taipa Village's European ambiance and colonial architecture. This place felt more like downtown Escolta, with its bustling family shops selling all sorts of sundries: hardware supplies, pots and pans, Chinese herbs, even giant slabs of
bacalhau
hanging from the store eaves. I took out my cheat sheet again to make sure we were at the right address, before looking around for the little stall Libby told me about.

"I hope you're in the mood for noodles," I told Jesse as I dragged him to a small street cart where a short, bespectacled man was sautéing up a storm. "Libby told me about him; he's called Uncle Turtle," I explained before sauntering up to the man and exchanging a few phrasebook Cantonese greetings. I gestured to ask for permission to shoot and he nodded.

I took out my camera and suggested that Jesse do the same. Soon enough, an order came from a small nearby eatery and Uncle Turtle got busy. Heating up his large wok, he threw various ingredients and sauces in, moving briskly amidst the high flames scorching the bottom of his sooty-bottomed wok. It was mesmerizing to see him move so gracefully, and judging from Jesse's gaping mouth, he was impressed, too.

After taking the photos and videos we wanted, we thanked the street cook then headed to the eatery he cooked for. "Now how about trying some of those noodles?" I asked, to which Jesse nodded in agreement.

The eatery was a far cry from the charming restaurant we were in earlier, but the smell of the noodles was tantalizing and we knew we were in for a good meal. As Libby warned, there were no English speakers here. But the walls were lined with photos of the different available dishes, so we had no trouble pointing at the pictures and gesturing with our fingers how many we wanted.

Soon, a parade of dishes came to our table. The portions were larger than what we expected, so it was a bit overwhelming. We had a wide flat rice noodle dish and a crispy egg noodle dish, both from Uncle Turtle's street cart, fried wontons, fried fish balls and tiny fried fish topped with crispy garlic and chili. There was no way of knowing what exactly we were eating but everything looked good and to our starving tummies, it was manna from the heavens.

"Oh wait, something to drink!" I called the server again, but seeing no photos of beverages on the wall, I checked my cheat sheet for the name of the drink Libby insisted that I have.

"You have got to be kidding me," Jesse exclaimed when the server brought us two bottles of soy milk. "Soy milk? With these dishes? What a weird combination."

I simply shrugged. "I trust my sister. If Libby recommends it, I go with it. Has she failed us so far?"

"I guess not," Jesse admitted. He lifted the bottle and pointed it toward me. "Cheers!"

FIVE BOTTLES OF SOY MILK LATER (three were Jesse's), we decided we've had enough. Despite the language barrier, Jesse's apparent charm won the eatery's staff over as they continually brought us little sample dishes to try.

"I think I gained five pounds from that meal," Jesse confided, stuffing his hands deep in his coat pockets. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, and the comfortable coolness had been replaced by freezer level chill. Sure, it was fine for the locals, but for tropic dwellers like Jesse and me? It was too cold! I had to wind the scarf around my neck tighter, then fished through my bag for the pair of gloves Libby insisted I bring along.

"Yeah. I swear, that little serving girl is in love with you. Her boss might dock her pay from all the free samples she kept bringing us."

"Nah, I think the boss is in love with me, too," he smirked.

"Full of yourself, aren't you?"

"Hey, I'm nice. I'm friendly. I'm funny. My mother thinks I'm the most handsome guy on this earth. What's not to love?"

"I love how humble you are," I retorted, keeping my eyes on the road. Despite my joke, the conversation still felt like it was heading towards dangerous territory.

"Ouch, how you wound me." He made a big show of pretending his heart was stabbed by an imaginary dagger.

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. Then an idea occurred to me. "Hey, it's still a bit early, are you up for a walk?" We were near our hotel already, but when Jesse nodded his agreement, I took a different turn and started walking towards San Malo.

Unlike the casino strip which hummed with life around-the-clock, this part of town turned sleepy as the stores closed before 9pm. Instead of the glittery bright lights from the hotels, the only illumination came from yellow-tinged incandescent street lamps. All around us were shuttered storefronts, as the store owners retreated to the floors above their shops to retire for the evening. The only sounds breaking the silence were the sounds of the occasional scooter and the clicking of our cameras.

Our silence was comfortable, the kind that you develop after years of being with someone. We would wander off to take photos, before returning to each other's side after all was done.

I was particularly focused on taking shots of an empty park when the sound of squeaky metal startled me. I turned to see Jesse perched atop a brightly colored stepper, its vibrantly colored pipes belonging more to a children's playground rather than the public outdoor gym it was a part of. He smiled at me sheepishly.

"Sorry, I was feeling really cold. I thought I'd warm myself up a bit," he explained, rubbing his bare hands for warmth, before cupping them around his mouth to breath on them.

I shook my head, tsk tsk-ing at him. "That's because you didn't bundle up properly. What is it with guys and looking cool? You don't bring umbrellas even when the clouds are dark, you refuse to wait the rain out and insist on running through it, and you reject bundling up properly even when the weather tells you otherwise." I peeled the gloves off my own hands then offered them to him. "Here, I don't get cold easily."

"Oh, I couldn't take that!" He refused point-blank. "I couldn't take a lady's gloves and have her freeze her hands off. That's ungentlemanly. Next thing, you'd be offering me your coat."

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, take it. I don't get cold easily and my coat is warmer than yours. My hands will be toasty warm in my pockets." I demonstrated before pushing the gloves in his hands.

He frowned at the gloves I shoved at him. "Oh wait, I've an idea." He took a glove then put it on his left hand. Then, he took my right hand and put the other glove on it.

"Really, Jimboy?" I teased. "Sharing gloves? This is your bright idea? How Sesame Street of you. Well, at least our hands will just be half-frozen."

"Not if we do this," he countered, taking my unwrapped left hand in his right. He pulled me closer until he could comfortably slip our clasped hands in his coat pocket. "See? That's much warmer, isn't it?" he said softly, looking me straight in the eyes.

I couldn't tear my eyes off his. "Much warmer," I whispered back. And it was.

He smiled at me then. A smile that was kinder, sweeter and gentler than any of his silly grins and smirks. I felt something pass between us that moment and I knew he felt it, too. From his pocket, he tugged at my hand and we continued our walk, slower now, with our cameras left hanging as we traced the familiar path back to Senado Square.

The rest of our walk was a marked contrast to our earlier silence. Our conversation just flowed as we discussed any topic we could think of, from family, work, travel and future plans for our respective blogs. Even our opinions on whether French fries should be enjoyed with ketchup (him) or mayonnaise (me) seemed to be the most important thing in the world. It was like we couldn't get enough of knowing more about each other, like we were each other's most interesting person.

"Hey, Jesse, I've an idea," I said as we found ourselves walking through the same streets as our UNESCO World Heritage walk the day before. "Remember how you wanted to take that tourist-free shot of The Ruins of St. Paul? Well, you're in luck," I said, pulling him along the path to the church ruins.

"Now's the time to do it," I announced as we reached the end of the street leading to the ruins. Just as Libby predicted, the place was finally empty. Gone was the packed tourist spot from yesterday. In its place stood the ruined old church facade, majestically set against the night sky, illuminated only by a row of street lamps.

Instead of a touristy stop, what we saw was a spooky old building, as was seen by locals taking a stroll in the late evening. "Impressive huh?" I observed. "And a bit sad. It was the only thing left behind when it was gutted by a fire. Makes you wonder how beautiful it was in the old days, when it was still an actual church."

"Very! This is better than what I imagined." Jesse headed for the stairs, taking each step slowly as he looked at each and every detail, taking everything he can see in. "Libby's tip again, huh? Your sister is such an asset!"

"Uh-huh," I muttered, softly counting the steps as we climbed them. "Sixty-six! Sixty-six steps," I announced once we get to the top.

I started walking around, looking for the best vantage point. When I finally found the angle I wanted, I pulled my camera out to take a shot. "Oh shit," I exclaimed. "Don't do this to me, camera!" My camera's display lit up for a total of five seconds, letting me tweak my aperture and shutter speed settings before going black. A message saying Change Camera Pack flashed obnoxiously on the screen.

"No, camera, no!" I shook it frustratedly. Jesse was by my side in a flash.

"Why, what happened?" he asked.

"Camera died," I sniffled, annoyed with myself for failing to charge the camera to full last night. "I think taking videos at Uncle Turtle's made the battery go faster than usual."

"Use mine then," he offered. "Aren't Nikons so reliable," he joked as he handed me his camera. I resigned myself to being on the receiving end of his camera jokes before switching his camera on. Nothing. I flipped the switch again, but still nothing.

"Hey, I think your battery's dead, too." I handed him back the camera with a smirk. He tried switching it on and off frantically, but to no avail. The situation was so silly that we ended up laughing.

"What was that about reliable?" I teased.

"It's more reliable as a paperweight. The weather probably made our camera batteries discharge faster than usual," he sighed, before grinning. "But we shall not be defeated easily." He pulled his phone out and started taking snapshots. I did the same but somehow, the grandeur wasn't quite as nicely captured on a smartphone as on a DSLR.

Jesse reviewed the photos on his phone. "Well, this is better than nothing. I guess this means we're off-duty tonight." He started to pocket his phone but changed his mind and pulled it out again. "Come here, Chedeng," he said, pulling me beside him. With the ruins behind us, he stretched his phone out and started taking photos of us. "Selfie time."

After each shot, we reviewed the photos, making adjustments to get a good amount of the facade in the shot. Our photos gradually became sillier and sillier. From normal smiling photos, to goofy looking ones, to downright silly ones parodying different selfie trends ('Lockjaw time!'), laughing hilariously as we saw the results.