XXXVII. Everybody is Someone
Stumbling I fall away it's hard to make a change Don't be alarmed All this time you lived alone without a memory Don't be alarmed Don't be alarmed Don't be alarmed
Easy to be who you are when no one knows your name
Walking past the lonely walls with eyes as cold as stone
Climb inside the emptiness it's safe when you're alone
Don't be afraid of what you are
Just look around
Everybody is someone
Everybody is someone
Built your life upon the ground that sinks beneath your feet
Step outside the misery for once you feel alive
Second chances only come around once in a life
Don't be afraid of what you are
Just turn around
Everybody is someone
Everybody is someone
Don't be afraid of what you are
Just turn around
Everybody is someone
Everybody is someone
Don't be afraid of what you are
Just look around
Everybody is someone
Everybody is someone
He spies her shuffling in the kitchen like his own mother used to do, or really, the room that acted as both kitchen and dining room. The table was sort of in the middle of their trailer. Still, the motions were the same: wiping down the table, wringing the rag, turning on the sink. The streaming water hitting the center of the sink made him shake. He's not sure if the water's cold, but he's definitely cold.
Rehearsing the lines didn't help. The keys have to be taken, and the spindle has to be removed. After Dale threw him in the mud, Sean went home. He couldn't sleep; no, he fought himself so he wouldn't sleep. His leg kicked his other leg, his fingers tore at the sheets, and the win resulted in him being red-eyed and frustrated. Why did he make that deal? Now, he's so deep in the deal, he can't see or think straight. Jay and Ellie were entangled, and he was concerned for them, and Ty. The day of Ellie's graduation, Jay said that the better Dale knows you, the better he treats you. Sean believes that's probably a lie, because it seems the better Dale knows him, the better he can hurt him.
He barely knows Kate Kerwin or her husband, and just recently has gotten to know Ashley as more than Ellie's best friend. Honestly, he's more acquainted with her car, the black Acura he had been working on throughout the summer, the last reminder that he worked at Hills'. How can he do this? It was far easier when he was angry, younger, stealing the school equipment. After all, the laptops and DVD players didn't mean anything to him. Nevertheless, today, at seventeen, that felt like some of the stupidest things he's ever done. Until today, groans Sean inwardly.
Knocking on the side door, Kate jumps a little, straightens herself. Her being startled increases the speed of his heart. She was going to be a lot more startled if she found out what he did. His plan is to act as if the car isn't as complete as he originally thought, lie and say the carburetor needs more adjustments. That would give him or Dale time to find a replacement he'd install as quickly as possible. When the men at the docks delivered, Sean would put a different spindle in Ashley's car. Kate grins, Sean lowering his head.
"Up bright and early?" greets Kate, opening the door.
"Hi," returns Sean.
Sean glances at the clock. Eight in the morning. Yeah, if he was going to do this, he wanted to do it and get it over with.
"That Sean?" calls a second voice.
Jeff Isaacs walks in cheerfully, provides Sean with a friendly wave. He grabs a cup of coffee and flees from the room.
"Don't mind him," says Kate. "With Toby and Ashley gone, we're experiencing empty nest syndrome. Get excited when young people come through. Especially Jeff. But at least we have Toby for another year. You're graduating too, right?"
"Can't wait to leave school," admits Sean, coming into the kitchen.
"Know the feeling," admits Kate. "Jeff and I are thinking of taking a trip once Toby gets home. A tad restless myself."
"Not going to see Ashley in England?"
"If she asked me," sighs Kate, softly.
Something tells him he's getting into touchy territory. He should be hedging towards the car, anyway. The biggest hint comes when Kate digs in her purse for the check.
"Listen, Ms. Kerwin, I'm...I'm not sure the car is ready yet," says Sean.
The lie is simple, and tastes bitter. What's more disappointing than the lie itself is how these false words just roll from his tongue. It's becoming a stack of lies, to everyone who thinks highly of him and his talent. Dale is right about the respect aspect. He can't muster any for this Sean, hates the power Dale has over him.
"Oh?" says Kate.
"Have to remove a part, install a new one," says Sean. "You...you want Ashley to have the best model..."
"Certainly," assures Kate.
The real task he'd be doing once they obtained the new part wasn't difficult in the least. Getting the new spindle would be the hardest part, and Dale said they'd be coming soon.
"Hmm, you sounded so sure the car was in tip-top shape, and you told Ashley," says Kate, with a soft smile. "Guess our excitement was short-lived."
"Just...just want Ashley...to have...have the best," stammers Sean, grabbing at the cloth of his jeans.
"Consider me sold," says Kate, patting Sean's shoulder. "But is Mr. Hill expecting payment today?"
"Yeah, but I can tell...," starts Sean.
"Sean, I have no problem giving you this with full confidence," shares Kate, handing him the check. "I know you and Ellie...I don't want you to get in trouble."
Sean turns the check in his grasp, his throat hurting. The sum is the same as the weekly payments he's receiving from Dale. After all these weeks, he hadn't factored in the price, diligently went about his work. Mr. Hill, before he got fired, did give Sean and Dale the prime projects, albeit with lower pay. Technically, they are working on projects. They're projects with more deceit thrown into the mix and better pay.
"Thanks," mumbles Sean.
"Jeff!" shouts Kate. "Bring Sean my key ring!"
A newspaper tucked under his arm, Jeff reappears with the keys. He plants them firmly in Sean's sweaty palm. The sharp edges of them poke at the lines of his hand. The keychain holds a small picture of Jeff, Kate, and Toby, with Ashley in her graduation robe. That was the day she helped him, the day he was initiated into Dale's world. Ashley had been so kind to him, supportive of his relationship with Ellie. Then, her parents were equally nice. He wonders if he'll wear a graduation robe someday, aid someone who deserves it. Ashley doesn't deserve this, but Ellie doesn't deserve being at risk either.
"Going to remove the old part," lies Sean, backing towards the door.
"Would you like a donut?" offers Jeff. "We have some in the fridge."
Sean shakes his head. "Nah."
He isn't hungry, even with his stomach suggesting otherwise by gurgling. No, he can't let hunger interfere with the job. Job? Any other job, like burning trash or licking asphalt clean would be more appealing.
Walking to the garage, he raises the door with the button on the keychain. It exposes the Acura, black metal and silver bumper gleaming. He takes no pleasure in viewing it full and perfect. Instead, he slides in the key, hears an unpleasant pop as the locks give him entry.
II.
Emma situates a few grapes into the half of cantaloupe on a plate. Manny would actually eat the grapes, and they were small so if she wasn't totally hungry, those would at least disappear. Settled in a pink beanbag chair, Emma awoke to the busy flow of a shower. Manny must've gotten up around six or six-thirty. She did the same, would shower after Manny.
The night was tough. Luckily, Hannah was asleep. Emma envied her. Seven-year olds got to be knocked out through all of this, not getting caught in the relationship drama or the huge wave of jealousy or the sordid pasts. Ugh, Spinner. Emma strokes her elbow, lets her gaze fall to the counter top.
She had no grand allusions. She never thought Spinner was a virgin or doubted that she knew who he lost his virginity to, although she was so sure it was Paige. That definitely wouldn't get to her as much, and might've made more sense. He lost it to Manny? Emma grabs at the back of her hair, glances at the ceiling. Okay, history can't be changed. Still, so weird. Can anything be more weird than Snake kissing her principal, though? Yeah, she'd have to give Manny and Spinner the edge there. They weren't betraying her by being together a year ago.
But yeah, weird, thinks Emma. How is she going to act around Spinner the next time they're in the same room? Suddenly, she wishes, like Manny probably is, that Kendra hadn't come to the Andrews' house.
"We'd be blissfully unaware," says Emma, taking a deep breath and grabbing the plate of fruit.
Exiting the kitchen and then the living room, she sees a young florist rearranging the roses in the foyer. Kel always got that done. Emma, staring at the beautiful array of white and gold flowers, realizes that she's never seen Ursula. Not pre-surgery Ursula, post-surgery Ursula, no Ursula. She's half tempted to go scoop in Lia's room, since there's no pictures of her in Hannah's room or anywhere else. It's likely she can search the Internet, but this is the first time she's considered it.
"Nice," compliments Emma.
"Only the best for a legend," says the florist, happily.
Emma climbs the staircase. She wonders if Hannah looks at all like her mother, and if she does, if that bothers Kel. Watching Jack reminds her of Snake...a lot.
Advancing to Manny's room, she preps herself for whatever she might find. She doesn't hear Manny cry as deeply as she did last night. It was like her heart was breaking against those blankets. Emma made sure not to cry as hard, convincing herself she was a tough cookie.
When Emma parts the door, Manny's back is bent, her legs Indian-style. Manny is flipping through a book, mumbling incoherently. Her hair remains wet from the shower.
"Manny?" says Emma, lightly.
Manny glances over her shoulder, eyes glistening. She looks so sad that the situation with Spinner fades from her mind, at least for this minute.
"I'm not sure I want to have any memories from here," says Manny, turning her head from Emma.
Emma views the familiar cover of the scrapbook she gave Manny when she closes the book, then opens it again. What should she tell her friend? That there were some good memories from here? True, there must've been, but would Manny believe her?
"He...he kissed Kendra," whispers Manny, reaching to take out the first picture in the scrapbook.
Kendra, presumably not at all bothered by last night's game, is sleeping peacefully in Edwina's room.
"You should get his side of the story," insists Emma. "My mom at least heard Snake's. It'll be hard..."
Emma moves to the bed, sets down the plate of fruit. Her eyes scan the floor. Manny has removed only one picture, the picture Emma put in there, of the two of them. Manny tugs a picture of her and Toby, smiling happily in front of Disneyland, from the front flap of the scrapbook. She obviously switched them. And I obviously put the picture of me and Manny in there for a reason thinks Emma. I went to Manny last night for a reason! And she's doing this?
"Unbelievable," says Emma, placing a hand on her hip.
"What?" says Manny, blankly.
"You switched pictures, Manny!" cries Emma. "Toby can be disloyal, and meanwhile, I try to be the best friend you could have..."
"I was just seeing how it looked!" defends Manny.
"Who comforted you last night? Who made you something to eat?" asks Emma, tearfully. "With Manny Santos, the boys always come first!"
"Emma!" exclaims Manny.
"Don't Emma me," shoots down Emma. "You've ditched me for Craig when I needed you. For Toby when I needed you. Guess your hormones prevent you from being a good friend."
Manny stands, tucking wet hair behind her ears. Despite her drowned rat appearance, Emma resolves not to waver. The scrapbook is symbolic of their friendship, and she made that clear.
"I have been there for you...like countless times!" says Manny.
"Really?" says Emma. "You said you'd call when you got to California...nope. Guess Lia took up too much of your time. Why don't you put a photo of her in there, make it a done deal?"
Raising her eyebrows, Manny remains silent for a few seconds, reaches to retrieve the scrapbook.
"Excuse me for being busy," sighs Manny.
"Yeah, you're either being busy or horny...depends on the day," says Emma, coldly.
"You did not say that!" exclaims Manny. "What's your problem? I've been trying to include you since we've got here. Got you a job that you enjoy. Is this about Spinner or..."
"No, it's not about Spinner," interrupts Emma. "I've known you longer than him, and you've known me longer than Toby. This is about you being inconsiderate every time you have a boyfriend...being a bad friend."
"A bad friend?" says Manny, her jaw dropping.
"Yep...you hurt me," says Emma.
"You threw my pregnancy in my face when you were with Jay!" cries Manny, letting the scrapbook fall. "Emma, I swear...you say the coldest comments sometimes."
Emma rolls her eyes. "I was hurting so your point..."
"My point is you have to watch it, because when you judge somebody's actions...who they are, they hurt that person just as much," says Manny.
Looking at Emma from head to toe, Manny brushes past her, Emma massaging her forehead. That's the last conversation she wanted in this room. Maybe the Spinner thing is making her more combative, but on a certain level, she's sure she's right. And maybe it's one of those fights where no one's a winner. As she glances at the scrapbook, with both pictures taken from the book, she can't help but think it's the latter.
III.
Fifteen minutes pass. She spent the majority of that time drying her long hair, seeming to feel each strand, the heat from the air. The noise drowned out everything. What she wants to drown out the most is all the questions that are running in circles in her brain. When? Why? Did he love that kiss with Kendra as much as the many they've shared? Does he still love me? That's the most painful, the last one.
Toby Isaacs isn't one to disappoint. Manny shakes her head, recalling that was one of his presidential campaign slogans. The slogan hurts because it's basically true. Whether it was the Computer Club members, the Student Council, or his friends, Toby had the faith of many. A good guy has exactly that. Perhaps him being a good guy is what lead to all of this. She should've seen the signs, especially the night of the bed and breakfast. All that time with Kendra...he defended her on the occasion...she was losing him.
Manny leaves the bathroom, checks to see if Emma's in her room. No. Speaking of letting people down, she thinks. Yes, sometimes she could've been more available for Emma, or called her while in California. The distractions out here were significant, though that's not an excuse. Kendra uncovering her actions with Spinner certainly wouldn't help matters. Why did Kendra have to be here, anyway? You'd think she'd be turning to her parents instead of Toby and Emma, she thinks. Those are the two biggest people in my life, thinks Manny, besides my own parents.
Hearing some light movement as she passes Lia's room, Manny looks inside. A cold compress on her forehead, Lia groggily starts laying out clothes. It must be nice to be her– no ruined relationship, her best friend Colin loves her, and her career wasn't confusing. To think Lia envied her at one point. No, she'd much rather be in Lia's shoes.
"You're not ridiculously tired?" speaks up Manny. "I am."
"The show must go on," shrugs Lia. "Besides, the performance isn't 'til five. That's practically a whole day to do whatever."
"Mind if I come in?"
"Is this some effort to apologize?" asks Lia, raising her eyebrow.
Manny would rather Lia apologize to her, especially since she made some accusations that weren't true, but she wanted one friend in this house, at least today.
"Yes," replies Manny.
"Well, considering that I let Kendra stay due to not so pure intentions...," admits Lia, her voice fading.
Manny walks cautiously to Lia's bed, sits. She guessed that their fight lead Lia to agree to Kendra being here. However, it just doesn't seem as brutal as her boyfriend betraying her. How could he?
"Toby...lack of pure intentions too," says Manny, lowering her head.
"That has yet to be confirmed," says Lia. "Believe me, you could have it a lot worse."
Her heart throbs, remembering that yes, things were worse yesterday. At least with Toby, even if his heart is with Kendra, she had moments when she was herself. The audition, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She let the moment rule her, being passive, influenced, weak. It was so easy and fast, which scares her the most. Manny blinks back tears.
"Colleen call with any auditions for you yet?" questions Manny.
"She faxed info on Hearts for Sale," informs Lia. "For both of us."
Oh yeah, recalls Manny. That's actually an audition she'd be excited about, if the last audition wasn't so painful. It was nice of Colleen to remember her, too.
"Don't know if I'm going to do it," admits Manny.
"Your loss, but the sheet's on my dresser," says Lia, ducking into her walk-in closet.
Two sheets of white paper are between a jewelry box made of red glass, and a framed photo of a stunning woman, with shoulder-length red hair and calming blue eyes. The older version of Lia could only be one person. You could see traces of Hannah's features in Ursula, especially the mouth and ears. Her thin frame is draped against the fence surrounding a movie lot, purple dress blowing demurely in the wind. The photograph looked very classic Hollywood starlet.
"Never seen a candid of your mom...she's gorgeous," compliments Manny.
"That's actually pre-surgery," boasts Lia, walking over.
"Pinecrest told her to...told her to...," begins Manny, hating to have to mention the studio.
"Get work done?" finishes Lia. "Yeah, but my dad's affair was the extra push. She was blonde when she had Hannah, and her nose and chin were different. It's so weird to see your mom change."
Lia stops talking, wipes her eyes on the way back to her closet. Manny can't imagine seeing her mother change that rapidly, or her father being with anyone else. She's surprised when Lia exits with a bright smile.
"But she told me she wanted it red again right before she died...her own little personal rebellion," brags Lia. "Yeah...that was my mom."
"Cool," agrees Manny.
"That's why I'm always, always keeping my hair how I want to. I mean, Bernice Fine wanted me to get a nose job so I walked."
"Boob job here," admits Manny.
"Be so thankful you didn't do that Pinecrest audition...they're ten times worse, and...," says Lia, darting her eyes from Manny.
"If you knew what they did to your mom, why'd you sign with them?" whispers Manny.
"They make everything look so attractive...at first," explains Lia, sitting on the bed.
Manny reluctantly joins her, somewhat hopeful that what she's done herself isn't part of Pinecrest's shady past. Elena was so sure that the studio was supportive, and so was Blake, and didn't that mean anything?
"Pinecrest loved saying I was Ursula's daughter, promoting me that way. And I thought...like that would've made her proud. Like I'd be the Andrews daughter that followed in her footsteps... without changing. Blake and I were the two new finds, so they treated us like total A-listers."
"You guys are talented enough," says Manny.
"Yeah, but I never got any roles," sighs Lia. "Blake took what he got...maybe that's what I should've done. The first role they offered, though, I..."
"What?" encourages Manny.
Lia took a huge breath, her shoulders heaving. Manny's clear that whatever story she's about to tell is difficult, and can see the reserve all over her face. Manny wraps a solid arm around Lia.
"They were having this photoshoot up at the Hamptons," begins Lia, her blue eyes red. "I was going to play the daughter of this socialite...not too much of a stretch, I know. But the photographer wanted to do some promo work. So we were alone at the end of the shoot, and Manny...Manny, he made me feel so beautiful."
"Lia, you don't have to...," begins Manny, smoothing Lia's hair.
"He told me my hair looked like autumn leaves, which is so not impressive now, but at like, fourteen, when you feel lonely...you like that stuff, I guess. He even said I was prettier than my mom, that I was sophisticated and acted older. We went upstairs and..."
"Lia," breathes Manny, her eyes growing wet.
"The bed was so cold," whispers Lia. "I was so scared. He recommended some seventeen-year old the next day...she was probably more experienced anyway. Martika said her resume was too good to pass on, and she must've been better in bed, too."
"Your dad didn't..."
"Oh, he was more than anxious to see me leave," interrupts Lia. "Helped me get out of the contract. It took me a whole year. I just couldn't leave at first. They had me convinced I shouldn't go."
"But if they weren't treating you decently...," says Manny, giving her a concerned gaze.
"Sometimes when you're so deep in something, you start believing that's what's best," insists Lia. "Manny, you haven't been there."
Yes, I have, thinks Manny, wiping her cheeks. She's been around the same people, had some of the same feelings.
"You're the only person who I've told," shares Lia.
"Colin?" says Manny.
"Thinks it was a beautiful first time in the Hamptons," clarifies Lia. "Gave him some spiel about it being nice and elegant. Made it seem very Toby-Mannyish."
"Well, we didn't technically...," starts Manny.
"Yeah, I know," reminds Lia. "Which is why I said it could be worse. Manny, you have someone that thinks you're beautiful for the right reasons. That's hard to find out here."
Manny nods, pretty sure she has a blank expression on her face. She hadn't thought of Toby all throughout the discussion, was thankful for it, but she's forced to in this moment, and can't really come up with anything.
"Tell me they got this photographer in the end," says Manny, gently.
"I was too embarrassed to say who it was," whispers Lia. "I know you think I'm brave, but with some stuff, I...I can't."
"You're brave for telling me this," assures Manny.
Lia grins timidly, letting Manny take her into her arms. It's the first time Lia's ever felt as petite as her, as frail. In fact, when they part, Lia almost looks smaller too.
"Have to go," announces Manny.
"Where?" asks Lia.
"Where I think I should be."
IV.
"Salamat," says Manny, inching out of the blue bus seat.
The man sitting next to her gives her a polite nod, resumes reading his paper. Manny peers over the heads of two, black-haired women in the opposite seat, as the wheels hit a bump, making her stomach jump. Being on the bus makes her realize that she took all those days of riding around in cars for granted. Los Angeles' bus system was confusing too, with all the criss-crossing lines, and alien names, and despite the friendliness of the people, she can't say she wouldn't rather be in Lia's Porsche.
What was more difficult than navigating the L.A. system was tracking down Elena's number. Unaware of her last name, she finally caved and dialed Blake, who referred her to Martika. Manny grit her teeth as Martika cheerfully gave her the contact info. She also mentioned being there tonight at the play with good news, which was aggravating. She hoped the good news wasn't related to the audition, but she really did want the number.
A robotic voice announces "Echo Park, Echo Park" as the bus makes a turn.
"Manny, that's the stop you want," informs Elena on the other end of Manny's cell.
"This stop looks pretty bare," says Manny. "There's not a stop closer to..."
"No," interrupts Elena. "If you want to be speaking Japanese in Little Tokyo instead of Tagalog in Echo, I suggest you listen."
Manny chuckles. "Fine."
She tugs the yellow chord, signaling that it's her stop. The bus halts, allowing Manny to go to the front. A stone-faced driver doesn't return her grateful smile. The door closes with a clatter behind her.
"Thanks for all your help, Elena," says Manny.
"Anytime...I really hope you like it," returns Elena. "Good luck with the play, too."
"Yeah," replies Manny as Elena clicks off.
The truth is that the play is the last thing on her mind. Her description about things being bare was pretty appropriate. The stop was in a typical neighborhood, complete with an ordinary playground, grey and brick apartment buildings, and a stop sign with graffiti on it. When she heard the word Filipinotown, she thought she'd be seeing something more drastic as soon as she stepped into the street. No such luck. In fact, the whole area looked rather modest, urban, unattractive. Thankfully, the sun is bright and she's wearing a comfortable pink minidress with white flats. She isn't sure how much walking she'll be doing so she picked good shoes.
Crossing a narrow street, the brick buildings start to desolve into a couple fast food restaurants and apartment buildings. The lone attractions are a couple carefully placed flags of the country that her parents are so proud of, and eateries with dishes she remembers coveting in Manila: bistek, chicken adobo, pancit. To her dismay, most of the place reads Californian. She had high hopes after seeing pictures of Little Tokyo, though Elena told her it was more of a residential spot than a tourist spot. The next street she reads is Beverly Boulevard, and she sees a wide, black gate circling an area. She figures gates are usually in front of special places so she walks quickly to it.
Manny pauses, finally happy in her hunt to find something that's worth taking in, worth the trip. Beyond the black gate are a multi-colored jungle gym; wooden arches shading children playing tumbang preso, attempting to knock down a can with their shoes; grey stone benches, an elderly man sitting on one while feeding noisy robins; a large wall with the most beautiful mural she's ever seen. Her flats pound the concrete as she goes to the gate. Standing behind it, she reads the dedicatory plaque: Beverly Unidad Park, Gintong Kasaysayan, Gintong Pamana, mural by Eliseo Silva. "A Glorious History, A Glorious Legacy."
One of the little girls playing giggles as she manages to kick over the can with success. Her two black ponytails remind Manny of days when she wore her hair like that, with the many colorful barrettes her mother let her wear. The whole scene looks sort of private, despite there being only five people in the park. She wonders if it's alright to go in. A park is a park, right?
As if to give her an answer, the black gate parts as the mother of the children opens it, grants Manny a warm smile. Manny returns it as the two boys and the girl skip to the gate. The girl with the ponytail grins too. It's the smallest, sweetest grin Manny's ever received. Somehow it pushes Manny into the park as the family leaves. The only other person is the man feeding the birds, and he isn't paying her any mind. Manny walks past him.
The mural is long, rich, colorful. A small, golden ship sails in the sky toward a yellow and orange sun. A tan-faced, black tied-businessman glowers above a scene of workers with gold, wide-brimmed hats. Soldiers yell their rebellion in the background, brandishing a blood-red flag across from strikers set out to reclaim some justice. Under the painted emblems of the Phillippines, she sees dancers, musicians, educators, kids. Most of the people, with their carefully painted, golden faces are happy, proud, well aware of who and what they should represent. They know who they are, will always know since they're forever captured.
Tears form in her eyes because she wishes she could be among them, twirling with the dancers, marching with the protestors, fighting with the army. What has she fought for? Fighting with Kendra seems so unimportant in this moment. How much does she know? The amount of history she can recall about the Philippines can be written in two paragraphs. Didn't this all stem back to the same event, when Justin called her what he called her? When he touched her in the video store, that was the first instance where she felt so small, weak. She felt so wonderful before with the pageant, and with her friends and her relationship. Strange how a word can make such an impact, weeks later, a month later. So no surprise that her knees are bending down, in the grass and in front of the mural, the sun beating violently against her skin. The only surprise is that her sobbing is quiet. When she's alone, when she has time to think, she can' find the answers or the power. This silence, this inability is most disheartening at all.
A few blowing, red petals sweep across the grass in front of her. One fat robin hops along the same passage, staring at Manny momentarily. The man who was feeding them, wearing dusky jeans and a grey T-shirt, approaches her. He scatters bread crumbs for the robin. The bird immediately eats it. Manny rises awkwardly.
"Nagdaramdam," apologizes Manny.
"Hoy," greets the man. "Anong pangalan mo?"
"Manny?" she says, happy she recognizes the phrase, but weary to be talking to a stranger.
"Ah," says the man, nodding.
He seems nice, resuming his task of feeding the birds. She'd really rather him keep speaking, as she's exhausted most of the Tagalog she knows. Things would be different if Joseph were here. He knew the language incredibly well.
"Uh...um...ibon?" she says, cluelessly, than shaking her head.
"You speak English?" he asks.
"Yes...yes...thank you!" cries Manny. "Oh my gosh!"
The man laughs as Manny wipes her forehead in fake frustration.
"Well, you did very well in the other language," comforts the man. "My cousin and her friends don't even try."
"I have cousins that don't speak English in Manila," explains Manny.
"Depends on where you go, I guess," says the man. "Never get tired of looking at this mural, though. Artists want to say so much, you know?"
Manny wrinkles her nose as the sun shines brighter.
"I know what you mean," she replies.
"You're not from around here, are you?" he says.
"From Toronto...Canada," shares Manny.
"Far away!" he says. "Are you enjoying your time in L.A.?"
"Yes and...no," admits Manny. "See, I came here, because...I thought I'd grow as an artist, or a person actually. But I kinda let California win over me."
"Don't feel slighted for that, Manny," says the man. "I think we all are overcome by our surroundings sometimes. Then, at the end, if we win over them, there's something to be said about that."
In the back of her brain, Manny has stored all those scenes from movies, when a sage/stranger gives the young woman a huge piece of advice. She always found that weird, because who were these guys? They just showed up out of nowhere. So forgive her for doubting this nameless person, anyway.
"You're a painter?" asks the man.
"No, an actress," replies Manny, staring at the mural. "I could never paint something that amazing."
"Thank you...or if you prefer, salamat," says the man.
"You...you painted that!" cries Manny.
"Eliseo," he introduces himself, chuckling. "When you had such an emotional reaction, I couldn't resist meeting you."
"Okay, embarrassed now," concedes Manny.
"Embarrassed?" laughs Eliseo. "Oh, try being an artist coming by to admire their work. But really...it's been vandalized a few times. Come by to check on it."
"Aw, really?" says Manny, sadly.
"Sad, but true," says Eliseo.
"It's...it's still beautiful. They must've fixed it."
"I fix what needs to be fixed," explains Eliseo. "That's all you can do."
That's one lesson she can take to the bank. Despite all this mess with Pinecrest, who she believes is intimidating, she can't be quiet like Lia. She can't be their mousy little maid. All her realizations come to a shattering halt, however, when her stomach grumbles.
"No breakfast?" asks Eliseo.
No, she didn't even eat Emma's fruit plate. The drama kept that from happening.
"There's a McDonald's a block down," says Manny.
"Just say no to junk food," insists Eliseo. "If you want some good Pinoy grub, I can tell you precisely where to go."
V.
The spicy, sweet smells of food greets her before anyone. Eliseo gave better directions than Elena did, Manny arriving at the Filipinotown mission in no time flat. Like the park, she wasn't sure how she felt about entering alone, but Eliseo told her that strangers went in all the time to view community events. Still, this wasn't like the community center in Toronto where she was a former employee.
On the way, Manny wondered if this is the same mission Elena mentioned at the audition, with the miraculous, weaving women. That may not be the case as there are more than a dozen, preteen girls filling the main room. They're all dressed beautifully, in billowy, white blouses and full, yellow skirts. Manny recognized the shirts as camisas, or angel wings as Maria sometimes called them. Despite their love of them, neither of the Santos women had one or made one. It was part of the national costume, the Maria Clara, inspired by a beautiful, modest heroine. She can't help but think that Maria Clara and Miranda would get along.
The room itself is also elaborate, white tableclothes covering twenty or so tables, holding kangkong salad, fried lumpia, apple bread pudding, and more dishes than she can name. Red, hand-made lanterns are strung across the dim room, giving more than enough light. Bamboo baskets hold red, yellow, and white flowers. Eliseo didn't tell her they were throwing a party.
"We're just finishing up, dear," says a female voice behind her. "Party ran a bit late."
Manny turns to see a pretty woman with a tight, black bun. Two roses were tucked into the band that held her hair.
"You're here for the daily brunch?" continues the woman.
"Well, yeah, but I was going to get a plate to go," explains Manny. "A friend told me I could do that."
"Certainly," assures the woman. "You can head in, though. Get a seat while we clean."
"Thanks," says Manny.
Manny walks to the back, spies a long empty table near the food. If she sits there, it's possible for her to leave without being noticed. Looking closer, she does see someone there, an elderly woman crocheting away, seated in a wheelchair. Manny takes a seat anyway. It shouldn't be too long.
"These hands," whispers the woman to herself.
Manny shyly glances to her left. The woman has long, lovely grey hair slightly covering her shoulders. Her lap is covered by a bright orange blanket. She wears a cotton black dress underneath. She's knitting a very pretty shawl, with hints of reddish-orange, rose, and gold. The mix of colors resembles a desert sunset with various types of sewn flowers.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but that's really pretty," compliments Manny.
The woman stares at her, startled.
"Sorry," says Manny.
" I needed something to do while those girls gossiped about TV shows I've never seen," explains the woman, cheerfully. "Why aren't you with them?"
"Just visiting," answers Manny.
"What a strange place to visit," says the woman.
"Well, I'm a friend of Elena's. Do you know her?"
"Elena! Yes, sweet girl. You'd never know she was an actress."
Manny decides not to take that as an insult, considering this woman didn't seem interested in pop culture. Besides, she's friendly otherwise.
"I made a mantone for her...for helping us out here," says the woman, showcasing the shawl.
"Saw it," reveals Manny. "She totally praised your handiwork."
"Nice to be appreciated," laughs the woman.
"Can knit a bit," shares Manny. "Mainly costumes for plays or to spice up my own clothes."
"Is there a young guy you're trying to impress?" chides the woman.
Well, there was, but he kissed some other girl and kept it from her. That day at the amusement park was so what she needed to, especially when Toby said that he didn't see her like everyone else. Or maybe, honestly, what she needed was to believe that herself. Part of her has to believe that she's all Toby needs. No more doubting or waiting...simply a reassurance. She's reassured him since they've been out here.
"No young man?" guesses the woman.
"Ummm..."
"You don't have to say."
"I haven't been impressing people lately," answers Manny.
The reply from the woman is covered by a couple scurrying feet, heavy footsteps pounding across the floor. Two of the costumed preteen girls jump excitedly in front of Manny.
"She's here...like in the flesh!" screams one girl.
"Kevin Smith's Kelly!" shouts the other. "It's one thing for Elena to come in, but like...this is too cool!"
Manny guesses they've seen her film, smiles nervously. These girls wouldn't be so excited if they knew what this business was really like, especially for girls that came from their culture.
"Hi," says Manny.
"You're an actress too?" says the grandmother. "Well, isn't that something?"
"Listen...you don't have to, but...," begins the first girl, her voice trailing.
"What?" encourages Manny.
"It might sound corny, but we're hitting the papier mache parol to end the party, and we'd like you to take the first whack," she finishes.
"Would mean a lot to us," adds the other girl. "My mom thought it'd be all cute, even though we were against it. But having you hit it would more than make up for the cheesiness."
Manny glances past their bodies to view a large blue, red, and yellow star made of papier mache hanging from the ceiling. They were decorated in the colors of Manila, instead of the Christmas ones she usually saw.
"I'm pretty short," demurs Manny, then grinning. "But I'll try."
"Here," insists the woman.
Manny's jaw drops as she's given the shawl, so soft, yet so strong in her grip. The fabric is every bit as beautiful in her fingers. Before Manny can protest, the woman motions her forward, planting a small kiss on Manny's forehead.
"Impress yourself, then impress the rest," she gently instructs.
"Okay," says Manny, turning pink.
The girls lead Manny to the center of the room, where the parol sways ceremoniously. It's almost too pretty to whack, papier mache glowing under the florescent lights. They asked, though. Apparently, the two girls weren't the only ones aware of Manny's occupation. She can hear light buzzing about what role she played in the background as she steadies the stick. Manny puts on the shawl, and then the tallest girl whirls her around a couple times.
"Here goes nothing!" she says to the ladies.
With a defiant whack, she hits the side of the star hard, papier mache parting, the lantern lights entering her eyes with a waning glow. Exuberant cries follow as the contents spill. The inside gifts are beautiful, coating Manny and the girls with candy and color.