only happiness, innocence and hope.
But despite this and Cathy’s insistence, this would be Isabel’s first EWR, so I asked again, “Are you one- hundred-percent sure?”
“Yes, Papa Jay. He’s very nice. He says we only have to go out to dinner, then I can go home. No hotel. No sex.”
How many times had I heard guys use that tack? A hundred? A thousand? And it was always with the idea that at dinner, or on a barhop afterward, he’d be able to convince the girl to go back to his room. But I was inclined to believe Larry meant it. After everything I’d learned about his trip so far, it actually seemed like a logical thing for him to do. Of course, he could have been lying to me about everything. He could have been a player who was playing even the papasan. But I didn’t think so. In fact, I was positive I hadn’t misjudged him.
“So, can I go?” Isabel asked.
When I didn’t answer right away, Cathy jumped in. “Of course you can.”
But Isabel knew better than to go only on Cathy’s word. She looked at me, expectant.
“Tell Larry to come over here,” I said. “Then go get changed.”
A smile as wide as Luzon Island broke out on her face. Instead of immediately doing as I told her, she gave me a big hug.
A few minutes later, Isabel was in the back changing into her street clothes, and Larry had joined me at the bar.
I asked him the same thing I had asked Isabel. “You sure about this?”
“Doc, why you always ask this question?” Cathy said.
I looked back at her. “There’s got to be somebody somewhere who needs something to drink.”
“Everybody’s good now. I’ll stay here,” she replied.
Larry nodded. “I’m sure, Doc.” It was the first time he’d called me Doc. So I guessed I had Cathy to thank for that. “I’m just going to take her to dinner. That’s it.”
“You know she’s a cherry girl,” I said.
“She told me. As far as Angeles goes, I’m still a cherry boy,” he said. “So it’s the perfect match.”
Cathy laughed. “That’s funny. You and Isabel a cherry couple,” she said.
“Just be careful with her,” I told him. “She’s still inexperienced and could get hurt really easily.”
“Doc, I told you. It’s just dinner. I’m not planning on breaking her heart.”
I chuckled, conceding his point. “Then you owe me a thousand pesos.”
“What?”
“The bar fine,” I said. “It’s a thousand pesos.”
“Right, sure. Here.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a thousand-peso note and handed it to me. He glanced back at the table he had shared with Isabel. There were several empty glasses. “What about our drinks?”
“Those are on me.”
After they were gone, in what turned out to be a minor send-off party with almost all the girls rushing over to wish Isabel congratulations, it hit me that maybe the reason Larry hadn’t gone to Manila that afternoon was so that he could see Isabel again. Later, Larry told me there was no maybe about it. Something had happened between them the night he brought her the tea. Something that had made him stay in town one more day, and made Isabel hope he would return. He couldn’t tell me what that something was. I don’t think he knew.
Most of what happened after that I pieced together from things Isabel and Larry told me in separate conversations over the next year or so.
Dinner had been a two-hour affair at a place outside the district, an Italian restaurant Larry had come across in his wanderings. I don’t know what they ate; I never asked. I got the feeling there was a lot of small talk, a lot of gazing into each other’s eyes, and a lot of tuning out everything around them.
After dinner, instead of Isabel going home per the plan she had told me, they ended up going to The Pit Stop, where they found a quiet spot and talked for hours. Isabel learned that Larry was a thirty-seven-year-old only child who had never been married, and had a fondness for chocolate-covered strawberries. Larry learned that Isabel was twenty-one, the third of seven children, sent most of her money home to her family, had a cousin who also worked in the bars, and lived in a small room with over a dozen other girls.
Larry told her about the time he was seventeen and his girlfriend broke up with him at a football game during halftime. Isabel told him how the only boyfriend she’d ever had left for Manila when she was fifteen, saying he’d come back for her but never did.
Around them, couples of the evening came and went. Some played pool, some ate late dinners. Some were just continuing the drinking they’d started God knows how many hours earlier. A typical night on Fields, but Isabel and Larry saw none of it.
Despite several hours of drinking only coffee, Isabel found herself unable to hold back a yawn around five in the morning.
Larry glanced at his watch. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ve kept you up.”
“No, no. It’s okay,” she told him. “I’m fine.”
“You’re tired and need to go to bed.” He looked at his watch again. “And I have to pack. There’s a car driving me to Manila in three hours.”
“Oh. Of course.” Isabel picked up her purse, and began to stand up. “I’ve had a great time.”
Larry slipped out of the booth and took her hands in his. “Me, too,” he said. He hesitated before he spoke again, not sure if it was the right thing to say or not, but then decided to go ahead anyway. “Isabel, if you want, you can come back with me to my room and get some sleep before I leave. I’m sure it’s not as crowded as your place. I just, well, don’t want this to end yet.”
Isabel’s face lit up. The way she described it, it was like the breath had suddenly gone out of her, because she didn’t want it to end, either. If Cathy had been there, she probably would have said Isabel’s eyes were smiling again.
“Okay,” Isabel said. “I’d like that.”
They walked back to the Las Palmas Hotel. Larry’s room was in the Mabuhay Building, back beyond the pool and across a small side street that ran behind the hotel. Most of the girls knew their way through the Las Palmas, but this was Isabel’s first time there, so she let Larry show her the way. He took her through the front bar, past reception, past several rooms in the main building, past the swimming pool and up a metal staircase that led to a short bridge which spanned the side street and connected with the second floor of the Mabuhay Building.
Isabel tried to walk as lightly as possible across the bridge, but no matter what she did, her wooden-heeled platform shoes-the only shoes she owned-sounded to her like the loudest things on earth every time she took a step. But if Larry noticed, he didn’t say anything.
His room was on the third floor, number 35, next to the stairs. He told her there were drinks and food in the minibar and she could help herself. She said thank you but she didn’t need anything. He asked her if she wanted to watch TV. She asked him if he did. He said no, not really, but he sometimes liked to turn it on for the background noise. Then turn it on, she told him. So he did.
“Don’t you want to sleep?” Larry asked as he opened his suitcase, preparing to put all his things back inside.
“Not yet.” She was sitting on the bed, her back against the wall.
On the TV was a music video from a Japanese band neither of them had ever heard of. Larry threw some clothes into the suitcase from one of the dresser drawers, and was going back for more when he heard Isabel get off the bed. She came over quickly to where he was.
“Let me,” she said.
He laughed. “It’s okay. I can do this.”
“No, you can’t. Look.”
She pointed at his open suitcase. Inside was the pile of half-folded, disorganized clothing he had just packed. Isabel dumped the whole pile out on the bed and began to refold everything. Larry, unsure what to do next, stood silently watching for a few seconds.
When he said, “At least let me help,” Isabel shooed him off.
He felt guilty, but Isabel seemed happy. After a moment, he said, “I guess I could go take a shower and get
