For a while I thought about Cathy, wondering how she was handling the cold of Scandinavia. I still missed her, but not like I had at first. It was her friendship I missed now, and in many ways that was worse.
I thought about The Lounge and Robbie and the girls and the never-ending party. I thought about my life before, about Maureen and Aunt Marla. And Lily.
And finally I thought about Larry, about how if he hadn’t woken me up again like he had, I'd still be sitting at The Lounge not caring about anyone or anything.
I thought about it all, and as I flew back to the Manila, I knew one thing for sure-my time in Philippines was coming to an end.
Mariella didn’t see Larry on that trip, either. At least if she did, Isabel never noticed her. Something tells me she was there somewhere, just around a corner or hiding in the shadows at a bar, watching and waiting.
She certainly knew when he left, though. Isabel hadn’t been back from the airport more than an hour when Mariella knocked on her door.
“So show me,” Mariella said, rushing into the room all excited. “Let me see it.”
Isabel closed the door, her eyes red from crying. “See what?” she asked.
“What’s wrong?” Mariella said.
“Larry’s gone,” Isabel said. “That’s all.”
“But this time was different, right?” Mariella smiled, then reached for Isabel’s left hand. “Let me see it.” She pulled Mariella’s hand up. “Where’s the ring?”
“What ring?”
“Didn’t he-”
Isabel cut her off with a shake of her head. “He wasn’t ready yet.”
“Did he tell you this?”
“We didn’t talk about it.”
Isabel walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling her knees to her chest. Mariella followed and sat beside her.
“I don’t understand,” Mariella said. “What is he waiting for? You’ve been seeing him for a long time now.”
“I told you, he’s not ready.”
Mariella started to say something else, but stopped herself and put an arm around her cousin’s shoulder. Isabel closed her eyes and started to cry again.
Mariella stayed over that night, comforting Isabel as she tried to sleep, eventually offering her one of the same type of sleeping pills she had given her that night in Larry’s hotel room.
The next day, Mariella continued to stay by her side, saying things like, “I’m sure it will all be okay,” and, “He’ll ask you next time. I’m sure of it.”
Mariella finally left when Isabel went to work that evening. She had at first asked Isabel if she really wanted to work, and Isabel said she had to. It was her job. So Mariella let her go alone. She probably didn’t know I was still in Australia, but even if she had, I doubt she would have come into The Lounge.
The next day Mariella visited again. But instead of being the cheery, supportive friend she had been the day before, she seemed annoyed and distracted. When Isabel asked if there was something bothering her, Mariella just shook her head and said, “It’s nothing.”
They ate lunch on the couch watching TV, leftover pasta from when Larry had been there. Mariella said nothing the entire time, and ate very little. Isabel, who had begun to feel a little better, ate about half her helping before she noticed her cousin was still not herself.
“What is it?” Isabel asked.
“I told you, it’s nothing,” Mariella said.
“I know you did, but I don’t believe you.”
Mariella gave her a short, humorless laugh. “Sorry,” she said. “I should try harder to hide my feelings.”
“You don’t have to hide anything from me.” Isabel put a hand on Mariella’s back. “You’re like my big sister. If something’s bothering you, let me help.”
Mariella looked down at the floor. “It’s not my problem.”
“I don’t understand.”
When Mariella looked up again, there were tears in her eyes. “It’s you,” she said. “I’m worried about you.”
Isabel wasn’t sure how to react, so she did the only thing that made sense to her. She reached out and pulled Mariella into her arms. “I’m fine. Today I feel much better.”
But Mariella didn’t stop crying. After a while a few tears began to form in the corners of Isabel’s eyes, too. She continued to hug her cousin and tell her everything was all right. “I was thinking about it too much,” she said. “He’s just not ready yet, that’s all. I just have to be patient.”
“I’m not so sure,” Mariella finally said.
Isabel pulled back. “What do you mean?”
Mariella’s face was a mess of tears and mascara. She sniffed a couple of times before looking at Isabel.
“Last night I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “All night, all I could do was think about you. I began to wonder if it was right for me to lie to you and get your hopes up.”
“Lie to me?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What did you lie about?”
“Please, forget it. I should never have said anything.” Mariella buried her face in her hands.
Isabel grabbed one of Mariella’s wrists and pulled it away from her cousin’s face. “Tell me what you lied about,” she demanded.
Mariella said nothing at first, then, “I told you yesterday I thought he would ask you to marry him next time he comes.” She paused, looking again at Isabel. “That was the lie.”
“You mean you don’t think he will ask next time?”
“I mean he won’t ask you ever.”
Isabel didn’t breathe for several seconds. What Mariella had said was the one thing Isabel had never let herself think.
“You’re wrong,” Isabel said. She stood up. “You’re wrong. He will marry me. I know he will. He loves me.”
Mariella glanced around the room. “When he got you this apartment, what was the deal he made with the landlord?”
Isabel hesitated before answering. “He paid for six months when I moved in, and paid for six more months when he was here last week.”
“That’s still another eight months,” Mariella said. “Is he going to wait until that’s over before he brings you to California? Or is he going to pay your landlord another six months when the time comes again? Or even a year?”
When he had paid for the additional six months before he left this last time, it had bothered Isabel but she had said nothing. Business was going well for Larry. She told herself it wouldn’t matter to him if she moved out of the apartment early and left for the U.S. But hearing Mariella say it, she began to doubt again.
“You’re a good girl, Isabel,” Mariella said. “And you’ve been so good to Larry. But I’ve been here a lot longer than you and have seen much more. I don’t want you to get hurt. Not like I was.”
Again Mariella’s eyes moved away from Isabel’s face to focus on the floor for a moment before drifting back up.
“Like you?” Isabel asked.
“Look at me,” Mariella said. “Then look at yourself. I have an apartment that is paid for by a man I met in a bar. Once or twice a year he comes to visit me, but we never talk about getting married.” She took hold of Isabel’s hands, and looked her cousin directly in the eyes. “The only difference between you and me is that I know it will never happen.”
Isabel tried to pull her hands away. “No!” she yelled. “No. It’s not true.”
But Mariella would not let go. “You’re just like me,” she said.
