The One That Came Back

Prologue

April/May 2005

Jessica

I untie my curly hair and let it fall on my shoulders. I lean back and spread both my arms to the backrests of the empty chairs on my sides. I look up, and it's officially nighttime.

The early evening breeze in the open part of Nigel's feels like the right combination of warmth and calm. It's not too cold and not too hot. It's the kind of summer feeling that always reminds me of this place as home.

I know it's best for my family that we're moving to the Metro, but something about this town is permanently attached to me. Even if I'm saying goodbye to it in a little more than a month.

A group of newcomers makes their presence known. Two guys glance in this direction for a second too long.

It's nothing new. My best friend, Therese, turns heads everywhere she goes. With her fit physique of a swimmer, year-round tanned skin, and shiny short hair, eyes follow her glides and strides. But right now, she has her back on those people, which means...

I shrug at the thought, look away, and wait until I catch her gaze. But she's texting someone, so I check the time on my phone instead.

It's still early for shenanigans. This place explodes with life when small-town folks begin their low-key nightlife, which is in about an hour. I've sneaked into a couple of bars in the Metro, and the scene around here can't compare.

"Aah! That's so good," T reacts to the smell of barbecue smoke coming from the backyard.

She's right. This is also one of those things that I underappreciated and perhaps took for granted. Most restaurants in the Metro serve barbecues made from industrial grills, and grilled food is better with coconut husks than charcoal.

Nigel's is situated in a family-owned compound. It's a huge house, where the second floor was converted into a restaurant. They added a rooftop to take advantage of its elevation for a view of a portion of this humble bayside town.

Therese and I discovered this place a couple of weeks ago during one of our quests to make this summer a memorable one for me. We dedicated one day to explore something new. She remembered one of her cousins mentioned a place near the public high school, so we went here.

"What is it with two?" I ask.

"You're still not over that?"

We already went through a round of explanations the other day, but we failed to get the correct answer.

I drop my arms from the chairs and cross them on my chest. "Benjie won't tell me," I say.

My seventeen-year-old brother went out on a date with his sorta-kinda girlfriend earlier this week, and he brought two stems of roses. I asked if the flower shop ran out of stock 'cause who hands over two flowers? Of course, he just grinned and told me to figure it out for myself.

He did that on purpose, for he knows me so well. And I got stuck on that thought. That's one of the reasons why I call him a baboon.

Benjie and I had always been tight. I think the close gap in our ages is a factor, for I'm only less than a year older. He just finished high school, so moving to the big city is both good and bad timing for him. It's good that he'll stay with us there while he goes to the National State U. On the other hand, he'll have to deal with two forms of adjustments. And I know he's not even a big fan of the Metro.

"Okay, let's see..." T leans forward, rests her elbow on the table, and holds her chin. "Two... Two..." She taps her cheek as well. "It's more than one..."