The jostle of the plane as its wheels hit the runaway startled Diana from her hazy nap, and she blinked her heavy eyelids awake. Her mouth was dry, throat parched from the stale air, and she rotated her stiff neck.
“Once again, this is Captain Noriko. Welcome to Manila, Philippines. It is now ten forty-three p.m. and eighty degrees Fahrenheit, or twenty-six degrees Celsius, with sixty percent humidity.”
Passengers groaned in response.
“We thank you for choosing us as your preferred carrier for this trip.”
Manila, finally. Although, through the window, Diana wouldn’t have been able to tell if they were still in the United States—the scene outside was typical of every darkened airport, with flashes of reflective gear marking the workers on the runway, the dim lights showing the track of luggage being pulled from planes to the conveyer belt and back. Diana had lost sense of time since leaving DC the previous day and an extended layover in Tokyo, the trip filled with the occasional nap interrupted by announcements by the pilot and the rumble of the food and drink cart passing through.
Excitement zinged through her as the cabin stirred awake. There was no turning back. She was here now, unequivocally.
After the plane taxied to the gate, she stood, and her legs thanked her for the blood rush with pins and needles. Nervousness rolled through her in waves as she checked her small shoulder tote’s contents. In her haste, she’d packed lightly: plane items and one suitcase of clothing. Now, Diana was thankful, because the exodus for the door had begun, and God knew she would have forgotten half the things on the plane, so nervous was she.
Ninoy Aquino International Airport was a bustle of people, and she followed signs to immigration and the baggage claim area. At baggage claim, familiar passengers milled as the baggage turnstile beeped and started, and one by one the bags jostled down onto the main conveyer.
Growing up, Diana had not traveled extensively. Short road trips had been more her mother’s and her grandmother’s speed, on the Greyhound to New York City, on trains for two trips to Disney. Granny had been wary of planes; she had a fear of heights, a tendency to shy away from being too far from home, though the two women thought it was worth it to witness Diana’s glee at seeing her favorite movie characters come alive. As an adult, she’d done plane trips to conferences within the United States, weekend getaways with Carlo that didn’t take them away from work for too long. So the airport itself was overwhelming. But the people—Diana could not resist staring at the Filipinos around her.
Her cheeks heated at the thought, at how foolish it sounded even in her head. She couldn’t help it—she looked for the similarities between her and the woman next to her, who was about a decade younger. The idea that there were people not just of her race but potentially of her lineage—previously completely unknown—swirled in her head. What was the probability that some of these people around her waiting for their own baggage shared her DNA? She had never thought once of the possibility before, and now, the opportunities seemed limitless.
The phone, which she had turned on before disembarking the plane, now rang. The number was unfamiliar, but she answered it.
“Ate Diana?” the voice said.
Ate. Older sister. It gave her pause, this word. This assumption. “Colette?”
“Yes, it’s me. Are … are you here?”
“I am. I’m waiting for my baggage now.”
“What are you wearing? For when you come out? I will be looking for you, with a sign.” Her speech was easy, as if Diana weren’t a stranger. It relaxed her a tad, and she let out a breath.
“I’m wearing cropped jeans and a blue shirt with red poppies.”
“Okay. See you soon. I can’t wait!”
“Um … me, too!” Diana said, caught up in Colette’s enthusiasm, but it was quickly replaced by panic. They had messaged each other almost nonstop before Diana left DC, and their correspondence mimicked hers and Sam’s: without pretense. Still, her mother’s warning flashed in her mind. The person she was messaging could’ve been anyone.
“This is fine. We’re fine. Deep breath, Diana.” Except that the thumps and scrapes of luggage and balikbayan boxes being pulled from the conveyer belt became a cacophony. Doubts came back in a full tidal wave: What if these people were not who they said they were? What if this was all a lie, too? What if they were murderers?
She texted her mother and Sam in a group text, as promised.
I just landed. Colette is here to pick me up.
Here is my location.
Sam’s answer came quickly.
Got it.
Remember that you can walk away. Follow your instincts.
Baggage claim and customs were each a relatively painless process. But when she walked to the arrival lobby and toward the meet-up area outside the double doors of the air-conditioned airport, Diana was hit with a fight-or-flight reaction. Despite the dark night, the heat was suffocating, confusing to her body, which had, a little more than a day prior, left the cool DC springtime behind. The air was sticky and stifling, and her lungs tightened as she breathed in the smell of motor oil and gasoline from the bumper-to-bumper curbside traffic.
She spotted the sign to the meet-and-greet area. Across the pedestrian parking and down the ramp she went, following the sound of voices until they became a roar. Other passengers disappeared into the mass of people on the other side of the barrier. People were holding signs, some calling for their families and friends, others in uniforms ushering people and their luggage into cabs and cars. It was a total overload of Diana’s senses.
Then, out of the waves of sound, she heard her name like a hummingbird’s trill. And then she heard it again: “Diana!”
She jerked to the right and walked to the edge of the sidewalk. The air whooshed as cabs and cars sped by. She willed her eyes to cooperate despite feeling discombobulated, then she saw it, a bobbing sign with her last name in big block letters. GALLAGHER-CARY.
Then she heaved a breath, urging her legs to carry her as her heart whirled in anticipation.
A figure came around the corner of a group of people: a woman who looked a decade younger than Diana with a shoulder-length bob and long bangs, and a smile that exuded confidence. The sign was in her hand. “Oh my God. Gallagher-Cary?”
“Yes?” Diana asked more to herself than to the woman as she scoured her face for familiarity. Did she look like the picture from her Facebook photo? And sure enough, slowly, her brain puzzled together the similarities.
“Yay!” Colette leaned in and threw her arms around Diana, who hesitated at the forward gesture. She wasn’t in the habit of just hugging anyone, family or not. “Ate Diana, it’s so nice to meet you. Oh my God. I see some of my mom in you. It’s weird and cool at the same time.” The woman pulled back and canvassed her face, smile widening.
“And you’re …” Diana faltered, surprised at the belly poking her. “You’re having a baby!”
“I am!” Her hands flew to her belly. “I’m seven months tomorrow, in fact!” She cleared her throat. “Oh, and ate means ‘older sister.’ ”
“I know what that means, and some common Tagalog terms. Some words. I have nurse friends who are … and my mom knew some phrases, and then of course Rosetta Stone.” Diana stumbled through her explanation, apologetic.
“The family speaks English, and I’ll help, Ate.” Colette smiled. “Anyway, I have a car for us. Let’s get you home.” She took Diana’s bag automatically. “Follow me.”
“Actually, I’ve rented a car. I can go get it and follow you,” Diana said.
With that Colette threw her head back and barked a laugh, then simmered down to a giggle. “Have you ever driven here, in Manila?”
“No, but I’ve driven in busy cities before.”
“It’s not the same, trust me. Also, you’re tired. Better just ride with me.” She was already walking away with her bag, leaving Diana to follow like a lost puppy who had just found its mother.
“Wait.” Diana halted in her tracks. “May I … can I see some ID?” She felt silly asking for it, as if it was a true fail-safe.
“Of course. Silly me.” Colette dug through her bag and pulled out a black wallet, from which slid a Republic of the Philippines driver’s license from a card slot. And sure enough, it said Colette Cruz Macaraeg. “Shall we go?” Colette asked brightly.
“Okay.” Diana relented. Colette was nice enough, but it all felt so sudden. When they reached a luxury car parked at a curb, a man who had been leaning his back against it stood and scooped up Diana’s bag, stuffing it into the trunk.
“You’re really coming in at the best time of day. Besides it being a little cooler, you get to see Manila Bay at its best, at night,” Colette said, getting into the car, and Diana followed suit.
As they got on the road, Colette took charge of the conversation. She asked Diana basic questions about her flight, the travel she had planned. Nothing too difficult to answer, thank goodness, because Diana was trying to take the skyline in, and how different it felt being with this cheerful woman who was supposed to be her blood relative. But it hadn’t sunk in yet.
She was also gawking at the audacious drivers around her who were sometimes ignoring traffic rules and lines on the road.
“This is Manila Bay, Ate Diana,” Colette said, pointing to the left. The bay’s water glistened in the distance, broken up by the outline of the winding road that seemingly drove out into the water, and the sway of palm trees. “And Las Cruces is coming up.”
The car slowed, then took a right into a curved driveway among the towering buildings that lit up the night sky. LAS CRUCES HOTEL was etched into marble at the entrance. Guests in beautiful cocktail dresses entered and exited the front doors, reminding Diana that she had not brushed her teeth in almost twenty-four hours. She ran her fingers through her hair, pressed them under her eyes, swollen from her lack sleep. She must look like a zombie.
“There is a wedding planned this weekend, and we have most of the large party staying here and starting their celebrations early, but we placed you on the twenty-fourth floor to get away from the noise—I hope that will be fine. It even has a balcony. We can meet up tomorrow, if you’d like, but I know you might want to get settled and look around, so I’ll keep that open, okay? I do have a meeting set up the next day for an early lunch, when we will do the DNA test and make our plans.”
“Do we … do I get to meet Flora?” Diana’s voice cracked.
“Yes, though not here. It will be at Sunset Corner—”
“Sunset Corner?” Diana asked, flashing on her grandfather’s letters.
“Yes, our home in Forbes Park in Makati. Lola Flora is too old to get around, and we’ll have to make sure that she’s well enough to see you. I hope you don’t mind that that part isn’t set yet. I figured we should get the DNA test done here, where it’s easiest, and then make the call.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Diana agreed. “One thing at a time.”
The door next to Colette was pulled open by the valet. The sound of traffic filtered into the car. “Oh, and here, your key.” She fanned out two hotel key cards and handed her one. “I hoped in the last minute that Tita Margo would come, so I reserved one of our suites in both of your names. But I’ll go ahead and bring this extra key to the desk since you don’t need to check in. You’re family, after all.” She smiled.
I’m family.
The thought gave Diana pause until Colette motioned her out with a hand. She then chased the clatter of Colette’s footsteps up through the double doors.
She was met with a grand marble entryway with an open view upward to skylights. To her left and right, baggage handlers assisted customers, and a long bar was the centerpiece of the reception area, with uniformed concierges huddled over maps and brochures with guests.
“You can call for room service or the front desk for anything,” Colette said over her shoulder, waving a hand. “Just in case you’re hungry in the middle of the night, they can deliver food at all hours. Or you can simply come down to Tipanan. It’s our bar, which is open till about two a.m. They serve food there, too.”
The floors switched to flagstone, and a canopy of real palm trees draped over them, changing the vibe from cold and lavish to cozy and comfortable. Just beyond it were three alcoves, all with signs labeled with different floors.
“Here you go. For floors twenty through forty.” Colette looked down at her hand, to her lit-up phone. She gave it a concerned look as she pressed the elevator button.
“Oh, and bring your travel itinerary when we meet? We just want to make sure you’re getting a good deal, you know? Your trip is quite short, and I want to—” Distracted, she looked at her phone again. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Work calls, and I have to leave you for now.”
“This is more than perfect,” Diana said. “I’ll get settled. I have your number. I’ll text if I have any questions.”
“Great!” She nodded to the bellhop behind them, then kissed Diana on the cheek, and just before the elevator doors shut, said, “See you soon, Ate.”
Upstairs, Diana gasped at her expansive and modern suite with two king beds and windows that overlooked Roxas Boulevard and the Manila Baywalk. She picked up the amenities binder and ran a finger over the embossed logo on the leather front. Las Cruces. Cruz. Antonio’s last name.
She was related to this, too.
Diana picked the leftmost king bed and perched on it with a heavy feeling in her chest. The gung ho adrenaline that had coursed through her earlier was now but a trickle. She felt the way a pregnant woman looked after being admitted for labor, when realization settled in about how much work was yet to be done.
It was about to get serious.