***
“What exactly is this?” Grant asks as he holds up a piece of the reddish brown meat on his plate with his fork.
“Tocino,” I inform him. “Basically, it’s sweet, cured pork. And that side dish is salted egg with tomatoes and strips of raw papaya. They go well together.”
“I see.” Grant eats the piece of meat and then some of the side dish. “It’s not half bad.”
“I’m glad you like it.” I smile, eating my own chunk of tocino with some of the garlic fried rice.
Since we arrived yesterday, we’ve been eating almost exclusively Filipino food. So far, Grant has liked all of it. He even loves the kare-kare and the lechon. Then again, I’ve only asked him to eat food that I like or would normally eat, not stuff like balut, or chicken feet, or soup made with a bull’s penis. That would seem unfair. Maybe even mean.
“So, is this the kind of breakfast you’d have everyday?” Grant asks.
“Heavens, no.” I eat another spoonful of rice. “The rice, maybe. But only with egg – regular egg, not salted egg – and dried fish or hotdog.”
“Hotdog?” He raises an eyebrow. “You eat hotdog for breakfast?”
“Yes, with rice. Kids who go to school usually eat it for lunch, too.”
Grant nods. “Interesting.”
I grab my cup of coffee. “Those who work don’t have time to cook, though, so they usually have pan de sal, which they dip in coffee or instant noodles.”
“I see.”
As I gently blow on the surface of my coffee, the image of my grandmother, my lola, in her loose, floral dress comes to mind, sipping coffee in her old blue and white cup on a makeshift bench outside our house.
Strange. How am I suddenly remembering that after all this time? And so clearly, too.
I wonder if she’s still alive. Maybe if Grant and I have some time, we can go…
No. I set aside the idea. Even if she’s still alive, she might not want to see me. Or she might have forgotten all about me like old people sometimes do.
Who knows how she is now? Maybe she doesn’t go to church every morning anymore like she used to. Maybe she doesn’t drink coffee anymore. I don’t even know if Filipinos still eat the same breakfast I used to. Who knows how much has changed?
I take a sip of my coffee, glancing around at the other tables. Well, it doesn’t seem like much has changed. As far as I can remember, the other Filipinos still dress the same and talk the same. The only difference is that they now have their phones on the table.
As my gaze wanders over to the corner, my eyes meet with a woman’s. She looks away as soon as our eyes meet, but I’ve already caught her staring. She’s not the only one, either. I’ve been catching women staring at me this whole trip. They’re probably wondering how long I’ve lived in the US or, more likely, how I met the man I’m with. No doubt they think I’m some kind of slut or that I don’t deserve him simply because they’d rather have him for themselves. Crab mentality, they call it.
Well, some things never change.
“Is something wrong?” Grant asks, wiping his lips with the table napkin.
“Nothing.” I set my cup down. “I guess it just feels weird. I feel like I belong here, but at the same time, I feel like a stranger.”
“Hey.” Grant reaches across the table to place his hand over mine. “Don’t pay attention to whatever anyone thinks, and definitely don’t let it dictate how you feel.”
I nod then smile as I look down.
“What?” Grant asks, eyebrows creased.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “I’m just glad I’m surrounded by people who give such good advice.”
He chuckles. “You mean you’re surrounded by people who love you.”
He’s right, of course. I am lucky to have so many people who love me, especially this man in front of me. I’d be a fool to ever take him for granted.
I take his hand in both of mine as I look into his eyes. “I promise to make this honeymoon the best ever.”
“You don’t have to,” Grant says. “I know it will be.”
The warmth in his eyes takes my breath away, at the same time causing warmth to well in my chest. When did he get to be so sweet? Now that I think about it, though, since Marius was born, he’s been taking better care of me while taking a step back so that I can take care of myself and Marius first.
Why am I only noticing this now?
“You’re right. It will be,” I tell him then pull my hand away to continue eating. “If we ever get away from this table, that is. What do you say we finish breakfast so we can get to the more fun stuff?”
Grant picks up his spoon. “My thoughts exactly.”
I shove another spoonful of food into my mouth, smiling. Again, Lindsey’s right. This is my special time with Grant. We deserve this. We need this. I shouldn’t waste any moment of it.
“So, what are we doing today again?” Grant asks, slicing a piece of tocino. “Swimming?”
“Not just swimming.” I get another sip of my coffee. “We’re doing the whole tour of the islands.”