Chet said, “I would like it if you followed up on the matter of your divorce.”

“And if I don’t, will you do it for me?”

“Do you want me to?”

I sat back in my chair, watching him watching me, his eyes tracking over my face. “Do you really think if we’d gotten married back then, as children, that we’d be happy now?”

“Why not?”

“Do you think I would be happy, happy in C. G.’s life?”

“Ting,” he said. “You’re never happy. And you’re never really sad, not for long. You just are like that.” Chet made a sweeping gesture that took in the whole of my being. He rocked back in his chair. “Can you say that you don’t love me?”

I looked at him, at his defenseless eyes.

I said, “What is love?”

Chet laughed. “You’re tough, Ting. You always were. But I can handle it. Just you see.”

With the curfew, I was often stuck at Chet’s overnight. Tita Rosa had mentioned a cousin who had gotten an annulment, which was an unsubtle hint that I move in that direction. And Tita Dom, who was not so concerned with appearances, had advised, “If you’re in Makati, stay there if it’s getting late.” One only traveled in the daylight hours, which you would think would have made the traffic even worse. But it hadn’t. The traffic was actually better. People were nervous and nervous people stayed close to home.

Chet was standing at his dresser, selecting cuff links. “What did you decide about the curtains?”

“I decided no curtains. I have nothing to hide.”

Chet sighted me in the mirror. I was still in bed. “Since when?”

I pulled on his bathrobe. It was almost nine and I had to get going. I was having lunch with Zackito as he was headed back to Hawaii the following day, having managed to get a flight. “Why can’t you come with us to Baguio?”

“What, with you and Inchoy?”

“It’s only a few days. You can make your calls from there.”

“You know I don’t like mixing business and pleasure.”

“What pleasure? Have you been around Inchoy recently?” Chet, having trouble with his cuff link, extended his arm for me to fix it. “Otherwise we’re on the bus both ways.”

“Your aunt can’t lend you a driver?”

“Mannie? For four days?” I regarded Chet carefully. “I think you’re up to something.”

“Yeah. It’s called work.” Chet tugged on his sleeve, checking the cuff. “When are you leaving?”

“Tuesday.”

His face grew weary. “Put it off.”

“I can’t put it off. It’s Inchoy’s birthday.”