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Melinda fled the hired car, her back straight as she stared at the American embassy. Bangkok was not so different than Manila, but it was certainly a far cry from Surigao City and she was in no mood to be impressed by the architecture or the way the Americans had of making a show of arms. Really, she preferred the British consulate. They had better tea and were, all in all, much more composed. Polite. The Americans were so prone to drama, as her mother was wont to say.
Snorting, Melinda was about to step into the courtyard from the drive when her mother, as though conjured by her thoughts, said, "Melinda Qiaolian May! You return to the car and take your bags this instant. The driver is not your servant!"
Melinda found herself blushing furiously as she met the most beautiful brown eyes imaginable. They belonged to an equally gorgeous girl that her mother's shout saved her from running over. Ignoring Ma, Melinda smiled as she fought to keep from ducking her head. "Forgive me. I did not realize that someone was there. I would have gone slower. I-I usually take more care--"
The girl grinned and stuck out her hand. "No harm done. I'm Diana."
"Melinda!" her mother shouted, well, it wouldn't sound like anything but a reasoned statement that carried across the drive to anyone else, but Melinda was in trouble and she knew it.
Still, she couldn't care less. She swallowed, her knees weak from a forthright smile and amazing cheek bones. Casually she wiped her palm on her trousers before she gripped the girl's -- Diana's -- hand and returned a more restrained smiled. "I'm Melinda. I'll see you around!" she said, then hurried back to the car. Maybe if she rushed, she'd have time to talk to Diana before dinner.
~~*~~
Ma threw the covers off Melinda, making her flinch and block the sun with a hasty forearm. "Ma!" she whined.
"For the last time. Get up! You're going to be late. Again."
Melinda sat up and rubbed her eyes. When she blinked at her mother, she recognized the set of her jaw. None of that mattered, though. Melinda didn't want to be here. She was so tired of moving, so tired of being forced to make friends all over again. The excitement of discovering a new home and meeting new people had worn off long ago, probably after their fourth move in as many years. Melinda was just done with that and was in no mood to make this transition easier on her mother than she had to. She'd finally made real friends in Surigao, been almost normal, one of the crowd. Piolo had even kissed her, surprising her with the first press of his lips, the tips of his ears pink when he pulled away.
Well, that was still a bit confusing, but it had meant something. Melinda was processing just what exactly, not that it mattered with her being stuck here, thousands of miles away where she'd probably never see Piolo again. That thought burned.
Melinda threw herself over onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow. "I'm sick."
There was an exasperated huff from behind her then a sharp Crack! echoed around the room as Melinda's ass warmed.
Wide-eyed, Melinda rolled over and gaped at her mother who had never raised a hand to Melinda before. In fairness, she hadn't needed to.
"Stop this foolishness this instant. You are not too old for me to take a cane to your backside," Ma said, her voice that calm, cool, subtle formality that meant Melinda had crossed the line. "You may write your friends back in Surigao, but we live here now."
Melinda nodded, meek and humble as she stumbled out of bed. She couldn't meet Ma's eyes.
"Qiaolian," Ma said, her tone gentle as she turned Melinda by her shoulders. "I know this is a hard time for you, but trust me when I say there is a reason we're here at the American Embassy. I'm trying to get us home."
Melinda blinked at Ma, confused by what that even meant. They didn't have a home, not a steady one at any rate. Ma and Melinda were vagabonds following Ma's job wherever it led, from one embassy to another consulate and on and on all around the world.
She nodded, still not understanding, but at least Ma was done with the scolding.
"Be quick, child, and you'll have time for tea," Ma said, her hand brushing away a tangle of hair from Melinda's cheek.
Melinda reached out and hugged her mother, overcome with something. Stupid emotions were always tossing her about where she felt like screaming one moment and crying the next. Right now she just needed a hug for some ill defined reason. "Sorry, Ma," she murmured into her mother's shoulder and was rewarded with a tight, reassuring hug.
"Go on. Hurry!" Ma urged before turning away and leaving Melinda to hastily get into her uniform.
~~*~~
Melinda longed to be as graceful as her mother. She tried to find her center as Ma had coached. She had been doing T'ai chi ch'uan since she could walk, but her limbs were too long and movements more angular, less flowing than Ma's, no matter what she did, how deliberate she moved. Her eyes followed Ma, she imitated her precise control every morning, even on her free days. And she had improved. But all of that had been without an audience of her peers, or one peer in particular. And try as she might, she could not make the moves look as effortless, as graceful, as smooth as Ma did today. She was hopeless and she met her mother's eyes, begging silently for understanding. Ma gave a nearly invisible frown and Melinda redoubled her efforts to focus.
She kept her eyes on Ma's arms to blot out the chatter of her approaching classmates, but one voice in particular snagged her attention and she lost her place, forgot what form she was in the middle of when she risked a glance over to the sidewalk. Only to find that Diana had lagged behind the others and was watching her, eyes intent and crinkled from her wide smile.
Melinda tried to sync back up, but she faltered and stumbled completely out of position when Diana tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and winked at her.
"Melinda!" Ma chastened.
Bowing formally to her mother and the other ladies, Melinda straightened then asked if she could be excused, her Mandarin carefully enunciated.
"Very well! Off with you, child!" Ma shooed her away, turning her back to resume her forms.
Diana held out a hand and, laughing, they both took off at a run to follow the others.
~~*~~
Diana was a mischievous hellion who had a quick wit, an easy smile, and an utterly effortless way of making Melinda stutter and stumble. And Diana would listen to Melinda moan about her mom, but in return she demanded that Melinda listen to her bitch about her dad. The two of them were a matched set, near inseparable.
Diana made the jarring transition from local Filipino school to large American embassy easier to bear. She fit herself into the spaces in Melinda's life, like she'd always been there, yet she and Melinda were nothing alike, though their lives on paper were scarily similar. Where Melinda was studious and quiet, Diana was outgoing, almost brash, while never cracking a book. And that was patently unfair because her grades were nearly as good as Melinda's.
Plus, she knew all the best secrets around the embassy and seemed so at ease in her own skin. Probably because that skin looked soft as silk and was the color of burnt sienna, calling to mind sun and warmth as Melinda lazed under the spreading branches of the Pili tree in Piolo's yard. Diana was the sun, shining bright while Melinda felt drab, plain. Her fingers itched to touch and she had to constantly remind herself of Piolo. How she'd promised him that she'd write and she hadn't. Not yet. She'd been a little too caught up in the whole transition (in Diana) and she kept forgetting.
The boys almost always outnumbered the girls in the diplomatic families. Melinda never understood why that was, why it might be that most wives and daughters were left safely at home. But this was the only life she'd ever known, the same was true for Diana, and probably that was why they'd hit it off so quickly, becoming fast friends. The first of Diana's pranks, one that Melinda nearly face planted in, cemented that instant connection. If Melinda learned her way around the servant's quarters and the outbuildings because of it, she never told her mother.
When they compared experiences, telling tales while hidden under blankets with chocolates and a flashlight as they giggled helplessly over the articles in an outdated copy of Seventeen magazine, it was clear they'd just passed each other like the symbolic ships in the night more than once. And even though they would have been in separate embassies, they would have gone to the same schools. They could have found each other before now. Melinda tried not to cling, not to think too hard or too long on why she was so sad when she realized how short their time together would be.
Diana's seventeenth birthday was an unwelcome milestone, a reminder that she'd soon go off to university, leaving Melinda behind. Melinda forced herself not to brood. She smiled along with their classmates as they celebrated with cake and by watching "Ghostbusters" dubbed in Thai with English subtitles. Afterwards, when it was just the two of them cuddled in sleeping bags in Diana's quarters drinking hot cocoa, Melinda gave Diana her present. Her insides fluttered when Diana said a breathy 'Thank you!', dropping a gentle kiss on Melinda's cheek. For the first time in her life, Melinda was grateful she did not blush easily because she'd be bright red if she did. All of that fuss over two tapes! If Diana was that pleased by Cyndi Lauper and Culture Club, then Melinda would have to see about getting her Michael Jackson and Eurythmics. They chatted late into the night until Diana's dad shushed them and turned off the lights. They still giggled, but finally settled down and fell asleep sometime long after midnight. It was one of the best nights of Melinda's life.
So it was that Melinda spent most evenings sitting on Diana's couch, their thighs pressed together as they studied, the television droning in the background. Until one fateful evening when Melinda heard Peter Jennings mention her former home. Her ears perked up and she glanced at the television. Briefly the screen flashed with images of a large typhoon bearing down on her old home before it returned to the announcer's face and more coverage of ongoing unrest. Melinda's conscience twinged that she wasn't concerned about some opposition politician's assassination in the Manila airport. Diana looked at her with sympathy as they searched the satellite feeds for more news.
Ma came to fetch Melinda that evening and didn't scold her for it. Dinner was a quiet, subdued affair with Melinda's appetite fled in the face of Typhoon Ike. That night, she prayed her friends were safe.
After school, she and Diana rushed to Diana's living room where the television was already on, footage of the devastation in Ike's wake streaming in. Melinda's breath caught and she dropped to the sofa, eyes riveted to the screen. The destruction was widespread, terrifying, but she couldn't turn away, her eyes wide, face frozen in a grimace of disbelief. She barely noticed gripping Diana's hard so hard her knuckles were white. Diana shifted closer, her shoulder brushing Melinda's. When Melinda glanced to the side, Diana was looking at her with concern and compassion.
"You okay?" she asked.
"I don't know," Melinda answered truthfully.
Diana's smile was gentle and small, careful, but warm. And Melinda's grip eased and her shoulders lowered.
Another night and day passed before Melinda caught a glimpse of her old school behind a reporter. It was nearly unrecognizable with its roof gone and most of the trees she remembered uprooted and tossed about like matchsticks.
Melinda didn't cry. She'd long ago trained herself out of the habit, but her throat closed and her eyes pricked. She blinked furiously and kept her gaze riveted to the television, hanging on every little scrap of information. Amidst wondering how the reporter could sound so calm, she missed a knock at the door. While wondering how he could keep his voice level when describing such a widespread disaster, a voice called out, "Melinda--"
She jerked her hand away and Diana twisted around, putting space between them as she looked at Melinda's mother. "Mrs. May? We were just watching--"
"I see," Ma said and Melinda knew. One little word and Melinda couldn't catch a breath.
"No!" Melinda shook her head, trying to deny it.
"Please, Qiaolian. I'm sorry."
Melinda stood up, shaking her head, eyes darting everywhere, until she met Diana's beautiful brown eyes. She reached for Melinda and Melinda crumpled into her embrace, familiar arms joining the hug from behind, wrapping Melinda up in warmth as the tears she'd long ago refused to shed began in earnest.
~~*~~
Melinda May turned seventeen in a rainstorm in Bangkok, her former life scoured clean by a Typhoon and some plotting by her mother. She would resent it, but she didn't have it in her; not when her heart's singing and the warm rain had plastered Diana's dark hair to the sides of her face, making her more beautiful which shouldn't be possible. They shared a toe-curling kiss and the one blushing was Melinda, not Diana. It was her best birthday so far.
