Circles: An M|M Contemporary Romance

SEVEN

THOMAS

With the lack of midday flights, the airport was relatively quiet and empty, and I passed through passport control in record time. Once I got my luggage, I hurriedly bought a prepaid SIM card and set my phone to connect with local networks through my temporary new number. I rang my cousin, Paul, to tell him I've landed safely and that I'd be waiting at NAIA Terminal 1.

At the arrivals hall, I made a beeline for the exit and walked over to where there was a small crowd of people—mostly OFWs* and their families—near the security checkpoint. Outside, a handful of tour guides and taxi drivers stood in line along the paved walkway, waving cardboards and pieces of paper with people's names written on them.

Unlike in Oslo and Dubai, it was glaring to see the lax enforcement of health protocols in the Philippines. Every day, dozens of people die from this new virus. Last year, they'd named it the '2019-nCoV' but they've recently given it an official name: the COVID-19. Whatever its name, it is what it is—a new, life-threatening virus.

There have been dozens of reported deaths in Norway that were suspected to have been caused by this virus, and the country was quick to impose new travel restrictions and protocols. I don't see any of those measures yet here in Manila, perhaps because they don't see it as a national threat. At least, not yet. Wonder what's not clicking here? This should be something to discuss with Paul later.

I gripped the handle of my suitcase tightly, looking left and right for any sign of a blue Ford Ranger my cousin said he'd be driving in. I checked my phone for new messages or missed calls from Paul. None.

I fanned myself with the collar of my shirt, but it didn't do much to stave off the heat. Turns out I'm no longer used to this humidity. I wish I'd worn something lighter and ditched the black chinos and white silk shirt that's now desperately clinging to my skin. It's almost the hot season, or, as most Filipinos would have it, the "summer" season. Having lived here for the first sixteen years of my life, though, I can tell you it's the summer season all year round—except maybe November through January, where we get slight reprieve from the heat and humidity, but suffer through flooding with the rainy season.

"Thomas! Hey, Thomas, over here!" called a voice coming from across the street. I looked up to see a beat-up blue pickup truck parked a few meters away from where I stood, the driver's window rolled halfway down. A man leaned his head out, smiling and waving at me.

My shoulder slumped and my chest felt lighter at the sight of Paul. Lugging my baggage, I marched across the street as I smiled and waved back at my cousin.

Dad didn't talk much about his side of the family. In fact, from the fifteen years I'd been in Norway, I'd only met one aunt and a second cousin. Meanwhile, Mom only had one brother, Uncle Narding, who has twin sons my age, Paul and Christian. Among the two, Paul had been the closest to me. We stayed in touch, often dropping the usual how are you's whenever one of us posts new photos on social media, and then occasionally joining in on Mom and Uncle Narding's monthly video calls.

If there's anyone I could call a confidant, that would be Paul.

"Need help with the luggage?" he offered. When I shook my head and gestured to the one and only suitcase I'd brought with me, he chuckled and tilted his head. "Well, don't be a stranger. Hop on in."

I opened the car door and tossed my suitcase in the back before sitting in the passenger seat. Once I got settled, Paul started up the car and headed to the terminal exit.

The nervous energy released quickly as I fell into easy conversation with my cousin. For the past few weeks, we'd talked on an almost daily basis, Paul helping me book my flights as he tried to convince me to come up with an itinerary for each of the day I'd be in the Philippines. I suspect Mom has had a hand in this, but it's not like I'm complaining. For once, it feels good to not have to worry about what I'd need to do in the coming days.