They're Playing Our Song

I'm Bernadette Peters

Their orders arrived and the incredible smell of fried food and rice filled his nose. She had a bowl of rice with what looked like the crispiest cuts of fried pork on top, and a little bowl of brown sauce to go along with it. He was given a bowl with a sunny side up egg, fried rice, something that looked like marinated beef and a tiny dish of achara, which as far as he could tell, was either seaweed or something pickled.

"You're in La Union a lot?" He asked, testing his sunny side up egg for yolk jigglyness.

"Not that often. This is my first time here on a work trip."

"And what do you do?"

"I'm the Arts Program Officer for the Celie Lacuesta School of Music. I'm here with the school's youth orchestra."

Leo knew Celie Lacuesta. Anyone who dabbled in classical music knew Celie Lacuesta. She was the virtuoso's virtuoso, playing Chopin, Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky and Liszt for dignitaries and royalty like it was easy as breathing. He'd watched her performances when he was younger—her performance of Rachmaninoff's 3rd with the Berlin Phil had blown his mind. He knew she had retired and started a music school in Manila, but had no idea that they actually had a youth orchestra, and now he wished Nora would tell him more about it.

Leo loved youth orchestras. It was where he started himself, where he expanded his love for music from playing to creating. He was a firm believer that sometimes all it took was a really great mentor to inspire that love of music in you. Well, a great mentor and a system that wasn't biased against race, economic status or gender. A rare trifecta. Almost non-existent, but there were exceptions like Celie.

He noted the pride on Nora's face, the little beaming light that seemed to glow from inside, and hated that he wasn't privy to what she was thinking. She opened her mouth to say more, but seemed to decide against it and took a bite of her food instead. Leo pushed aside his disappointment.

"And you said you weren't a musician," he teased. "Can I mix in this egg, boss?"

"Yes. And no, I'm not a musician," she said firmly, in that tone that made him call her boss in the first place. Leo chuckled and did as he was allowed, letting the gooey golden yolk mix in with the garlic fried rice. "I'm Bernadette Peters in Mozart in the Jungle, tearing my hair out trying to keep everything running, minus her fantastic singing voice."

"That's true. Not everyone can be Bernadette Peters in the singing department. But the rest of it is just as important as playing the instruments," and he really believed that. He'd been backstage and onstage, and knew that one couldn't happen without the other. "And that's without talking about your piano."

"My piano," she stabbed her bowl with a fork, keeping her eyes on her food. She grabbed a condiment bottle from a little tray, which turned out to be more sauce.

"Yes. Your piano," he reached out and lightly brushed his hand against hers, hoping to get Nora to look at him. He needed her to look at him, so she knew that he was being honest, that he wasn't flirting or dropping a line. "You play beautifully. How are you not performing all over the world by now?"

"Oh no," Nora shook her head, licking lechon sauce off her spoon before she waved it at him like a weapon. "You don't get to fix this for me."

"Fix what?"

"This. Me and my complicated relationship with music. I need to sort this out myself." He stared at her for a moment, absorbing her words, but she seemed to back down and exhale. "Sorry. Touchy subject, obviously. And I do appreciate you wanting to ask me about this, but it's more to satisfy your curiosity than to really help me."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"You don't see me asking why you travelled halfway across the world for no apparent reason. Unless you come to the Philippines frequently, which I don't think you do."

She had him there. He didn't want to talk about why he was here, and he shouldn't want to talk to her about why she didn't play. They were supposed to be on a first date, after all. And you didn't dive into stuff like that on the first date. First dates were for flirty little lines and getting to know the best things about each other, dipping your toes in the proverbial waters of another person's pool.

"True. I take back my question, then."

"Thank you."

"But for the record, I love your playing."

"So noted," she was warming up to him, leaning forward on the table, a smile playing on her lips. But then a couple of people passed by them, and he heard the sounds of snickering laughter. Nora's face immediately changed into something more neutral, and she looked back down at her food. "Eat. Your rice is getting cold."

He was debating whether he should press her and ask what the passers-by had said, ask her why it bothered her, so he ate his food instead.

"Oh. Shit. This is good," he said, and yes, speaking with food in his mouth was rude and terribly unsexy, but he just needed to say it. He didn't know if he was just really hungry, but he really liked this tapsilog thing.

"I don't know what I've been eating before, this is amazing," he said between bites of food, as Nora smiled in satisfaction and speared a bit of her pork with her fork. She swirled it in the sauce and held it up to him. Leo looked at her like she was offering him water after a drought.

"This is level two of your Filipino food education," she joked, and she was actually looking him in the eye when she smiled. Whatever she heard that bothered her, it seemed to fade away, and now the real Nora was looking at him, and it made his heart grow wings and start fluttering.

"You think I'm ready for it, Nora?"

"For lechon kawali? I think so, Leo," he held up his bowl, and she slipped the pork on top of his rice. Leo took a bite. Oh wow. The pork skin was so crispy it snapped in his mouth, and his mouth filled his mouth with saltiness and perfectly fried pork. The lechon sauce was slightly sweet to match. And with the rice? Perfection.

Lumpia could suck it.

"I think I need another Royal," he said, polishing off the last of his soda as Nora smiled over her bowl of food. He smiled back at her. This was his favorite part of any first date—when the awkwardness was slowly melting away, signaling the start of a long journey toward getting closer. He wrote scenes like this all the time, except the food was infinitely better here.

Leo had made a lot of bad decisions in his life. He'd made a lot of good ones, too.

Asking Nora out to dinner? A really good decision.