I text my mom to let her know I'll be home late, and not even thirty seconds later my phone rings. I give Jonah an apologetic smile as I take the call.
Mom doesn't beat around the bush. 'Jessie, are you really studying with a friend?'
'Um, yes?' Silence. I can feel Jonah looking at me. 'Okay, no.'
'Jessie.' Mom's voice has a note of warning.
'I'm fine, Mom.' I glance at Jonah. 'Just hanging out with a schoolmate.'
'One schoolmate?' My mom's tone of voice changes. 'Jessie, are you with a boy?'
'Oh, my god, Mom.' I lower my voice and turn away from Jonah slightly. 'It's not like that.'
'Hm.'
I cross my fingers. 'Nik and I are working on the podcast episodes coming out during the school break.' Nik and I have done this in the past, so I'm hoping she doesn't ask any more questions.
Mom makes me wait for a few agonizing seconds before she tells me to have fun. 'Do you have a way to get home?'
'Nik has a driver.' I'm not technically lying, I tell myself. There's honesty and then there's self-sabotage.
'Be home by ten, Jessie.'
As soon as I hang up, Jonah shakes his head. 'You're a terrible liar.'
'I wasn't lying!' I protest. 'I was choosing my words carefully.'
'Face it, Jessica. You can't lie for shit.' He turns to me with a wink. 'Lucky for you you're so charming.'
I'm completely charmed. 'I am?'
He gives me a look. 'As if you don't already know that.'
I tuck my hair behind my ears self-consciously. I can't meet his eyes. I just can't. 'That's-- I-- Gah.'
Jonah's grin widens.
'Oh, shut up and drive.'
Finally, he releases the handbrake. 'Where to, Princess Charming?'
I ignore his teasing despite the butterflies doing acrobatics in my stomach, and we drive through my subdivision to the neighboring parish. I get Jonah to stop a few blocks away from Santa Rosa Church. It's not as huge as Manila's famous cathedrals, and the parishioners here are a mix of middle-class locals and the working poor who live in the communities outside the gated subdivisions that make up most of what the kids at my school know about my city.
I can tell that Jonah is starting to rethink our little excursion. We're parked at a side street and the sweet smell of days-old trash hits us as he alights from the car.
'You should take off your tie.'
He cocks his head, but doesn't protest and in a few seconds he tosses his tie onto the driver's seat.
'And, uh...' I look straight ahead. 'Like, you need to look more casual.'
From the corner of my eye, I can see him untucking his shirt and undoing the first two buttons.
'Like this?'
I look at him and wince. He still looks like an international student.
'I have a spare shirt in my gym bag.'
'That might be better.'
Jonah walks around the car and pops open the trunk. I hear rustling and the swish of shirts being changed and resist the temptation to peek through the rear view mirror.
'Should I change my trousers, too?' I give a startled gasp when Jonah opens my door. He's wearing a dark green polo shirt with a yellow collar and two V-shaped stripes on the front. It takes a lot of willpower not to let my eyes linger anywhere for too long.
'You'll be fine,' I reply drily. 'My turn. Guard the door, please.'
Jonah steps away and shuts the door, turning around to lean with his back against the window. I'm grateful for the dark tint. I always wear a singlet under my white school blouse, so it's not like I have to get totally undressed, but I hurry anyway. You never know when your car might catch on fire and you have to run out with nothing but the clothes on your back. I have a spare t-shirt, a pair of denim shorts, and emergency ballet flats that fold up and take almost no room in my bag -- a gift from Renie after her last trip abroad. They won't survive a flood, but it's this or my school shoes, and I have to face the fact that I'm trying to impress a boy. I thank the fashion gods that my school cardigan matches my outfit. I just hope my sock marks aren't too obvious.
I grab my wallet and phone from my bag and tap the window to let Jonah know I'm ready. I feel a bit self-conscious when he opens the door again. This isn't my most attractive outfit. It's my period emergency slash impromptu after-school mall outing outfit, and none of it is designed to attract boys. I hop out of the car without meeting Jonah's eyes.
He locks the doors. 'Where to?'
'Church.' I forestall his objection. 'Trust me.'
I lean back to peer behind Jonah as we start walking, and he looks at me with a surprised expression. 'Did you just check out my ass?'
'No!' I step away from him.
He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 'You're a stalker and a perv.'
I give him a withering look. 'If that's an iPhone in your back pocket, you should probably keep it somewhere else.'
He gives me a smile as if to say, Good excuse, but I'm not buying it, but he reaches behind him and transfers his phone -- yes, an iPhone -- to his front pocket.
And okay, despite the unflattering cut of our school uniform, it's clear that he has a great butt. I'm a prude, but I'm not dead.
I lead Jonah on a meandering walk to the church. I can tell he feels out of place because he stays close to me and I sense him tensing up whenever we pass by a crowd of people. I try to see my city from his eyes, but I've never been to Australia so it's difficult to get a sense of what he feels.
The smell of pork cooked over coals is like a beacon and we're not the only ones hurrying to get in line before the after-work crowd arrives. A block away from the church gates, makeshift stalls selling lanterns in every color imaginable wink at us with Christmas cheer.
'This street is already brighter than all of Sydney during Christmas.' Jonah looks fascinated by the merchandise, so we linger for a few minutes. Stall owners inundate us with their sales pitches, and I can tell Jonah feels overwhelmed by the attention. I hover at his side in an effort to deter any pickpockets -- that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
'Wait 'til you taste the food,' I promise, touching his arm gingerly to let him know it's time to keep moving. I get a brief impression of his biceps but I don't dare let my fingers linger more than absolutely necessary.
When I crave old-fashioned street food, I come to Santa Rosa Church, where the vendors are still largely made up of family-run stalls too small -- or too inexperienced -- to become fully commercialized. Misa de Gallo doesn't start for another week, but many of the stalls are already up and running. By the time the first dawn Mass begins, the number of stalls in the area will have doubled. Fitting so many people in such a confined space is Manila's special brand of magic. Potential theft aside, I love the chaos of street markets.
'When I was a kid,' I tell Jonah as we squeeze our way through to where I know some of the best delicacies can be had, 'my Mom used to take me here every Christmas.'
Jonah has had to move closer to hear me over the noise of the crowd and I feel his hand touch my back lightly. He leans in to reply, his breath tickling my ear. 'How can you take a kid to this place? Imagine if they wandered off -- you'd never see them again.'
If I turn my head, our lips would be inches apart. So I wait until he shifts slightly, and it's my turn to move my lips close to his ear. 'You have to hold their hand tightly. No letting go.'
He grins. 'Maybe you should hold my hand?'
I frown at him, and his expression is like, What? What did I say? But he's a guy and I'm not an idiot. I give him a dark look before I dive back into the throng of people. The crowd thins once we pass through the gate, and we walk around for a few minutes looking at the food on offer. Finally, I spot my favourite stall vendor and drag Jonah along.
Manang Blessie has been a fixture at Santa Rosa ever since I can remember. She greets me with a huge grin and, in Tagalog, asks me if I'm here with with my boyfriend. I stammer when I reply and I thank god that Jonah doesn't understand a word of our conversation.
'Okay, ' I say to Jonah as I hand him two dishes, and pick up two more. 'This is just for starters so don't stuff yourself full.'
He looks dubiously at the servings and I concede they're not likely to fill him up even if we weren't sharing, so I buy some barbecue skewers from another stall before looking for somewhere to sit. By the time we find a good spot at the church courtyard, we've collected an assortment of food. I can't help it -- the smell is irresistible. If Jonah hadn't been with me, I would have just eaten everything as I walked. Instead, we end up with two small bags of food, so rather sitting on the low brick garden wall separating a bed of red santan flowers from the paved walkways, I line the food up on the ledge while we stay standing.
'What am I eating?'Jonah asks as he pops a spoonful of salty boiled white corn kernels topped with grated coconut.
'Binatog,' I reply around a mouthful of pork barbecue. There's no elegant way to eat this from the stick, but I try my best. 'Corn, salt, coconut. What do you think?'
Jonah's face is thoughtful. 'It's not bad, actually. Bit weird, but not terrible.'
I take pity on him and hand him my skewer in exchange for the corn. 'Here, have some protein.'
It's obvious he likes the barbecue better because he eats it with gusto and I hand him the other skewer. The binatog is still warm and I savor the burst of flavor in my mouth. Saltiness is everything with this dish. We don't talk much -- too busy eating -- but I do introduce him to the concept of banana ketchup, and he tells me how much he misses something called Tip Top bread and Vegemite. It sounds like a regular bread loaf to me, but Jonah insists that it's impossible to find local bread that tastes similar.
'Now this,' I say with relish as I pick up the next item, which sits on top of a banana leaf, 'is basically what Christmas tastes like to me.'
He eyes it warily. 'It's purple.'
I laugh as I empty the small bag of coconut and sugar on top of the puto bumbong. 'Yep. It's made of sticky rice and other magical yummy things.' I cut a piece with my fork and offer it to Jonah.
I can tell by his reaction that this is not the taste of Christmas for him. 'Okay. That tastes really weird. And purple.'
I make a face at him, but I'm not really offended. 'It's an acquired taste.' More for me. Yay!
I hand him the last dish. 'This one is called bibingka, and it's cake made with rice flour and cooked over charcoal. This is the smell of Pinoy Christmas.'
'Is that...egg on top?'
'Salted egg. Don't eat that part first if you don't like sweet and salty together.'
Jonah shrugs and takes a piece of cake. The second piece includes a bit of salted egg. 'It's not bad,' he says, sounding surprised. He offers me some, but I decline with a small wave of my hand. We're well stocked with Filipino desserts at home, especially in December.
'I can't believe you haven't tried our food.' I know he's a foreigner, but even mainstream restaurants offer local flavors.
Jonah looks mildly embarrassed. 'I've had the mix-mix thing. You know, with the ice?'
'Halo-halo?' I grin when he repeats the word and butchers it completely.
'But mostly I eat normal food at home and burgers when eating out.'
I give him a look of mock outrage and wave my fork at him. 'This is normal food!'
'You know what I mean.'
I sigh happily. 'Well, I'm glad I was your first.'
Oh. Awkward.
'F--first street food tour guide, I mean.' I stuff another bite into my mouth before I can put my foot in it again.
Jonah's grin is pure wickedness. 'You devirginized my tastebuds at church, Agoncillo. Very classy.'
* * *
A/N: Street food is the best! Do you guys have any favourite food cart delicacies?
For local readers, Santa Rosa Church is pure fiction and isn't based on Santa Rosa or any other actual church in Manila.
The photo is from Kamusta? magazine (external link). Filipino Christmas lanterns (parol) are so beautiful.
x Brie
PS Dedicated to Isabella_Ersoy -- thank you for the follow! :)
Next: Fantasy street food tour...and its inevitable conclusion.