Moondogs - Alexander Yates [13]
“I thought that you didn’t get to choose your post.”
She paused. “I don’t. I’ll have to do a whole bid list. But with my Tagalog, Manila is likely. Also the admin councilor knows me from when I was at RM, and she’s ready to request me. They have a junior slot opening up at American Citizen Services.”
Joseph nodded some more. He turned the television off and Monique lost sight of his face. It was already going better than expected, and for that she credited her timing. Joe was having a rough year. He’d been turned down for a tenure track spot at Georgetown after almost a month of interviews, and American University halved his teaching load for the spring semester. On top of that was the incident at the faculty Christmas party. The department chair, who’d had a few too many cocktails, jabbed a pen in Joseph’s mouth like a tongue-depressor and diagnosed him with Adjunctivitus. Joe said something ugly about the clumsy art that the chair’s teenage son had pasted all over the kitchen door. Monique believed him when he said he didn’t know the kid was retarded—a word Joseph scolded her for even using—but no one else seemed to.
“You must really miss it there.” His voice was disembodied in the dark room.
“I do, sometimes,” she said. And it was true, what she remembered of the Philippines she missed intensely.
The kiss on her left cheek surprised her. “Congratulations. Whether we go or not, you should be very proud of yourself.” He kissed her again on the corner of the mouth, and again on her bottom lip. He lay on his side and didn’t say another word. Monique’s eyes adjusted to the dark and she watched him fall asleep. He always used to fall asleep first.
The next morning Joseph acted as though the decision were already made. Toothbrush poised before his mouth, he extolled the virtues of relocating to Manila. It was the perfect time to move the kids. With Shawn in sixth grade and Leila in eighth, they would both have to change schools next year anyway. And moreover it was responsible parenting. Asia was an emerging player—his exact words—and personal experience in that part of the world would be invaluable for a young person. It would broaden their perspectives like it had broadened Monique’s. He gesticulated, flecking the mirror with foamy blue paste.
Later that week she brought home the Manila Post Report and laid it out on the kitchen table. Glossy and laminated, it had pictures of the skyline, maps highlighting beaches and dive resorts and lists of restaurants and outlet stores available near embassy apartments. The children leafed through the book excitedly. They paused at a picture of the old U.S. naval base at Subic Bay. It was taken from the air on a clear day, Mount Pinatubo shimmering in the distance.
“Hey Mom,” Shawn asked, “isn’t this where you’re from?”
“Not really,” she said. “It’s where I was born.”
MONIQUE DRIED AND DRESSED ALONE. Looking good in her navy herringbone skirt suit was not overly important to her, but she was glad she did. She went light on the makeup, just some lipstick and a dusting of powder to keep from shining when she went outside and started sweating. No meetings scheduled for today so she slipped on a comfy pair of flats with gel insoles and walked out into the den. The television was still on, screaming at empty couches. The door to Shawn’s room was open, which meant he definitely wasn’t in there. He’d left his lights and air conditioner on, and from where Monique stood she could see slithering movement in his bedside aquarium. His spotted gecko pressed itself against the glass looking emaciated and intensely unsympathetic. It was one of two replacement pets, bought shortly after the family cat arrived dead in her carrier. It had been upsetting for everybody. Leila chose an African lovebird.
Monique turned off the television and went into the kitchen. Her whole family was there, sitting around a square table and eating meat and eggs on piles of thick, crusty pancakes. Amartina was at the sink washing the skillet