A/N: This is a product of pure imagination and boredom. The story was completely fictional but the people in it were very real. Yes, I used their names for this one. It's up to you to decide whether they fit the character description or not.

Greetings to my BSN 4-E group mates. Hello buddies!

 

 

NAIA greets Sheena like an estranged friend; the rear of engines muted beyond the glass walls of the terminal as the wheels of her carry-on suitcase makes small clicking sounds behind her. There are no fans barricaded behind tape barriers this time, no camera lenses or deafening screams for her to ignore. Nevertheless, a familiar feeling of restlessness always resurfaces every time she returns to the Philippines, the place that could have been her home.

                The taxi ride to the hotel is quiet and Sheena is surprised to find a billboard of Honey’s new drama near her destination. She spots the faint scar above Honey’s eye- the result of an accident whilst filming for her 5^th movie. Sheena still remembers the way Honey insisted, with one hand pressed to her face, that everything was okay. Rismar had hissed at her to be quiet until Nikka produced a Pororo bandaid.

                Those are the small, insignificant details Sheena can recall when she can’t even remember her plans for the week or Christine’s birthday. Suddenly, she missed the old gang; the same group of people who became close to her way back in college that even after graduation, when Seiji and Gretchen decided to enter show business, the rest of them followed. Those moments when they started working in the show business while the others opted to make a career outside of it yet still maintaining their strong bonds with each other. Sheena sighed at the thought of it.

                Sheena rummages through her bag on the elevator ride to the 14^th floor. The hallways smell of fresh laundry and cherry wood, nothing like her previous memories of the Philippines. She feels unbalanced by this as she unlocks the door. She recalls her last flight from Manila- the sound of rain pounding on her windowsills, the distinct scent of lavender air freshener Sarah sneaked into her bag while rushing back for a misplaced passport. Sheena was never good at keeping track at her paper works. That was always Seiji’s job.

                Rismar’s invitation is sticking out of her wallet. Sheena forgot about the affair altogether until Christine reminded her last month as they grabbed lunch in a restaurant just a few blocks away from her office in Dubai. The plane ticket was a last minute purchase, but Sheena felt that more than a decade spent with these friends mandated her appearance at Rismar’s wedding.

                The air in Manila is unexpectedly welcoming when Sheena opens a window. She fishes out a temporary phone and turns it on, watching the screen dance into life. Christine had arranged for the phone, reminding her to behave. As if she doesn’t understand etiquette or hasn’t spent the best years of her life here. The contact list is blank, but Sheena has no one but herself to blame for breaking her old phone at the bottom of her suitcase last October. Christine simply laughed at her before scribbling out a few important numbers on the back of a receipt. Now, Sheena stares pathetically at the list of familiar names and wonders who to call first.

 

 

Sheena is on her second drink when Jobie slides into the space next to her, laughing when Sheena mumbles, “Thank God. Someone I know.” They surveyed the hall, watching the odd assortment of family and friends mingle with faces from the industry. Gretchen grins upon spotting them, but is unwillingly pulled into conversation with some industry representatives.

                “When did you get in?” Jobie asks, her voice warm and familiar. They spend the next few minutes chatting about the venue for the rehearsal dinner, Jobie chuckling when Sheena confesses to confusing her taxi driver by misreading the location on her invitation.

                Rismar’s sweetheart is a charming, American-raised girl who manages regional branches of a boutique. She exudes an air of confidence and certainty while moving around the room. It’s hard, however, to find fault in her when she makes Rismar so happy or stupidly infatuated. Jobie tells her this much as they watch Rismar greets guests at the door.

                “Have you seen Jesah?”

                Sheena shrugs. Early that week, Jesah had mentioned that her flight might be delayed as Sheena watched her fix her hair in the webcam screen. They had been interrupted when Jesah’s manager flew into the room, rambling about being late. He was always flustered, threatening to quit once a month unless Jesah starts respecting his authority. Jesah claimed it was part of his charm.

                Sheena remembered the time when she lost the same glow she had when she first started her career in showbiz; when she used to have back to back promotions with them. She felt abandoned and alone when some of them decided to quit and pursue another career; one that wasn’t in show business. Since their college days, she has always been the timid one, always following what her friends wanted to do but when their lives are starting to change course, Sheena felt lost and had nowhere else to go. All she ever did was for that one person but like the rest of them, he left her, too.

                She quit after a year and left the country; the same way her friends had left and never looked back. Rismar’s wedding became sort of a reunion for them. Nevertheless, she performed a farewell concert for her fans before she left. After the concert, Sheena boarded an impromptu flight to pursue her newfound ambition of traveling through Europe like a normal tourist. She wandered through the cities, scribbling lyrics onto room service napkins as she sat on the windowsills of hotels at night, strumming her guitar. Sheena wrote about homesickness and disillusionment. That was the beauty of songwriting, she thought. Singing about her insecurities was like a validation of some sort.

                She showed up on her parent’s doorstep a month later with her guitar and a notebook of songs, old and new.  She had already decided at the time that it’s about time to make use of her course. She’s a good singer but being an engineer was also something she wanted to do. She would never disappoint her parents again. She knew everyone was moving on with their lives and all she had was her workaholic self and an insatiable need to keep pushing. The thought was terrifying yet exhilarating.

 

There’s a small commotion by the door, causing the bride’s female cousins to burst into whispers. Sheena glances at the entrance and sees Jesah strolling in fashionably late with a nonplussed Seiji by her side. They both congratulate Rismar and Sheena quickly looks away when Rismar gestures toward them. There is only one free seat available at their table, next to hers. Jesah pushes Seiji towards their direction and joins Nikka and the rest across the room. Sheena swears under her breath.

                Seiji gives her an unreadable smile upon sitting down, engaging the others in small talk. They listen to Rismar thank the guests, Sheena staring intently past Seiji’s head as the parents speak. She hurries towards the bathroom when food appears and returns to find the atmosphere friendly, more relaxed.

                “Are you avoiding me?” Seiji asks, an inflection of amusement in his voice, when Sheena returns. His hair is shorter now, his dark locks framing his inscrutable face. It reminds Sheena too much of those days in college- studying tirelessly, losing sight of her dream, being 17 and devastatingly in love with Seiji.

                Sheena took a deep breath. “How’s your movie coming along?”

                “We’ve wrapped up post-production editing. The trailers will come out soon.” Seiji looks away when Dawn asks about the movie.

                Seiji had been the first to announce his plans when the management called them into the CEO’s office that August afternoon. The thought was fun actually, the same group of people who were already popular on campus during their college days where the same people who were dominating show business at that time. So when two decided to enter, the rest followed. They could be seen at all the facets of show business; acting, singing, modeling, and endorsements. She had learned all of those through Gian, her closest friend out of all of them. She had been away for her concert tour at that time. Gian had once shared that they’d all been contemplating the idea of leaving and the prospects of not renewing their contracts, but Seiji had decided first. Without him, there was little room for argument. Gian had understood it, too; quitting while they were still ahead before becoming too stale for the industry. But she never quite understood it. Sheena thought that the day would never come she would understand Seiji. They’d all looked to Seiji for direction but Seiji had looked away first.

 

Sheena is speaking to a previous stylist when Seiji finds her an hour later, excusing himself as he steals Sheena. He hands Sheena a glass of wine.

                “Are you staying nearby?”

                “No,” Sheena says, dropping the glass to her side. “I’m 15 minutes away.”

                Seiji hums in response, staring at his glass as if it contains the meaning of life. Sheena notes that he’s still annoyingly cryptic.

                “That’s far. I have a hotel room down the street. Would you like to come by later and talk?”

                Sheena considers this. “If you really want me to.”

                “I want.” Seiji gives her a strained smile, tucking a room key into her hand as if he expected the answer beforehand.

                “But for now, I need to speak to Director Mendoza and Ma’am Erjas.”

                Sheena watches him stride away with his impossibly long legs. She closed her eyes, trying to sort her mind. The sight was oddly reminiscent of the night before Seiji’s flight to US, the prospect of an exclusive contract making Seiji drop all pretense of ever staying. Sheena listened as Seiji gave her last minute advices: don’t perm your hair again or dye it red, don’t say stupid things on national television, and don’t hit on Gian. It should have been a sign.

                She had been watching the ceiling fan when Seiji had added, “and stop looking at me like that, please.” Sheena had stared at him. She’d always thought that he knew, had to know. The confirmation had only made her feel more inadequate. She remembered the desire to say something, as if admitting it aloud would bring her desires into fruition.

                “Don’t,” Seiji added, squeezing Sheena’s hand.

                “You don’t know what you’re asking for, to be-“ The following pause, loaded with possibilities, had been the worst part. “Please give up on me.”

                She’d tried to argue but fell silent. In the end, there had been nothing purposeful to say.

                For years, they tread the line between friendship and something else so carefully that Sheena could not distinguish between the two. The uncertainty, the possibility, propelled her forward. But that was a moot point. It was unfair to not have the reality of her feelings acknowledged; unfair that Seiji could never see Sheena in the way that Sheena saw him.

 

to be continued..