Delicious Tacos - Finally, Some Good News

Vlad already had a profile. He was handsome. Had money. Said it was from software. The new way of saying your dad. Lived near the beach. Had a law degree. There was no reason Vlad had to hire someone to write OKCupid messages. Write OKCupid messages at all. But women like to be chased.

You seem like you must do OK, he said. Not that I don’t want the work. But why are you asking.

I don’t get the real girls, said Vlad. I get the girls who want a free house so they can think about astrology. You seem like you get the real girls.

Are you OK on a date?

I can close, said Vlad.

He got to work. What to say. I’m eight feet tall, he typed. Ten billion dollars. Nineteen inch penis. I’ll choke you if you want. I promise to make you like me. Leave you twisting in the wind. Erased it.

When he had something he sent it to Vlad and Vlad said here’s my password, just post it. Let me know when you line one up.

Her name was Brie. Vietnamese. I want to go out with you, he said. How about it.

Forward of you. Tell me about yourself.

What is there to know. I’m one of God’s creatures. No more significant than an insect, but no less perfect.

Does that yacht belong to you?

We just call them “boats.”

Not to be rude but you seem like an asshole.

I’m a product of our civilization.

I’ve dated “software people” before. You’re either assholes or autistic. And you don’t seem autistic.

Thank you. Anyway I want to go out with you. How about it.

Tell me a story, she said. Then maybe.

When he started the story he was trying to be a dick. What women want. But she told him: don’t be like that. It’s not who you are.

He started again. A little fairy tale. A man hated his life and took a magic drug to forget it. Tell me another, she said. He fell in love with a sex toy who became a real woman. She died. Another. He married a whore but she murdered him. He fell in love again but tried to be nice. In her bones a woman’s purpose is to propagate evil. Another. He turned into an old man and died alone but a unicorn saved him. He got a job and married a nice girl and was eaten by a vampire. There was a magic bird. It died alone too. All ridiculous. But it was about how he was afraid. She was afraid too, she said. The world was a trap. Whatever you try just makes it worse. We’re doomed. All of us alone. She understood.

Finally he told a story about the end of the world. In the story he fell in love. When he got there he almost cried. Because that was the most unlikely part. I love this, she said. I love everything about this. I want to go out with you, he said. How about it. She said yes.

The next morning he got a text from Vlad. A thumbs up emoji. And a new OKCupid message. Hey, she said.

Hey.

Can’t text at work. Long story. I had a wonderful time with you.

I get that a lot.

You’re different than I thought.

How so

More to the point. Your dick is bigger too, lol

He felt something shift in his chest. Like an old box falling from a high closet shelf, full of pictures of the dead. Paused for a minute. I have to tell you something.

Oh my God, I knew it. You’re not really separated–

No– actually I don’t know, maybe. But it wasn’t him, he said.

What do you mean

It was me. I’m a different guy. He hired me to write to you.

Holy shit

I’m sorry to bring this up. I’m sorry I did it. But there’s something about you. I really like you and I’m sorry. Can you forgive me, he said. Can we talk about it.

It was a day before he heard back. Whoever you are, she said, you’re amazing.

Thank you.

Can I ask you something?

Yes?

Can you keep writing for him?

Joy had the day off. She came in the morning. Took him to the beach where her canoe was waiting. Do you know how to drive one, she said. It is traditional Philippines boat. PVC pipe bolted to the sides on struts to make a catamaran. Black nylon fishing net heaped in the aluminum hull.

It was high tide. White sand stretched out into swaying weeds under calm water. Out on a pier a Chinese family studied distant ships with binoculars. The only other tourists. Tall storm clouds pulled sluggishly at the horizon. The night before he’d taken the scooter into Puerto Princesa to find sunscreen. A hundred kinds but only one that didn’t bleach your skin, for tourists. In a separate area of the pharmacy. On the boulevard by a harbor full of shipwrecks kids dancing in school uniforms stopped him for pictures, laughing. He woke up early. Spent long minutes smearing sunscreen on. Toweling it off. He didn’t want his nose red but didn’t want to be shiny either. Appraised his gut in the mirror. Sitting down like it would be in the boat.

She sat in front, golden like a part of the sunshine. He waded out up to his knees pushing the boat out. Lost a flip flop in the sand and she laughed. We are going south, she said. My father is not far from here.

He did know how to drive it. He’d gone canoeing on a family vacation, at fourteen. Kept his boat next to his cousin’s; she was sixteen with big pink sunburn tits wet in a white one piece and he thought about them seven miles downriver. Little hard on in his trunks keeping his belly warm. She was a grandmother now. He paddled south past the resorts to where the mangroves began. Families waded chest high in the salt flats gathering clams in their basketball shirts. They grinned and waved. Fish with zebra stripes chased one another in the sunlight. Are you sure he’ll like me, he said.

Yes! Don’t be afraid, sir. He likes Westerners. He has worked on ships, traveled many places. He is a scholarly man.

OK.

Before this, where did you go in Philippines, sir.

Manila.

Anywhere else?

… Pampanga.

You mean Angeles? All the men are going there. For the girls.

I was visiting a friend, he said. He told me there are vampires there. Aswang.

Yes sir, here too. Some people say at night they hear them flying. But I have not seen it personally.

Up the shore the green wall of the mangroves broke into a lagoon. Steer there, she said. Inside a pool shaded by leaves. Children playing tag in the water. Girls on boys’ shoulders splashing. When they saw him they went nuts. Tom Cruise! they screamed, pointing. Donald Trump!

Rodrigo Duterte! he said pointing back, and they laughed. To the right the mangroves formed a channel. Older kids stalked the tall arches in the roots. Pulled out crabs in nets, their claws frantic in the air. It is not far sir, she said. Around a bend, a cave made from the hissing trees. Huts and houses on the muddy shore. Three little canoes like theirs pulled up on the sand. One long mean-looking speedboat, four engines askance on the back, props in the water. TABAK painted on the side with a crude cutlass in a bronze fist.

Men on the shore, mending fish nets, hacking at bamboo shafts with machetes. Women weaving hut walls out of palm leaves. A screaming rooster tied to a tree with twine and a water buffalo with clay covered skin, a neck like a dinosaur. But no dogs. Welcome to my home, she said. A wiry man chopping at a bamboo pole looked up, put his machete down and ran into the big house. He finds my father.

When the door clicked closed behind him he saw the guns. Battered AKs leaning on dirty wallpaper. He heard his heart suddenly. Knew he would die. Relax, said the old man. You are a guest.

A concrete house. Palawan didn’t get typhoons but it was the only way they knew to build. In the entry a big table, mismatched office chairs, papers. A laptop. Paintings of old boxers, like everywhere here. Outside the chicken burbled, worried. The old man had kind eyes. Maybe five foot two. As he approached the boat to help Joy out to shore he’d cast an appraising eye. Made a muscle pose. You brought me Arnold Schwarzenegger, he’d said. Too many consonants for his tongue.