Manila Marriage App Read Free

cockpit, she returned in triumph with a pair of red flip-flops. Men’s flip-flops. “The captain sends his compliments,” she announced with delight.
    They were way too big, and hardly a positive fashion statement, but I’d take what I could get and be grateful for it. I thanked her, and scuffled back down the aisle to a softly snoring Imelda. With her head tilted to the side, she exuded cuteness.
    Back in my seat, I grabbed the crime novel I’d been reading and tried in vain to finish chapter two. It was no use. Abandoning the book, I concentrated my attention on the spectacular glow of the sunset outside the window. The sun pitched into the water with the speed of time lapse photography and, in short order, the lights dimmed, a sure indication it was time to snooze. With nothing to distract me from my reveries, my insides were jumping like a grasshopper on amphetamines. I did my best to relax, envisioning bubbling brooks and fields of wildflowers.
    Several sleepless hours later, the engines throttled back, and the plane began its descent. The seatbelt sign chimed, and the loud speaker crackled. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Tomás. We’ve begun our approach and will be touching down at Ninoy Aquino International Airport in approximately ten minutes. Please fasten your seatbelts and stow your tray tables. The temperature outside is a humid ninety-seven degrees with no chance of rain.” He paused to take a breath. How many hundreds of times had he made this speech before? Some people had all the fun. “Thank you for flying with Philippine Airlines and welcome to Manila. Please enjoy your stay.”
     
     
     
     

2
     
    Eager to get through customs in the busy Manila airport, I lined up with dozens of other passengers. I was ready to show my passport and declare my destination. The official glowered at me with apparent suspicion but nonetheless stamped my passport. I’d always wanted to be a world traveler. The stamp made me proud.
    Gathering my luggage and my purse, I passed through the gates, made my way onto the concourse, and found there was no one to greet me. I was sure I’d e-mailed the correct flight information. Maybe I was in the wrong part of the airport.
    Pulling my instructions out of my bag, I scanned Timmy’s wrinkled letter. Nothing to indicate he was going to be late. I spun in a circle and spotted my beloved Imelda. She trotted up and hugged me as if she hadn’t just been sitting next to me for twelve straight hours. She explained that people picking up passengers were required to stay on the outer ring of the airport and pointed toward a short tunnel up ahead. Then she pressed a piece of paper with her address and telephone number into my hand, and nudged me in the right direction. At least I had one friend in this foreign land.
    With a quieter heart, I made my way through the tunnel to find a sea of enthusiastic faces searching for their loved ones. I couldn’t see anyone who resembled the picture Timothy had sent, and he should’ve been easy to spot. At six-four, he would be a good head taller than the vast majority of the crowd. At five feet eight inches, I towered over all of the women and most of the men, myself.
    I dropped my bags and was hunting for a bench to sit on when I saw the banner. A dashing Filipino man, I would guess in his early twenties, was holding up a placard reading “Miss Shay Callahan.” Fantastic. I had a ride, but Timmy lacked the courtesy to come fetch me himself.
    I wheeled my luggage over to the waiting young gentleman. His grin would light up a dungeon, and he seemed so happy to see me. My irritation vanished.
    “Miss Callahan?” His white teeth flashed.
    “That’s me.” I squared my shoulders and acted as if I hadn’t been wilting on a plane for endless hours. Wiping my brow with a crumpled Kleenex I found in the pocket of my slacks, I tried on my best American smile. I’d figured on high temperatures and humidity, but I hadn’t counted on