That Thing Called Tadhana (2014) Movie Script
For all those who loved, got burned,
and went on loving.
In short, bonkers.
Ouch.
Fuck this life.
Why did I have to be born?
This life is the shits.
What the fuck, I'm exhausted.
Miss, I can lend space in my luggage
for your trench coat.
My name is Anthony Lagdameo,
a fellow Filipino.
My address is 24A, St. Joseph Street,
Project 8, Quezon City.
I'm no pervert. And certainly not a thief.
You can put your stuff in here.
These are all the things I have.
You can have my extra baggage allowance.
Wait, Miss.
That coat must have set you back
10,000 pesos. It's a shame.
I picked it up at a thrift shop.
It was only 2,500.
-You have space for this?
-Sure.
This, too.
That's about it.
I wish that I could say...
I'm happy for you.
For both of you.
How I wish I could.
But I can't.
And I feel so horrible...
because the truth is,
I'm still hoping that you'll tell me...
"That it's me...
that it's always been me...
that it's me you still love."
I love Tricia.
I know.
And you threw it all away.
"Is that really what you think, Popoy?"
You need a tissue.
No, I don't need a tissue.
I don't need a tissue.
It's a nice movie.
The storytelling's the best.
It's just so realistic.
The cinematography really did it for me.
And John Lloyd? Nailed it. He was really
something else in this film.
You're really coming this far
just to wait for me?
Your stuff is with me.
Well, that's true.
Here it comes.
That's really all of your things, huh?
These? Yes.
That's it?
How'd you fit everything in there?
It's such a small suitcase.
It just fits everything I need.
Oops, here's mine.
Let me take that.
Heavy!
Of course it is.
I packed my whole life there,
so you should excuse me
if we don't think alike.
-I have another suitcase coming.
-Another one?
So, literally your whole life is in there?
You're bound to go over
the baggage allowance that way.
You know, I've just about had it
with your punchlines.
You've been at it for too long.
You judge me too much.
-This one. Yes.
-This one?
Hold on, I judged you?
You judged me.
I didn't.
I just stated a fact.
You said you brought your whole life.
Your suitcase was overweight.
How was that judgmental?
You said something about me bringing my
whole life and having excess baggage.
You were implying that
I shouldn't have brought my entire life
so as to not exceed the baggage allowance.
That I should have left some things,
so they would be waiting for me at home.
Well sorry, I really thought
I needed all of my things.
So I was wrong. I just thought I might.
So I'm the judgmental one, huh?
-Let me.
-Up yours.
How are you going to get home?
Taxi.
You?
Taxi.
But we're together anyway.
Why would you go off on your own?
Come on.
What now?
You have a nice bag.
I don't think I want to take this one.
Do you?
Miss, take this one.
Looks like you guys need it.
Hurry!
Wait till you break up.
I don't really feel like going home yet.
You?
Your tattoo, what does it mean?
Nothing. It's just a star.
No deeper meaning?
None.
And your tattoo?
Is that it, or you've got more?
I've one more on my back.
So, is it deep and meaningful?
It's a bit personal. I designed it.
-And that's why it's meaningful?
-Right.
Let's see it.
Are you serious?
Yes.
Yes.
-So, what did you do in Italy?
-Vacationing.
So you just wanted to go on vacation
and picked Italy.
Rich kid.
Well, it was my dream.
It was my dream to see the Colosseum.
I made a pact to go there
before I turned 28.
I wish I could have been with my mom.
She has a fascination for Roman ruins.
So, you saw it?
How old are you anyway?
Are you sad about that?
One year late for your goal
and you're sulking?
There are so many people
who have never left the country,
never known Italy,
who have died without so much as
a glimpse of the Colosseum,
and here you are pulling a face?
-Rich kid.
-Rich kid.
I saw the Colosseum but Mom didn't.
I guess you'll just have to save again
so you can bring your mom next time.
The thing is, she's gone.
It's nothing.
When I was at the Colosseum,
I took a selfie.
I left space here.
I was sure she was there.
I felt like she joined me in the photo.
I felt it.
Was it nice?
Fuck, it was surreal.
I used to see it in books.
Would study it.
Then, there it was before me. Wow.
I wanted to hug it. Bring it home.
I wanted to...
Have you never seen the Colosseum?
What the fuck, how could you miss that
on a trip to Italy?
Don't get me started on Italy.
It better not show up in my 'hood
or I'll have the boys beat up
that damn boot.
What do you have against Italy?
A lot.
Miss, your phone's ringing.
Miss!
Your phone's ringing. Take the call!
Miss!
Your phone's ringing! Answer the call!
You've got to be kidding!
Don't ask.
I'm not in the mood to talk about it.
You know what they say about
relationships that are meant to be?
If he's destined for you,
he will come back?
Bullshit. That fucks you over.
How does that go? It's all up to the wind?
To destiny?
The future with someone you...
you really, really love
rests on a vague, invisible force?
So after eight years with him,
I have to swallow
that we're not meant for each other?
That's not how it should work.
Not for me.
I'm all for chasing the one you love.
You should fight for him.
Don't wait for the wind
to blow him back in your direction.
Pull him back.
As long as you can take it.
Don't give up.
Don't let go.
I love him.
We were together eight years.
Last April, he went to Italy
to train for a new job.
He was supposed to be back by September.
But the company must have liked his work,
because they asked him
to extend his stay for two more years.
Of course, I didn't want to let him.
But they were offering twice his pay.
How could I have won against Euros, right?
I was just his girlfriend of eight years.
Can't beat that.
He said it was for our future.
So I relented.
And I thought...
I could just visit him there.
Even for just a month.
I used up all my savings,
borrowed money from friends
to buy my ticket,
just to see him there.
I wanted to surprise him.
I'm so sweet, right?
I intended to stay a month.
But then it hit me...
that two years there wouldn't be so bad.
I'd find work, be with him.
Who cares
if I was already a brand manager here?
Because if you want something,
you find a way.
So, I was over the moon.
I put on makeup,
got new panties, new thongs.
Went for the red lipstick and dress act.
I even put on red panties.
And...
When I got there...
he was already with someone else.
He had been for quite some time.
He sweet-talked me...
from suspecting anything.
She was just a friend, he said.
Just an officemate.
I was the one he loved, he said.
He said he was crazy about me.
He kept the words coming
and I was dumb enough to believe them.
It's been eight fucking years.
Would you fucking have it in you
to start doubting?
After being convinced that this was
the guy you were going to marry?
That his surname was good as yours?
The length of a relationship
isn't everything, in the end.
If he no longer loves you,
he no longer loves you.
"I no longer love you. Please leave."
Eight years of being together
wrapped up in seven words!
Fucking eight years!
Shouldn't those years have bought me
another chance?
To beg him,
to fucking remind him that I was the one!
The one he loved.
What happened?
That was it.
I never knew it was that easy to forget.
He doesn't love you anymore.
Clear as day.
What's unclear about that?
Couldn't he have told me why?
Explained to me what I did wrong?
What did I do wrong?
If he'd told you why,
would that have changed anything?
Bottom line is, he no longer loves you.
We're not friends, are we?
You're fucking hurting me.
I want to go to Baguio.
Where are we?
-Huh?
-Where are we?
Fuck, for real?
You freakin' asshole.
Trying to take me for a ride.
Of course we're not in Rome.
How could we be?
I'm the gullible sort. Dumb and in love.
-Bite me.
-We're on way to Baguio.
Baguio?
You said you wanted to go.
I said that?
Oh boy.
I'm running out of patience.
It's been in short supply since Baguio.
When's the wedding?
Not for a long time.
I still have too many plans.
Vince, Marco and I love each other.
But we also love ourselves;
that's why we're compatible.
So compatibility is the main reason
for getting married, not love?
for two people to stay together.
-This is making me cry.
-What is it this time?
I watched this movie with him.
It was the first time we held hands.
Don't go off and make a scene here, Mace.
A scene?
When did I ever make a scene?
Back in the restaurant.
With the ringing cellphone.
I didn't make a scene.
Sure you didn't.
Remember when her phone rang?
She wouldn't pick up.
What if it had been an emergency?
Wow, you really had the caller's welfare
in mind.
What about on the plane?
With the flight attendant?
I was defending a principle.
Wow!
A tissue, Mace.
You were fighting against a tissue.
Look, it's One More Chance.
Make an exception. And it's John Lloyd!
Another point: John Lloyd.
What is it about the guy
that has you women drooling?
He could be any guy in the street.
Wow. John Lloyd shouldn't stand
next to you, then?
Seriously. Enlighten me.
What's so different about him?
I don't get it.
Let me explain.
John Lloyd doesn't act like an actor.
He's the guy next door
you could be friends with.
He seems capable of loving fully.
He won't cheat on you.
He won't make you cry.
He'll be the first to cry.
That's John Lloyd.
And he looks like my ex.
Your ex looks like John Lloyd?
Look who's making a scene now.
Keep your voice down.
Let's see. Show me a picture, I dare you.
Of course.
Wait, you might be in for a shock.
There it is.
Where?
Which part?
-I don't see it.
-Here.
Look at his eyes.
His gaze is so John Lloyd.
And so his smile.
Bull.
I now believe that.
Hey, go easy.
Really. Take another look.
What are you on? Crack? Give me a hit.
You're just jealous.
Excuse me,
but I wouldn't be envious of that.
Fine, you win. Since you're so handsome.
I've never met someone who held himself
in such high regard, wow.
That's what they say.
Look at that.
Fine, side with your ex.
But he's my ex!
Exactly.
Your ex who left you, cheated on you,
and no longer loves you.
Fuck you.
Why me?
Fine, fuck him.
Thirty-minute stopover!
LET'S EA Oops.
BEAUTIFUL
Let's start.
Whoops, I don't take ketchup.
It's OK.
I'm so used to my ex.
He likes his hotdog with ketchup.
I remembered that, sorry.
You even see him in ketchup?
That's why I said sorry.
It was just a passing thought.
I guess.
He really liked it
when I put ketchup on his hotdog
in a zigzag motion.
As for coke,
he's addicted.
And there, see those Chinese buns?
He would beat up anyone
who told me I looked like a bun.
Pastillas?
Can you associate him with pastillas?
We both love the pastillas
made by Red Ribbon.
We were classmates in that course.
The color of his car. Our car.
He hated that guy's abs.
Wow, you're really on a roll.
We were looking at some condo units
there, 4.5 million.
Three bedrooms, two bathrooms,
25,000 monthly.
Wow, no difference. No need to specify.
We had a fight in one.
We bumped into his ex
just outside the cinema.
She really wanted to talk to him.
I got jealous, but we were OK in the end.
Then we headed to Tagaytay
-and checked in at...
-OK, enough.
You fucking rabbits.
That's what they say about us.
Where we wanted to go on our honeymoon.
Santorini or Paris.
Malunggay leaf?
He likes the malunggay bread in Project 8.
You really see him in everything.
I've come up with something.
Here's the plan.
Every time I mention my ex,
tell you something about him,
or check him out on Facebook, Twitter,
or Instagram, Tumblr...
Wow, complete.
Whatever. So every time I do
any of those, I'll give you a peso.
I'm serious.
My best friend did that
and she sort of moved on.
A peso?
It's not that easy to move on.
I know, but it's a start.
Fine.
But not a peso. What are we,
grade school students?
Name it.
One thousand.
Go fuck yourself.
Just so you won't dare mention him.
Let's round that off, shall we?
Last offer. Seventy.
Come on, shop's closing for the day.
You're pretty sure you'll lose
everything in this game, right?
Two hundred.
That's as far as I can go!
OK, deal.
OK.
And what will you do with your millions?
Wow, you're really talking millions
in the first round.
Seriously, what?
My friend donated her earnings
to a charity.
Maybe I'll do the same.
Why don't you...
-buy yourself a guy?
-Jerk.
That's not how I roll.
I'm serious. I'll probably pick an NGO
that supports women
who have been emotionally butchered
by jokers,
especially my fucking loser jerk-face ex
who I hope to God is dropping dead
at the moment.
Fucking asshole.
Idiot, it hasn't started!
Yes it has! We made the deal.
Wait, I don't think I have any money.
Yes, you do.
I'll strike it rich in this game.
How does one really forget?
Huh?
You really get a kick out of having me
repeat everything I say, huh?
I don't know. I just woke up one day
without my ex in my head.
I'd forgotten.
How long did that take?
A long time.
Does it matter?
What matters is you do end up forgetting.
Shit, but it's so hard.
Of course it is. You love him so much.
Too much.
Well, then, in your case
it's going to take 17 years?
Get out.
At 40 I'll still be wallowing?
I don't think so.
Am not sure.
That's your choice.
It's all up to you.
You can drink every night.
Or cry every night.
Date any loser.
Tap the first guy that comes along.
Your decision.
Or find a new love.
Here's a quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald.
We're really here in Baguio!
Thank you.
Don't thank me. This isn't free.
Really? My body's off the market,
though. You can't afford it.
Too bad.
Where do you want to go?
There's Burnham Park?
Minesview Park?
We can walk around,
get something to eat, sleep.
What do you want?
To forget.
-No, it's fine, I can do it.
-No, let me.
It's fine. I can do it, I promise.
Heavy, right?
Heavy?
It is, but I can manage.
You can, but it'll be hard work.
But I can manage.
Can you manage?
Yes, I can.
But slowly.
Here. Strawberry taho.
Let's go.
Let's go.
What are you looking at?
I used to paint.
Really?
You're a painter?
UP Fine Arts.
So you're an artist. Why'd you stop?
I was insecure in college.
But back in high school,
I was really good.
I won all the art contests.
I thought I was great
until I met all my UP classmates.
They were all so unbelievably talented.
There was a Malang,
an Abueva, in my class.
Until then I thought I had it.
I was skilled, not talented.
The catch was,
that was all I knew how to do.
So when I graduated, I focused on design.
At least there was money in that.
And after a taste of money, you realize
that you just want to make money
and then you wake up
and it's been eight years!
Why don't you paint again?
I'm not sure I still can.
I'm not sure I still know how.
Can it really be un-learned?
You could be rusty...
but I don't think
you'd completely lose it.
Maybe I've forgotten how
to make art for myself.
Right now, I'm all about designs
for the boss, the client,
for the deadline.
That's probably what I can't unlearn.
You don't have to unlearn all that.
Pleasing a client
is a different skill altogether.
Because you're giving them
what your client wants.
You brat.
Here's an idea.
I have a short story you can illustrate.
I wrote it a long time ago,
but I thought of it just now.
Oh, you write?
Not really.
I did this creative writing course
in college
and I had to turn in a short story.
I got top marks for it.
My professor even left me a note
on my paper saying,
That's what he said.
That was a confidence booster
if I ever had one.
Maybe you have it. You're just
missing the follow-through.
No, I know what I can't do.
At the time, though,
I could have given myself an award.
Think about it.
I don't want to drink to that.
Liar.
I want to hear your short story.
My short story?
I was 21 when I wrote it.
You might pick on it.
Skip the disclaimer.
Fine.
The title is,
About what?
There was once an arrow
who woke up one day
with a heart pierced through him.
It searched for the owner of the heart,
because he wasn't used to dragging
that weight around.
The arrow
with the heart pierced through him
kept asking all people he met
if they owned the heart.
They all answered differently.
The usual reply was,
"No, that heart's not mine."
Or, "Not mine, my heart's not missing."
"But I think it's getting to that point."
As they continued the search,
the arrow noticed
the heart was getting lighter.
He didn't know why.
It was probably losing weight,
or gaining strength.
The heart may have been learning
to carry itself.
They passed another...
...who asked the arrow:
"How long have you been looking
for the owner of that heart?"
And then?
That's the end.
That's it? It kind of leaves me hanging.
You think so?
Yes. But it's nice. I like it.
For real?
Yes, I like it.
Can you manage?
Just go ahead.
-You can manage?
-Yes.
Hurry!
Good evening, sir. Good evening, ma'am.
You here for a massage?
Are you taking a couples' room?
Oh, not the couples' room.
We are not a couple.
Wow, could you be more repulsed
by the idea?
Of course. You might take a peek.
I bet you'd peek at me first.
Fuck. Why would I do that?
I would not peek.
Remember scanning my tattoo?
-What about it?
-You were scanning my abs, too.
You wish.
I wasn't looking at your abs.
I was looking at your tattoo.
My tattoo is here. My abs are here.
First, you don't have abs.
Just a fat stomach.
When I get them, you'll be sorry.
Miss, whole body massage for two.
Hard pressure for me.
Me too.
Show her your abs, then.
Do it!
Can't it wait until the actual massage?
-She won't be the one massaging you.
-You're not?
Show her.
There.
Anthony, fuck. I dreamt about him.
Huh?
Fuck. I dreamt about him. Why?
What happened in your dream?
We were going bungee jumping in Macau.
That's the highest takeoff point
in the world at 15,000 feet.
We've always wanted to do it.
But we never got around to it.
Finally, in my dream, it was happening.
We were ready,
we were in our suits.
We were in full gear.
I was counting one, two, three,
then I held his hand,
like this.
And I felt him letting go.
When I came to...
he was gone.
He jumped first, without me.
He left me there alone.
I couldn't do anything.
I wanted to follow him.
I wanted to jump after him,
but I was helpless.
I couldn't move.
Until gradually...
very slowly...
I lost sight of him.
Honestly, I also dreamt about you.
-Really?
-It's pretty lame.
We were walking along Session Road.
Oh really. And then?
That's it.
No bungee jumps.
No counting down and letting go.
None of that.
There was just a crowd,
and we were just walking.
You know...
in all of our eight years...
he never asked me to marry him.
That was the only thing I was waiting for.
I was sure.
I would've said yes.
I would have given up everything.
But the question...
just never came.
Stupid girl.
Remember that girl
I was telling you about?
The one who made sure I took my medicine
every three hours?
She's my ex.
She broke up with me.
She also wanted to...
She also wanted to get married.
I didn't want to.
Not that I was completely
against marriage.
I just didn't want to do it yet.
That's not the same thing.
But when she left,
I realized that it could have been her.
I chased her.
No dice.
I clung to what people say:
if it's meant to be, it will be.
Let fate or whoever do the work.
That was more stupid.
I didn't chase enough
to catch up with her.
I got tired right away.
I couldn't convince her, make her say yes.
Why don't you chase her again?
It's a lost cause.
We're both happy now.
She got married,
and two years ago I heard she had a kid.
Sometimes I'll kid myself...
Tell myself she hasn't forgotten me.
That maybe she still loves me.
I also wondered...
if it ever occurred to her husband
that I was there before he was.
That there was someone who loved
his wife too much...
and that she loved him back?
That kind of love...
doesn't meet its match in just a snap.
Let me remind you
of Godfather Fitzgerald's wisdom:
I have a question. But don't laugh.
Shoot.
Am I ugly?
What the fuck. I told you not to laugh.
No. You're not ugly.
I mean, you're not ugly at all.
You're beautiful, OK?
Truth?
Would I have come along
if you didn't look pretty?
So, you agreed to come with me
because you like me?
Well. I'm single.
I had nothing better to do.
I have another day of vacation leave.
Then a girl crosses my path,
inviting me to Baguio.
That girl happens to be easy on the eyes,
smart, has great conversation,
and excluding the times
she makes a scene, is fun, overall.
How could I refuse?
You think another guy
will go for me again?
Huh?
I mean, will I be liked again, or get
another chance at a relationship?
Will I ever be loved again...
Of course. Come on.
Will I ever recover?
You will recover.
You sound so sure of that.
It's impossible...
for a love like yours...
that overwhelming kind of love
that flows from you,
to not catch on anywhere.
It's bound to be reciprocated,
not necessarily by the person
for whom it was intended.
I'm sure it'll go full circle back to you.
Take it from John Lloyd...
How does that go again?
"The ones we love leave us...
because someone new is on way.
And that someone will show us
why the past never worked out.
And will make us realize
how we're supposed to be loved."
Comforting, right?
So, you did watch One More Chance?
I liked the cinematography.
And that was John Lloyd. Touch!
But you know...
When I made up my mind
about forgetting my girlfriend,
I told myself to stop.
Stop thinking about her. Stop loving her.
I took myself north, up a mountain,
to Sagada.
Mt. Kiltepan.
I was toe to toe with clouds.
It felt like heaven.
I unloaded everything there.
Screamed all my anger, pain,
everything I couldn't tell her.
The pain didn't disappear entirely,
but at least a huge part of it left.
-Oh, fuck.
-What?
We left our luggage behind.
Fuck!
Fuck...
Boss, will the bus go back to Baguio?
It will later.
-How much later?
-An hour.
An hour? That long?
That's the schedule.
But we left our bags
and we have to go back!
Shit!
Hey. Come on.
You're fine with this?
Yes.
-Seriously?
-Yes, it's just luggage.
Come on.
But your life's in that suitcase.
So much for that. This is my life now!
Just buy me a meal.
Are you cold?
Too bad we left our stuff behind.
I know.
And it's fine.
Oops.
Like coffee.
Drink to that.
No one's doing it for me
so I'll do it myself.
You're cute.
OK, so what was it you wanted to show me?
That's the thing.
We got here early, so we have to hang
about here first.
OK.
What are we going to do?
Wait.
Again?
I promise it's worth the wait.
OK. Where do we go?
Let's just give this back tomorrow.
If you see a shooting star,
what will you wish for?
It's hard to choose just one thing.
Well, you missed the chance.
Star just passed by.
No fair.
Call it back.
Here comes another.
My wish...
I wish...
I wish I didn't love him anymore.
OK, says the shooting star.
I'll count on that.
You?
What would you wish on a shooting star?
My wish is that, wherever my mom is,
Sure thing, says the shooting star.
-It's still there?
-Huh?
I want to thank the shooting star
that... I'm not alone.
I'm sad, but not alone right now.
The shooting star says.
-Mace?
-What?
Yes, what?
Let's go.
All right. Come on.
Come on.
I give up!
I give up!
I'm exhausted!
I give up!
I don't want to get hurt anymore!
I give up! Stop it!
Stop it! I'm too tired!
Stop it! I give up!
I give up!
I give up!
I give up!
I give up!
I give up!
If I trip, we're even.
When we reached the end of Session Road
in your dream,
what happened?
I didn't get to that part. I woke up.
But if I were...
to give it an ending,
you turned to me slowly,
and you said...
"I'll start forgetting him."
I'll start forgetting him.
You're really walking me to the door.
Where do you live?
No fair.
I'll turn up at your gate someday.
What are you going to do?
What...
What are you doing here?
Anthony, bro.
Marco, bro.
Mace.
I'll go ahead.
I'll go ahead.
Like you said, why leave it to the wind,
to destiny,
or to something else you can't see?
If you love her, go after her.
Don't wait for the wind
to blow her back in your direction.
Pull her back.
As long as you can take it, don't let go.
I'm sorry, but I love you.
You're not the only person in the world
who's bonkers.
and went on loving.
In short, bonkers.
Ouch.
Fuck this life.
Why did I have to be born?
This life is the shits.
What the fuck, I'm exhausted.
Miss, I can lend space in my luggage
for your trench coat.
My name is Anthony Lagdameo,
a fellow Filipino.
My address is 24A, St. Joseph Street,
Project 8, Quezon City.
I'm no pervert. And certainly not a thief.
You can put your stuff in here.
These are all the things I have.
You can have my extra baggage allowance.
Wait, Miss.
That coat must have set you back
10,000 pesos. It's a shame.
I picked it up at a thrift shop.
It was only 2,500.
-You have space for this?
-Sure.
This, too.
That's about it.
I wish that I could say...
I'm happy for you.
For both of you.
How I wish I could.
But I can't.
And I feel so horrible...
because the truth is,
I'm still hoping that you'll tell me...
"That it's me...
that it's always been me...
that it's me you still love."
I love Tricia.
I know.
And you threw it all away.
"Is that really what you think, Popoy?"
You need a tissue.
No, I don't need a tissue.
I don't need a tissue.
It's a nice movie.
The storytelling's the best.
It's just so realistic.
The cinematography really did it for me.
And John Lloyd? Nailed it. He was really
something else in this film.
You're really coming this far
just to wait for me?
Your stuff is with me.
Well, that's true.
Here it comes.
That's really all of your things, huh?
These? Yes.
That's it?
How'd you fit everything in there?
It's such a small suitcase.
It just fits everything I need.
Oops, here's mine.
Let me take that.
Heavy!
Of course it is.
I packed my whole life there,
so you should excuse me
if we don't think alike.
-I have another suitcase coming.
-Another one?
So, literally your whole life is in there?
You're bound to go over
the baggage allowance that way.
You know, I've just about had it
with your punchlines.
You've been at it for too long.
You judge me too much.
-This one. Yes.
-This one?
Hold on, I judged you?
You judged me.
I didn't.
I just stated a fact.
You said you brought your whole life.
Your suitcase was overweight.
How was that judgmental?
You said something about me bringing my
whole life and having excess baggage.
You were implying that
I shouldn't have brought my entire life
so as to not exceed the baggage allowance.
That I should have left some things,
so they would be waiting for me at home.
Well sorry, I really thought
I needed all of my things.
So I was wrong. I just thought I might.
So I'm the judgmental one, huh?
-Let me.
-Up yours.
How are you going to get home?
Taxi.
You?
Taxi.
But we're together anyway.
Why would you go off on your own?
Come on.
What now?
You have a nice bag.
I don't think I want to take this one.
Do you?
Miss, take this one.
Looks like you guys need it.
Hurry!
Wait till you break up.
I don't really feel like going home yet.
You?
Your tattoo, what does it mean?
Nothing. It's just a star.
No deeper meaning?
None.
And your tattoo?
Is that it, or you've got more?
I've one more on my back.
So, is it deep and meaningful?
It's a bit personal. I designed it.
-And that's why it's meaningful?
-Right.
Let's see it.
Are you serious?
Yes.
Yes.
-So, what did you do in Italy?
-Vacationing.
So you just wanted to go on vacation
and picked Italy.
Rich kid.
Well, it was my dream.
It was my dream to see the Colosseum.
I made a pact to go there
before I turned 28.
I wish I could have been with my mom.
She has a fascination for Roman ruins.
So, you saw it?
How old are you anyway?
Are you sad about that?
One year late for your goal
and you're sulking?
There are so many people
who have never left the country,
never known Italy,
who have died without so much as
a glimpse of the Colosseum,
and here you are pulling a face?
-Rich kid.
-Rich kid.
I saw the Colosseum but Mom didn't.
I guess you'll just have to save again
so you can bring your mom next time.
The thing is, she's gone.
It's nothing.
When I was at the Colosseum,
I took a selfie.
I left space here.
I was sure she was there.
I felt like she joined me in the photo.
I felt it.
Was it nice?
Fuck, it was surreal.
I used to see it in books.
Would study it.
Then, there it was before me. Wow.
I wanted to hug it. Bring it home.
I wanted to...
Have you never seen the Colosseum?
What the fuck, how could you miss that
on a trip to Italy?
Don't get me started on Italy.
It better not show up in my 'hood
or I'll have the boys beat up
that damn boot.
What do you have against Italy?
A lot.
Miss, your phone's ringing.
Miss!
Your phone's ringing. Take the call!
Miss!
Your phone's ringing! Answer the call!
You've got to be kidding!
Don't ask.
I'm not in the mood to talk about it.
You know what they say about
relationships that are meant to be?
If he's destined for you,
he will come back?
Bullshit. That fucks you over.
How does that go? It's all up to the wind?
To destiny?
The future with someone you...
you really, really love
rests on a vague, invisible force?
So after eight years with him,
I have to swallow
that we're not meant for each other?
That's not how it should work.
Not for me.
I'm all for chasing the one you love.
You should fight for him.
Don't wait for the wind
to blow him back in your direction.
Pull him back.
As long as you can take it.
Don't give up.
Don't let go.
I love him.
We were together eight years.
Last April, he went to Italy
to train for a new job.
He was supposed to be back by September.
But the company must have liked his work,
because they asked him
to extend his stay for two more years.
Of course, I didn't want to let him.
But they were offering twice his pay.
How could I have won against Euros, right?
I was just his girlfriend of eight years.
Can't beat that.
He said it was for our future.
So I relented.
And I thought...
I could just visit him there.
Even for just a month.
I used up all my savings,
borrowed money from friends
to buy my ticket,
just to see him there.
I wanted to surprise him.
I'm so sweet, right?
I intended to stay a month.
But then it hit me...
that two years there wouldn't be so bad.
I'd find work, be with him.
Who cares
if I was already a brand manager here?
Because if you want something,
you find a way.
So, I was over the moon.
I put on makeup,
got new panties, new thongs.
Went for the red lipstick and dress act.
I even put on red panties.
And...
When I got there...
he was already with someone else.
He had been for quite some time.
He sweet-talked me...
from suspecting anything.
She was just a friend, he said.
Just an officemate.
I was the one he loved, he said.
He said he was crazy about me.
He kept the words coming
and I was dumb enough to believe them.
It's been eight fucking years.
Would you fucking have it in you
to start doubting?
After being convinced that this was
the guy you were going to marry?
That his surname was good as yours?
The length of a relationship
isn't everything, in the end.
If he no longer loves you,
he no longer loves you.
"I no longer love you. Please leave."
Eight years of being together
wrapped up in seven words!
Fucking eight years!
Shouldn't those years have bought me
another chance?
To beg him,
to fucking remind him that I was the one!
The one he loved.
What happened?
That was it.
I never knew it was that easy to forget.
He doesn't love you anymore.
Clear as day.
What's unclear about that?
Couldn't he have told me why?
Explained to me what I did wrong?
What did I do wrong?
If he'd told you why,
would that have changed anything?
Bottom line is, he no longer loves you.
We're not friends, are we?
You're fucking hurting me.
I want to go to Baguio.
Where are we?
-Huh?
-Where are we?
Fuck, for real?
You freakin' asshole.
Trying to take me for a ride.
Of course we're not in Rome.
How could we be?
I'm the gullible sort. Dumb and in love.
-Bite me.
-We're on way to Baguio.
Baguio?
You said you wanted to go.
I said that?
Oh boy.
I'm running out of patience.
It's been in short supply since Baguio.
When's the wedding?
Not for a long time.
I still have too many plans.
Vince, Marco and I love each other.
But we also love ourselves;
that's why we're compatible.
So compatibility is the main reason
for getting married, not love?
for two people to stay together.
-This is making me cry.
-What is it this time?
I watched this movie with him.
It was the first time we held hands.
Don't go off and make a scene here, Mace.
A scene?
When did I ever make a scene?
Back in the restaurant.
With the ringing cellphone.
I didn't make a scene.
Sure you didn't.
Remember when her phone rang?
She wouldn't pick up.
What if it had been an emergency?
Wow, you really had the caller's welfare
in mind.
What about on the plane?
With the flight attendant?
I was defending a principle.
Wow!
A tissue, Mace.
You were fighting against a tissue.
Look, it's One More Chance.
Make an exception. And it's John Lloyd!
Another point: John Lloyd.
What is it about the guy
that has you women drooling?
He could be any guy in the street.
Wow. John Lloyd shouldn't stand
next to you, then?
Seriously. Enlighten me.
What's so different about him?
I don't get it.
Let me explain.
John Lloyd doesn't act like an actor.
He's the guy next door
you could be friends with.
He seems capable of loving fully.
He won't cheat on you.
He won't make you cry.
He'll be the first to cry.
That's John Lloyd.
And he looks like my ex.
Your ex looks like John Lloyd?
Look who's making a scene now.
Keep your voice down.
Let's see. Show me a picture, I dare you.
Of course.
Wait, you might be in for a shock.
There it is.
Where?
Which part?
-I don't see it.
-Here.
Look at his eyes.
His gaze is so John Lloyd.
And so his smile.
Bull.
I now believe that.
Hey, go easy.
Really. Take another look.
What are you on? Crack? Give me a hit.
You're just jealous.
Excuse me,
but I wouldn't be envious of that.
Fine, you win. Since you're so handsome.
I've never met someone who held himself
in such high regard, wow.
That's what they say.
Look at that.
Fine, side with your ex.
But he's my ex!
Exactly.
Your ex who left you, cheated on you,
and no longer loves you.
Fuck you.
Why me?
Fine, fuck him.
Thirty-minute stopover!
LET'S EA Oops.
BEAUTIFUL
Let's start.
Whoops, I don't take ketchup.
It's OK.
I'm so used to my ex.
He likes his hotdog with ketchup.
I remembered that, sorry.
You even see him in ketchup?
That's why I said sorry.
It was just a passing thought.
I guess.
He really liked it
when I put ketchup on his hotdog
in a zigzag motion.
As for coke,
he's addicted.
And there, see those Chinese buns?
He would beat up anyone
who told me I looked like a bun.
Pastillas?
Can you associate him with pastillas?
We both love the pastillas
made by Red Ribbon.
We were classmates in that course.
The color of his car. Our car.
He hated that guy's abs.
Wow, you're really on a roll.
We were looking at some condo units
there, 4.5 million.
Three bedrooms, two bathrooms,
25,000 monthly.
Wow, no difference. No need to specify.
We had a fight in one.
We bumped into his ex
just outside the cinema.
She really wanted to talk to him.
I got jealous, but we were OK in the end.
Then we headed to Tagaytay
-and checked in at...
-OK, enough.
You fucking rabbits.
That's what they say about us.
Where we wanted to go on our honeymoon.
Santorini or Paris.
Malunggay leaf?
He likes the malunggay bread in Project 8.
You really see him in everything.
I've come up with something.
Here's the plan.
Every time I mention my ex,
tell you something about him,
or check him out on Facebook, Twitter,
or Instagram, Tumblr...
Wow, complete.
Whatever. So every time I do
any of those, I'll give you a peso.
I'm serious.
My best friend did that
and she sort of moved on.
A peso?
It's not that easy to move on.
I know, but it's a start.
Fine.
But not a peso. What are we,
grade school students?
Name it.
One thousand.
Go fuck yourself.
Just so you won't dare mention him.
Let's round that off, shall we?
Last offer. Seventy.
Come on, shop's closing for the day.
You're pretty sure you'll lose
everything in this game, right?
Two hundred.
That's as far as I can go!
OK, deal.
OK.
And what will you do with your millions?
Wow, you're really talking millions
in the first round.
Seriously, what?
My friend donated her earnings
to a charity.
Maybe I'll do the same.
Why don't you...
-buy yourself a guy?
-Jerk.
That's not how I roll.
I'm serious. I'll probably pick an NGO
that supports women
who have been emotionally butchered
by jokers,
especially my fucking loser jerk-face ex
who I hope to God is dropping dead
at the moment.
Fucking asshole.
Idiot, it hasn't started!
Yes it has! We made the deal.
Wait, I don't think I have any money.
Yes, you do.
I'll strike it rich in this game.
How does one really forget?
Huh?
You really get a kick out of having me
repeat everything I say, huh?
I don't know. I just woke up one day
without my ex in my head.
I'd forgotten.
How long did that take?
A long time.
Does it matter?
What matters is you do end up forgetting.
Shit, but it's so hard.
Of course it is. You love him so much.
Too much.
Well, then, in your case
it's going to take 17 years?
Get out.
At 40 I'll still be wallowing?
I don't think so.
Am not sure.
That's your choice.
It's all up to you.
You can drink every night.
Or cry every night.
Date any loser.
Tap the first guy that comes along.
Your decision.
Or find a new love.
Here's a quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald.
We're really here in Baguio!
Thank you.
Don't thank me. This isn't free.
Really? My body's off the market,
though. You can't afford it.
Too bad.
Where do you want to go?
There's Burnham Park?
Minesview Park?
We can walk around,
get something to eat, sleep.
What do you want?
To forget.
-No, it's fine, I can do it.
-No, let me.
It's fine. I can do it, I promise.
Heavy, right?
Heavy?
It is, but I can manage.
You can, but it'll be hard work.
But I can manage.
Can you manage?
Yes, I can.
But slowly.
Here. Strawberry taho.
Let's go.
Let's go.
What are you looking at?
I used to paint.
Really?
You're a painter?
UP Fine Arts.
So you're an artist. Why'd you stop?
I was insecure in college.
But back in high school,
I was really good.
I won all the art contests.
I thought I was great
until I met all my UP classmates.
They were all so unbelievably talented.
There was a Malang,
an Abueva, in my class.
Until then I thought I had it.
I was skilled, not talented.
The catch was,
that was all I knew how to do.
So when I graduated, I focused on design.
At least there was money in that.
And after a taste of money, you realize
that you just want to make money
and then you wake up
and it's been eight years!
Why don't you paint again?
I'm not sure I still can.
I'm not sure I still know how.
Can it really be un-learned?
You could be rusty...
but I don't think
you'd completely lose it.
Maybe I've forgotten how
to make art for myself.
Right now, I'm all about designs
for the boss, the client,
for the deadline.
That's probably what I can't unlearn.
You don't have to unlearn all that.
Pleasing a client
is a different skill altogether.
Because you're giving them
what your client wants.
You brat.
Here's an idea.
I have a short story you can illustrate.
I wrote it a long time ago,
but I thought of it just now.
Oh, you write?
Not really.
I did this creative writing course
in college
and I had to turn in a short story.
I got top marks for it.
My professor even left me a note
on my paper saying,
That's what he said.
That was a confidence booster
if I ever had one.
Maybe you have it. You're just
missing the follow-through.
No, I know what I can't do.
At the time, though,
I could have given myself an award.
Think about it.
I don't want to drink to that.
Liar.
I want to hear your short story.
My short story?
I was 21 when I wrote it.
You might pick on it.
Skip the disclaimer.
Fine.
The title is,
About what?
There was once an arrow
who woke up one day
with a heart pierced through him.
It searched for the owner of the heart,
because he wasn't used to dragging
that weight around.
The arrow
with the heart pierced through him
kept asking all people he met
if they owned the heart.
They all answered differently.
The usual reply was,
"No, that heart's not mine."
Or, "Not mine, my heart's not missing."
"But I think it's getting to that point."
As they continued the search,
the arrow noticed
the heart was getting lighter.
He didn't know why.
It was probably losing weight,
or gaining strength.
The heart may have been learning
to carry itself.
They passed another...
...who asked the arrow:
"How long have you been looking
for the owner of that heart?"
And then?
That's the end.
That's it? It kind of leaves me hanging.
You think so?
Yes. But it's nice. I like it.
For real?
Yes, I like it.
Can you manage?
Just go ahead.
-You can manage?
-Yes.
Hurry!
Good evening, sir. Good evening, ma'am.
You here for a massage?
Are you taking a couples' room?
Oh, not the couples' room.
We are not a couple.
Wow, could you be more repulsed
by the idea?
Of course. You might take a peek.
I bet you'd peek at me first.
Fuck. Why would I do that?
I would not peek.
Remember scanning my tattoo?
-What about it?
-You were scanning my abs, too.
You wish.
I wasn't looking at your abs.
I was looking at your tattoo.
My tattoo is here. My abs are here.
First, you don't have abs.
Just a fat stomach.
When I get them, you'll be sorry.
Miss, whole body massage for two.
Hard pressure for me.
Me too.
Show her your abs, then.
Do it!
Can't it wait until the actual massage?
-She won't be the one massaging you.
-You're not?
Show her.
There.
Anthony, fuck. I dreamt about him.
Huh?
Fuck. I dreamt about him. Why?
What happened in your dream?
We were going bungee jumping in Macau.
That's the highest takeoff point
in the world at 15,000 feet.
We've always wanted to do it.
But we never got around to it.
Finally, in my dream, it was happening.
We were ready,
we were in our suits.
We were in full gear.
I was counting one, two, three,
then I held his hand,
like this.
And I felt him letting go.
When I came to...
he was gone.
He jumped first, without me.
He left me there alone.
I couldn't do anything.
I wanted to follow him.
I wanted to jump after him,
but I was helpless.
I couldn't move.
Until gradually...
very slowly...
I lost sight of him.
Honestly, I also dreamt about you.
-Really?
-It's pretty lame.
We were walking along Session Road.
Oh really. And then?
That's it.
No bungee jumps.
No counting down and letting go.
None of that.
There was just a crowd,
and we were just walking.
You know...
in all of our eight years...
he never asked me to marry him.
That was the only thing I was waiting for.
I was sure.
I would've said yes.
I would have given up everything.
But the question...
just never came.
Stupid girl.
Remember that girl
I was telling you about?
The one who made sure I took my medicine
every three hours?
She's my ex.
She broke up with me.
She also wanted to...
She also wanted to get married.
I didn't want to.
Not that I was completely
against marriage.
I just didn't want to do it yet.
That's not the same thing.
But when she left,
I realized that it could have been her.
I chased her.
No dice.
I clung to what people say:
if it's meant to be, it will be.
Let fate or whoever do the work.
That was more stupid.
I didn't chase enough
to catch up with her.
I got tired right away.
I couldn't convince her, make her say yes.
Why don't you chase her again?
It's a lost cause.
We're both happy now.
She got married,
and two years ago I heard she had a kid.
Sometimes I'll kid myself...
Tell myself she hasn't forgotten me.
That maybe she still loves me.
I also wondered...
if it ever occurred to her husband
that I was there before he was.
That there was someone who loved
his wife too much...
and that she loved him back?
That kind of love...
doesn't meet its match in just a snap.
Let me remind you
of Godfather Fitzgerald's wisdom:
I have a question. But don't laugh.
Shoot.
Am I ugly?
What the fuck. I told you not to laugh.
No. You're not ugly.
I mean, you're not ugly at all.
You're beautiful, OK?
Truth?
Would I have come along
if you didn't look pretty?
So, you agreed to come with me
because you like me?
Well. I'm single.
I had nothing better to do.
I have another day of vacation leave.
Then a girl crosses my path,
inviting me to Baguio.
That girl happens to be easy on the eyes,
smart, has great conversation,
and excluding the times
she makes a scene, is fun, overall.
How could I refuse?
You think another guy
will go for me again?
Huh?
I mean, will I be liked again, or get
another chance at a relationship?
Will I ever be loved again...
Of course. Come on.
Will I ever recover?
You will recover.
You sound so sure of that.
It's impossible...
for a love like yours...
that overwhelming kind of love
that flows from you,
to not catch on anywhere.
It's bound to be reciprocated,
not necessarily by the person
for whom it was intended.
I'm sure it'll go full circle back to you.
Take it from John Lloyd...
How does that go again?
"The ones we love leave us...
because someone new is on way.
And that someone will show us
why the past never worked out.
And will make us realize
how we're supposed to be loved."
Comforting, right?
So, you did watch One More Chance?
I liked the cinematography.
And that was John Lloyd. Touch!
But you know...
When I made up my mind
about forgetting my girlfriend,
I told myself to stop.
Stop thinking about her. Stop loving her.
I took myself north, up a mountain,
to Sagada.
Mt. Kiltepan.
I was toe to toe with clouds.
It felt like heaven.
I unloaded everything there.
Screamed all my anger, pain,
everything I couldn't tell her.
The pain didn't disappear entirely,
but at least a huge part of it left.
-Oh, fuck.
-What?
We left our luggage behind.
Fuck!
Fuck...
Boss, will the bus go back to Baguio?
It will later.
-How much later?
-An hour.
An hour? That long?
That's the schedule.
But we left our bags
and we have to go back!
Shit!
Hey. Come on.
You're fine with this?
Yes.
-Seriously?
-Yes, it's just luggage.
Come on.
But your life's in that suitcase.
So much for that. This is my life now!
Just buy me a meal.
Are you cold?
Too bad we left our stuff behind.
I know.
And it's fine.
Oops.
Like coffee.
Drink to that.
No one's doing it for me
so I'll do it myself.
You're cute.
OK, so what was it you wanted to show me?
That's the thing.
We got here early, so we have to hang
about here first.
OK.
What are we going to do?
Wait.
Again?
I promise it's worth the wait.
OK. Where do we go?
Let's just give this back tomorrow.
If you see a shooting star,
what will you wish for?
It's hard to choose just one thing.
Well, you missed the chance.
Star just passed by.
No fair.
Call it back.
Here comes another.
My wish...
I wish...
I wish I didn't love him anymore.
OK, says the shooting star.
I'll count on that.
You?
What would you wish on a shooting star?
My wish is that, wherever my mom is,
Sure thing, says the shooting star.
-It's still there?
-Huh?
I want to thank the shooting star
that... I'm not alone.
I'm sad, but not alone right now.
The shooting star says.
-Mace?
-What?
Yes, what?
Let's go.
All right. Come on.
Come on.
I give up!
I give up!
I'm exhausted!
I give up!
I don't want to get hurt anymore!
I give up! Stop it!
Stop it! I'm too tired!
Stop it! I give up!
I give up!
I give up!
I give up!
I give up!
I give up!
If I trip, we're even.
When we reached the end of Session Road
in your dream,
what happened?
I didn't get to that part. I woke up.
But if I were...
to give it an ending,
you turned to me slowly,
and you said...
"I'll start forgetting him."
I'll start forgetting him.
You're really walking me to the door.
Where do you live?
No fair.
I'll turn up at your gate someday.
What are you going to do?
What...
What are you doing here?
Anthony, bro.
Marco, bro.
Mace.
I'll go ahead.
I'll go ahead.
Like you said, why leave it to the wind,
to destiny,
or to something else you can't see?
If you love her, go after her.
Don't wait for the wind
to blow her back in your direction.
Pull her back.
As long as you can take it, don't let go.
I'm sorry, but I love you.
You're not the only person in the world
who's bonkers.