"Yes," I said, smiling like a crazy person. "Yes, I'm okay."
My friend was skeptical, and as she stepped out onto the balcony with me I knew that she had an idea of what they had interrupted.
"You know, right?" she said, and I felt like my heart was stabbed by a very blunt object. "Don was going out with my friend Gabbie until a few weeks ago. I told her about what he did to you, and she told him she wasn't interested."
"I didn't know that," I managed to say.
Which was worse? That Charisse pretty much sabotaged Don's chances with a girl, or that he had reconnected with me on the rebound? Ugh, what would be something a level lower than a doormat? That was me.
"Ellie, I'm serious. Don is… I mean, he's a friend but... well, you should know. Don't fall for it again. Just don't. You have to move on already."
I coughed. "I have, I really have," I lied. "We were just talking, Charisse, like old times. I didn't realize the door was locked, that's all."
Don didn't call me or talk to me after that, and in the next week I had to admit it – I wasn't strong enough to be that close to him.
***
That weekend I did a few things.
First, I chopped off my hair. Well, not all by myself. I went to the salon and asked for short hair again, not like Winona Ryder of the nineties, but a little longer than that with less fringe. Horribly typical, but yeah, I asked them to cut off the hair that Don liked.
Passive-aggressive much?
I also wrote a resignation letter. I didn't tell Charisse because she'd talk me out of it, but I just couldn't be within Don's reach anymore.
My boss Tara was a cool, thirty-something woman and she knew about our breakup story. So even though my resignation letter said "want to explore other career options" she didn't believe it.
"This is what I'll do," she said. "My friend up in Client Services needs someone in her team. I will recommend you for it. You'll be on a different floor, and you will never have to see anyone from this area ever again if you don't want to. It's a different project, so you can find out if you really want to change careers. This way you won't waste all the years you spent learning about the company and what we do."
I couldn't argue with her, and at least I didn't have to worry about finding a new job.
"Okay," I just said, grateful that I had her looking out for me. "I'll need to turn over my tasks to somebody..."
"Email that to me. Also, I think you should take a break. The Client Services post doesn't officially start for a few more weeks."
"What do you mean take a break?"
"I mean take a break. You keep talking about going to Bangkok. Just go already."
Chapter 6
I had been obsessively planning trips for years. It was probably my only regular hobby, that wasn't watching movies or TV.
That first trip (with my younger sister Rita) to Hong Kong did it. Something about being in the airport, and going into an unfamiliar city – that was exciting for me. Knowing that I had absolutely everything to look forward to.
Too bad I just couldn't afford to do it that often. Like Don pointed out, I wasn't exactly a hotshot executive, and I didn't make that much. I also felt like I didn't have the time, but really, I was probably just waiting for a travel companion. Someone who would enjoy the adventure with me.
This time I had no excuse, though, once my boss pretty much commanded me to go. So, finally, all those notes about Bangkok were put to good use. Thank God for the Internet, and everyone who ever felt the need to review every single hotel, tourist trap, and airline, because I got by purely on web research.
Bangkok was my first truly solo trip. I didn't have any friends there (unlike in HK or Singapore), so I prepared a borderline-obsessive "survival list" that included emergency phone numbers, "please," "thank you" and "help" in Thai, and a bunch of other tips. I found myself a cheap hotel room in Pratunam, planned some DIY tours that involved getting around on the train system or hiring a tuktuk, and stashed my shopping budget in three separate wallets.
In a way, I was glad that Don wasn't around for it. He had this quiet way of bearing with my hobbies, as if he was there merely as a means of transport and not a participant. I would have had to ask him constantly if he was game for this place, for that meal, for this mall, and I would have to hear him ask me if I really needed that bag, that pair of shoes, that belt, and so on.
Sure, in my ideal world, my boyfriend would be with me and he'd love it, but on that trip I discovered that traveling on my own terms was fun too. I knew I wouldn't run into Don – or anyone he knew – anywhere, even if I walked all day and all night.
Don was sort of right, by the way. I did change a bit when we got together. I didn't travel because I wanted him with me. I kept trying to think of things we could do together when it shouldn't have mattered so much.
Ellie the Free Spirit was the girl he fell in love with, the kind of person he kept comparing Ellie the Girlfriend to, and apparently by being away from him I was restoring myself to that state.
Eventually he was going to see me again – back in my former glory – and remember. Maybe it wouldn't take so long. Maybe I could wait.
***
Apparently, a year can go by just like that.
The three months that followed the breakup were painfully slow, but then the next twelve were like a blur. A few weeks after the Bangkok trip, my older sister Gladys gave birth to little Dylan, and the next months were all about Dylan smiling, coughing, and spitting. Once my savings recovered I took another weekend trip, this time to Macau, and a few months later visited some friends in Singapore.
And then, of course, there was that matter of starting a new job.
From writing copy for brochures and websites, I got transferred over to a team that worked with clients. Getting new ones, making sure the existing ones were happy. I didn't go out and meet them, but I helped out the ones who did. Not exactly what I was used to, but my former boss was right; my years of working with her didn't go to waste here.
Probably the most exciting thing about it (got to be honest) was that my new workstation was on the twenty-second floor, and right on the path of Rock Star's regular trip to the pantry to refill his coffee mug.
Yeah, eventually a year went by and I didn't even feel it.
***
Rock Star – er, Lucas – remembered me as "Sandwich Girl."
I met him, finally, when I neared my first year with my new team. Not through Charisse and her cigarette-related plots, but through Sandra, the girl we always saw him with. She worked in Client Services too, and we sometimes had lunch together when our meetings bled over past noon. You'd think that I would have met him sooner, being on the same floor and smiling at him every day when he passed for coffee, but strangely enough that familiarity made it even harder – and more awkward – for me to suddenly introduce myself.
Good thing Sandra did it for me. That day, after a meeting that ended at twelve-forty-five, I wandered over to her desk, my face giving her the universal expression of hunger. She held a finger up to me, the universal sign of "wait one second" and it seemed like she was arguing with someone on the phone.
"Fuck you, Marlon, I said stop calling me at work. I swear I'm going to ask them to change my number. And don't even think of showing up here!"
Okay, more than arguing. Sandra, in case I forgot to mention it, was a boisterous personality. Marlon was her ex-boyfriend.
I shut my mouth and waited, distracting myself by looking at the collection of Lego people that lined her desk. Lucas walked on over to her desk as well and started to ask her if she wanted to eat.
Sandra saw and held the same finger up toward him, still on the phone. "No, my mother has not been getting your messages. And you know why? Because I replaced her phone. You think you're going to scare me with that? Fuck you!"
I caught Lucas' eye and laughed silently.
Sandra remembered that we were there and rested the phone on her shoulder. "Ellie. Lu
cas. You two know each other, right? Go together. I obviously can't right now."
"Yes ma'am," Lucas mocked a butler's bow and led me out to the elevators.
"She's so funny," I told him as soon as we were out of earshot.
"Was that Marlon?" Lucas asked.
"Apparently. I think I want him to come over, just to see what he looks like."
"And be a witness to the poor guy's murder? Be careful what you wish for."
We stopped talking as we settled into the elevator, him slightly ahead of me. He was wearing pinstriped black and purple, bold choice, yet strangely looked great on him. He combed his hair today, I noticed, but from behind saw a patch of rebel hair sticking straight up. It took all of my willpower not to reach up and fix it, but then again it was totally him. I distracted myself by looking down, but instead I slowly traced a line with my eyes down his messy hair, his neck, and where it disappeared into his collar. He shifted a bit, and his neck moved, and the urge became to, well, bite it.
Oh crap. Stop it, Ellie.
When we got out on the floor of the cafeteria, he waited for the crowd to thin, and then spoke up again. "Ellie, right? That's your name?"
"Eleanor Andrea Manuel."
"Lucas Haresco. And thank God."
"Huh?"
"I thought I was going to be calling you Sandwich Girl in my head forever."
I laughed. "I think I'm in the mood for salmon and cream cheese today."
"You know what? Me too."
Chapter 7
The following week marked the sixteenth month after Don broke up with me. (But who's counting?) That was a long time for my fairy tale to get back in gear. Why hadn't Don come back to me yet? How long before the Hero and her True Love would be reunited?
Let me back up a bit. According to the morphology of the folk tale (Vladimir Propp), there were only seven basic characters in all of these stories. Sure, Mr. Propp was Russian and studied Russian tales, but this was the template I used in my paper for Film class and it seemed to work for movies like Star Wars.
First, there's the Hero. A regular person, victimized in some way, and in a struggle to win back her True Love. Because in fairy tales, the Hero only gets the True Love after being tested greatly, maybe even three times.
The Hero gets some help from the Messenger, the Friend, and the Donor, people who are in unique positions to provide support and special guidance throughout the testing phase. The Fairy Godmothers, magical animals, helpful townspeople. In my world, that would be Charisse, and former boss Tara, and more people than I could name at the moment.
Despite all that magic being on the Hero's side, though, it won't be that easy, because of the Villain. There was also the False Hero character, who would try and steal the True Love away. The Hero may not even see these traitors until the very end, but that's what the struggle is all about.
So, obviously, I was the Hero here. I just wish I knew who the Villain was, though. Don's issues had been with me. It might have been easier if I had been competing with someone else.
I may have decided to stay away from Don but I didn't change my mind about him. I knew I wanted a good guy, I knew I wanted him, and… our breakup? First test. Ignoring me after I told him I still loved him? Second test. I was probably going to be tested three times, or as many times as necessary, but if I loved him as I said I did, I wasn't going to waver. He would come around, eventually.
***
The company-wide weather report, sent via text message, was not as optimistic: Signal number 3 storm headed for Manila today. Classes on all levels have been suspended. Please make appropriate travel arrangements.
"Boo," I said, as I prepared for work.
To everyone else, my life was going on as usual. I had my family, my job, my trips, and (most of) my friends… I really didn't lack anything. I wasn't sitting in my room pining for my ex all day.
But the little things still hurt sometimes.
Like when Charisse said that she would stop telling me news about Don, even if I asked. I said it was all right, I could handle it. But she said no, she wasn't going to allow me to keep tabs on him. So if he started seeing anyone again since that party at Ricky's house, I wasn't sure.
And then, at six-fifteen AM, I saw someone's online photo album and knew for sure.
What did I see? Photos from last weekend's barkada beach trip to Laiya, Batangas. Which I never even heard about. I clicked through the album and checked out the people there – Charisse, Don, pretty much everybody, including some new faces I didn't recognize. Don had his arm around a girl, the photo catching him in the split second after he had planted a happy kiss on her cheek. I didn't know her at all. She didn't work in the office, or at least I had never run into her.
Ah, shit. My Prince Charming had moved on without me, and he had taken all of our friends with him. Some Hero I turned out to be.
***
My mood was as gloomy as the sky outside. I decided not to drive to work, because my car was an automatic and I didn't feel like getting stuck on the Skyway or worse, flooded side streets taken to avoid traffic. I loved living in the south Metro Manila area but we knew what these storms were like. I personally had been stranded on the highway three times in my life already, didn't want to make it four.
The storm wasn't on my mind anyway. The only thing I wanted to do was get Charisse to have lunch with me so I could demand an explanation.
"What?" Charisse said, pausing in the middle of slicing her salad greens into smaller chunks.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me."
"That we were going to Batangas, or that Don has a new girlfriend?"
"Shit. Both."
Charisse shook her head. She didn't seem sorry. Not that I was expecting her to be, but maybe just a little.
"Look, I told you, Ellie," she said, "I think you're so okay right now. You're doing everything you want to do. And you don't have Don baggage hanging around messing you up. This is best for you, really."
"It's not fair," I said, like a child. "I think I should get to decide what I find out."
"What would you have done? You would have shown up in Batangas, right? And then what?"
"You guys are my friends too," I insisted.
Charisse raised an eyebrow at me. "Ellie, we're all still here. Fine, you don't hang out with us everyday anymore, but that doesn't mean we're not friends. If you showed up for Don, and not us, then you're not going for the right reasons."
I knew that, objectively. But I couldn't make myself get it, and I felt like I couldn't make Charisse understand either. She had never been dumped. I even knew firsthand that she had at least two guys still in love with her at that moment, and if she saw them on the street she would hide. She wouldn't have understood me even if I used charts and graphs.
***
After lunch the storm really came at the city, and hard. I could barely see out the windows, and it was like the rain was hitting the glass office windows horizontally. The office called off work at four PM, but that wasn't going to help me any. Even if I found a shuttle that would take me south, I'd be stuck in it for hours.
So I stayed at work and did web research for my next trip. I was thinking Vietnam. Hanoi? Ho Chi Minh? Did it have to be one or the other? Or maybe Bali next time?
This started out, by the way, as research for someone else's business trip. My role in the team was really just to coordinate, and on a whim my boss asked me to arrange his travel because he was visiting a client's branch office in Thailand.
I went back into his office with an entire folder full of stuff for him to read. Did he want a hotel near the train system? Near the office (but it was a bit out of the way) or in the business district? I noticed that he had an extra day after the meeting, did he want to be booked somewhere with interesting sights within walking distance?
These were things I always asked myself when I prepared my travel plans, so I couldn't just book him in some random hotel without finding this out, right? He was floore
d by all my questions, and pleasantly surprised. He answered all of them and I found him a nice place, within budget, and he was able to spend his extra day walking around buying souvenirs for his wife.
"You're doing all our travel from now on," he said when he got back.
So, Vietnam. I figured that I could only afford Ho Chi Minh City, because Hanoi required a connecting flight…
"You're still here?" Lucas said, showing up by my desk at six o'clock.
The rain hadn't stopped, but I didn't even notice the time. I was sucked into a time warp when I planned for trips. So many reviews to read, pictures to look at…
"I'm stuck," I said. "The shuttles are probably all gone. Or stranded on the highway already. Best thing for me is to stay. Why are you still here?"
He looked around and I thought I saw a flash of guilt in his eyes, but it was gone when I blinked.
"I had work to do," he replied. "But you can't stay here all night. You see that rain? The electricity might go out."
The thought of walking twenty-two flights of stairs made me cringe, visibly.
Lucas smiled. "Join me for dinner?"
Sure, travel planning could wait. I shut down my desktop and grabbed my jacket.
Chapter 8
Yeah, this was one of those storms. The kind that told even us jaded people, "No, you haven't seen me yet, bitches."
The scene outside our building was a mess. Trash bins had not just toppled over, but were rolling far from their original spots. Tree branches were either swept up in odd angles or on the ground, and the gutters were just barely keeping the rainwater from the sidewalk.
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