Fairy Tale Fail (2 page)

What? Everyone had that.

Lucas got that code name because had
the appearance of a guy forced into crisp shirts and ties to earn a
living, but was really, like, a rock star when he clocked out. He
always looked clean, and he smelled great, but his hair was a bit
of a calculated mess.

Yes, I had a boyfriend, but this was
how Charisse and I bonded – by talking about cute guys in our "area
of responsibility." Which we didn't do as much of since I started
going out with Don. I missed this, and I felt better about doing it
again now that Don was being such an ass.

"So why haven't you
really
talked
to
Rock Star yet, Ellie?" Charisse asked. "We should have done this
before when it was easier. I could have helped you."

I was already on smiling and nodding
terms with Lucas. On my first week at work, on casual-wear Friday,
I bought a sandwich from the cafeteria deli. He was behind me in
the line, and he asked what I was having.

"Salmon and cream cheese," I
said.

"Is it good?" he asked.

"When they do it right," I
replied.

He wasn't wearing a tie that time
(casual Friday), and a hint of a tattoo peeked from underneath the
sleeve of his shirt. I wondered what it was, but was too shy to
ask. I didn't know how else to talk to him after that, so I just
ended up smiling at him as we saw each other in the halls. When I
heard that he smoked, I almost took up the habit just to run into
him outside. Almost, but didn't.

Why
didn't I ever talk to him, my friend asked?

Once I got to know a bit
more about Lucas, through office gossip we picked up here and
there, he just seemed more and more like someone I
couldn't
be with. I
couldn't even imagine being with someone who got that much
attention. When word got out that he had a girlfriend,
everyone
hated her almost
immediately. When they broke up, everyone knew about it. And then
when months later the rumors started that Rock Star's Ex
had given birth to a baby girl
, even I felt bad for her.

"Um, let's recap," I said,
rolling my eyes, "He's out of my league. He has a lovechild. Every
time we've seen him have lunch here, he's with Sandra or some other
pretty girl or
alone
, so it's intimidating to approach him in all cases. He's got
three tattoos or something, which I won't be able to justify to my
mother. And you found out he's agnostic, so how am I going to have
my Catholic wedding? And he smokes."

"I don't think he does
anymore."

"What? How?"

Charisse, who actually did smoke,
shrugged. "I don't see him anymore. He had this routine. He would
get coffee from the Starbucks, and then smoke outside. Smoke, sip,
smoke, sip. Lately I've been seeing him buy the coffee but go back
up the elevator, and not smoke."

"Since when?"

"Months." Then she gave me a look.
"Does that change your mind about him?"

"No. Still so many reasons why we're
too different. And out of my league, right?"

"Oh please. You are
so
much prettier than
Sandra. But not that girl from Research though, she is seriously
pretty."

And then we started giggling. "Plus,
you know, I actually have a boyfriend. Your friend."

"What, you can't have new friends
anymore?"

Charisse and I joked about this. She'd
offer to ask Lucas for a light next time she found him smoking.
She'd start small talk, and I should happen to go to the coffee
shop – in full view of the smoking area – to say hello. She used to
plan this before I got together with Don, and would occasionally
remind me of it even after. I didn't know if this meant anything,
if this was a subtle judgment of my relationship. Why was she
encouraging me toward a harmless crush, right?

Wait a second – why
was
she encouraging me to
get to know Rock Star again?

I didn't know her very
long, but I had worked with Charisse for a few years. She was a
natural leader, someone everyone gravitated around, especially
the
barkada
. While
she was a fun person, she wasn't
carefree
in the sense that she never
planned things. Everything she did was deliberate.

The part of my brain tied to my
self-doubt started tingling. It had gotten a lot of practice since
my relationship started. "What's going on?" I asked. "Why do you
want me to meet Rock Star again? Is something up with
Don?"

"What? No," my friend said, but she
answered a bit too quickly. "I mean, I don't know."

"What do you mean,
you don't know?
"

"I just..." Charisse sighed. "Well,
you were going to find out anyway. I heard that Don went out with
the guys on Saturday. They played basketball or
something."

This was, of course, the
same day that he canceled a Tagaytay trip with me. My hands were
probably shaking, and I pulled them down to my lap so Charisse
wouldn't see. I could hear Don explaining already –
but you agreed to cancel, this was a sudden trip
with the guys, the court was indoors anyway
– all perfectly good reasons. But it didn't hide the fact that
I had officially become the person he canceled on first. It wasn't
fair.

The annoying thing was he
wasn't even
cheating
on me. If he were, I could get mad and leave him. But no. He
was just spending more time with
our
friends. Why should I get mad? It
was exactly as it was when we were friends. It was like he didn't
have a girlfriend.

Unconsciously I turned around again,
and just happened to see Lucas get up from his table, tray in hand.
He nodded at me and I was glad I remembered to smile.

Chapter 3

"Ready to go?" Don said.

It was a sunny, beautiful day but I
wasn't feeling it. A cloud had been over my head for a while now,
and I had been smiling extra just to try to shake it off. Not
working.

The whole week after our canceled
Tagaytay trip, Don managed to schedule meetings during our regular
coffee break, and didn't make plans with me at all. I didn't know
if I was going to see him all of the following week either, because
we wouldn't have work from Thursday on – it was Holy
Week.

Then I got a call from him
on Palm Sunday. Did I want to go on a
Visita Iglesia
with him on
Thursday?

Charisse was not at all
religious and would blink if a guy asked her to go on something
like that, but I found it sweet. The
Visita Iglesia
(church visits during
Holy Week) was a family tradition for me; Don and I had that in
common.

Also, did Don actually plan a day for
us without my telling him to? I hoped it would be the thing that
made things right again.

"Ready," I said, getting into the
car.

I was just so glad that
this was Don's idea. Recently, all our dates had been things I had
suggested. Movies, friends' birthdays, road trips... it felt good
to be involved in planning our weekend activities, but I never
really found out what
he
wanted to do.

The church he brought me to was at the
campus of my university. It had been five years since I graduated,
and I hadn't been back in a long time. We didn't go to the same
school, Don and I, but I did tell him about how I liked spending
time at the church. Being in there gave me a sense of peace that I
couldn't explain. It was like a sanctuary to me.

I may have told him all of
that, but I didn't think it really sank in for him until then.
(
Is this it? Adjustment period
over?
)

"What a great idea," I told
him.

My university's church was spruced up
a bit since I had last been there. Even the pews felt new, but
maybe it was just my imagination. I looked at the Stations of the
Cross – beautifully rendered on stained glass – and said my
prayers.

Don had finished his first
and gone out ahead of me. I took one last look at the church
–
my
church – and
walked out to the parking lot with a smile on my face. He was
standing next to his car, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the
harsh summer sun. Seeing him like that on my own college campus was
surreal. Don was a big, imposing guy, not the kind I would have
dated back then.

"Thank you for that," I gushed. "It's
so great to be here again."

"We have to talk," Don said, without
taking his sunglasses off. "You said you wanted to talk about us,
right? I thought we should do that now."

"Now?"

How many times had I thought of this?
Too many in the last few weeks. Don and I had been arguing a lot,
on things big and small. I'd ask if we could talk about "us" but he
never found the time to do it. Well, it seemed like he finally
did.

"You're right," he said. He
wasn't even looking directly at me, but I couldn't be sure because
those damn lenses. "We haven't been
in
sync
lately."

Did I say that? Maybe I did, but he
wasn't supposed to agree with it.

"We just have to stop
arguing and really
talk
," I said, not acknowledging that whole "sync" thing. "Instead
of just sticking to our positions and debating about them all
day."

"That's what we're doing today then,
just talking."

"No fighting?"

"No fighting," Don said. "We can go
through all of our issues. And then if we still don't agree, then
we can just... choose to go our separate ways."

And that was how my boyfriend broke up
with me. During Holy Week. At my beloved university
church.

Chapter 4

Charisse was not the type who would
ever go through a bad breakup (seriously, she would see it from a
mile away and preempt it) but she sure knew how to deal with the
morning after. On Good Friday, I was camped out on her couch. I
couldn't face my family throughout the holiday so I said I'd stay
at Charisse's until Easter, and showed up on her doorstep with a
bag of clothes and nothing else.

She, on the other hand, was
ready. We had bags and bags of chips, Thai food takeout, tequila,
and
Supernatural
,
Prison
Break
,
Gossip Girl
DVDs on queue.

"What did he say?" Charisse
asked.

"I fail at relationships," I said,
dramatically.

***

Don did not explicitly say "You fail at relationships," by the way,
but he might as well have.

The Supposedly Perfect Couple had
several fights that were in constant rotation. On that Maundy
Thursday, he decided that we were going to talk about all of them.
And settle them, once and for all.

"Do you want to keep going?" he asked
me.

"What do you mean, keep
going?"

"This is only the first church. I've
planned for us to go to seven."

"You're kidding, right? No
way am I going to another church after what you just told me. We
talk about everything
now
."

And at that, Don started with, "I'm
just really bothered that you're not more ambitious at
work."

Ugh. My friends hated this argument in
particular. What was Don doing questioning my career choices,
right?

Looking back, it was very relevant.
Because deciding where to stand on this had consequences for our
future together, and even though it sounded like my career was none
of his business, maybe it should be.

My stand, which did not change despite
the many arguments, was that not everyone wanted to be a CEO. I was
fine at my job, as fine as someone could be writing brochures and
website copy about wealth management and financial derivatives
(snore), but it was just a paycheck to me.

I knew I was meant for other
things.

Don didn't understand that. And not
just that, he seemed to think less of me because of it.

"I just think it's a waste," he
continued. "A waste of your expensive education."

More people had arrived at the church
to do their Holy Week traditions, but we were still standing there,
next to his car.

"My parents paid for it, not you," I
sputtered, something I had never said before. "And why do you
consider it a waste? I do well enough, don't I? What should I be
doing?"

Don shrugged. "It just seems like
you're not trying hard enough."

"So what would make you happy?" I
demanded. "What's it going to take?"

"You shouldn't be doing it for me,"
Don said, shaking his head, as if frustrated at the child who just
wouldn't learn. "You should do all that because you want it for
yourself."