Cinderella's Diary

NINE

NINE

            Bright lights glowed outside the window. I side-glanced them from the front seat of Patrick’s Mercedes Benz. How could I let myself be tricked or forced into this? Honestly, Katherine couldn’t have been so desperate to ask Patrick to go as my date in her runway. Was it that important for her best friend to attend with a date? I never had a single boyfriend in my whole life. And was fine with it, why did it matter now? Alright, it does feel much better to have someone. If only that someone were mine. Perhaps, the only reason, he agreed to this…was to make Katherine happy. I sighed. Tears tingling in my eyes….she always had her way. It wasn’t the same for everyone else who lived in a planet called earth. These people, these…doll-like god and goddesses were not of this world.

I felt a gentle touch on my fingers “Is everything alright?” Patrick inquired in a polite tone. “You’ve been awfully quiet the whole ride…” As the stop light flashed red, he dared to look at me. I didn’t want to face him directly. There was something unsettling in my mind. It sunk to the pit of my stomach. And my heart was stuck in my throat. I wanted to ask him the pressing question, why did he agree to accompany me for this fashion event? I sincerely doubted he had any preference for that. With the way he dressed himself, I’d say he just put on some work clothes and dumped a black trench coat to give it some sense of taste. But, for real—oh, contraire, the man still looked dashing. There must be some kind of curse or spell upon him. Even Charles didn’t look this good. And he was Charles Sytengco for crying out loud. Did Patrick grow taller? I’d thought I at least reached his shoulders or collarbone with heels, now, well, I only stood to his chest. My hand flew to my mouth the instant he picked me up from my apartment. He held the door for me…Charles never did that for me, not that I could expect that from him…I’m not the love of his life. Reality check, I don’t hold a candle to Katherine’s beauty. The woman was an exceptional beauty.

“Cinderella?” he called again.

“Oh yes,” I turned to look at him “I was just admiring the lights.”

He made a smooth turn, “Tell me what’s really on your mind.”

“Not you too,” I said, exasperated “Is everyone so keen in reading me like a book nowadays?”

“It’s not that,” he replied quietly “You seem not to enjoy my company.”

Despite myself, I felt extremely guilty, “Sorry Pat, just a little nervous,” I turned sideways again “I’ve never really enjoyed these social events, it’s not my thing…”

“Me too,” he smiled “But you’ll be fine. I won’t leave your side, not for one minute.”

I wanted to believe it…to believe his words. Except, ten years ago—Charles had promised me the same thing in a school event in Ateneo…for a soccer interschool celebration party. Then, he forgot. And I was left in the dark. And…and…Emerson…he…he…”Ella?” I heard his voice alarmed and concerned. I forced a smile, finally taking out the bun from my hair. It was a real struggle to get wavy curls for my naturally long, dark straight hair. Any perm, style would be done in less than three hours. Back again to its original silky-smooth straightness, that I was often accused of having it re-bonded or something. But never, not once…my black hair was truly my crown and glory.