Fairy Tale Fail

Chapter 8 - Over bulalo and beer

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.
   Rather than bear with the burger place in our building, though, Lucas insisted on real food. He said there was a small cafeteria-style place he went to a few blocks away. Really good bulalo. I looked out at the rain, and the wind, and my shoes, and my nice purple top, and shrugged.
   Bulalo did sound good. The weather put me in the mood for meat and marrow. (It's not as disgusting as I made it sound.)
   I pulled my jacket around me tighter and followed him out. I had an umbrella, but it was the kind of storm that would blow an umbrella inside out, so the only way to stay mobile was just to run for it. Thankfully the restaurant was open when we got there, and they didn't mind too when little puddles formed around us when we sat down. I was soaked, by the way, even through my jacket.
   Lucas looked great though. He ran a hand through his wet hair and the calculated mess pointed in a different direction.
   "So, you don't usually stay late at work, right?" Lucas said, after ordering.
   "No," I answered, drying my hands on some table napkins. "I'm usually out of there after my eight hours."
   "Because you live far?"
   I thought about it, and shook my head. "No, I just don't want to be at work all night. What were you doing there anyway? We were all sent home at the same time."
   "I think I'm in the mood for a beer. Do you want a beer?"
   Interesting. "Did you just avoid answering me?"
   He smiled sheepishly and called the waiter, asking for two bottles of San Mig Light.
   I patted my forehead with another table napkin and shrugged. "You do realize that you invited me to dinner during a storm, which means you're stuck with me asking this question all night. Might as well answer it."
   I didn't think I would ever be able to tease Rock Star that way, but what the hey. I couldn't go home, I was hungry, what else did he expect me to do?
   "I'm not talking on an empty stomach," Lucas said.
  
***

What did I know about Lucas, anyway? All of it had been rumors, passed around the office, usually picked up and shared by Charisse who had more friends on other floors.
   It was quite possible that even after all of that, I knew nothing about him at all.
   "So what's your 'thing', Sandwich Girl?" he said, just when I was about to start pestering him again.
   "My what?"
   "Your thing. What is it you do that makes you want to get out of work right away."
   See, that was a great way of putting it. Don had the impression that people who left the office as soon as they were allowed were lazy. I thought they led exciting lives and couldn't wait to get back to them.
   "Thank you," I couldn't help saying to Lucas. "Some people have criticized me for not staying at the office late enough."
   He shrugged. "Yeah, well, if people want to give their heart and soul to their job, then good for them. My work doesn't define me."
   "That's exactly what I've been trying to tell some people."
   I had a lot to look forward to when I clocked out. I started counting them with my fingers. "Movies. TV shows. Dylan, my new little nephew. Finding out what's for dinner. Speaking of, I need to text my mom that I'm having dinner out. And, my research."
   "Your what?"
   "It's strange," I warned him. "I mean, I don't think everyone does this. I plan hypothetical trips to places."
   It was a hobby that I did spend a lot of time on, like hours and hours on the Internet every night. Well not every night, but one thing usually led to another. Like, planning for a trip to Europe, wow. I could spend weeks on that, just doing one scenario after another.
   "Like how?" Lucas said. "Like, for example, a trip to France. What would be your scenario for that?"
   "How much money do I have?"
   Lucas blinked. "Um… not a lot."
   "How much time off do I get from work?"
   "Two weeks?"
   "Just France, or do I do other countries? Because once I get a visa for France, I would think, might as well go to other countries within the EU with that, right?"
   "France and Italy then."
   "Which cities? Do I take a tour, like Contiki, or do I plot the touring myself?"
   Lucas leaned back against his chair and shook his head. "You're right, planning this could take forever."
   "But in a fun way."
   "Of course. But don't think this is so strange, I'm kind of on a travel kick too. Locally, though."
   He told me about what inspired him – going diving for the first time in Malaysia, and realizing that he hadn't even tried it back home.
   "So I said I would," he concluded, "and then it escalated to just visiting the next place because I hadn't seen it. And the next place, and the next. Any local spots part of your hypothetical trips?"
   "No," I admitted. "Well, maybe not in the near future. I really did start this to get away and be in an unfamiliar place."
   "So what are you running away from?" he asked, casually but pointedly, motioning to the waiter to take his empty beer bottle. Apparently Rock Star was a sharp one.
   I told him. About the boyfriend who thought I was without ambition, without passion, and more attractive to him when I was just his friend.
  
***

"Shit. That is harsh." Lucas said, summing up my breakup in a neat sentence-and-swear-word combo.
   "It's not that bad," I said, defending Don instinctively. "I mean, there's no proper place for a breakup anyway."
   "I haven't been to church in ten years but I know I wouldn't do that to anyone." He brought the little bowl of bulalo broth to his lips and slurped thoughtfully. "Well, when I first saw him I did think he was an ass."
   Oh crap. I hadn't seen Don in so long, I had forgotten that we all still technically worked together. In the same office.
   "Do you know him, like, are you friends?" I squeaked.
   No, they weren't friends. But Lucas met him briefly during an ill-advised stint with the office badminton team. It wasn't a pleasant memory.
   "Maybe I unfairly tainted your perception of him already," I said. "Because normally people think he's a nice guy."
   He looked at me with disbelief. "Wow. You were that into him, huh?"
   "I said I loved him, didn't I?"
   This was hour three into our dinner. The rain was still falling heavily, although thankfully the wind had stopped its assault. Also, our big bowl of food was pretty much just a peppered puddle by now, but I sure wasn't in a hurry to leave.
   He wasn't checking his watch either.
   "Ellie," he said, one of the first times I heard him say my name, "Tell me if I got this right. You think this guy loves you, and yet he takes you to the place he knows you adore, tells you that you're lazy, and stupid, and much more interesting from a distance."
   I started laughing. It was like I was being tickled from inside my gut. For a good minute there I couldn't stop.
   This was not the first time that I had been told that. Charisse did, so many times, in so many ways. All of my friends and family did, at least when they weren't sick of this story yet. But seriously, none of those things sank in. They became sound bites that I vaguely remembered, things I learned to start saying to people just so they would think I was okay and stop looking at me like I was going crazy.
   "I am going to be honest with you," I said. "Because you're paying for my beers."
   He raised an eyebrow at me. "I am?"
   "You are now. Do you want to hear it?"
   "Go ahead."
   I leaned toward him, toward the middle of the table, and exaggerated a whisper. "I got so used to thinking he was The One for me that I would probably still take him back. Like, if he called me tomorrow and said he wanted a second chance."
   "Even after what he did to you?"
   "Yes," I said. "I think I would."
   "But you seem fine to me."
   "I'm busy with work, but it's like I'm on autopilot. I feel like I'm not entirely here. I really got attached to the future I thought I would have with him. It sucks that I'm not living that dream right now."
   I wasn't being dramatic, by the way. I wasn't crying, or hurt. I was just stating a fact, maybe for the first time ever. It helped that Lucas didn't know me back then, and didn't spend the past year or so hearing about my pain. At least he was hearing this after I had already processed it.
   "Do you still love him?" he asked.
   "I don't know if I do," I said. "But I know that I would go back to him again if he asked. It's just easier. I can't even imagine my fairy tale with another guy. I've tried, but I can't."
   There I said it – my shameful secret. Ellie was not so free after all.
   Lucas ran a hand through his hair – dry now – and just looked me in the eye. I noticed that he had stubble again, and I liked how it gave definition to his jaw. He looked at me, probably expecting me to say I was kidding. I couldn't possibly still be in love with a guy who didn't appreciate me.
   But I wasn't kidding.
   "Well, now I know that you are really messed up," Lucas said, finally. "I'm paying for the whole dinner.

===

Bulalo is the best thing when it's rainy, isn't it? And I've actually done Ellie's hypothetical trip plans. I had an ambitious England/Scotland/Ireland plan, a France/Italy/Spain plan, and other scenarios, whatever I'm in the mood for. They haven't all happened yet, but my friends who had plans? Usually made it happen. There are ways!