Chapter One
Its fifteen minutes to eight. And I'm late. Welcome to my Life, I am Rafaella Martinez, a self-confessed dork and a hopeless romantic by heart. I was always the loner, my self-esteem's almost a zero, and I believe that being ugly is fate-my fate. There's one person in my life that truly matters and whom I don't mind telling straight to my face how ugly I am-my Mom. And for that reason, my mother is my best friend. Oh, I almost forgot, I have a boyfriend, we started dating back in high school. I met him at a bookstore. His name is Harry Potter. Nah, I don't have one. That B-word is almost illegal to me. It's not that I don't like to have one, I always picture myself in a relationship, having that special someone in my life. It's just that for me, the world is harsh. To set it plain, boys don't like me. But I'm still waiting, hoping that one day, someone will come and sweep me off my feet, turn my world upside down. I am still waiting for that pivotal moment of my life. And I do hope that it will happen soon.
"Miss..." I was riding this jam-packed modern version of Hitler's concentration camp which they fondly call MRT, thinking about my dream wedding when a voice came from behind. I was almost startled that I was sort of close to executing various martial arts stances (you know, Bruce Lee's stuff) but I figured looking back towards the direction of the voice is a lot easier. Those deep brown eyes met mine. Oh, are those contact lenses or what? Never mind, looking at them feels good. And boy, does he look dashing too! Wait, was it me whom he called? Really, but why? Is he going to offer me his seat? With that assumption in mind, and before I can scold myself, my scumbag brain hurried towards a very much inevitable thought of falling in love. That's just perfect! Imagine, a love story blossomed in the Holocaust-I mean MRT? At that instant, I already wanted to thank Hitler.
"Miss?" oh, that voice again. I was so kilig that I almost answered, "Yes, I do." But that's just way too fast. I mean, maybe he's going to ask for my name, or number, or address, or that sort of thing. I tell you, when a guy as good looking as this one stands in front of you, you will give the whole world even when he was only telling you that your fly is open.....
Wait. What's that? Did he just said that My.Fly.Is.Open? "Miss, bukas yung zipper mo." Mr. Brown Eyes dropped the bomb. Boom! The MRT love story I was fabricating in my silly head vanished just like how Batman fades into the night.
"Ay, I'm sorry. The traffic eh..you know, rush hour, errrmmm I was late... So I,... This..Oh,shit! Sorry." I stammered as I pull the freakin' zipper close.
He smiled. For a moment, I thought of his smile as the coolest thing in the world. Then, he broke into a laugh... It didn't last long, probably because ethics rang a bell.
But nevertheless, I was humiliated. I was humiliated by a good looking guy. The beautiful people of the human race! It has always been the same since grade school. I was so close to crying. "Ding! Ortigas Station. Ortigas Station." Thank God Holocaust ends here.
So I got off from the MRT and headed straight to my office. Let me introduce you to my officemate named Mariel.
"Uy, Raffie, good thingyou're here at last, Boss is so mad , he seemed like he wanted to eat live chicken." Oh, great. Mariel approached me, she's nice, but she's so pretty it makes me want to get a shovel and bury myself under the ground for two days. Why am I surrounded by beautiful faces?
"You were supposed to do the report pala, pero you were late. I did it for you na lang." Then, that smile of sarcasm.
She saved me? No. everyone knows that the Assistant Operations Manager position is up for grabs. Honestly, I think, I have the slightest chance of nailing the promotion because almost everyone in the office has the looks to go with the aggressiveness. Poor Raffie, where's that shovel? Why not make it a week?
"You might want to join me for a snack?" Mariel offered. She wasn't expecting me to join with her, is she? Nevertheless, I declined her "generosity". After all, she's so pretty, she doesn't have to be so kind. Why does she have to be perfect? Angst, insecurity. Whatever.
"You sure?" she looked so inviting.
"Hmmmm... Okay, I'll go with you. I'm hungry, too."
I ordered coffee, she ordered diet Coke. I munched on potato chips, she had organic salad. She was worried she'll gain weight, I was worried she'll be blown away by the November wind. Oh, life.
"Have you seen the latest issue of Vogue? Paris Hilton is on the cover. I tell you, that body is to die for!" she exclaimed, as if it meant an end to global economic recession with this Paris Hilton being on Vogue. And if by the phrase "to die for" has its literal meaning, well, hell yeah I agree. Anyone can be a goner with that body, anorexia can really kill you.
"Not yet." I nonchalantly said, hoping to put an end to the whole Vogue-Paris conversation.
"Oh, that's sad." Then she put on the saddest face ever. What's with her? Will I be dead for not seeing Paris Hilton, half naked, holding a puppy, sporting the latest swimwear collection?
"Hey, we better get back to the office. Boss Rex has not yet seen me. I might be dead. And when that happens, I won't have the money to buy the latest issue of Vogue magazine, Mariel." I tried hard to paint one of my fakest smiles on my lips. Please. Drop the topic. Please.
"Okay." She smiled. God, this girl is so mercurial. She changes mood in just a snap.
"Miss Martinez, have you come here all the way from New York City, for God's sake?!"
Boss Rex looks like Incredible Hulk now. I don't know whether I'll laugh or laugh harder, which I know are both wrong, but I can't help it. Evil grin.
"Are you listening?" T-Rex shouted.
"No sir. I mean, yes sir." I'm trying hard not to laugh here.
"I said, why are you late? You let our biggest client wait. Good thing Mariel is around... Blah, blah, blah."
I need to think of a good thing, the sight of my boss is just so scary, it's worse than watching the Japanese version of The Ring-in 3D!
Good thing. Good thing. Peter Pan said, I need to think of a good thing so I can fly. Good thing. Suddenly, I thought of Mr.MRT. Pwede!
I guess it's true, you know, the thing they said about getting lost in someone's eyes. I still remembered how he looked like, how he took the kindness of telling me about my unsecured fly, well, yeah, maybe he just want to help me after all, because my fly is open. And my panty is peeking out, or something. And the way he laughed was just amazing, though I know he was laughing at me. Still, I imagined how good it would feel if he was laughing WITH me. I wished I got his name. I pray to God that we'll meet each other again.
"Rafaella Martinez! Are you really insulting me? What's up with the grin?" Ooops, I totally forgot about T-Rex.
"Get out now, work on the papers I handed you yesterday! Out!"
It was a typical thing for my slave driver boss. He shouts at anyone when he wants to. He gets things done his way. He's always on the upper hand. I've been thinking about resigning lately. His tantrums these past few weeks are worse than that of a three year old kid.
So, I got out of his office and as soon as I opened the door and came out, those office mates of mine suddenly became busy-pretending they were not eaves dropping. I'm betting they heard everything Boss Rex told me. I didn't. I was not paying attention. I looked at them one by one, as if trying to say, "Burn!" they looked away. Isn't that cool?
I tried my best to stay away from Mariel that day, it was too hard for me to be with a beautiful airhead. I mean, I got brains. But that's just about it. What she got is more tangible than what I got. And it kind of sucks.
So there I was, walking past everybody. Semi-depressed, semi-hungry. I stopped by a café for some sip. I think I'm going to eat all the calories and carbohydrates in the world. I don't care. Whatever makes me feel better. A lot better.
So, I was at the middle of my daily depression (which, by the way starts as soon as I look at the mirror) feeling helpless. All the things T-Rex told me were all starting to sink in. Oh God, it's so hard to be ugly.
"I'm not ugly.. I'm not ugly.. I'm not ugly.." Good mantra, girl. Keep going. "I am NOT ugly!!!" I was supposed to utter it to myself, but then my tongue slipped in.
"Yes, you are not ugly." Oh great. Another shameful moment. Now, give it to me. I was going to tell this DOM to leave the hell of me alone, when those brown eyes met mine. Déjà vu.
"You really are NOT ugly." And then that smile.
Lo and behold, I am at the peak of my highest felicity! For a moment, I thought I swallowed my tongue. I was so speechless. What more can I say? The beauty before me needs more than all the English and Greek alphabets combined. How hard can this get? It's like those sweet and luscious grapes in the vineyard that you yourself know you can't reach.
"Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for making me feel good." Ooops. Maybe that's too much. Have I given myself away a little too far off the line? Oh no.
"Hey, about earlier, I just want to apologize, I did not laugh at you, or your zipper..."
"It's okay. Really. I'll go now." Please. Ask for my name. My number. My address .My Zodiac sign. Whatever. Don't let me leave.
"Okay." Period. Kaput.
Oh, why? Why haven't he asked for my name? "Stupid Raffie, what makes you think he's interested in you?" My conscience. "Well, he told me I'm not ugly." I fought back. "Yes. But he didn't tell you you're pretty either." Okay. That's it. I lost.
"Okay?" I echoed. Almost exasperated. I knew I was wrong. It's easier if I'll just walk away.
"Okay." He finally said.
Dead end for you, Raffie.
"Mama, I'm home." I called. No one answered.
"Ma, open the gate please." Why was it locked anyway?
"Mama!!!!" I shouted. Annoyed now.
"Ay, your Mama is not there, Nini. That Visayan accent belongs to our neighbor, Aling Inday.
"Saan daw po pupunta?"I asked.
"Potspa daw." Then she turned away.
Potspa? Potspa? Oh, foot spa!! My mother has always been so vain. Vanity is one thing I never bothered to learn.
So, this is great. I had a bad day at work, I was dying to tell my mother about it. But then she's not around, too busy scrubbing her feet. I tell you, Mama's feet are so immaculate that they're even prettier than my face! Oh, Good Lord!