Fairy Tale Fail (4 page)

I pulled him toward me and
kissed him first, I'd admit to that. But it was his arms that
pulled me back to him, his hands that were under my shirt, his
tongue that lashed at my mouth. Our arms and legs tangled as we
rose to our feet and locked the door. My shirt came off not a
moment later, something that
never
even happened while we were together, and I
pressed myself against him nearly breathless.

Ironically? That wasn't the "stupid"
thing. It was this:

"I still love you," I said, and I
kissed him before I could say anything. I did that against my
better judgment, but it had been weeks since he acted at all
interested, and I thought it was a now-or-never kind of
thing...

Next I heard staccato knocking, and
then the voice of a little girl. "I need to go to my bathroom!" she
yelled.

It was Ricky's daughter and she
sounded bratty and impatient. I became decent in record time, and
made it back out to the balcony as Don opened the door. Ricky's
seven-year-old was there, but Charisse was right behind
her.

"Me first!" The little girl pushed
past Don and into her bathroom. When I looked again, Don was gone,
and Charisse had come into the room.

"Sorry," Charisse said, looking at me
with concern. "But all the bathrooms were occupied and… are you
okay?"

"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. Lucas. 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.