"Do I look like a librarian to you?"
"Can I be perfectly honest?"
Hayge bits her inner lip and says, "Yes."
"You look a girl who just got dumped by her boyfriend."
"Do I?"
"Yes." Casey answers, pouring the bucketful of fish over the sea of penguins waiting impatiently for their breakfast. "…which is kind of questionable in itself since you don't have a boyfriend to begin with."
"You're side-tracking me here. Do I look like a librarian to you or not?"
He straightens himself up from being bent over, and studies her thoroughly through silver blue eyes that run deep. "You remind me of Mrs. Kelley."
Hayge's eyebrows meet in mild curiosity. "Who's Mrs. Kelley?"
"You don't remember her?" asks Casey, whose voice, no matter how small, echoes around the simulated aquarium of manmade caverns and miniature hills of icebergs where a small crowd of penguins are huddled around. Hayge loves hanging in this place for at least twice a month on the weekends, not only does she get to visit an old friend, but she also gets to be in touch with nature, penguin life, to be specific. Before the zoo opens for tourists and locals alike to flock, Casey, the keeper, better be sure to call Hayge to come over and treat her to a pre-show tour around or she'll chop him in pieces. Now they've just finished going around, or 'circumnavigating' as Casey likes to put it, and he's busy putting the final touches to the little replicated scenery of the penguin's natural habitat as she sits by the edge of the ice, dangling her feet off to make little splashes on the cold water below.
"Mrs. Kelley, you know, grade school terror, tall, long dark hair with those half-moon spectacles that we never saw her without? Please don't tell me you forgot about her."
"Was she a librarian?"
"She was the school dentist."
Hayge winces and shakes her head. "I look like a school dentist? That's even worse than a librarian."
"No, not just any ordinary school dentist. You have an uncanny resemblance with Mrs. Kelley." He announces with unmistakable certainty.
"So you're trying to tell me I look like someone that the kids might be afraid of?" She demands.
"No, but you do project that bitter spinster vibe, you know." He explains casually.
She grins widely, so widely it leaks with sarcasm. "Gee, you're sweet."
"What's with all the questions anyway? Do I look like a librarian? Do I look like a school dentist? Do I look like this? Do I look like that?" Casey whines, "Have years of working on your boring job finally gone to your head?"
No, because someone whom I met last night, someone whom I have mistakenly wronged for a sane, decent guy, someone who actually turned out to be a pervert, suggested that he saw me as a librarian, and ergo, a bitter spinster with the "bitter spinster vibe."
Hayge wants to get some of that off her chest, vent some of her frustrations that sparked from last night, but instead she asks, "Am I gonna end up alone, Casey?"
"Noooo…" He stresses, putting an elaborate trail to the word. She looks up at him as he drops down his cleaning equipment and sits next to her, wrapping a comforting arm around her. "Hayge, you're too young to be thinking that way."
"But what if I'll be thirty-five and still alone; will I still be too young then to be thinking this way?"
"I'm sure by thirty-five you will already have found the right man for you." He says, sending soothing words into Hayge's , ears. "You just haven't found him yet because there's too much to think about now, your career, your independent life, your cozy little apartment."
"What if it's not about that?" Hayge hates the desperation in her voice. "What if it's me that is so hard for men to fall in love with, or even stay in love with?" Hayge closes her eyes, knowing she's touched a particularly sensitive subject.
"Oh, sweetie…" Casey understands, hugging her closer to him. "That man was a fool to let you go."
"I really don't wanna talk about it."
"Yeah, let's not talk about him. He's is sooooo in the past." He puts a little bubbliness in his tone, his effort to lighten the mood evident. "Let's talk about the present, the romance crisis you seem to think you're going through."
Hayge takes a deep breath and forces the nasty feeling away. "I was just wondering what's in me that decent guys find so hard to get past. Why do I always get flirted on by jerks at a club?"
"You don't even go to clubs, how would you know?"
"Maybe I'm one of those women who are doomed to have a single status on their bio data for the rest of their lives."
"Shut up, that's not true." He says. "You know why men hesitate to put the moves on you?"
"No, I don't. And please, do tell."
"It's because you're smart."
"Huh?"
"They feel intimated by you, so they tend to shy away, because the more they squeeze themselves in, the more they feel low about themselves."
"You really think that's why?" Hayge has never pictured her intelligence to be hindrance to the welfare of her social life.
"Yeah, you're this closed-off individual who seems uninterested in the whole flashy Hollywood-ish dating scene, so that kind of spoils the possibility for these guys of having a shot at you."
"So you're saying I'm… closed-off? Is that even supposed to be a good thing?"
Casey is a good friend. He should know the answer.
"I'm not saying it is."
"Then, what? If it's a bad thing, what do I do?"
Casey looks like he's pondering on a deep thought and after a moment or two, turns to Hayge with a loose smile. "Loosen up a little bit, Hayge. Learn to flirt with people, laugh boisterously when you find something funny, show a little bit of skin."
"Why, what's wrong with my get-up?"
He laughs and gestures up and down her form. "To be honest, you look like a nun."
"Do you think I should start going to the gym and work on my abs?" She jokes.
Then a look of enlightenment etches across his face. "That's actually not a bad idea."
"Oh, please, Casey. I haven't been to an actual gym since that time my mom flirted with that young sexy instructor."
"No. You're right." Casey scrambles up and pulls her with him. He starts to study her profile, pinching her arms and looking around to check her rear end. "You gotta work on your posture, too."
With a bewildered look, she lets out a confused laugh. "I was just kidding. Hell no am I gonna subject myself to those expensive mechanical trainings. Work is exhausting enough as it is."
"Well I'm not kidding, Hayge." Casey looks into her with serious eyes. "I know a guy who's been on the job for years, and if you want I can give him a call for you."
Hayge purses her lips and considers the idea. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if she lost a couple of pounds here and there, and maybe, like Casey said more than a bit enthusiastically, improved her posture to give herself more length. She'd simply squeeze a little time in her evenings for the trainings after the nine-to-five work is done.
"Yeah, you know what? Why not?"
"So it's settled then? Is Hayge gonna come out of her shell and face the harsh, sweaty world of fitness management now?"
Arms crossed, she rolls her eyes. "Yes, yes, she is."
"You are not gonna regret this, this instructor is one fine dude, unattached." He teases.
"Oh, is that so?" She plays along with him with a flirtatious smile.
"Yeah, and he's Asian, maybe you two can catch up with your long-forgotten racial heritage."
Hayge bites her lips seductively and says with a sultry voice, "Trust me, honey, we are not gonna be talking about Asia's history when his hand is already up my skirt."
Casey bursts out laughing and knocks her over to the side. "You are such a bad girl, Hayge."
With a wink, she says, "Oh, Casey, you have no idea just how bad I can get."
To hell with Cutie McHottie and his extremely distasteful atrocity, he is so history in Hayge's book now.
To hell with him and his unforgivably moronic 'librarian' comment, too.
***2***
Honey opens her eyes and feels like the world is spinning. Everything around her seems to be moving in dizzying, blurred patterns, punishing what little bit of consciousness she has. She opens them a little bit more, trying to soothe the strong pounding in her head that she suspected was what woke her up in the first place. Honey wishes she was still asleep. Asleep forever and ever and ever. Because if this was the kind of feeling that she'd wake up to after a long, forgotten night, then hell, comatose sounded a much, much more tempting option.
She feels like there's a hole in her head, oh, scratch that, holes in her head, and at every hole, there lies a wiggling, hammering tiny little stubborn insect at the bottom, giving her a nasty urge to throw up all over the sheets. Her head continues to pound away like a kid on Christmas, relentless, mulish, defiant, accompanied by that nauseating lurch in her stomach twisting 'round and 'round in endless circles. She can do nothing to relieve the pain but shut her eyes again and concentrate on driving the harmless but intolerably sickening feeling away. She must be having what they call a hangover.
That heavy price people have to pay after a night of alcoholic bliss. Maybe it's a reminder from God. A reminder that says while liquor may help you forget your problems for a given time, abusing it can be a vicious little bitch in the morning after. And God is reminding her now, and by Golly it's working. Honey doesn't think she can ever dare drinking a glass anymore.
Honey peeks through one eye and grimaces at the excruciating sunlight piercing its way through the jalousie-d windows. It's not helping with the throbbing in her head at all. She wants to melt right there against the sheets and disappear away into oblivion forever. Because one way or another, she has to be ridden of this hellish sensation in her.
Her stomach starts to growl. She's barely even awake and the hungry little monster inside her tummy is already complaining. She swings her head from side to side, hoping that'll bring some sense of relief, and feels the earth start to slow down. Thank God.
Sluggishly, she drags herself out of bed and goes directly for the kitchen. She is not what you call a morning person, so Phi, on normal days, fixes their breakfast.
Phi is already busy in the kitchen, and laughs when he sees her wobbling over to the island in a clumsy uncoordinated swagger. "Good morning!" Phi is always chipper in the morning.
"Phi… No shouting… Please…" She begs him, her voice still raspy from the sleep.
"Welcome to the drunken world of intoxication, my love." He hands her a glass of brewed coffee, which she sniffs every single morning to start her day. She's irritable and hard to talk to when she wakes up from a long night, and the only way to soothe her is the calming whiff of fresh, brewed coffee straight from her granny's farm back in Mexico. Phi makes sure he has a mug prepared before she gets up; it's been an everyday agreement, and he never misses. What an efficient guy. "How are you feeling?"
"To put it bluntly? I feel like shit." Honey breathes over it, unable to help the moan that comes when a wave of calming sensation sips into her brain and eases the pain away. She doesn't drink it, though. All she's after is the spiraling smoke coming out of it.
"That's how it normally is. Feel better?"
"So much better."
"Hangover can be a bitch, can't it?" Phi asks, sipping from his own mug.
"I'll never drink again." Honey promises.
"You're just saying that." He says, chuckling a little. "Sooner or later, you'll be hogging the tequila truck again."
"mmm…" she ignores the comment and continues to let her nose hover above the mug of coffee with closed eyes, feeling better and better by the second. Waking up to a hangover is one thing. But waking up to a hangover, and a chipper Phi and a cup of this heavenly drink is another. Honey is not willing to say it out loud, but she gets the feeling sometimes that knowing Phi is one of life's few blessings; especially on days when he is the only one there when no one else isn't, on days like this – nursing a throbbing head and an upset stomach on an early morning. This is how she would describe hell on earth, but how can it be hell when a freshly-showered Phi in a comfortable-looking while tee shirt is right there in the midst of all the evil, taking care of her? Truly magni-phi-cent.
She opens her eyes and finds Phi staring at her. He looks away quickly with a nervous face and escapes to the counter.
She hasn't realized till then that she's still wearing the white dress she wore to the party last night.
"How did I get so drunk anyway?" Honey asks, eyes lighting up when Phi sets a plate of omelet in front of her.
"I don't know, because uh, let's see… you tried to break Phil's drinking record?" He chuckles.
"I did?" She asks with a full mouth, somewhat incredulous. "Oh, Phi, this is really good." She motions to the food. She's a professional cook, but she prefers Phi's burnt omelets to any fancy cuisine known to mankind.
"Yes, you did. And no, that's not good, 'coz I left it in the pan for too long." He says, taking another sip, "Anyway, you two got into a little competition. Everybody was cheering for you and you actually won. Who gives a crap to Phil when a pretty lady is kicking his ass?"
"Aww…" Now why doesn't Honey remember any of that? She tries to delve into her pea of a brain for any memory at the party last night after the little scenario with her and Phi at the dance floor, but won't come up with anything.
"You don't remember, do you?"
She shakes her head. Suddenly there comes a shade of cloud on Phi's face, which is tensing her up a little bit.
"You don't remember anything from last night? Anything at all?"
Where's he going with this? "No. You tell me what happened."
Phi blushes, for some unknown reason. "Oh, um…" he clears his throat, "you ended up so drunk, Rynan and I had to haul you out of the bar, where you said, and I quote 'go to hell!'"
"Oh, my God. Did I throw up on any of you two?"
"No, thankfully, that didn't happen." Phi looks amused. "You did vomit on Joe's pants, though."
"Eww. That poor guy." She grimaces and drives the plate of food away from her face. "Remind me to send him flowers today."
Phi laughs and quips, "I think you should apologize to him personally."
"It must have been so embarrassing."
"You haven't heard enough." Phi has a naughty look on his face. "And the rockets red glare… the bombs bursting in air. Ring a bell?"
Her eyes go wide, scared of what she might've done this time. "No."
"You stole the DJ's mic and asked everyone to sing the national anthem with you."
"Oh, crap! I freaking did that?"
"And ooh, you sort of French-kissed Ben at one point." Phi's lips form into a curt curve.
Honey feels a nasty tremor in her middle. "Screw that. There's no way, no way Jose that I did that."
"Oh, but you did. You both seemed to like it even." He says, seemingly eager to move on to another subject. "You gave Phil a lap dance after your little victory, right before you climbed up the stage and kicked the DJ to the side."
"I… gave… Phil… what?" Her face goes pale, horror-stricken to say the least. Honey is a composed woman who doesn't like the limelight on her, but last night, if all horrific things Phi's telling her were true, she went overboard and broke every possible rule she's made for herself. Alcohol can make you do a lot of things. "What else did I do?" Bravely, she asks.
"You started calling me names." He says quietly.
"What names?"
"There were a lot. But uh, I do remember one. You called me 'Froo-froo'."
"Froo-froo?"
"Yeah." Honey can't decode the red tint on Phi's face.
"What else did I do?"
"Uh…" He gives her an evasive glance, hesitant. She knows there's something he's not revealing to her. "Never mind, it's not important. You better finish your food, it's almost eight."
Absentmindedly Honey glances over to the wall clock behind her and sighs. She almost forgot about her weekend duties at her mom's dog store. For a fleeting second, she wonders if she can use her hangover as an excuse for passing up work today.
"I'll be crashing the gym today; you want a ride on the way?" Phi courteously asks when he can see the look of dismay on her face.
"Sure." She answers with a small voice.
"Hey, Catalina…"Honey's eyes snap up from her plate and shoot directly at him in bewilderment. He's called her that name only twice before. The first time was when he broke their radiator which was some two years ago, and the second was when he confessed to her that he was in love with a Hollywood star. Wonder what he did this time.
"What is it?"
He opens his mouth with a considerate amount of effort, seemingly struggling to get the words out, and after a few failed attempts at speaking, he closes it again. Honey can sense the strong need for him to pour out whatever needs to be poured out, but there appears to be a strong invisible force holding him back. Must it have anything to do with last night? OMG, Catalina, what have you done? "Uh… Never mind."
Honey shrugs, pretending she can't care any less, and continues to chew on her food. Instead she forces herself to think whatever it is, it must not have been that important.
The knot in her stomach, though, tells her otherwise.
***3***
The address that Casey gave her makes Hayge believe yet again in her literature professor's favorite quote, "It's a small world we're living in." It's a small world, indeed, so small that it won't be a wonder anymore if she runs into Chewbacca on her way to work. The unnamed fitness instructor with whom her bestfriend, as much as Hayge denied the favor, arranged an appointment for her, is stationed at the tenth floor of the building right across hers, the tenth floor being the gym where he works at. It is a small world and coincidences are just right around the corner.
She stares nervously at her feet as the elevator takes her and a small crowd of people up. Wearing a pair of snug-fitting sweatpants, and a sweatshirt that seems to accent her chest area more than necessary doesn't really make a woman of her type feel comfortable in her own skin. In fact, she'd never felt so self-conscious in her life. Geez. Geeky, much? She can just imagine that mocking face her sisters would be making if they ever see her groomed this way; she'd never hear the end of it.
The elevator hits her floor and she steps out awkwardly, covering her face by her thick blanket of black hair. She's met by a wide white room that narrows into a hallway in the middle. She carefully walks through that, adjusting the strap of her gym bag on her shoulder, peers through the first room that recesses along the pathway. The door is open but it looks like it's not being used. She walks a few feet forward before she halts at a room with glass walls and a glass door. Judging by the boys and girls working on their musical instruments, violins, cellos, guitars, flutes, clarinets, even triangles, and a middle-aged woman with those stick thingies they use in an orchestra, conducting before them, she can tell that it's the music room. She pushes through with her search and stands before a room almost identical to the previous one, almost every part of which is made of glass; except the floor. The floor is a spotless, slippery square of fine wood. She walks forward to have a closer look. It's a dance studio. There are at least thirty teenage kids in there, stretching and strutting in their dancing shoes. In front of them is a wall-sized mirror, and to the right is a wall-sized window overlooking her own building. Huh. She can practically see her own desk from where she's standing now. How cute is that.
Then she remembers her real purpose here, which is to meet up with a faceless and anonymous guy whose name and face Casey refused so stubbornly to divulge to her for some kinky reason. Hayge, at first, insisted for his objective profile, but her friend was one hard case. All he told her was that this Asian guy is a stud and a pantydropper and to look for him using those descriptions. She ignored him; gay people tend to exaggerate.
Hayge, without thought, turns around and bam.
She can feel her skull shaking violently as she comes colliding, head-to-head, literally, with another body. She jerks backward and massages the sore spot on her forehead, and lifts her eyes to look at the mean person who's about to suffer an earful of reprimand from her. Her vision fiddles into focus and her jaw drops at the sight before her.
Damn it, it's the perverse guy from the club last night.
It's Cutie McHot—no, he's no longer that anymore. What the hell is he doing here? And what's with the bewildered look on his face? Hayge feels a tiny kick in her stomach as he stares openmouthed at her. Shit. He looks fine. He's an asshole, but he looks fine.
"Are you following me?" She asks with a harsh tongue.
"Excuse me?" He sounds affronted. God he looks even sexier when he's mad. "Do I even know you?"
"I was… I…" She can't figure out whether to be insulted or relieved. One the one hand, this guy doesn't remember coming in contact with her at all, which is a good thing since she knows she's not swimming amongst the filth and the dirt in that sick, rotten brain.
On the other, well… he has no memory of her, no memory that he had, no matter how short and ill-fated, a conversation with her. And that in itself is sad.
"I…" Hayge continues to stutter, as if waiting for him to wake up and recognize her face. She hates herself for caring so much whether he remembers her or not – this guy is an ass. "Just watch where you're going next time."
"No. You watch where you're going." He demands, his words coming out in quick spurts before turning and leaving her gawking at his back. This guy has no feelings at all.
How unfair is it that one sinful man can sleep at night with a clean conscience merely because of poor memory when others are repenting and punishing themselves for the sins that are heavy enough for them to remember day after day after day? Hayge is the others in there. She is officially erasing Cutie McHottie, aka the jerk who's got her appalled twice already, from her life.
She ignores the feeling of disappointment nagging her to tears, and strides over to a room with the label, "Get Fit! Get Right!" Maybe this is it. It's not hard to tell it's the fitness section – with all the treadmills, dumbbells, and all sorts of weight-assisting self-help machine doodads scattered neatly around the room, she's not adequately informed about these things. Hayge sees a lot of people, both men and women, already sweating their tummies off as she tries to walk as unobtrusively as she can, looking around at the same time for 'an Asian stud' and a 'pantydropper.' There is one at the back of the room assisting a woman in her forties to get on a methodically complicated exercise machine that seems to hang a person up-side-down. Whoa.
Double whoa, because she recognizes the guy. It's… it's… Droopy Snoopy. What the hell has happened to her life? It appears as though everywhere she turns she sees one or two of the seven people in that basketball courtside she's gotten so familiar with for months now, albeit from afar. Is this some sort of conspiracy? Is she being punked? Will she get to meet Ashton Kutcher?
What a small, no… infinitesimal Sacramento.
Hesitantly, she approaches him with a kind smile. But deep inside that kind smile is a clueless mind that asks "How am I gonna go around this?"
"Hello." She says quietly to catch his attention.
Droopy Snoopy turns in her direction and smiles kindheartedly. "Well, hello, there. What can I help you with?" Damn, his voice is so deep.
"Um…" Then her mind goes blank. "I'm looking for someone."
"O…kay…" He slowly replies, sounding amused. "Is he one of the staff here?"
"Yeah, actually, he is. And… uh…" Gosh, this would've been so much easier if Hayge went out and socialized more often. "Look, I know that this is totally inappropriate, but a friend of mine… um, arranged an appointment with one of trainers here on my behalf, and… he hardheadedly missed to give me any concrete information about him, but he did say that this guy was um… Oh, God, this is so stupid… he said this guy was an 'Asian stud'… and uh…" Hayge takes a deep, shameful breath.
Droopy Snoopy looks like he's holding his breath while listening to her relate the story. "A what?"
"A pantydropper."
It takes a moment for him to understand. Then a small, shy laugh escapes his throat.
"I was wondering if you were that guy." She spits out quickly.
He folds his arms, his well-endowed, ripped arms, over his chest and tilts his head endearingly. "Is your friend, by any chance, Casey James?"
"Yes, yes, that gay hottie with the long hair. That's him." Hayge gestures frantically.
"Then yes, I am…" he bites his lip bashfully, "…the Asian stud."
"And the pantydropper." She adds without thinking.
"If you say so." The smile on his lips remains polite.
"My name is Haygelene Jimenez." Hayge extends a hand. "But you can call me Hayge."
"The nerdy girl with the psychedelic glasses, hi." He takes and shakes it genteelly. "My name is Ben… Ben Chung."
"Hi, Ben." She withdraws from the handshake and smiles knowingly. Ben suits him and his cool aura perfectly. "Psychedelic glasses, huh? Lemme guess, Casey?"
"I guess I'm not the only victim of his sassy descriptions."
"Cool." Hayge says and they both laugh. It's clear that they both happen to be familiar with Casey and his venom.
"So how do you wanna do this?" Ben asks, sounding all business-like all of a sudden.
"Um, I'm thinking I could drop by here at five-thirty on the weekdays, three on the weekends and we can go at it for two hours." Hayge says. "What do you think?"
"I think that sounds good if you're trying to pull a muscle and kill yourself."
"What do you mean?"
Ben looks behind and asks the woman a polite permission to leave. Then he leads them both to the corner by the wall-sized window overlooking the city and the busy street below. "Look, you gotta be gentle with your body, Hayge. This is your first time undergoing a professional workout training, am I correct?"
"In high school I dabbled a little bit on sports, but other than that, yes, this is a first. How did you know?"
"It's part of my job to know." He says. "Anyway, that practically makes you a virgin. You see, most customers come here three times at week at most, and believe me, they get all the results that their body needs." Ben gives her a once-over that makes Hayge blush a little. "And from what I can see, yours doesn't really need all that much."
"Really? Is that a compliment?" Hayge asks with an innocently casual tone that makes Ben chuckle.
"All I am saying is don't put too much pressure on your body. Three times a week will do the trick. Lemme see?" He comes around her, examining every inch of muscle and flab present in her five-feet-seven built. "What particular part do you wish to work on?"
Hayge would normally feel awkward sharing her insecurities with another person, but with this guy? It seems easier somehow. "I wanna work on my tummy, it has some excess that don't need to be there. Also… um, I wanna…"
"You wanna…?"
"I wanna add a little bit of attitude to my butt area."
Ben looks like he's holding back a laugh. "I have exercises that are perfect for buttocks-enhancement."
"Good." She clips her mouth shyly.
"So, shall we begin?"
Hayge places her gym bag down on one safe corner as Ben gathers the equipment that they will be needing. After pulling her hair up into a tight bun, she turns around to catch Ben throwing a tickled smile her way. She can't figure out whether to acknowledge or respond to that in any way, instead, she blushes and stares at her feet. She doesn't really know how handle to situations like this, she hasn't got the guts to flirt. Casey has more vagina lips than she does.
"Before we start with our warm-up, though, let me ask you one thing." Ben asks, motioning her to lie down on the carpeted floor beside him.
Hayge carefully sits down on that spot, so that he's facing her side. "Sure."
"Why did you assume that I was the guy Casey was referring to in that childish depiction? Is it because I'm Asian, or is it because you saw me as the other thing?" prodigy
She finds the amused six-year-old grin on Ben's face delectably charming. "I can't tell you that." She answers coyly, one eyebrow raised. How's that for flirting?
He laughs, a deep, booming cacophony of well-modulated specks of sound that Hayge has learned to like immediately. "Alright, if you say so, Hayge."
Hayge finds this moment incredibly liberating. She's already met Dimple Head, Cutie McHottie, which she now wishes she hasn't, and now she's about to commit into spending three of her week's afternoons with Droopy Snoopy, the Korean-looking guy who sucks at basketball but not at making a good impression. Well, at least this one turns out to be perfectly nice. If only Cutie McHottie was as upright.
If only.
***4***
"I already told you, Mom, the answer is no."
"But look at her, Catalina, she is yearning for a mother's love."
"Mom, no." Honey warns for what feels like the twenty-seventh time that afternoon. "Looking after a puppy is equivalent to looking after a human baby. And I won't subject myself to any of that."
"But the munchkin will behave herself, won't she? Won't you, baby?" Mrs. Perez makes smooching sounds and gibberish noises that the baby chaw-chaw is paying close attention to with round, glossy eyes.
She's a new arrival straight from China, and her mom refuses on selling the dog for other strangers' benefit and insists on her keeping it, because she singles this pup out, among her million other dogs, as special. Honey does feel that need to grit her teeth every time she takes a look at the adorable piece of toy, but it won't be so adorable anymore if it's making a whole lot of dog mess on the couch, or Phi's bed, or even her bed, which is usually a dog's favorite pastime. Her mom is a tough high-school-days zit to get rid of, though. Wait, did she just compare her mom to a bacterial pore infection?
"Look, if you want it so bad, why don't you keep it?"
"I told you, Marcos is allergic to dog fur." Marcos is her mom's thirty-year-old boyfriend. "You know how I keep Kelso, Marie, Michelangelo, and Stephen down at the basement 'till seven in the evening."
"Yeah, what an animal-loving move you're pulling off over there, by the way, Mom." Honey chides sarcastically, organizing the boxes of dog food according to date of delivery.
"With you, at least I know that the little poochie's gonna get all the love that she deserves."
"Well, she won't. Because I ain't keeping her, and I'm sure Phi is against it, too. He's more paranoid than I am. And having a dog lying around in an apartment without a leash is… it's not ideal. For all I know, it's probably even gonna cause infestation, or something."
"Oh, Honey, look at her." Mrs. Perez persistently points at the animal, accompanied that pleading look. "Look at the little beauty. Do you really think something as tiny and precious as this can cause an infestation? Listen to yourself, Catalina. I don't like this little monster you're turning into."
"Precisely. I am a monster and leaving a poor, defenseless creature under my supervision would be a risky move." Honey states determinedly. "I wouldn't do it if I were you."
Her short, stout mother huffs miserably in defeat and picks up the little puppy, patting her back. "Catalina will come around, sweetheart, I know it. She's got the dog-love in her heart, just like her mother."
Honey shakes her head with an amused eyeroll. "Well, don't hold your breath 'till that time comes."
The bell on the door rings and a young woman in a yellow coat goes in with a pleasant smile. "I'd like to buy a dog."
Honey spends the rest of the day tending to customers, showing them around the shop in that salesperson bearing, providing them information about all the dogs that they have in store. Some customers have a pre-determined choice of breed, while others wanna be surprised on the spot. She finds a lot of them end up picking up baby Golden Retrievers, German Shepherds, Dachshunds, Chihuahuas, St. Bernard's, and a lot others from their selection, but not the Chaw-Chaw. The little pup tends to bark and react violently once a customer comes to pet her. Nobody really wants to look after a vicious little shark, do they? Unless, of course, they want to scare away the little kid next door who keeps stealing from their backyard. One old lady scurries away when the pup threatened to bite her fingers off.
Their average sale can sum up to as much as seven dogs a day, not forgetting the dog food and training gadgets that seem to fly off the shelves under their noses. Her mother has made good money out of this small-time business, and raised her and her two sisters on it. Her proud Mexican father, who was the most passionately devoted dog-lover Honey has ever known, used to be the only hands-on member on their family, but ever since his death thirteen years ago, her mother and her two sisters have decided to take over the business. It isn't as big as it was years ago, but it's still on operation, and that's what matters. Despite Honey's more-than-enough salary from working at the restaurant, she still comes here every weekend and pays her services to what her father has started. She owes him at least that much.
"We have an effective solution for lice problems. Mom used it on her Terrier when there was a louse breakout two months ago and it worked wonders, Mrs. Gibbs. All those nasty little bugs were washed away in a jiffy, leaving the precious puppy fresh, and clean, and good as new." Honey uses her saleslady voice, all smiles and engaging, handing a troubled, old woman a bottle of Shellguard shampoo.
"I'll take three of this."
"Okay."
Honey's computing the items on the cash register when a ding-ding-ding on the door makes her lift her eyes. Whoa. He's early.
"What are you doing here so early?" She asks, pretending to sound indifferent. Deep in her heart, she's singing a happy tune.
"Your mom called and told to come by." Phi prances across the room, standing by the counter next to her. "She says you got something to tell me and that it's urgent."
"Huh?"
"Hello, Phi, darling." Mrs. Perez emerges from the back with her vicariously open arms and cages Phi in them, more tightly than needed. He hugs back just as enthusiastically, with a cheerful "Good to see you again, Mrs. Perez." He grins sheepishly as Honey's mom showers him with kisses. She tends to get too touchy-feely with him, too touchy-feely that Honey sometimes can't help but twitch.
"Oooh, you look like you've been working out." Mrs. Perez gushes, stroking his biceps.
"Just a little." He modestly answers.
"I've always had a thing for buff men back in the day. That's what got me and Honey's father fooling around in the barn." She giggles as her eyelashes bat at him. Honey thinks she might sprain something. "I remember it being the day Juliana was conceived."
"Mom, I really don't think he has to hear how my sister was made." She scolds her, doing a polite bow to the customer who turns and walks away.
"There's nothing wrong with sharing a little slice of the past, my darling." Mrs. Perez says, her Mexican accent suddenly thickened. Then she turns to a Phi who looks like he's struggling to keep a straight face, "As I was saying, Phi…"
"Mom, mom. I think I'll take it from here." She gently pushes her aside and slides her hands inside her apron pockets. "What urgent thing were you talking about?"
Phi turns to Mrs. Perez's direction. "You told me your daughter had something to say to me."
She clears her throat nervously as Honey glares at her with narrowed eyes. "You see, Catalina here wants to take a baby Chaw-Chaw home, but I told her to consult with you first."
Honey gasps in shock and frantically shakes her head at Phi. "No, no, that's not true. Phi, don't listen to her. She's lying."
"It's okay, love, you don't have to hide it." Her mother puts on a concerned look that anyone would buy if they didn't know her any better. But Honey knows her better. Juanita Perez is evil and scheming, and hell, she can turn a story around like no other.
But there's no point in changing the permanent, instead Honey turns to Phi. "I don't want the puppy, but she insists that I keep it." She explains hysterically. "I told her keeping a dog in an apartment will be messy and will require a lot of attention. We'll be muddled with dog poop everywhere. And I know how much you'll hate that. Plus, this puppy hates being held. I told her a million of times and she wouldn't listen."
Phi's expression is blank, vague. Honey can't read it.
"Phi, you believe me, right?"
"Can I see the dog?" He asks Mrs. Perez.
"Oh, I'll show you." Her face lights up like a Christmas tree and she takes Phi by the hand and tags him along to the back with her, where they all keep their dogs caged.
"Mom, you're gonna go to hell for this, you know that, right?" Honey calls after them. She wishes she can follow and persuade Phi out of deciding to keep the dog, but she knows it's too late. Only she has the heart to say no to her mom. A few minutes after, Phi comes out with a furry, mellow Chaw-Chaw in his arms, a happy, pleased Mrs. Perez in tow. Honey cannot be shocked any less.
"I do remember you saying she doesn't like being held." Phi says in a mocking tone. "On the contrary, she does love it and I think she just found her new daddy."
"Oh, hell, no." Honey places her hands on her hips, claiming superiority. "You are not taking that thing home with us."
"Excuse me?" Phi says defiantly, hugging the puppy closer to him. "How dare you talk to my baby like that? She has feelings, and by the way, she's a 'she', not an 'it'."
"You can't be serious. That dog is gonna make more mess than my senile eighty-year-old grandfather. And who's gonna be picking up the shit? You? Mister I-can't-stand-the-spaghetti-stain-on-the-couch?"
"Will you keep your voice down? I think she's taking a nap."
"Jesus, Phi. Listen to me." Honey stands face-to-face with him. "They eat, they poop, they cry, they bite and chew everything in the house that they can bury their teeth in, and they poop some more. Do you really think you and I are cut out for that?"
"Gee, you sound like a seventeen-year-old kid who just found out he's gonna be a father."
"Yes, and you're the seventeen-year-old mother who lives in this ideal world and thinks everything's gonna be alright when they're not. This is a huge commitment you're about to make here, and before you know it, we'll be falling in love with it, and we can't give it up anymore because it's gonna be too late by then."
"Honey, it's just a dog."
"But you just called it your baby."
"It's a dog, and it's gonna be my dog."
"Phi…" She warns.
"Look at her, Honey." This time Phi sounds serious, voice gone all tender and motherly. "You can't possibly find anything more beautiful than this in the face of the earth." He whispers like a mother who's afraid to awaken a sleeping baby.
Honey knows it's a sign of weakness to give in to the maternal urge inside her that she has been trying to suppress since Mrs. Perez showed her the little puppy that morning. But she's never been a woman of strength anyway. This dog is precious.
"Please keep me, Mommy. I promise I'm not gonna give you and Daddy a hard time." Phi does a funny puppy voice, cajoling Honey into surrendering. When she looks up, he's putting on a face with that Phi puppy pout and round, glossy eyes that Honey hasn't been known to resist.
"Please?"
Honey knows she's already lost. She heaves a big sigh. "Screw it."
"Yes!" Phi cheers and surprises Honey with a sloppy, wet kiss on the cheek. "I knew Mommy would come around. She just couldn't resist your charms, could she? No, she couldn't, no, she couldn't." Honey fights the urge to laugh out loud at the faces and voices Phi's making.
Also fights the urge to tell him that it's not the dog's charms that she can't resist.
It's his.
***5***
Hayge puts the speaker even closer to her ears, trying to concentrate.
"What was the emergency all about?"
"I'm gonna be a dad."
"Tara's pregnant?"
Neighbor Guy scoffs and shakes his head at a baffled Ben. "No, Honey and I are getting a dog."
"Oh." Ben rubs down his chest. "Dude, don't scare me like that."
"She's a Chaw-Chaw and I'm telling you, dude, she's adorable." Neighbor Guy gushes happily.
"Why, I am happy for you, man."
Hayge can hardly pay attention to her sister's voice over the phone when she's here listening in on other's people's conversation. She has to ask ever so often, "What? I can't hear you. Come again?" Because this isn't her first moment, nor second, nor third, nor even fourth, to establish that frightening fact it is indeed a small world. Neighbor Guy stopped by the gym and looked like he was getting some workout done himself. He's all bubbly and hyperactive, and crowing about a dog. If only her sister Elizabeth would tell her what's up already so that she and he can be properly introduced. Liz sounds like she's crying.
"Liz, I need you to calm down so I can hear you."
"I don't wanna talk about this over the phone. I need to see you in person." Elizabeth says, sniffing back her tears. "Where are you?
"I'm…" She hesitates, "I'm at the gym. Where are you?"
"I'm right here in your apartment building waiting for you to come home."
"What?" Hayge exclaims.
"Hayge, please, see me now. I need to talk to you."
"Are you ok?"
"Just see me."
Hayge feels a wave of anxiety as the end of other line goes dead. She wonders what kind of trouble her sister has gotten herself into this time. She snaps her phone shut and walks over to Ben and, as hard as it is for her to believe, Neighbor Guy. They're still animatedly talking and gesturing when Ben notices her coming.
"Hey, you ok?" He can see the troubled look on her face. "You look… flushed."
"I'm alright. My sister wants to see me."
"Oh. Do you have to go now?"
"I think I do." She answers weakly.
Hayge can see the persistent elbow nudging Ben. "Oh, how rude of me?" He says. "Hayge, this is my friend Phi. Phi, this is Hayge, my new trainee."
Finally… Hayge accepts Neighbor Guy's extended hand and returns his big smile. The name 'Phi' sounds charmingly unique on its own rights. "Pleasure to meet you, Phi."
"The pleasure is mine." Then Phi narrows his eyes and studies her closely. "You look familiar. Have I seen you before?"
Hayge decides to disclose the truth to him. "We live on the same building."
"Oh, of course. Hello… Hayge." He offers his hand again, as though to refresh the greeting.
"You've been living on the same building all this time and you just found out now?" Ben asks incredulously, a little laugh in his voice. "What kind of tenanting mates are you?"
"What can I say, it's a pretty big building." Phi jokes, a joke which Hayge chuckles to.
"Anyway, guys, I'd love to stick around, but uh, something came up at home that needs my attention." Hayge says, meaning the 'I'd love to stick around' part with conviction. Two-seventh of the guys playing basketball outside her balcony every Thursday is standing before her. Add Cutie McHottie this morning who proved himself to be a jerk yet again. It's an extraordinary world she's living in. "I'll see you soon, Ben, Phi."
"Of course." Ben says reverently. "You take care, Hayge. See you tomorrow."
Hayge likes him already, even Neighbor Guy – Phi, whom she has known for barely ten minutes. They're both so likeable people in their unassuming and unpretentious ways. Hayge is charmed. Why did Cutie McHottie have to turn out to be the exact opposite of the guy she had envisioned him to be? All that aside, she can't wait to meet the rest of them, which, judging by the unexpected turn of events, is too likely of a scenario at this point.
The ride home is quick and uneventful. Hayge decides to take the stairs this time rather than the elevator, since that's one of Ben's little advices. She won't deny her exhaustion and say that all the freehand squats and benchpresses Ben told her to do were a piece of cake, they weren't, but she feels energized somehow. Like she can run a mile and punch a bear… or something.
Elizabeth stands there in the dark hallway with a little girl on her side, Mickey, her daughter. It doesn't take for a genius to sense that something wrong is going on. Hayge makes her presence known and gives her sister a tight hug.
"Hey, what's the matter? You sounded so worried on the phone."
Her sister doesn't seem to notice that's she's swearing tighties, so definitely something's wrong. "I have no time to explain, Hayge. I have a flight to Seattle scheduled tonight and I have to leave Mickey with you." Elizabeth says, her breath coming in short, strained puffs as though she just got back from a five-mile-run. She looks so disheveled.
"What do you mean? What are you talking about? Can we discuss this inside?" Hayge asks, confused.
"No, the plane will be leaving in half an hour. I have to make this quick." Elizabeth takes a deep breath and looks like she's about to burst into tears. Hayge puts an arm around her and walks her to a corner where Mickey can't hear them.
"Liz, tell me what happened."
"Richard is cheating on me….. Again." Elizabeth says in a pained voice. "He's having an affair with Linda."
"What? Linda, his secretary Linda?"
"Yes. He told me his trip to Seattle was for business purposes." She takes a pause to keep herself from breaking down. "Then Marie called and told me she saw him and another woman check in a hotel room together."
"Oh, Liz. You can't be too sure. What if Marie got it all wrong?"
"No, Hayge, you don't understand." This time she does cry. "His affair with this woman has started shortly after he broke up with Rachel. The signs were all there, I just ignored them. How could I have been so stupid?"
Hayge holds her in an embrace. "What are you planning to do?"
"I am gonna go after him and tell him that this marriage is over." With a straight face and tear-filled eyes, Elizabeth declares. "He already fooled me once; another betrayal is way too far down the road."
"Liz… what about Mickey?"
"Can I leave her with you just for a few days?" There's a pleading tone in her sister's voice that she can't say no to. "I promise to be back as soon as I get this sorted out. I have nowhere else to go, Hayge. Please help me."
Hayge's eyes glance over Mickey's sullen face and the luggage sitting by her feet behind them, and she says, "I'd be glad to."
"Thank you, Hayge. Thank you." Elizabeth runs to her daughter and bends down to give her a hug. "You be a good girl and listen to everything that Aunt Hayge tells you to do, okay?" When Mickey nods, although very apprehensively, her mother places a quick kiss on her forehead and stands up. "I'll be going now."
Hayge takes Mickey's hand in hers. "Take care, Liz."
As soon as Elizabeth takes the turn to the stairs and disappears, Hayge feels a cold knot in her stomach. Elizabeth may be saying that this marriage is over, but it is far from over. It only takes a little apology drama from Richard and she'll be crawling back to his arms again.
"Guess I'm the only one you got for now, kiddo." She says to Mickey.
Hayge picks up the little girl's luggage and leads them inside.
***6***
"I'm a loser."
"Rynan, you're stating the obvious again."
"I mean, she was there, in front of me. I could've said sorry for my behavior last night and made amends with her. But you know what?" Rynan turns to Phil with a defeated face. "I didn't."
"That does add validation to the obvious fact that you are, indeed, one of the other million thriving Homo sapiens with the frightening ability to fuck everything up, even the most important ones." Phil hands him his eighth, or maybe the ninth (who keeps track, anyway?) beer and plops himself on Rynan's bed, next to his sulking friend who is wallowing in a mud of self-disappointment at the moment.
Rynan decides to ignore Phil's hurtful but very honest statement. "And you know what's worse?"
"You pretended you didn't remember her and said something very ungentlemanly?"
"Yeah, how do you know?"
Phil gawks at him as if he's growing a third ear. "Dude, this is your fifth time telling me this story tonight. How can I possibly not know? Are you feeling okay?" He motions to feel him up, doing an impersonation of a mother checking if her son has a fever.
Rynan pushes Phil's hand away with the least amount of force. Considering today's mishap, he just doesn't have the energy to do a little more than lift his arm. "I'm screwed."
"Obviously." Phil intones, taking one big gulp out of his beer.
"She looked real beautiful, though." Rynan whispers into the wind as his mind floats back to that totally unexpected, but bedazzling moment when he turns around and walks into her. His head hurt for a few fleeting seconds, but the instant he saw that face, pain became the last thing on his mind. The surprised glare that she was gave him froze him on the spot, though. He panicked, staggered to say something redeeming, but instead, he stumbled upon one clumsy, feeblemindedly created idea of putting her under the impression that he had no remote clue who she was. And that, as it turned out, was a bad move.
He had two choices – he could pretend he forgot about last night and have a fresh start with her, or he could take the high road and apologize and introduce himself the conventional, old-fashioned way. But he was too much of a chicken to take the high road, or any road, for that matter. Because he did pretend that he didn't remember her, but instead of jumping at the opportunity of a second chance, he said all the wrong things and threw it all away. He had to grow balls, soon. Or maybe he can just have Phil lend him some of his.
"Maybe I should just forget about her."
Phil is shaken awake from his boredom and straightens to look him in the eyes. "Really? You agree with me now?
The scoff that Rynan makes brings a frown to Phil's face.
"You're kidding."
"Of course I am. There is no way I could forget about her even if I wanted to."
"Ugh, you are such a weakling. I don't know why I make friends with you." Phil looks straight ahead as Rynan's eyes refuse to avert from him. "I'm supposed to be out right now, having a shot of Blue Nun with Ben at this new joint called Cooligans. But instead, I'm stuck here in this dead apartment to comfort a moping, whining friend who doesn't even deserve my precious, highly-prized attention."
"Are you complaining, Phil?"
Phil brings his eyes down helplessly. "No, I love you too damn much."
Rynan smiles smugly. "That's what I thought."
"I'm asking for a simple favor in return here, Rynan."
"And what is that?"
"Stop punishing yourself. Forget about her and have a life. A real life."
"Am I not having a real life already?"
"Dude, let me help you clear that distorted viewpoint of yours. You are emotionally and physically attracted to a girl whom you've never had one decent conversation with. You don't know one thing about her, yet you act as if she was only the girl that ever lived. Christ, you don't even know her name, do you?" This is not the first time Phil gave him a sermon about this matter. But it is the first time his insides are reacting that way. "That's not normal. That's insane. There are tons of women out there who you can engage in a socially recognized form of interaction, instead of secretly watching them from your building like a perverted psycho. You are not ugly, Rynan. You're not a one-eyed monster who should hide behind his window so as not to scare the people with that ugly face."
"Hey, FYI, I do know her name. It's Hayge and it's unique."
"Shut up, you know what I mean." Phil never sounded so serious in his life. "I don't want you to see you wasting so much emotional and physical energy on a girl who, based on your own accounts, you have no chances of being with anymore. Two times you ran into her, two times you messed up. This is obviously a sign. She's not the one for you. Now start accepting that and get on with your life."
"Shit."
"I know."
"How do you suppose I do that then?" Rynan asks.
"Well, my cousin Elena is coming to visit next week, and you do remember her, right?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I remember her." Rynan also remembers how hot she was… the typical type.
"Maybe I can arrange a date for you two."
"Oh no." Rynan lets out a pained moan.
Phil shoots him an all-too-knowing expression. "Face it, Rynan. You're practically growing your virginity back. She might just be your last hope."
Rynan sighs like a man who just lost his cat. He knows Phil was right, but won't admit it aloud as much as his self-worth will allow him. "But I don't want sex, Phil."
Phil raises his right eyebrow at him, as if to ask the obvious "HUH?"
Rynan rolls his eyes, "I mean, yeah, I want that, too. But I'm yearning for something that can go deeper than that."
"Yeah, yeah, right, I know. You wanna get married and settle down and raise a family and buy a house with a porch and those cute white picket fences and move to the suburbs – the whole picture-perfect Stephord deal."
"Exactly." Rynan says with passion. "I wanna have a kid, you know. Someone I can go home to after a hard day's work and who can make me forget about all that's wrong with the world." Suddenly the air gets dramatic. One reason why he loves teaching dance to little children is because he sometimes fantasizes they're all his kids, hungry for daddy's lesson. And he does have one student who treats him like a real dad, after all.
"Dude, I respect that with all my heart. But you see, you gotta start at the bottom before crawling your way up to the top, and there's no other way around it, no shortcut or detour. You know what I'm saying?" Phil asks considerately. "It goes like this: one-night-stands, flings, pseudo relationships, and then real commitment. That's the path you're bound to be heading."
Rynan sees Phil's point. "You're right."
"Now promise me one thing." Phil says after a minute of silence.
"What?"
"Don't ever, ever chase after that woman who you know you're never gonna get anyway."
Rynan forces an answer that will certifiably drop the subject. "I promise."
"On your life?"
Although he loves his job, and finds gratification in imparting knowledge to the youth for a high, worldly purpose, Rynan's never been a fan of his life, if you can, indeed, call his humdrum existence 'life,' which pretty much sucks at this point either way you call it. It feels like something's always missing, like there's a bottomless hole right in the middle of himself that needs filling up. And spying on her, at the woman who intrigues him so astonishingly, makes him forget about that little hole even for a little while, to which, it seems, Phil is so intent on putting an end. So laying his "life" on the line is pretty much easier than stealing a piece of candy from a baby given the circumstances. "On my life, Phil." On my life, my ass.
"Good. Because I don't wanna hear you whining any more over that woman." Phil says, impressed. "Let's start facing the real world and lose the James Bond stunt, alright, dude?"
"Aight." They always say promises are meant to be broken.
Well, they couldn't be any more right. Because Rynan knows this one isn't an exception to the rule.
