A Sorta Fairytale (5 page)

“I just want to cover all my bases so you won’t fall in love.”

I think it over for a few seconds and say, “Okay. You’ve got yourself a deal.” I extend a hand toward you, waiting for a handshake.

You shake your head at my hand. “I think I have something a lot bigger you’d like to grab,” you say, unzipping your pants.

“Oh, I think I do.”

Chapter 8

Stella & Alex

I sit in the corner of the hole in the wall café. On the outside it looks like a piece of shit, but we were all taught to not judge a book by its cover. Kind of ironic when you think about it. The media, the magazines, they tell us what is beauty and what isn’t. I’ve walked past this bakery daily on my way to the gym, and then one day I decided to be a rebel. I decided to fuck my workout routine and walked in. It’s not much to look at. Just some comfy chairs and tables that don’t match. I guess they were going for a rustic look. Mason jars filled with wild flowers sit on every table, giving it a country feel. But the pastries, tea sandwiches, and drinks are what make people stay, besides the serenity you feel. For a brief moment in time people are able to escape from the jaywalking, taxi horns, and millions of hot dog stands New York City has to offer.

Reading over the proposal Thomas had written up for a case, I notice the front door chime. I don’t look up, though. I don’t care enough to. It’s none of my business. Instead, my eyes stay glued to the words I have a difficult time understanding as my hand reaches over to grab my steaming Earl Grey tea.

“Stella?” a familiar voice asks. The tea burns my lips, causing me to cough a few times. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you mumble.

I fan a hand in front of my scalded mouth. “Don’t worry about it, Alex. How could you have known I was in the process of drinking really hot tea?” I say it with a bit of amusement and sarcasm, causing you to laugh.

“What brings you here? I didn’t know anyone else knew about this place,” you say, taking the seat across from me.

Looking around at the café, I then look back to you. “They clearly knew.”

You turn around and take in the other customers. Chuckling, you turn back to face me, and you nod. “Yeah, I guess they did know. I thought this was all mine.”

“Not anymore.” I smile.

“Yeah, I guess not anymore.” Leaning back in your chair, we stare at one another. “So what are you up to?” You lean in, trying to look at the papers flowing all over the table.

Quickly, I grab them and mutter, “Nosy much?”

“What?” you ask, amused. “For all I know you could be writing a book. For all I know I could be in the presence of a fuckin’ genius!”

I smirk. “Wow, Alex. You’re good,” I say before taking another sip of tea.

“Sooo?” you drag out, still wanting to know what the papers consist of.

I sigh. “Work.”

“On a Saturday?” you ask, incredulous. You wave your hands around and yell, “This is unbelievable!”

I look around the café, noting customers staring at us. “Sssh! Be quiet!”

Turning to face the other customers, you apologize. “I’m so sorry! But this crazy lady right here,” you say pointing back to me, “is working…on a Saturday!”

One guy behind the counter yells back, “The madness!”

It causes me to laugh.

“Exactly! I say we tell Stella to put it away. Put it away! Put it away!” you start to cheer. By the second repeat, customers follow along, laughing and having a good time. You turn around and chant directly at me.

“All right! All right!” I laugh, grabbing the papers and putting them back in the briefcase.

You have a big smile on your face. “Victory!” you yell, raising a fist in the air. “Thank you. Thank you,” you say, turning around and bowing while the customers clap and cheer.

I laugh. I could’ve never done that in a million years. Yet you did it with no problem. You, Alex McNeil, intrigue me.

Sitting back down, you rest your arms on the table. “So, work on a Saturday?”

“Well, before you?”

You grin. “Yeah. Before me.”

“What can I say? It never stops.”

“But it’s a Saturday.” You rest your feet on another chair and cross your arms in front of you.

I sigh and push my bag aside. “What’s your point, Alex?”

“Well, people work Monday through Friday. Saturday and Sunday, hopefully, should be for you. Not work.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, putting a finger in your ear and cleaning it out. “What did you just say?”

Scoffing, I say, “You heard me.”

“No, no I don’t believe I did. I don’t think I heard the words ‘you’re right, the amazing Alex’ from
these
lips.”

These. The way you say it is sensual. Who knew a word so dull and boring could have a completely different meaning? Definitely not me.

You lean into me, waiting for the answer.

“Fine!” I relent. “You’re right!”

“And …?” you push on.

“The amazing Alex,” I mutter.

You cheer and pump your fist in the air.

“All right,” I laugh. “Don’t rub it in.”

“Oooh! Is someone being a sore loser?” You chuckle. “Okay, you got me. I shall stop.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“For now,” you sing.

“Alex!”

“Okay, I promise,” you say, folding your hands on the table. “I’m done.”

“Finally,” I say, annoyed.

Once more you lean back in your chair.

“What?”

“What’s with you and that guy from the bar?”

I take a sip of my tea. I don’t want to answer you right away. I want to study you. You bite your bottom lip like you’re fighting to not say something.
I wonder what it is you’re thinking.
But I’m not going to ask. It’s not that I don’t care, but I don’t want to get attached. I care about Thomas. I love you. I’m not cynical, and I’m not a coldhearted bitch either. I’m just trying to protect my heart. From the hurt. From the utter disbelief of being betrayed.

“You want me to leave you alone?”

“No,” I say, gesturing at you to stay seated. “You’re fine staying.”

“Good.” You beam. “Because I was going to stay anyway.”

“What do you want, Alex?”

Your eyes light up at my question. “Well, Stella, I’m glad you asked. I thought we could hang out today.”

“Okay, but I have somewhere I need to be tonight.”

“Where?”

“A function.”

“Is it with …?”

I cut you off. “Yes.”

You drop your feet to the floor, pull your seat in close, and rest your hands on the table. “What’s up with the two of you?”

I take another sip, and feeling the warmth of the tea travel down my throat, I set the cup down. “We’re good friends.”

“Good friends?” you hum, amused. And it’s almost as if you don’t want anyone else to hear. Like it’s a forbidden secret, and the only two people allowed to hear are you and I. “All right. I’ll take that.”

“Good. Because that’s all you’re going to get.” I put a spin on your words.

You nod. “Okay. I’m going to go get a coffee and pastry. You want anything?”

“No,” I say looking down at my tea. “I’m good.”

Getting up from the table, you walk over and stand in line. I don’t look anywhere else but at you. I’m conflicted. I don’t understand, and a small piece of me wants to know more about you.

“I got you a pastry.” I jump, amazed you’re back so soon. “Whoa!” It’s just me.” You sit down, trying to hand me the pastry.

“What’s that?”

You laugh. “I said I got you a pastry.”

“Oh,” I murmur.

Waving the pastry in front of me, you ask, “Sooo, are you going to take it?”

I shake my head and laugh. “Right. Sorry,” I say, taking the pastry from your hand. I set it down on the side of my tea. “Um, thanks.”

Taking a sip of your frothy drink, you shrug. “Don’t worry about it.” You break part of the pastry off and dunk it in your cup, then pop it in your mouth.

I don’t get you. I don’t understand how I feel comfortable with you in such a short amount of time. I mean, fuck, this is the second time I’ve talked to you!

But comfort ability? It doesn’t have a length of time. It’s not a process, a test, where people have to follow guidelines.

Even now with Thomas, almost two years later, I still don’t feel comfortable. I feel on edge, as if at any minute my world could be flipped upside down. That’s what Thomas has instilled in me. We live our lives together as if each day were our last. And I guess some would say it’s a good thing. A very good thing, because when you think about it, your life could change forever. Mine didn’t.

I wish I could have some philosophical analogy behind all of this. But really, I’m just word vomiting. I’ve never felt what it’s like to lose someone.
Other than my family.
I guess because I never let anyone in.

But that’s life.

You grow.

You change…like the seasons.

It’s inevitable that every quarter the seasons change from the colorful fall leaves to the dreaded winters. Unless you live in Florida or someplace real nice. Unfortunately and fortunately, I live in New York City. It has its perks. I know that at three a.m. when I can’t get to sleep I can walk around and get lost listening to the hustle and bustle of the city. I know others will be out in the dark with the lights streaming down on us. They probably aren’t thinking the same things I am, or maybe they are, in which case we’re all fucked up. But I know I’m not alone. That’s what’s important to me. Not being alone.

Loneliness. It’s a bitch. A major one. I don’t think the majority of the population knows what it’s like to be alone. The only one you can rely on is you and your thoughts. My thoughts? They’re pretty screwed up. Not twisted, perverted, or sociopathic. I don’t know, maybe if I were to talk to a psychologist they would say my thoughts are, but I’m not going to. Not if my life depends on it.

Sometimes I do wish I had someone. Just someone to be there for me. To talk to. Not to fuck, like Thomas. That’s all we do, and I’m not complaining about that in the slightest. I just wish there were more. Maybe with Thomas. Or maybe he did have a good reason for wanting me to find a third. To find a companion for me. God knows, I’m not getting married. I’m not the type.

When I say that, I mean I’m not the kind to have meals ready when they come home from work. I’m not willing to bend over backward to meet their needs before mine. I’m not selfish, or maybe I am. But I think people need to be selfish. I think it’s a much better case than selfless, because after a while people walk all over you.

And now we’re back to comfort ability. That’s what they get. Comfortable with a perception of life, love, happiness. I think that’s why life always has to throw a few curveballs in, for dramatic effect. Like the “dun, dun, dun, dun” music. Where it’s like, “Whoa! I didn’t see that coming.”

And when I stare at you, Alex McNeil, I know life is throwing me a curveball. A huge one at that. I can honestly say a part of me is, for the first time in my life, scared to death of the outcome. The good and the bad. The good being that I’m not sure if I can do this with you or anyone. The bad being…

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Wh…what?” I mutter, looking away from the people briskly walking by and back toward you.

You look at me with your eyebrows arched, lip poked out, and hand still holding onto the half soaked pastry you haven’t put in your mouth yet.

Clearing my throat, I let the bitchy attitude take over. “What do you want, Alex?”

“I want to be your friend.”

You say it so clearly, so easily that I know you aren’t bullshitting me. “Is that all?”

“I could always hope for more. But for now I will take your friendship.”

“I’m with Thomas,” I blurt.

You nod. “I know.”

“So then, what do you want?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. I want to get to know you. I know you aren’t happy, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here talking with me about a possible relationship.”

“Friendship,” I counter.

“Fine. A companionship. A friendship.” There’s a long pause, and I don’t know if I should say anything, but then I don’t have to, because you speak. “Look, I want to get to know you, Stella, but I’m not the groveling and begging type. If you want to get to know me, you can. Otherwise, that’s fine too.”

“Okay,” I surrender, surprised I said it so soon.

“Okay?”

I nod. “I want to get to know you too.”

You smile. “Good.”

A deep sigh leaves me. I didn’t even realize I was nervous or anxious.

“Breathe, Stel,” you say softly. Closing my eyes, I take in another deep breath and slowly release. “Good.”

“I don’t understand,” I blurt.

“What don’t you understand?”

“Why you’re so caring and compassionate! Why I feel like I’ve known you forever, when I barely know you. Why I’m kind of feeling comfortable with you.”