Life Ain't A Fairy Tale (3 page)

"Is she a millionaire?" I ask this to
brighten up the conversation.

"Nah, man (she laughs). She has been involved
in organizing events and staging events for Kat Kitty. She works as
part of the camera crew. I do visit my sister in her Manhattan
apartment. At least, I see her most of the weekends." Every time
she smiles during conversation, I get a special feeling inside. It
is hard to describe.

"In terms of your parents, do they still love
each other?" I am expecting an idealistic answer of what love is.
To me, love or infatuation eventually ends. I can't imagine an old
couple still loving each other like they did when they were young.
Especially, after they discover all their flaws.

"Yeah, man. They always celebrate their
wedding anniversary and stuff. What? Don't you believe it is
possible?" Sara looks at me strange. In her mind, everyone finds
love and keeps it forever. I feel sorry for her. She is like
everybody else. She believes a fantasy that is not real. No matter
how much education a person has; they will still cling to the
belief that love does exist.

I don't want to get into an argument about
love. I refrain from going into detail about my views. "No, I do
believe. When it comes to my home, my parents are together only
because of me. They despise each other."

"No way. Oh my God. Are you serious?" She
asks in a surprised tone.

"Okay. I exaggerate a little, but they don't
love each other. That's true."

"Enough of me or your parents, how about you
tell me more about yourself, Jimmy?"

"I was born here, too. I am more of a
domestic person. I don't go out much. I am a shy person."

"Oh, really. Well, I'm a domestic person,
too. I do like to go out though. I am very outgoing."

"Yes, I think that I need a person like you
in my life." That is what I long for, a person like her in my life.
A person I can form a lasting friendship with. I need someone who I
am not so crazy over to avoid the trap of believing that love is
real. I don't want to be like everybody else. The strength of our
friendship will determine how long our relationship will last if
she happens to like me back.

"Oh (she laughs), probably...how many
brothers or sisters do you have?"

"None."

"None?" She opens up her eyes wide.

"None."

"None?"

"Yes, I am an only child, Sara. Guilty as
charged."

"Are you a spoiled brat?" She asks
inquisitively

"I wouldn't put it that way. I am very loved
by my parents."

"Didn't picture you that way. In our college
days, 5 years ago, you were so smart. I always asked you for help.
I pictured you the head of the house and doing errands for your
parents. Now, I find out you are a spoiled kid who hates
driving."

"Yes, I hate driving. Don't let this fact
make you believe something else. I know how to drive. It just
stresses me. It is not fear. It is hard to explain. What are the
right words? It is not fear, but it does the same thing as fear. I
get too emotionally intense." Sara clearly doesn't understand
anything I am saying. She has a confused look on her face.

She decides to move on to another question.
"How do you take care of your parents financially with just a
part-time job?"

"Easy madam. They live on Social Security,
and I live on my part-time job. I am a very low maintenance guy.
The truth is I am constantly telling my parents not to buy me
stuff. I don't need it."

"You lucky guy (she laughs). You know what? I
loved the food in this restaurant. I want to thank you for your
lovely present. You are going to drive me home."

"What? No." I think she is messing with
me.

"Yes, you have to learn how to drive." She
shakes her index finger at me.

"I do know how to drive. I just don't like
it. It is too stressful for me."

"This will make things better for you. Just
imagine I broke my foot. I need you to drive me home. You are the
only one who can help me." She gets off her feet. Pretending to
have a broken left foot, she drags her left foot to move
around.

"Don't do this to me?" I plead with her.

"Yeah, come on. Let's go silly. Be a man." On
the inside, I laugh at her attempt to use cultural stereotypes to
peer pressure me. I am so above this.

"Hah, I don't let society labels define me.
The truth is that if your chromosomes are XY, you are a man, no
matter what." I say this as she rolls her eyes at me.

After I pay the waitress, Sara, my chosen
one, drags me out of the restaurant. Pulling my hand, we walk the
parking lot to reach her white convertible. In an unexpected chain
of events, I am sitting in the car's front seat. The steering wheel
is right in front of me. My hands are cold as ice. She sits right
next to me, observing what I am about to do.

"Where am I driving you, Sara? Well, scratch
that question. Actually, I'm bad with directions. I need to use my
smartphone's GPS to find my house."

"Your home? No. You are driving me to my
home."

"Oh, I see. I am going to meet your parents
already. Damn, it's just our first date." I smile.

"Parents? I have my own house. You won't see
my parents."

"You have a house already?"

"Like for sure. Working for Biopharm has been
good to me. Finding cures for diseases and testing medications has
its benefits." Sara makes the money hand gesture.

"I still live with my parents." I shrug my
shoulders.

"I imagined that. Stop yapping and start
driving." She taps my shoulder.

I turn the engine on and put the car stick in
R to drive out of the restaurant's parking lot. By the tone of our
conversation inside the restaurant, I believe she thinks I don't
know how to drive. When the car starts running in reverse from the
parking spot, her face fills with anxiety. Next, I brake after the
car is halfway out of the parking spot. I turn the steering wheel
360 degrees to the right. I release the brake to let the car move
completely out to the right. Once it is out, I brake and turn the
steering wheel 720 degrees to the left. I move the car stick to D
and release the brake. When the car straightens out, I brake again
to move the steering wheel 360 degrees to the right. I successfully
drive out of the parking spot and parking lot.

Sara directs me to her home. It is a
30-minute drive to an experienced driver. She doesn't live far away
from the restaurant. Since I am the driver, I imagine it will take
me 45 minutes or more to get there. I will follow the road rules.
Considering my inexperience with driving, it is the logical thing
to do. When the yellow light is on, I will not speed up to avoid
the red light. If the speed limit is 35, I will drive between 28
and 30 miles per hour. It is better to be safe than to be
sorry.

After controlling my anxiety, I finally reach
the domestic domain of my loved one. It did take me 40 plus minutes
to arrive there. Her house is beautiful. In fact, it is similar to
mine. From the outside, you can see it has two floors, the attic,
and the basement. Her front lawn is well trimmed. The steps leading
to the white front door are white as well. The front porch also has
small white balusters to the left and to the right of the steps.
The house's color is beige. The triangular-shaped roof is brown; it
has a window bordered in white. Two windows, bordered in white, are
found in the second floor. Another window, bordered in white, is to
the right of the white front door in the first floor. Her driveway
leads to a garage, which has the house's same color pattern.

"Oh my God, you did it! At first, I admit
that I didn't think you knew how to drive. You were steering the
car clumsily for the first few minutes. Later, you drove
well...wow." She grabs my cold hand.

"Oh my, why are your hands so cold?"

"I was really nervous. You know I really
don't like driving. It makes me feel very tense." My head hurts
mildly.

"Aw, Jimmy. Don't worry. I'll make you tea to
relax you." Sara pats my back gently as we sit with the car stick
in P, and the motor turned off.

Sara and I go into the living room. I comment
on how beautiful her place is. She smiles and thanks me with her
beautiful stare that mesmerizes me. She tells me to have a seat on
the sofa while she prepares tea. My heart is still racing from the
drive. The muscles of my neck feel stiff as well. I take deep
breaths. I lay my head back on the soft-leathered sofa I sit on. I
observe the maroon leather sofa and furniture. There is a nice
brown table in the center of the living room. There is a flower
decoration at the table's center. There is also a TV. Since this is
my first time in Sara's house, I am too timid to grab the remote.
She might not like it.

Sara returns with a cup of tea in hand to
soothe my anxiety. I receive her tea with gratitude. The cup is
very warm to my cool hands. As I sip the tea slowly, I relax even
further. The tea burns my tongue as I drink and swallow it down.
The muscles of my neck feel more relaxed. The minor headache
diminishes with every gulp of tea I drink. The cup's warmth heats
up my cool hands. Instead of the tea's heat bothering me, I welcome
it. I drink the whole cup to my satisfaction.

After finishing my tea, Sara surprises me
with a game of Parcheesi, my favorite board game. My mother and I
played this game a lot when I was a child. I used to get upset when
I was losing the game. My mother calmed me down by making a
"do-over" so I can win and be happy. It brings many beautiful
memories of my childhood. When I got older, I used the Parcheesi
chessboard, pawns, and dices to reenact make-believe soccer games.
The Parcheesi board was the soccer field, the colored pawns were
the soccer players, and a dice was the soccer ball.

"You love this game too, Jimmy?"

"Yes. This was a lot of my childhood."

"My sister and I used to play this game a lot
when we were young. It was loads of fun." She claps in anticipation
of starting the game.

On the dining room table, Sara and I start
playing Parcheesi, but the game's outcome is the least of my
concerns. I choose the blue pawns. She plays with the red ones. If
I had scripted my first successful date, it would not look like
this. I am spending my first date with the woman I like. Clearly,
Sara makes the most sense for me. The happiness I am feeling is
indescribable. After many years of failing to even have a female
friend, I finally make a new friend. Based on her facial
expressions, she enjoys my presence as well. She rolls the dice
that lands on the side with two dots. She finishes off the
Parcheesi game winning.

Looking at my wristwatch, I notice it is
10:00 pm on this Saturday night. I excuse myself for staying so
late at her home. She says, "There is no problem. No need for
excuses." Additionally, she invites me to remain there, "You can
stay tonight to keep me company." I respond affirmatively. I inform
her that I have to call my parents first. Smiling, she covers her
face with one hand. It appears she is about to tell me something,
but she doesn't say anything. The truth is that if I don't call my
parents, they will start thinking that I got into an accident. I
grab my smartphone to dial my father's cell phone number.

"Hello, (my mother picks up the phone) how is
my sweetie doing?"

"Hi, mom. I am staying tonight at Sara's
house."

"You are at her house? Oh my God. She drove
you there? Wait a minute, tell me how the date went?"

"It went well. We had a pleasant time." I
speak as I notice my father arguing in the background. From the
little I can make out, my father is telling my mother not to keep
me long on the phone.

"Okay, Jimmy. Thank you so much for calling.
We would have worried if you didn't. God bless you, my love, and
behave." My mom wraps up the conversation.

"Thank you so much. You too, bye."

After I am done with the call, I return to
admiring Sara. We gaze into each other's eyes. We sit side by side
at the dining room table. It feels wonderful to witness her smile.
I even feel caught up in the fantasy everyone calls love. I admire
how far she has gone in her Biotechnology studies. She worked very
hard to be where she is. She worked in internships and attended
classes at the same time. For me, that would have been very
difficult to do.

Later in the night, she brings me upstairs to
one of the bedrooms. She excuses herself for not having male
pajamas. I tell her, "This is no problem." She introduces me to the
bedroom where I am going to sleep tonight. She tells me to wait in
my assigned bedroom. She is going to change into her pajamas in her
bedroom. When she is done changing, she will invite me to her
bedroom.

As I wait for Sara in my assigned bedroom, I
am filled with joy. I contemplate the bed I sit on as something
that belongs to Sara. I lay face down on the bed, my sneakers
hitting each other. I hug with so much love the mattress I'm laying
on. The power of love makes me feel happy even though I know love
is not real.

Sitting back up, I focus at the nightstand.
It has a picture frame. The picture is of a man, a woman carrying a
baby, and a smaller girl on a bed. I guess the man and the woman
are her parents. The baby she is carrying is Sara. The smaller girl
is her older sister.

Sara, with a newly made ponytail, returns to
invite me to her bedroom. She wears a blue pajama shirt and pants
with slippers. We sit on her bed. I ascertain she has ample space
to sit comfortably on her bed. I fit into the bed's remaining
space. She grabs the remote to turn on the TV. Her Plasma TV is
hanging on the wall. It is right in front of her bed. She tunes the
channel to show the Saturday comedy night show airing. It surprises
me to discover that she loves watching this show. She enjoys
comedies like I do. We watch and laugh at all the comedy skits.
Before I know it, the show is over. It is midnight.