What You Wanted

by Mina V. Esguerra

  Of course he was. “I didn't know that.”

  “Yeah, he is.” Moira cleared her throat. “There are other places to go here, if you get bored watching them. I'm going to get my nails done later.”

  “I'm sorry, am I keeping you from it? I don't mind sitting here a little longer.”

  “No, no.” She smiled at me again, like she was this close to laughing.

  Did I want to befriend Moira, Damon’s neighbor? Did I have to? I thought back to past hookups I’d had, none of which had made it to this stage.

  “Spill it,” I told her, going for it. She seemed like she could take a person who was direct. “What do you want to know?”

  She laughed, sheepishly. “Am I that obvious?”

  “You look very curious. You want me to kiss and tell?”

  And that got her eyes twinkling. “Are you with Damon? Are you together?”

  I shrugged. “I don't know. Kind of?”

  “It’s none of my business, really,” she added. “You don’t have to answer. I was just wondering.”

  “And you’re with Ethan?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  I shouldn’t have asked. It was obvious, from the touching, the lack of personal space between them when they arrived, the way she looked at him now, as I reminded her that he was there. It looked like a relationship that was shiny and new.

  “Why were you wondering about Damon?” I asked her.

  “It’s this thing I do...I shouldn’t admit to other people really because you’ll find it intrusive. I sort of…assess what they have in life and if it gives them happiness.”

  “What?”

  “It sounds intrusive, doesn’t it?”

  “It sounds like a complicated way of saying you gossip.”

  Moira laughed. “It’s that too. Okay, this is exactly why I shouldn’t talk about it to other people. I think about what makes people happy, you know. Like, if they have it, and what they do with it.”

  I took all of a second to look her in the eye and decide if she was pulling a trick on me. But Moira seemed sincere. And if she had this kind of info about Damon...could be interesting. “So, what do you think makes Damon happy?”

  She chewed on her lip and sort of side-eyed me. “How long have you known him?”

  “Not long at all. But I know about Geraldine.”

  If she had a mouthful of tea right then she probably would have spewed it out. “Why do you know about her?”

  “We’ve met.”

  “See, that’s why I was wondering about Damon. Look at him. He’s attractive. He has money. He isn’t afraid of responsibility or achievement.” Moira shook her head. “And yet pursues this one person, who has treated him like shit.”

  Maybe he loves her. The thought came to me, instantly, and I would have said it if Moira and I were gossiping about someone else. Someone who hadn’t been inside me, whose hands hadn’t been on my skin. I can’t say that.

  “There are guys who chase Ice Princesses,” I told her. This was my personal theory, formed out of my own pain. “Geraldine is classic Ice Princess. She’s perfect. She fits their view of a wife, a mother, a trophy to show off to friends, relatives, and colleagues. They know she only wants exactly what they’re willing to give her.”

  “What is that?”

  I smile knowingly. “A castle. A kingdom. She wants that. She won’t leave, once she has it.”

  She’ll stay exactly where she’s supposed to. And she’ll never be told, “You’re a free spirit. I don’t want you to change.”

  Moira nodded slowly. “It doesn’t matter then that they’re rude and mean and generally annoying people, I guess.”

  She understood what I was saying. “Yeah. I’m sure it gives the guy more satisfaction, once she finally gives in. He probably thinks it’s a matter of time.”

  “This is your relationship theory?”

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “Well.” Moira’s hand tapped my knee. “I feel I should say sorry to you about something.”

  Because you don’t come to that conclusion about people without having seen it done in front of you. To you. At your expense.

  I shrugged.

  Moira sighed. “Does it bother you that you’re with him and she’s...there? It would annoy the hell out of me.”

  “Should it?”

  And when I said that, I didn’t even listen to Moira’s answer. It didn’t matter, really, because she already made her opinion known.

  What mattered was mine. Did it bother me that I was, yet again, someone’s “free spirit” fling, his opening act?

  I hadn’t figured it out yet.

  ***

  It sounded like rain.

  Damon’s shower had one of those wide circular fixtures that dropped water on you like you were in the middle of a storm. From outside the bathroom, it sounded like rain. His “Saturday football” practice with the guys lasted an hour and a half. The whole time, Moira stayed with me, and we talked about random things. I found out that she was living with Ethan, in a unit she owned, over on the next tower. They weren’t married or engaged or anything.

  I liked that. I liked meeting people who seemed happy despite not being exactly what they were supposed to be. I thought of them as “my people.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, I decided not to pack up the things Damon bought for me. I had all of these at home. If I never spent the night here again, he could throw them out, right? No problem.

  The sound of rain stopped, and I heard him pacing inside his bathroom. Just a quick shower, he said, and he’d be ready to drive me home. When the bathroom door opened, he stepped out dressed only in his boxers, and he smiled at me before heading over to his closet.

  “Sorry if it took longer than you thought it would…” he was saying, back turned to me, as he picked up a pair of pants.

  Yes, it did take longer than I thought it would. Not his shower, or the wait to be driven home, but everything so far. This impulsive wedding hookup was still on and not over yet.

  In a moment, I was off his bed, and my hands were on his waist. His skin felt cool—the shower had probably been a cold one. When he turned to face me, I interrupted the rest of his sentence with a kiss. A kiss with tongue, with moaning, with hands greedily touching all that skin. We ended up on the floor, because the condom box was in the bottom drawer. We stayed on the floor.

  Before we knew it, evening had fallen.

  “Let’s have dinner, before I drive you home,” Damon said.

  “It’s really late.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Then let’s go eat first.”

  “But you take forever when you eat. We’ll leave the restaurant at midnight.”

  He propped himself up on an elbow. “You should stay over tonight. If you don’t want me driving you home at midnight.”

  As soon as he said it, we both laughed, but he didn’t take it back. It wasn’t a joke.

  We weren’t joking.

  “Or you could not take three and a half hours to have a meal,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I’ll drive you home tomorrow morning. Much safer.”

  Safer. Right.

  Chapter 6

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, if we act like it isn’t.”

  “Right.” Damon nodded. “Because I’m not the first guy who has ever brought you back home in time for Sunday family lunch?”

  “Actually, you are, but I’ve trained them not to get their hopes up about any guy I introduce to them.”

  “So I could just be some guy you hitched a ride from?”

  “We don’t need a story. They won’t ask.”

  He whistled. “You’ve trained your family well. I wouldn’t have believed you could get away with it.”

  “They’re great parents,” I said, “and I thought I owed it to them to be honest about how I dated. It’s like the sex talk, but
in the other direction. It’s more respectful than sneaking around.”

  “Did you tell them about him though?”

  I blinked.

  Damon cleared his throat. “Thad.”

  “Oh. No. They know him, but I didn’t tell them what happened.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Because they’d be heartbroken. “I haven’t even told Julie.”

  We drove up to the first gate to the subdivision, and thankfully put this thrilling conversation on pause as he reached into his wallet for his valid ID to hand to the guard. He didn’t let it distract him.

  “Why are you still protecting him?” Damon pressed.

  “I’m not.”

  “It’s got to be why you haven’t told your family, when they apparently know everything else about you.”

  “Maybe I don’t want them to know everything anymore,” I said. “Are you the type who tells your family everything, Damon? Do the Esquibels of Manila know all your secrets?”

  “Fair enough,” he replied. “I don’t tell them anything because there’s no one to tell.”

  “What?”

  “My dad is dead. My mom remarried when I was ten. I never liked the guy, and he didn’t like me either. They have three children. I grew up with my grandmother, but she’s dead now.”

  He said this with the emotional equivalent of reading a random string of numbers, and I wasn’t sure how to feel.

  “Shit,” I said. “Who do you talk to?”

  Damon shrugged. “What is there to talk about?”

  “Who do you see on holidays?”

  “My grandmother, until four years ago. Now I just go anywhere else when it’s a holiday.”

  I couldn’t even imagine what that was like. To have absolutely no one.

  “Hey, where do we go again?” Damon reached an intersection and wasn’t sure how to proceed.

  “Sorry, left. Then that left. Sorry.”

  “This doesn’t excuse why you’re letting that asshole stay on your family’s good side. After what he did to you.”

  I reached over and ran my fingers through his lovely hair. “Now, you. Don’t ever change. Always on my side.”

  “Andrea. You shouldn’t.”

  He looked like he was going to give me a lecture. It was kind of hot.

  “I shouldn’t what?”

  Damon shook his head and his lovely hair moved against my fingers. “You don’t want him back.”

  “I never said I wanted him back...”

  “You’re never going to be able to introduce him to them as yours, Andrea. He burned that bridge when he chose someone else. Walk away.”

  “I am walking away, I promise,” I said, fingers now lazily running down his neck. “But we’re having a little fun with him first, right? Because it’s the only closure I’m ever going to get.”

  My parents knew Thad. He’d been over the house a few times, to pick me up, or hang out with other friends. I probably mentioned him in dinnertime stories more times than I can remember, one of those sure signs that someone was in your head. They probably thought it was a matter of time until I finally introduced him as a boyfriend.

  When his wedding came around, I didn’t talk about it at dinner.

  I stopped talking about him, period.

  I’m sure they felt something disappear, like a breakup had happened, but they couldn’t address it properly.

  Showing up on a Sunday with a handsome guy was one way to do that.

  How messed up was it that my best confidante was also the guy I was sleeping with? Conflict of interest.

  “Shit,” I said, grabbing his arm.

  “Did I miss a turn?”

  “No.” I gulped and pointed to a spot where we could park. It was right behind an SUV. Anton and Julie’s car. They were back from their honeymoon.

  ***

  “Damon,” Julie said. “Help me figure out this coffee machine we got?”

  I shot her a look. That was her code for something, and all throughout lunch I was expecting to be asked to go up to my room, so she could talk to me in private. I’d practiced all sorts of ways to say, “Let’s talk about this later.” “None of your business.” “How was Japan?” Because Julie was going to hear this story, but I needed a lot more time to tell it.

  “Andrea,” my new brother-in-law said. “Help me get stuff from the car?”

  Shoot.

  Lunch had actually been very pleasant, because Julie and Anton were around. The conversation had been all about them, the wedding, and Damon was able to participate because he was at the wedding. All my dad needed to know was that Anton and Damon worked together, and that was it, Damon was in, no other formalities required.

  We stepped out onto the street, Anton and I.

  “So...how was Japan?” I said.

  He actually was headed to his car, so I stood on the curb and watched him as he opened one of the doors and picked up some paper bags laid out on the back seat. He was shaking his head, but wasn’t saying anything.

  I was handed a paper bag, and then another, and then a box. They looked like wedding gifts, and stuff from Japan.

  “You went shopping in Japan?” I continued.

  “You met at the wedding?” he asked.

  “You can’t be judgmental,” I said defensively, since I couldn’t tell from his tone what he was getting at. “You of all people.”

  “Damon reports to me,” Anton said. “At work. I have to work with this guy.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  “And we hang out sometimes. As friends. I know what he’s into.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Maybe you want to share with me what that is?”

  “Oh, you probably know what it is.”

  I exaggerated a sigh. “I know about Geraldine.”

  Anton was done loading his arms with stuff, and he peered at me as he gathered his bearings. “He told you about her? Interesting.”

  “To be fair, he knows my own personal hang-up, too. Did Julie ask you to talk to me?” Was my sister actually concerned? But this was, come to think of it, a very Andrea thing to do. In that it wasn’t very well thought-out.

  “No, I wanted to talk to you because I know Damon and I need to know what to say if Julie asks me if you’ll be all right with him.”

  “And?”

  There was silence, one that stretched a little too long, interrupted only by a beep, the sound of his car’s locks activating.

  Anton shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell her. I’m not entirely sure either if you know what you’re doing.”

  “Tell her I’ll be okay.”

  I’d never needed an intermediary when it came to Julie. If anyone was going to worry about me it was going to be her, and if anyone would understand me it was going to be him.

  He pushed the gate open with his foot and waited for me to step in first. “I don’t lie to your sister.”

  Chapter 7

  Message from Yel: Dinner at Fattest Duck in Taguig TONIGHT. I will PICK YOU UP. No EXCUSES.

  Message from Shayla: Dinner tonight, and we got you a ride. You can stay twenty minutes I don’t care, I just want to see you.

  Message from Thad: I’m going to the dinner tonight. Hope to see you there? It’s been a while.

  Never mind that I was in the middle of brainstorming tag lines for cinnamon-flavored breath spray. Never mind that. This barrage of text messages, coming before I’d even had my first cup of coffee, ensured that I needed to take a break immediately and get some air.

  Damn it, Thad. I saw from our message thread that his text to me wasn’t out of nowhere. We had done the whole “Happy Friday” song and dance, mere days ago. Then the weekend happened, the one that ended with Damon having lunch at the house, meeting my parents, having coffee and cake with my sister and brother-in-law in the garden, and him taking home a freaking box of mochi…

  My one-night stand got souvenirs. Souvenirs!

  And now Thad and I were going to be seeing each other for
the first time since…

  I ended up at the coffee shop to get a takeout latte. Doing that required lining up for every single part of the process, from getting into the elevator, and then paying for my drink, and then waiting for my drink, and then waiting to get back into the elevator. No new tag lines for cinnamon were created in that time, but I did run through several thousand scenarios of how much more fabulous I could become before dinnertime.

  While I was in line to take the elevator back up, Damon called.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” I said, and just hearing his voice snapped some things into place in my head. Don’t panic. You’ll be okay. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t think I can eat all of the mochi.”

  “You don’t have to eat all of them right away, monster.”

  “If you want some, they’re in my refrigerator.”

  “Uh...okay.”

  That wasn’t it, right? He wasn’t calling me to offer me food.

  “Did Geraldine call you?” I blurted out. Because it would just be apt.

  “Yeah,” he said, and I wonder if that was a slight sigh that I was hearing, or if I was imagining it. “I’m seeing her tonight, dinner at Onion Flowers in Taguig. It’s a group thing. I thought you should know.”

  He “thought I should know.” The very idea of the two of them together at a table annoyed me, mainly because—because she didn’t deserve him. Ugh. “Thank you,” I said. “Did you want my advice?”

  Damon laughed. “Do you have any?”

  “She probably wants you to do her now. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”

  He wasn’t as quick to reply. Did that mean he agreed with me? Which part did he agree with, that yes she wanted him more now, or that he wouldn’t be giving her satisfaction?

  Did it matter to me, either way?

  I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it. I had that other thing. I spoke up quickly, before it got awkward, before he said some reassuring thing that might not be true just to make me feel at ease. “Well, I’m probably seeing Thad tonight too. Dinner in Taguig. My friends are riding me about joining them. I haven’t said yes yet.”