“Finally, I have made it,” Harry said.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Now, isn’t this better than Skype?” Harry smirked.
“So, you’re wearing the blue hoodie I asked you to wear.”
“Three other guys were wearing similar blue hoodies—I thought you might run towards the wrong person?”
Clarisse was accustomed to his dry sense of humour and smiled. She used to get it all the time during their Skype conversations—it always made her feel cheerful.
“You’re taller than you appear on webcam,” she said.
“Webcams can be deceiving, but not in your case—you look terrific as always, Clarisse, if not better.”
She blushed and nodded her head down like a shy teenager. “Thank you so much for your compliment.”
“So, where do we go from here?” Harry said.
“Marjorie is over there … see her waving?” Clarisse pointed towards the taxi rank. “She has a private cab that will take you to your hotel.”
“Oh, that’s great … I had a bumpy flight, and I feel lightheaded from the jet lag.”
A security officer tapped Harry on the shoulder and informed him that his luggage had fallen off his trolley—blocking the path. The thrill of meeting Clarisse on top of his tiredness meant he had forgotten entirely about his luggage. He apologised and carefully restacked the suitcases.
Clarisse took the lighter carry-on bag and helped Harry towards the cab. Inside the cab, Clarisse positioned herself in the backseat between Marjorie and Harry with the excuse she could talk to both. They got underway and left the chaos of the airport through the congested Manila streets. He was awestruck by the number of people covering the roads and pathways—it was a constant procession of folk going about their business. And forget about the cars driving in an orderly fashion in a straight line as they did back home—he was in a zig-zag world. Every inch of space counted if you wanted to get home in a reasonable time.
As the cab pushed its way through the dense traffic and manoeuvred side to side, Harry could feel the warmth of Clarisse’s body at every turn. Her Versace Crystal Noir perfume filled the cab with a sexy fragrance designed to arouse men uncontrollably. And although he was tired from the flight, he didn’t mind at all—it was a side effect of the traffic congestion that brought them together at each turn.
Clarisse apologised for the time it was taking to get to the hotel, but he shrugged it off and smiled. Harry was happy to spend extra time with Clarisse and talk about the last three months. There was so much to discuss that they took turns recounting their previous conversations —most of it was small talk and clarifying unfinished dialogue.
“Well, there you are Harry, the Novotel Hotel,” Clarisse said.
“Finally here, I can’t wait to get some rest.”
“So, we will see you tomorrow after work. How does 8 p.m. suit you?”
“Oh, that’s fine. I will get to sleep in, go to the hotel gym and then get ready to see you,” Harry said.
“I will message you the details of where to meet me. It’s not far from here.”
“Sure. And thanks for picking me up, I appreciate it.”
“Have a good night, Harry.” Clarisse kissed him on the cheek and waited while the driver unloaded his bags and handed them to the porter.
Harry checked into the hotel and dropped off his backpack to his room. He decided to have a light beer in the lobby bar to calm down before heading off for bed.
The lobby bar was vibrant with lots of foreigners having drinks with their spouses. Across the table, directly in front of him, was a man in his late fifties, on his own and enjoying a light ale.
“Your girlfriend is stunning, mate,” he said, looking directly at Harry.
“You mean my girlfriend?” Harry wasn’t sure if the comment was directed towards him or another person.
“Yes, the girl in the green floral dress. You were in a cab with her.”
“Oh yes, I met her today for the first time—but we have been chatting for months.” He took a sip of his beer and then sighed.
“Long-distance relationship, hey? We all start like that, you know.” He smiled at Harry and then walked over to his table. “Nice to meet another Aussie in the City of Affection.”
“Likewise. Why don’t you take a seat? By the way, why do you call it the City of Affection? I have heard that a few times already.”
“Most of the men come here looking for love. You know, failed relationships back home and seeking someone special.”
“Yes, that’s me in a nutshell.” Harry had a smirk on his face.
“They call it the City of Affection because it’s a mysterious place—there are lots of superstitions amongst the beautiful women. Your partner will drive you nuts over it … just some friendly advice for you from an old man.”
“Thanks, I appreciate your advice—my girlfriend has a superstition about a red chair, and I don’t understand it. She doesn’t want to talk about it,” Harry said.
“I would leave it alone if I was you. If you start to dabble in it too much, it will absorb you—don’t go there and stay clear of the superstition.”
“Yeah … I guess you’re right.”
“Their culture is very superstitious, and they even have a word for it. Your partner will tell you what you must do to avoid bad luck. You will get fed up with it—there is nothing you can do. Goes with the territory.”
“That’s good to know because I’m spending the next five days in Manila and I may be visiting her family.”
“Well if it makes you feel any better, I went through all of that ten years ago—I’m still married. I was divorced before and am happily married now.” He stood up and waved across the room to his wife. “Better go, she has returned from shopping and looks tired.”
“OK, mate, I will see you around.”
“Sure. Oh, and one word of advice … treat her like royalty if you want to win her heart.”
“Thanks for the tip-off, mate. Have a good night. Might see you around the hotel some time?”
“Sure thing.”
Harry called it a night and went to his room to rest up.
Clarisse agreed to meet Harry on her own at a shopping precinct near her work. She was finishing her shift around 8 p.m.; it was vibrant in central Manila as the locals headed off for dinner around this time. And why wouldn’t you? It was always a warm, pleasant evening with lots of people walking about—spending time together in the restaurants that walled the Greenbelt shopping complex from one side to the other. The atmosphere at the complex—an open mall with an outdoor church located in the heart of the precinct—was lively at this time of the evening.
Getting to the mall from his hotel was easy as he navigated through the central business district to get to his location. It took Harry about ten minutes to arrive on foot—he didn’t mind dodging people on the overflowing footpaths. The charm of the city absorbed him along the way as he took in all the sights and sounds.
Even though he enjoyed the company of her friend Marjorie at the airport yesterday, he was looking forward to meeting the beautiful Clarisse on their own. There was only so much you could talk about when your friends were around. The discussion was mainly small talk with a lot of banter. But he liked Clarisse’s nature and attitude towards life. If she had problems, you would not know it. Even in times of adversity, she would rise above the shadows to put on a cheerful face. She was a pillar of happiness—she was vibrant, funny and always wore an infectious smile that lit up her face. How could you not embrace her charismatic charm? Harry wanted to be around her all the time and not let her go for an instant.
He waited at a crowded bench just across from the meeting place where Clarisse had given him directions to in a poorly worded text message.
I hope I got this right? he thought.
He looked around for Clarisse, trying not to make it too visible. He was a good-looking guy with a trimmed beard, a Christian Ronaldo haircut and a
sculptured face—he may have been a darling catch for the lovely ladies walking past. They took turns looking at him, and some smiled as they casually passed him—deliberately slowing down at first to get a glimpse.
Somewhere in the crowd of people filling the area, he managed to catch a glimpse of Clarisse from a distance, wearing a tangerine dress with motifs of tropical flowers above her knees. He waved and smiled enthusiastically, looking directly at her—but she did not see him at first. He tried again by raising his tall posture to gain an advantage as she was drawing nearer. He could not help notice her slender and perfectly shaped body and skinny legs. She looked terrific, and he was excited to see her again. Like most of the girls in Manila, Clarisse dressed impeccably and always presented herself with expertly applied makeup to accentuate her looks.
Clarisse finally acknowledged him with a brilliant smile and a ferocious wave as she tiptoed, swerving amongst the endless stream of people walking past her to get his attention. She did not yell out his name this time like she did at the airport and was more contained. Eyes fixed and without losing sight of him, she made her way nearer until they were close enough to acknowledge each other.
“Hi, Clarisse, I nearly lost you in that crowd.” He wasn’t sure whether to shake her hand or leave the formalities out of it. “Does it always get this busy on a Monday night?”
She wiped away any anxiety he had about greeting her by kissing Harry on the cheek.
“Oh, this is normal … wait until Friday night, it’s twice as crowded,” Clarisse said.
“I’m glad you found me. I was concerned I had the wrong place and your message …”
“My message was not clear? I realised later that you were not local and that I could have been clearer. I’m sorry … but guess what—you made it!”
Harry was conscious of staring at her and did not want to make it obvious. But he could not help being taken by her presence.
“It’s OK, and I had fun getting here … dodging the never-ending rows of people.” Harry pointed across the walkway to a bustling café. “Is that the place we should get a table?”
“Yes, I know the food there, and the coffee is great. I’m assuming you like coffee?”
“Oh yeah. The stronger the better for me.” There was a table on the perimeter of the café with less noise. Harry briskly made his way towards the table while instinctively clasping Clarisse’s hand. It was an impromptu reaction—she didn’t mind and went along with it.
“This is a perfect location,” Clarisse said. She took a seat and looked at a torn menu that had seen better days.
Before Harry could adjust his seat, a middle-aged woman holding a basketful of coloured roses tapped him on the shoulder. She had been watching him and waiting to pounce.
“Why don’t you buy the beautiful girl a flower and show your true desire for her?” she said.
Harry looked at her with a grin at best, not wanting to be impolite in front of Clarisse. “Oh yes … how much for this red one?”
“Does the price matter, sir? The beautiful girl next to you is priceless, and many men are waiting to be where you are seated right now.”
He was gobsmacked. This woman knew her lines and how to make a foreigner look pitiful in the eyes of a beautiful woman. He had to think quick to get the upper hand and redeem himself.
“I know, why don’t you choose one, Clarisse?” He paused and waited for a reaction. “Go on … they are all nice roses, I don’t know which one to select.”
Clarisse had seen this woman up to her old tricks before. Preying on local women dating foreigners and skilfully extracting the sale from embarrassed men like Harry.
“I like the red rose … can I have that one?”
“Yes, of course.” Harry pointed to the red flower in the basket. “That one will do,” he said to the woman.
Clarisse took the rose and held it up to her nose before laying it in front of her. “Thank you so much—I wasn’t expecting a rose today.”
“I hope it will remind you of our special occasion.”
“What occasion is that?”
“Oh, don’t you remember? Today is the same day of the month we chatted on Skype for the first time.”
Clarisse was silenced and didn’t know what to say. She had completely forgotten. “It’s our monthiversary! Thank you so much, Harry, for your thoughts—what a way to celebrate with a beautiful-smelling rose.” Clarisse recovered from her lapse of memory.
“This rose will eventually dry out and wither away—but the memories will last an eternity.” Harry was not a great poet, but the words came out naturally.
They both remained silent for a minute and enjoyed the moment. Clarisse was superstitious—the flower was more than just a thoughtful gesture. It was meant to be, and the woman who sold them the rose was not a coincidence.
“That chair you’re sitting on in the photo, it looks like an antique.” Harry looked straight into her almond eyes and didn’t blink.
“Oh yes, I remember that photo—that’s the first pic I sent you. Of all the photos you have of me, I’m surprised that’s the one you remember the most.”
“It’s not important—it’s only a chair.”
“No, tell me. What is it about the chair you found curious … or was it the person sitting on it that took your fancy?” Clarisse smiled and then paused. She wanted an answer and was not going to give up easily.
“Well, it’s the colour, to be honest—never seen a chair in that colour before.”
“You’re very attentive for a male.” She adjusted her posture and leaned forward. “I don’t often get asked that question, but since you asked nicely—it’s a variation of scarlet.”
“I thought scarlet was an old woman’s name?”
“I think you have been watching too many movies, Harry—by the way, it’s made of old-fashioned, genuine leather.”
“How old is it?”
“It belonged to my great-grandmother, Elena, and it’s been in the family ever since—for generations.” Her face lit up with a childish smirk as she gazed into the distance.
“It has a special place in your family?” Harry wanted to know more.
“It’s an antique chesterfield chair—almost a hundred years old.” Clarisse avoided the question entirely.
“How have you managed to keep it in such good condition?” Harry tried to keep the conversation of the chair going.
“We don’t use it every day … just on the anniversary of Elena’s death—on the Day of the Dead.” She turned to him and chose her words carefully. “My great-grandmother passed away in that chair during her sleep at the age of ninety-two.”
He could see the emotion in her eyes and was sympathetic. “That’s a tragedy … I mean, to pass away in your sleep on your favourite chair.”
“That’s why we don’t sit in the chair,’ she laughed. “I don’t want to be the next one to go.”
“That’s what I love about your country … so many traditions. And the Day of the Dead—what day is that?”
“It’s the first and second day of November—we also call it Día de Los Muertos. It’s a big celebration here.”
“That’s two days away! So what do you do on this day with the chair? Do you sit on it and that’s it?” It all sounded very mysterious to Harry.
“According to what my mother taught me, it’s the only day we can sit on the chair.” She paused for a moment. “Back in my great-grandmother’s day, the scarlet leather chair was a difficult piece of furniture to make until she found a craftsman. It was a labour of love, and it became her prized possession. Maybe one day I will tell you more about the chair. If we get the chance, I can show it to you. It means a lot to my family, and like most Filipinos, we’re superstitious.”
“I understand your point. Where I come from, we don’t have that sort of culture and old chairs are thrown out and recycled at antique shops—if they have any value. So, when can I see the chair? I’m intrigued by your story.”
“Not so
fast, Harry. One day.” She passed the menu to him in an attempt to change the topic.
“My mother doesn’t like people outside the family sitting on the chair—so we have to do it when she is not around.”
“Really?”
“Yes, she’s very superstitious.” She passed the menu to him, pointing to the top of the page. “If you can make any sense of this torn menu maybe we can order some food … I’m hungry,” Clarisse said.
“There are lots of choices—I would like to try out the local cuisine. Can you pick one and surprise me?”
“I think I can do that. I will order you something with beef, is that OK?”
“Sure.”
She took back the menu and said, “It may be quicker if I go and order at the counter.” As Clarisse was about to leave Marjorie came jostling by and greeted her fervently.
“Marjorie, what are you doing here?” Clarisse said.
“I was on my way home.” She turned and looked at Harry. “Oh, hello, Harry.”
“Hi, Marjorie. Nice to meet you again,” Harry said.
“Why don’t you both get acquainted again while I place our order … won’t be long,” Clarisse said.
Marjorie took her seat next to Harry while fiddling with her bag—she did not want to place it on the ground and held on to it. She looked at Harry in a shy way and said, “I don’t want to get my new bag dirty … I only got it yesterday.”
“Oh, I see. I thought you were superstitious for a moment.” Harry was trying out his dry humour. “So, how long have you known Clarisse?”
“Long time—since I was five years old. Our mothers are best friends, and I got her the job in our company.”
“That’s a long time. So, you must know a lot about her.”
“I’m not going to tell you all her secrets—you will need to work that out for yourself.” She paused and turned directly to Harry with her piercing brown eyes. “You know, every man in the office is after her—even the married ones.”
“And?” Harry was curious.
“She stays clear of them. Some people think she is a man-hater … but I think she does not find them interesting. She has been unlucky in love and cautious about any approaches.”
The Girl in the Scarlet Chair: A New Adult and Clean Romance with Supernatural Elements (City of Affection - Book 1) Page 5
