Too Bad, Baby

CHAPTER 1 It was a rainy Friday afternoon in Toronto. The cold sent chills down my spine. The freezing cold was nearly too much for me to handle, but I've always loved the rain, no matter how it made my walks during fall almost unbearable. I hated summers. I still do and always will, I guess. Even though the rain made it very hard for everyone, even for me, to go out running errands, I still looked forward to these days, and always longed for the murky skies. Ironically, the so-called gloomy weather always made me feel the opposite- I am most happy and comfy at this time of the year. My hands fumbled inside my purse, hastily searching for my car keys. My grocer trunk was already soaking wet as I was and I silently prayed it wouldn't finally break apart today. Not today, as I have just impulsively purchased a brand new smartphone, which I hurriedly and uncarefully stuffed in the trunk just in the nick of time- a few seconds before the heavy downpour. Upon finding my keys, I ran wildly towards my brother's car, which was ten yards away, clutching the heavy groceries with my purse. I threw them in the backseat hurriedly and slammed my door shut. I turned on the heat and started to squeeze the water off my long caramel brown hair. My old phone rang as I started the engine. It was Calyx. "What now, Calyx?" I asked irritably. Calyx is my boss, technically. But we've become more than that a few months after I started working for him. We've become best friends. He was a journalist-turned-soap-actor. Calyx was beautiful. I have come to New York a couple of years ago to be an intern and I was assigned to Calyx and his department. Back then, he only did flash interviews on the local news and morning segment for hotelestaurant reviews. His morning show started to pick up viewers, and as for shorter version, he was scouted for a soap opera character, which paid so much more than the news gig. It took three months after he left the network when he asked me to work for him instead. We were good friends then, well- I missed the charming bastard. He offered me more money, stable job and an apartment (we're room mates of course) rent free. I became his assistant, a live-in one. Yeah, I'm a glorified nanny of a twenty-something-year-old guy. We came to Toronto as promised, for me to visit my folks. Originally, he was supposed to be visiting distant relatives and old friends as well and let me be, but just as our plane touched down, he announced that he's changed his mind and would be with me for the rest of the fortnight- and that he wouldn't bother me at all. It was our fourth day here. He spent the previous nights partying, picking up girls and coming back to my place at five a.m. daily. At first it was fine, but then he mopes around the house during the day and then complains about his hangover all day long. "What's with the yelling?" He demanded on the other line. "I'm soaking wet in my car, because you won't stop until I got out to get tomato juice for your hangover!" I reminded him dangerously. "Come on, Christianna. I wouldn't ask you if I could get one myself. You know that," he said. I could see him grinning sheepishly. "Don't be mad, sweetheart. I'll make it up to you." "Oh please," I said, exasperated. "Be there in ten." "Love you dear," he laughed. "I hate you Calyx." ************* He stood on the doorstep, holding an umbrella up, grinning as I parked the car in the driveway. I rolled down the car window and yelled, "Seriously? You're just gonna stand there and watch me?" He chuckled as he walked towards me. "Wow. And you're really pissed." He helped me unload my trunk and we hurried inside the house. He immediately unpacked it, searching for his damned tomato juice. Wasting not one more second, he downed the bottle half-empty. "Thanks," he said. I rolled my eyes at him. "This is the last time I'm picking up the groceries until we get back to New York. Dude, you gotta clean up your act. What's with the all night partying anyway?" He snorted. "I'm on sabbatical." "How are you and Missy? You haven't called her since we left the States." "Oh please," he said. "You like that, don't you?" "What?" I said defensively, crossing my arms. "And why would I be jealous about Missy?" Missy Goldberg- a hot colleague he's been dating for almost a year now. She's painfully midwestern-ish, gorgeous, tanned, tall and has a knockout body. Her deep-set emerald eyes sparkled whenever she smiled. Her shoulder length, wavy ash blond hair looked annoyingly soft and shiny. She's perfect. She and Calyx did make a great couple. And I didn't like her. Not one bit. It's not that I'm jealous of her; I just thought there's always one person in the world that you hate, no matter how nice, how kind, friendly or perfect she or he is. Maybe that's my problem. She's too perfect. So, okay, I maybe a little bit jealous. I've nothing to show for against her. I'm five foot two, of Asian descent, round faced, plump and chiseled cheeks altogether, olive skinned with chocolate brown eyes. I always say my face is rather undefined for lack of thick eyebrows and long lashes. "I didn't say you were jealous!" Calyx raised an eyebrow. "Are you?" I felt my cheeks burn, "No," I said lamely. "I didn't say that!" "Yes you did," he laughed, "you really did!" "Bacause!" "What?" "You were implying that I was!" I said cooly. "Good God, woman. Why are you so hostile all of a sudden?" "I'm not hostile." I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, you're mean ever since we came here," he gasped, ridiculously, "You're mean in Canada!" "Dude, chill," I said, loosening up. We laughed. "Seriously," I said. "Are you and Missy having a fight or something?" He shrugged. "I don't know." "Tell me about it?" "Eh." "Come on, you know I love to gossip." "Yeah, you do." He rolled his eyes again. "Stay here. I'll change into something dry and warm and you'll tell me about it while I make dinner." He sat on the stool behind the counter while I prep dinner. I felt a thousand times better once I slipped in my old university sweats. "So," I said, eyeing him curiously. "What's up with you and little Missy perfect?" He frowned. "Why do you hate her so much?" "I don't," I lied. "It's a joke. She's okay. I guess it's just painful to stand next to her. She's almost too beautiful beyond belief. It makes me feel so- plain." "That's new," he said, genuinely intrigued. "Really? Missy?" "Well, yeah. There's a reason why she's an actress and I'm just somebody's assistant." He laughed. A long, hearty laugh. "Look at you! My baby's all grown up, pumped up with insecurities and all!" "You really are a jerk, you know that?" "I'm sorry," he said still chuckling. "It's just hard to hear and believe for the first time that you care at all about how you look." "And how do I look?" I asked hotly. "You look fine, girl," he mocked, mimicking a familiar Brooklyn accent. "Jackass." "I'm sorry. Look- it's just a bit odd and funny to know that you are into your looks just as much as everybody. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but I just thought it's cool when I thought you didn't care about that stuff," he explained. "That's what I liked about you. You're different from everybody I work with,. You can walk around in comfortable jeans and shirt without a care in the world whether people find you attractive or otherwise." I sighed. Thanks, jackass. Now I feel worse more than ever. "So," I said trying to regain my composure. "Back to Missy and Calyx." It was his turn to sigh exasperatedly. "We're cool." "I may not be pretty for some people but I too am not stupid." He furrowed his brows, and stretched his arms out, as he began to stand up. "Sit," I glared at him. "Alright, alright." He sat back down. "Tell me," I said as I turned away from him. "She had an abortion." He stared at me, exhausted. I stopped midway, stirring my casserole. Shocked to my very core, I turned around and looked at him, waiting for the punchline. It never came. He continued to stare, his eyes looked empty. I put my hand over my mouth, speechless. Oh crap. Now what do I say? We stood in silence. For a minute, the longest sixty seconds or so ever, we said nothing. As if on cue, the rain started to pour. Finally, he sighed deeply. "There you go." I looked away, shamed for pushing him to spill the beans. And when I finally got the courage to look at him again- "I'm sorry." The worst part of the evening came. He looked back at me, giving it all his might to fight and hold back his tears. Then he walked away.