Catherine

I stepped out of the restaurant with the sound of my not-so high heels clicking grating my ears while I took slow, deep breaths. I have to be mature about this.

I felt rejected even though I was the one who called it off. I just have to be mature.

But I was so...so angry.
I picked up the pace, only to stop in the middle on the parking lot when I realized something. Balling my fists, I was tempted to throw my composed act away.

Of course I didn't bring my mini cooper. I thought we'll have a nice dinner and Mr. We-can-work-this-out would take me home.

I was so focused on confronting him, I didn't realize that I still had the same stupid plan for the evening!

Looking around to make sure that nobody was present, I started messing my hair, ruining my carefully made ponytail. This isn't enough to sum up how pissed I feel at this moment.

I was angry, frustrated, but more disappointed.

I know I wasn't attractive enough. Not charming enough. Not Audrey enough.

Be mature about this.

I breathed out as I tried fixing my hair. I was looking for a mirror inside my bag when I heard someone chuckle. I quickly looked around, a hundred scenarios running inside my head.

Holy shiznick.

I saw a little red glow on a dark corner.

Someone was smoking. Then the sound of an engine starting, strangely, there was no light. Motorbikes were supposed to have its headlight on. Unless this person already have plans on getting himself killed tonight.

I squinted my eyes to take a better look, but it was far too dark. Trying to act like I just didn't throw a tantrum in the middle of the lot, I walked away without throwing a backward glance.
---------

I didn't want to take a cab.

The mere thought of someone looking at my face and knowing that I just cried was not something I want right now. Facing people would mean putting the mask back on. Cold Catherine, all alone.

I've been walking for over half an hour now. Not really sure on where I want to go. I felt like Forest Gump. I don't know why I kept walking. I just wanted to.

People should do that. For once in their miserable life, do something random and not explain themselves.

I stopped to rest my legs for a few minutes. My feet hurt. Taking off my heels, I sat down and placed my hands on my cheeks.

I'm going to get wasted tonight. Maybe that would cloud my mind and let my poor brain relax even for just one night.

Let's see, I always had a checklist.

1.Surprise boyfriend (hah. no.)

2.Have dinner to celebrate (hah. no.)

3. Talk about relationship with boyfriend (not how I expected but yeah.)

[4. Don't let hot sister steal boyfriend]

I just can't help but laugh. That was always on the last of the list.

Well he was the third one. Out of my three boyfriends.

If this was baseball, I would have shouted 'Yeeer out!'

"You should give yourself credit Cat, you survived. Emotionally scarred but you're okay. You make enough money, nobody really hates you." I looked up at the sky. Too dark.

"Hey big guy! I'm doing alright.... Right?!"

I must have looked like a total nutcase. I can almost hear the owner of the liquor store that was on the other side of the street phoning the cops.

I pretended that my hand was a phone. Trying to make my voice lower.

"Hello officer, I'd like to report a woman in a grey suit, shouting at the sky. I think she's crazy."

I put my imaginary phone down and lied down on the pavement. Yes. Lied down, like I just got home from work and I can't wait to get to bed.

One moment I was convincing myself to act like an adult. Now I'm lying on the side of the street asking God if I was doing okay with my life.

Really mature, Catherine.

"I'm doing alright. I'm going to make it alright." I was determined. I'm going to be stronger, tougher.

...

Right after crying this one out.

As if on cue, my vision started to get blurry. My brain reported a partly cloudy weather for my eyes. Followed by heavy rainfalls.. As much I wanted to be an independent woman, of course I wanted someone.

I wanted someone who'd look at me like I was perfect even if I was far from that. Someone who will take care and worry about me and I'd do the same to him. Just that. Nothing more. So far, all I got were demands, complaints and a few attempts of them getting in my skirt.

Right, that's it. No more.

I stood up and started walking to the other side of the street, not bothering to look if there was anyone who could possibly hit me with their vehicle. It was almost midnight and cars weren't common on this part of town. I'm going to buy myself a bottle of red wi-- vodka. I was about seven steps away when I heard tires screeching.

I didn't bother looking up, but saw that my legs were a few inches away from a motorbike's tire.

I looked up at this wacko who didn't even think of honking; seeing that I may not be paying attention on where I'm going, and all I can think of was the night. I have read a lot of books that described men quiet well and that was all I can think of.

He looked like the night.

The kind that lures you outside with pretty stars and the gentle breeze.

Then leaves you in the middle of the woods to be eaten by a pack of wolves.

From what little light coming from the signs at the liquor store, I could make out his dark brown hair , the same color as his eyes. He had a few hair strands falling on his forehead from his already windswept hair. I could only see half of his facial features, but that didn't fail me from noticing how thick his lashes were; enough to make any woman jealous. He had a slightly crooked nose, and lips were plump enough to make you want to touch them to see if they're as soft as they look.

Judging from where I stood, I estimated him to be about six feet tall.

His broad shoulders were covered with the leather jacket that hugged his arm muscles like an overly-attached lover. Good
news is, he wasn't wearing tight black jeans. Whenever I see men wearing that particular piece of clothing, I wonder if their acorns could still breathe.

This guy was smart enough to know that men with muscular thighs needed regular jeans to show off. In fact, he looked every inch the bad boy biker.

Should I say sorry? Or be mad because I almost got killed?

"You're not wearing a helmet."

Well okay.

I could've told him something more intelligent but that was all I could think of at the moment. I saw the man smile and it kind of reminded me of stars.

"And you're not looking on where you're going." He killed the engine and looked at me like he found something funny just by laying his eyes on my face. Must be the ruined make-up.

"I was almost at the other side, I didn't bother looking." I felt confused. Not scared. All my emotions gone. Just down the drain. And I could smell apples.

"You're far from the other side love. Not your time yet." He got off his bike and opened the compartment from his bike's seat and took out a helmet. After putting it on, he got back on his bike and I had to step out of his way.

I was sort of brokenhearted. I don't want to be brokenhearted and dead.

"If you're going to focus in just one boring goal and think you're almost there, what's the point of living afterwards? Distractions are always there and some of 'em are actually worth noticing. If you ignore distractions then you don't know what you're missing."

Then he was gone.

I walked to the liquor store and just settled with red wine.

As I heading to wait for a cab, where there were more cars passing by, my eyes widened.

I just realized that I could've been badly hurt, and that walking on a street where cars barely passed was dangerous, and I could've been robbed.

How idiotic.

After hailing a cab, I got in and stared at the window, not really noticing anyone until I got out and opened the door to my apartment.

I walked inside, stripped off my clothes, got a wine glass, and sat on my bed only in my undies.

Another lonely night for Catherine Wright.

That would be a nice name for a book.

"Help me out here." I whispered, as I laid down staring at the ceiling.

"Don't you think it's about time you send 'the one'?" I paused. I was talking to God again. I swear He may just have put his earplugs on.

I drank my wine, reading a book that I got as a birthday present from Glen. We broke up but I was not throwing out a New York Time's Bestseller.

When I finished drinking half the bottle, I turned off the lamp and lied down. As I was closing my eyes, the man's words floated in my mind,

"You know what? Scratch that. Send me a distraction instead." The wine's making me so happy. And I can't stop thinking about the man's words.

I was about to close my eyes when I remembered something. I gasped as it dawned to me.

The motorbike's headlight wasn't on.

✂-----------------------------------------------------

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