CHAPTER FOUR Emily
CHAPTER FOUR
Emily
I t was open mic day at the bar so I only had to sing a few songs before I left. I ended up singing five songs because one gentleman and one lady gave tips bigger than my entire daily rate. Once I finished “Can’t Help Falling In Love”, a request from the big tippers for their anniversary, I left.
And now, as I get out of the building, I make a turn to walk back home. I adjust my coat since I’m somehow still feeling cold despite it being April. I’m just used to humidity and tropical winds, so I shiver the minute the temperature drops below 20 degrees Celsius.
It’s already late, but New York, true to its title as the city that never sleeps, is still buzzing: a musician is busking a few feet away, a group of friends strolls into the bar I just left, a couple is walking by while eating hotdogs... That reminds me that I need to grab some takeout for dinner and then spend the rest of the night packing for my 10-day trip home to Manila. Thankfully my accounting job can keep running remotely, so I’ve mentally shoved that into the “deal with it later” drawer. Yes, my mind has drawers, and sometimes I forget they exist.
Just as I’m about to walk further, I bump into a solid wall of a person. I look up to apologize but end up with wide eyes instead.
“Why, hello there, Tantrum,” the construction guy from earlier says. “Should I be flattered? Are you following me?” This time, he’s wearing dark pants and a leather jacket over a blue button down. This gives him a cooler, more rugged vibe, and I hate that I like it.
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “Pretty sure you’re the one popping up wherever I go.”
He chuckles. “Maybe,” he says. “But… a barista and a club singer? Do you have a third job too?”
“Not that it’s any of your business—again—but yes, I do,” I say.
“Oh, let me guess. Are you a superhero by night? Secret agent? You seem like the type who thrives on chaos,” he says with a grin. I roll my eyes, walking past him, but he hops in front of me, startling me as he starts walking backward instead. I stop, knowing he’ll probably keep walking and risk bumping into every person we encounter.
“If you think that was thriving, I’d hate to imagine what you think of as struggling.” I said. “Because, sir, chaos is not my idea of a good time.”
He laughs. “Maybe stand-up comedy is your thing. If it isn’t already your third job, give it a try.”
“Maybe I will, just so I can make jokes about annoying guys who can’t mind their own business,” I shoot back.
“Damn,” he says, stepping aside. “But seriously, you should put that on your resume. ‘Expert at shutting down annoying guy’s attempts at flirting.’”
I scoff. “Flirting? Am I supposed to swoon or something?” I say playfully, finally squeezing past him. He doesn’t leave but walks beside me instead.
“Well,” he shrugs, grinning, “you could pretend.” He stops walking and so do I. I look at him, and his grin is still wide. “But I’ve got a backup plan if that doesn’t work,” he says, shifting his gaze to the burger joint across the street.
“Really?” I say dryly. “You’re asking me out to dinner?”
“See?” He snaps his fingers, pointing at me with that easy smile. “Already finishing my sentences. That’s gotta mean something.” A wink follows, as easy and natural as if he’s done this a hundred times before. He’s probably a master of the casual ask-out. And he’s not trying to hide it. Which means it’s up to me if I can handle dinner with a guy like this.
I hesitate, standing at a crossroads of thoughts and emotions. Here I am, with a perfectly attractive stranger, and all I can think of is Rob. Or, more specifically, his cheating incident. Not because I still have feelings for him, but because of the effect it had on me. To be honest, I know deep down that I’ve moved on from him—long before he even cheated on me, if that makes sense. Our relationship had become predictable, almost mechanical. Sure, losing him hurt, but it was what he did to my sense of self that hurt most.
Back home, I used to be Emily, the golden girl. The one who had everything. And now, when I come back, I’ll probably get pity stares and kind smiles, because everything I’ve worked hard for reduced me to being Emily, the girl who got cheated on.
It brings me back to this guy standing in front of me, waiting for an answer, completely unaware of my inner chaos. As I look up at him, it hits me—I’m tired. Tired of thinking, tired of hurting, tired of overanalyzing everything.
The looming dread of seeing Rob again in two weeks hovers like a storm cloud, a reminder of just how complicated things still feel. Maybe tonight, though, I can do something that feels light and simple. Just once.
He’s still looking at me, eyebrows raised, a patient smile tugging at his lips.
“You know what?” I hear myself say, feeling an unexpected spark of spontaneity. “What the hell. Let’s go get dinner, random stranger.”
His grin widens, so effortlessly charming it reassures me I’ve made the right choice.
This escapade isn’t new. I do this every time life throws me shit. No, I don’t usually grab dinner with strangers, but I whisk myself away to another dimension. When I was young, reading a book would do it for me. It was enough to escape reality. But as I grew older, I wanted to experience those alternate lives myself. For a few hours, I pretend to be someone I’m not because any alternative is better than the real me. Real Emily is careful, responsible, and calculating. Out-of-reality Emily is carefree. I usually go to random bars, giving out a fake name and striking up conversations with strangers who don’t know the real me. One time, I even went to an anxiety support group and told them my name was Joanne. But that night brought me back closer to reality, so I never did it again. Tonight is different—it’s the first time I’ve agreed to dinner. And admitted my pretensions. So why did I shake it up tonight? I don’t know. Maybe it’s Rob. Maybe I’m tired. Maybe it’s this attractive guy.
Normally, I’d be spiraling right now. What kind of person has dinner with a stranger she met the same day? This is the real-world equivalent of every Disney princess movie plot I’ve ever devoured. And don’t get me started on how many of those I’ve seen. (Spoiler alert: all of them. Twice).
But here I am, crossing the road with a guy whose name I don’t want to know, and I’m at ease. Because, for tonight, at least, I’m letting go.
Joshua
We’re crossing the street to the burger place, and I catch myself glancing over at her every few steps.
“I’m really hoping they have potato wedges,” she says, almost like it’s a dealbreaker. “And I’m definitely getting one of those big-ass burgers,” she puts her hands on top of each other to show how tall the imaginary burger is. “Three patties, minimum. You know, the kind that you have to unhinge your jaw for?”
“We’re not even at the door yet, and you’re already thinking of your order,” I laugh, raising an eyebrow at her.
“That’s called planning ahead,” she counters with mock seriousness. “This way, by the time we get there, I already have my order figured out. Efficient. Strategic.”
As she launches into a surprisingly passionate monologue about why wedges are the superior fry cut—they have “maximum potato-to-crisp ratio,” she explains with a wave of her hand—I feel this weird combination of excitement and… well, dread. It’s almost alarming how much I’m enjoying this.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun just getting a meal with someone. She isn’t even my usual type. She’s too sharp, too quick to call me out. Most people tiptoe around me, and most women flirt with me, but she just... met me head-on. Usually, it’s all easy small talk to get to the next part of the night, but with her? There’s this lightness. I don’t feel like I have to be ‘on’ or impress her. And yet I want to.
I hold the door open for her as we enter the diner, and we’re greeted by dim lights and quiet conversations. We walk over to the booth in the far end as she looks at me and glances at the table we just passed. She subtly points her index finger and mouths the words ‘potato wedges’ with a smile.
I mirror her smile, once again drawn to her. It’s messing with my head, making me think about things I don’t usually let myself consider. Like, maybe… coming back here with her a second time.