Fairy Tale Fail

Chapter 9a - Matching Boracay shirts

My mom told me to stay on dry land while traffic was bad. I asked Charisse if I could stay overnight in her apartment, just a short walk from the office, but she said that five other people were already crammed in her studio with her. I knew I should have called earlier, but I was having a great time. With Rock Star. 
   After we left the restaurant, we retreated under a shed when the rain started up again, and made our respective phone calls. The shed wasn't providing much shelter against the rain, because I was still getting wet from when drops ricocheted back up at me from the street.
   Lucas had his back to me, still on his phone call. He had his head down, and I couldn't really hear what he was saying, but the tone of it seemed tense. At least for him, who was never tense.  Sandra liked to call him her "low-maintenance friend."
   "So," he said when his call ended. "Your friend taking you in tonight?"
   "No, I didn't book her early enough. She's got too many people there now."
   "You don't know anyone else?"
   "Everyone I know is probably already staying over at Charisse's." I said. "It's okay. I think I can wait this out a little longer. How about you?"
   "Oh, don't worry about me. I have a relative nearby."
   "Good for you," I said.
   He shrugged, and then smiled at me. "Good for us."
  
***

I used to like playing in flooded streets until it occurred to me what was on a regular Makati street when it was dry. Cigarette butts. Dog poo. And all sorts of other crap that shouldn't be on the ground. Didn't matter how it looked or where it was – one piece of crap was all it took for flood water to freak me out.
   "Fuck fuck fuck," I said, when my foot went down an unseen pothole again.
   Lucas held out a hand so he could help me jump over another puddle. "Nice," he said sarcastically. "I can see why good guys are attracted to you."
   "Shut up," I retorted.  "I don't like walking in a pool of dog poop. And rat pee."
   "But see, you just agreed to go somewhere with a shower. It all works out."
   The rain hadn't stopped, but we were on the move because Lucas had convinced me to stay at his aunt's house in Bel-Air with him instead. I found the whole thing a bit weird, but Lucas asked me to reconsider for his sake. He had decided that he was going to stay with me that night until I got a decent ride home (it was the proper thing to do), but rather than make him wait in a mall could we at least wait at his tita's house where he could at least be comfortable?
  
***

Lucas' aunt, it turned out, was ready for us. A fabulous-looking woman of over fifty, and the cousin of Lucas' dad, she was retired, a widow, and lived alone in the house. Her children had all moved out to start their own families.
   When we got there at thirty past midnight, his Tita Claire pushed me right into the downstairs bathroom. I could barely remember how I got there, as we traveled through a maze of rooms: foyer, then living room, then hallway, a study, then some kind of family room, and then bathroom. Inside, a neatly-folded pile was waiting: drawstring jogging pants (too large for me, but that's where the drawstring part came in), a Boracay souvenir shirt that looked like it had never been used, disposable underwear (in the right size), a fluffy pink towel, and white bedroom slippers that had a hotel's name on them.
   The shower had hot water too. It felt great. I stood under it for so long, just scrubbing floodwater bacteria off my feet. I felt like Cinderella being made over by the Fairy Godmother.
   I stepped out of the bathroom to discover myself indeed in some kind of family room, but only because Lucas was already there sitting on the floor, back against the couch, watching TV. He looked fresh out of the shower too, and was wearing the same kind of Boracay shirt.
   I thought of being self-conscious for a second. I was in ill-fitting clothes, underwear made of paper, and I hadn't even brushed my hair yet and here I was in front of Rock Star.
   "The shirt looks better on you," he said, effectively breaking the ice. Sandra was right; I didn't feel like I had to be high-maintenance if he wasn't.
   "Where's your tita? I have to thank her."
   "She's asleep by now but she left chocolate." True enough, there was a box of truffles waiting.
   "Wow," I said, jumping onto the couch behind him. "I think this is my best typhoon night ever."

===

This kind of thing (getting stranded and needing a place to stay in overnight) happened to me maybe 3 times during college. I suggest you just choose a friend who lives near your work or school, and ask if you can place a "HELLISH TRAFFIC EMERGENCY KIT" in their place. For retrieval when needed! Include chocolate.