Diana

"What do you mean she's on leave? She barely started working."

I bit my lip as my eyes roamed around the office. I came in today hoping things would at least go well for the first few hours. It wasn't like we had any deadlines, but for her to get a better feel of what it was like to work in our department, she actually had to be present. The employee who came in to hand in her reports looked uncomfortable as she looked at anything but where I was.

"She mentioned something about her honeymoon," she said, fixing her skirt on her seat.

It's not her fault, she's just saying what she knows.

I took a deep breath and nodded. She excused herself and I was left tapping a nail on the table. I had a talk with HR yesterday because apparently, although it wasn't a rule, having blue hair was somewhat unprofessional. I was given three days to at least dye it with colors she suggested . So I can either try getting it close to the color it was before, or dye it brown or anything darker. At this moment, I honestly would like to shave it all off, eyebrows included. Britney Spears must've had it hard back in 2007. My day continued with me constantly wincing whenever I remember planning something ridiculous as a wedding. Who would've thought that I would worry about cake toppers. Cake toppers of all things!

When working hours were over, I was ready to get a cold glass of beer. Maybe walk around the house with no pants on while belting some Celine Dion songs. I feel like I didn't have enough time to be sad about it. I kept running away from it, finding ways to distract myself. 

It was like one of those cartoons that I secretly watched when I was younger. That one scene where the character hides all the clutter in their room under a carpet or in a wardrobe. They stood in front of the carpet or pushed the door shut with a nervous smile on their face. It eventually explodes and all that's left is a big mess and them looking miserable and ashamed.

Why should I be ashamed? I didn't do anything wrong? It was a trial and error sort of thing. I knew what type of man Benedict was. I knew how he sees things. I thought I figured it all out. 

Now, the more I thought about it, the more annoyed I was. The more I hated how Benedict laughed at the most mediocre thing. My trail of thought was all over the place that I got to my apartment without any idea on how I got there.

I wish I was like one of those heroines that go on a trip, meet a nice guy with a dog and have this flirty banter about the most petty thing. I wanted it so bad. I wish moving on was as fast as the plot of a Christmas special episode. I wanted to have an ending under a lamplight, with my white jacket and brown scarf with the guy telling me he was so stupid to let me go.

I turned towards the door when I heard someone knocking.

"Shit," I whispered, quickly grabbing the pants that I wore just a while ago.

I opened the door wide enough for me to see who it was trying to reach out to me at eight in the evening.

"I'm sorry to bother you."

I looked down to see Tory nervously looking at me. I opened the door wider for her and looked down at the hallway. Wilbur was nowhere in sight. I took the bag she has on her arms and asked her to come inside.

"Not a bother at all," I pinched her cheek and made her sit on the sofa while sneakily taking the glass I drank my beer from.

"He's coming upstairs in a while and the security man on the first floor told me I could go straight ahead," she was swaying her feet as she looked at me. She looked anxious, probably waiting for the right moment to say whatever it was she wanted to say.

Tory has slept in my apartment once and although she was more than happy to stay with me, she was always looking forward to going back to their apartment. "She might be there," she said. I knew from Wilbur that her mom just had some things to get done.

I didn't ask her anything. I did ask her if she already ate.

"Diana?"

I answered her with a humming sound as I sat down beside her.

"I feel like I want to cry but I can't." She looked me in the eye. I wasn't sure if she was scared or annoyed or confused. "I shouldn't cry, I know it. But I want to."

It was like looking in a mirror. It must have been the beer, I was sure of it. It was like seeing myself, standing in front of my door the day I found out my parents were calling it quits.

Tory and I looked at each other. Both of us were silent as she took a shaky breath. I was on the verge of crying anyway.

"Well," I started, "if you think you shouldn't, then don't."

"But if you want to cry, " I looked over my shoulder and then back at her. "I won't tell a soul." I whispered.

She gave me a small smile before patting my hand, as if I was the one who needed it. "I mean I can't cry. I want to but there aren't any tears coming out."

"Well if you want some tears, how about we watch a movie?" I asked. She nodded.

Here's the thing about dinosaur movies; they're fiction and the dinosaurs have died out millions of years ago. The movie was almost done when I saw her wiping her nose. Without a word, I gave her some tissues and wrapped my arms around her.

When I was her age, this was how my nanny calmed me down. She wouldn't say a word and just rock me in her arms gently. I did the same to Tory and she cried even more. We could barely hear the movie. Not because she was crying too loudly, but because I was full on sobbing. I know she had her reasons, but I didn't even know why I was crying. Was it for the child that I was, or the adult that I have become? Or maybe about something that happened in between?

We stayed seated until we heard someone knocking on the door. I looked at Tory and gave her a nudge to wash her face in the bathroom.

I was emotionally drained and so was she. When I opened the door however, Wilbur was looking at me like worked for forty eight hours straight. He wasn't his usually happy-go-lucky self.

"This may sound weird," he started, "but can I get a hug?"

I pulled him in the apartment and into my arms. He took a deep breath and almost squeezed the life out of me. His fingers were digging on my shoulders, his eyes shut. He looked just as tired as Tory. Her light footsteps made Wilbur loosen his grip on me. The two of them looked at each other and he knelt down to open his arms for her. I would've given them a moment but Tory held on to the hem of my shirt. So hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around the both of them and kissed them both on the top of their heads.

"This is nice," Tory said after a while. She had this funny voice like someone was pinching her nose. It was apparent that she just finished crying. And inevitably, Wilbur noticed.

"Did you cry, princess?" he cupped the little girl's face and looked her in the eye. Tory looked at me, as if asking for help.

"We watched a sad movie," I said matter-of-factly.

He looked at the both of us but didn't say a word.

They both ended up sleeping over. I was more than happy to have a warm, small pillow. Once I made sure that Tory was asleep, I gave Wilbur a can of beer and sat with him.

"I'm not good with this," he said quietly.

"Good with what?"

He shrugged. "Looking after a kid. I don't know much about what I should do."

"I say you're doing fine so far."

He smiled. "Thanks for being her friend."

I took a sip of my beer and looked at the bedroom where Tory was, "I never knew I'd be friends with a kid. She's far too wise for her age."

He shook his head. "That's not a good sign." When I said nothing, he continued, "When you're a kid, that's the perfect time to be a little selfish. I wanted her to play. I want to teach her how to ride a bike and watch her lose a tooth from trying to climb a tree. I want her to ask questions. I want her to tell me how she feels."

I almost told him that Tory didn't even know exactly how she feels.

"I don't want her to grow up so soon."

I nodded, "Being a grownup sucks."

He waved his arms as if to say 'I know right?!'

"But you're doing what you can, Wilbur. I know she appreciates you." I bumped his shoulder with mine.

"I know you have problems of your own." He smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up. "You're doing pretty good yourself."

I chuckled. "Thanks, I cried it out. You should try it sometimes."

"Try what?" he asked.

"Watching a sad movie."

He thought about it for a moment.

"I have tried it before," he said thoughtfully. 

"You know when you buy a lottery ticket and you almost win the jackpot?" He wiped a fake tear from his eye. "Gets me every time."

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I have no excuse.