Chapter 5 - Thoughts of You

CLEMENTINE

Flashback: The First Meeting

I was surrounded by glamour. Women about six feet tall because of their high, high heels and men in tuxedos, really expensive tuxedos. I don't know how much, but I can tell by how the fabric looks under the party lights.

I didn't want to pass up an opportunity to make a thousand dollars for one night as a waitress. That amount of money made me feel so lucky until I heard the amount these people were pledging for charity. I swear, I felt like I was walking in a dream. I know there are generous people, but it still feels surreal to hear tens of thousands, up to a hundred thousand.

It's mind-boggling.

It felt like a lot, and I had to take a moment to breathe. Just five minutes, I told myself. The noise from the event faded into the background as I casually walked outside. There was a beautiful fountain, and because of the lights, it almost looked like the water was shining.

I didn't have a coin with me, and I had no idea if this fountain accepted a wish, but I didn't want to let an opportunity pass. I closed my eyes and made a wish.

The smell of smoke filled my lungs as soon as I opened my eyes. I took it as a bad sign. Who the hell smokes in this beautiful garden?

I saw a shadow of a man on the opposite side of the garden. As if on cue, the water from the fountain stopped flowing, and I had a clear view of his face, as much as he had a view of mine.

We stood there frozen, quite surprised by each other's unexpected presence.

“Apologies, sir. I was just—” Of course, I couldn’t say I was slacking off. “Sorry.”

I intended to go back to the party when his deep voice stopped me. “Can you do something for me?”

That night, I left the party early after directly giving a hundred-thousand-dollar donation in cash. It was the first time that I was able to hold that much money. It was only for a few minutes, but the feeling will stay with me forever.

“Sorry for ruining your shift,” he said while driving. After he gave me that task, he also said I could go home, and he’d pay me for that night. It was hard not to say yes when he offered me five times my pay. “Miss?”

He lightly nudged my elbows, which brought me back to reality. The funny thing was, reality still felt like a dream. “Huh?”

He laughed, fascinated by my display of stupidity, I guess. “I was asking you where you want me to drop you off.”

“Oh, right. Just drop me off at the next bus stop.”

“Are you sure? I can drive you home.”

I didn’t want to tell him that I am uncomfortable sitting in his expensive car. I may know his name, but he’s still a stranger.

“What are you thinking?” he asked when I didn’t say a word.

“I don’t even think I’m thinking.”

He must really think of me as a clown. His smile widened, his eyes glued in front while his hands were on the steering wheel.

“Now I’m wondering what you’re thinking.” I got curious why he smiled.

“Can’t say it.”

“Why?”

He only shrugged.

“Can I ask you some more questions?”

I was keeping a close eye on him, expecting him to be annoyed or angry, but he wasn’t. In fact, he seemed laid-back and ready to answer any question I asked him.

“Why did you make a donation that big?”

“Because these kids have already lost so much. I know I can't give them everything, but I at least want to provide help, in any way I can.”

“I see.” I responded. Noticing the sudden drop in his tone, I decided not to ask him more and kept my eyes on the road, where the city lights looked so pretty.

“I know what it feels like. To lose both parents,” he started opening up. “And it wasn’t enough that I deal with that thought every day. People would always remind me, looking at me or having that thought in the back of their minds. How pitiful I must be to have such a tragic life.”

I don’t know why he was opening up to me. Maybe it’s because it’s easier to open up to a stranger, or maybe because he felt he could share his feelings after paying me a huge amount of money. Actually, it didn’t matter because I liked listening to him talk about it.

Sancho Herrera always looked so perfect in my eyes that I almost forgot about his tragic past. When I saw him earlier, looking so dashing like a prince, I even wondered how someone can be so perfect. And now, I got my answer: it’s because he isn’t.

“I know.”

“You know who I am, do you?”

“I see articles and videos about you.”

“Do they play a tragic background song while they narrate my traumatic past?” he said in a teasing tone. “Sorry about earlier, by the way. I wanted to hand in the donation myself, but I was trying to find a way for it not to link to my name. I just think it would be better to give it anonymously.”

“I was paid to literally just hand in money. I’m not the one to complain.”

“You’re so easy to talk to.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

This time, he laughed so hard. I just looked at how his eyes became smaller and how his smile widened, how his voice was so melodious. Happiness suits him. It felt contagious because I felt my cheeks were hurting from smiling so much.

“I’ve said a lot, and I don’t even know your name.”

“Clementine.”

“Sancho.” He offered his hand, and I accepted.

I’ve been alone all my life, and that moment… It felt like I had a friend. Is this how it feels? Having a friend.

It didn’t take long before we arrived at the bus stop. It was dreamy to wish that he would drive me home, to the mansion that I built in my imagination. I wanted to ask him more questions and make him laugh more, but if I did, I’d see him again tomorrow and the day after that. I might think about him a lot and I might end up forgetting the dreams that I’m working hard for.

Just for a guy.

I don’t want to be that kind of girl. I can’t afford to.

So, I briefly said my thanks and walked myself out the door.

“Clementine,” he called my name.

With the mere sound of my name, the butterflies in my stomach lost control.

I was about to leave. I was waiting for him to say something before I shut the door.

“I think you’re very beautiful.”

“Huh?”

“To answer your question earlier… when you asked me what I was thinking.”

***

Present Day

I failed again and again and again. I found myself wanting to hear Sancho’s voice again. It was torture to have him near, but not close enough. So, I shamelessly went to his room and laid in the same bed he was sleeping in.

He must have known because when I arrived, he was already on his side of the bed.

Without saying anything, I tucked myself in and wrapped my arms around his waist. I could feel Sancho’s smile. His heart was beating faster than normal, which is why I knew he was happy.

“What are you thinking?” He asked.

“Nothing,” I answered because I didn’t want to tell the truth: that it was him I was thinking about.