“I don’t really want to talk about it again, Ellen.” I told her on the phone. It annoys me how my best friend seems to not get over the incidents of last night. For heaven’s sake, we’ve been through it since the moment she came to the counter and saw me with my arms around the unconscious guy.
“No, let me just make this clear.” She insisted. “You really don’t know him? You’re not trying to hide some secret relationship you have from me, aren’t you? We’re best friends, you know, I should know these things. Or were you just about to hook up with him and I just walked in on both of you?” she gasped. “Oh my gosh!!! You were, weren’t you?”
Meet my best friend, Ellen Taylor. She is an author wannabe who’s always on the lookout for that award winning story which she will make the bestselling book ever, at least according to her. She claims to get inspiration from the people’s lives around her, in simple terms, gossips, as well as first hand experiences, which are mostly her imagining things happening to her. And this right here is her imagination working. To be honest, though, her brain isn’t much but it sometimes baffles me how she makes it work.
I shook my head and sighed.
“For the nth time, I DON’T KNOW HIM. I wasn’t hooking up with him or planning to hook up with him. I told you, I was drinking and he came and irritated me.” I answered. “You know what? I’m tired. I just landed here and you called me just to talk about this? Some best friend you are. I’m hanging up.”
I just stepped out of the doors of the airport together with people who just came home, tourists and others. There are also locals who are waiting for the arrival of their loved ones. I see some men wearing suits and other people in casual clothing all here for different purposes. I, on the other hand, am looking for a taxi and ready to end my phone call with my irritating gossip loving best friend.
“NO NO WAIT!!” she laughed. “Okay, I’m sorry. I called to make sure you arrived safely, okay? I was sidetracked.” She apologized. Oh, girl, I know you were checking in on me but I also know you wanted to talk about last night, too. “Man, I have a massive hangover. How did you not get one?” I heard her say ‘oww’ on the line. It must be the headache.
“I only had one and a half drink, remember?” I reminded her. “And I wasn’t planning on getting drunk.”
“We were in a club. There can only be three things you can do in a club; dance, get drunk and meet a new guy. Ah! Aspirin don’t even help!” She complains on the phone. Really.
“You know what, you should be thankful I’m sober enough to drive you home.” This ungrateful girl.
“I appreciate it but I’m pretty sure I could’ve found a guy to do that for me.” She replied.
“Like who? Like the one you were dancing with?” I asked her. For the record though, I know she can do that. She’s very much capable of making every guy she meets fall for her or at least be fooled by her. A ride home from a stranger is a piece of cake.
“Yeah or maybe that guy you were with. Too bad he fainted though.” She answered in full confidence.
“I said ‘home’, not his flat or pad or wherever he lives.” I see a cab approaching and started to walk to the side of the road.
“Everywhere is home, Ash. You know that.” She replied, her voice a little serious. “At least for me.” she added with a more quiet voice making me walk a little slower. “Well, in your case, it’s your boyfriend. Isn’t that why you are in Korea right now and not here taking care of me?”
I paused for a bit before answering. “I took care of you last night.”
“Haha. Don’t worry, I’ll find someone who’ll take care of me while you’re there.”
I sighed then rolled my eyes. “You do that. Also, go find another ‘friend’ to be with next time you go clubbing. And you should really take care of that hangover. Here’s my taxi. Laters.”
I hung up on her. I grew tired of our conversation. As much as I appreciated her checking in on me, I’m too tired and I know she needs some rest. Thankfully she is a writer so she doesn’t have to worry about being late in the office. If she’s not ‘meeting new people’ for her ‘book’ she just usually sits at home and imagines things.
Not me.
I quickly climbed inside the taxi and told the driver my destination. I should drop my bags off my hotel first before going to the office.
I opened my phone to check the time and was taken aback at the sight o my lockscreen wallpaper.
A photo of myself and my boyfriend.
Well, at least until tonight.
Ellen was both right and wrong.
Everywhere is home for her.
In my case, it isn’t my boyfriend.
Not anymore.
