Love in the Time of Vanity Fair

Chapter 3: Bazaar

Behaviorism, as a concept, basically states that one’s environment is responsible for his behavior. Say, if one grew up getting everything he's ever wanted, then he would adopt an assumption that he will be able to get anything he wants.

Like the smug person sitting in front of me, grinning like he just won the lottery, which does not make any sense because he does not need to get any richer. It’s been two months since he slithered his way to my office and if it weren’t for my pending dissertation, I wouldn’t have indulged his crazy antics.

…

I left the office not long after Ian did. In all honesty, I was flustered by not finding anything about him on the internet. It was not normal. I was plagued by the thoughts of him when my engine suddenly hummed weirdly and just stopped altogether. I climbed out of the car and opened the hood only to be met by a blast of hot smoke.

“Damn it,” I murmured to myself. It was past four in the afternoon and the sun was still up so I decided to call the mechanic. But all my hopes of getting home and burying myself under the blankets while I read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice went down the drain when they said that the earliest they could a mechanic was after thirty minutes. And knowing how Metro Manila traffic worked, it might as well take. I had no choice but to sit by the gutter. I kept on glancing on my watch, counting the minutes, and getting increasingly irritated.

This day is malas.

I woke up late so I wasn’t able to drink my coffee. My patient canceled on an appointment so I had to sit down with Ian, who found it amusing to test the limits of my patience. And now, my car broke down in the most inopportune time. I couldn't possibly just leave it by the road unless I want to say goodbye to it permanently [read: carnap]. I threw my head back and stared at the skies that was slowly changing. How long have I been sitting on this gutter?  Metro Manila wasn't the kindest to people. It was hot and humid and polluted and it was harsh. could feel the beginning of a massive headache as my temple began throbbing, probably from the heat. The car wouldn't turn on so the aircon wasn't a choice, I had to weather out the waiting game, which was simply the worst.

The cars passing by were dwindling, the streets becoming less busier which also meant that the chances of me hailing a taxi was becoming slimmer and slimmer by the minute. I was slick from sweat that I had to roll up my polo sleeves but it didn't do much against the sweltering heat. I was so close to pulling my hair out in frustration

I pulled my phone out from my bag to send a message to the mechanic for what was probably the hundredth time when a sleek, black car stopped in front of me. The window by the shotgun seat rolled down and I raised an eyebrow at the person behind the wheels.

“Are you a stalker or something? Bakit nandito ka nanaman?” I asked irritably, not in any mood to deal with him.

“Me? I look like this and you call me a stalker?!” he said gesturing to his face, feigning outrage.

I scoffed. "It's not on how you look! How would I know that you're not one eh everywhere I go, nandun ka. Besides, how did you know where I am teaching and sino ba yung pumunta sa university nang hindi iniimbitahan ha?” I asked upfront because my irritation was eating on my nerves.

“Excuse me, in case you forgot, the conference program in Switzerland had your name printed along with a HUGE Ateneo de Manila on the side,” he said matter factly, looking at me like it was the most obvious thing.

I squinted my eyes at him.  “How about the chocolates you sent to my house?! How the hell did you get my address?!” I blurted out and he sported a sheepish grin.

“I only had to ask my secretary who asked another secretary who in turn asked another secretary until I got what I wanted. Really, you’d be amazed at the things you’d discover through the secretary gossip mill, it’s like they know who’s who and where who is,” he answered with a shrug