Althea scanned the room, looking for that familiar face. She found him by the corner with a few of other guys, nursing a drink, trying to look attentive. She could tell by the way he was nodding so often and the feigned look of interest that he was absolutely and utterly bored. She suppressed a smile; Tristan had not wanted to come, but she insisted.

"To meet my friends," she pleads. "Come on, you have to meet them some time."

"In an ART exhibit?!", he says, half pleading, half incredulous with an unsaid do-I-look-like-I-want-to-be-in-an-art-exhibit expression. Tristan is a true blue, heavy metal, down to the core rock band singer. He was the kind of guy who would tattoo a rose on his shoulder with her name on it but would never, ever give her flowers. Perhaps the tattoo would have a skull or a bloody knife to boot.

"Yes, an ART exhibit. It's not like you don't appreciate art." She knew he liked drawing and painting.

"Not that kind of art, though."

"Might as well expand your horizon, bee."

" What would I do there? I wouldn't know anybody except you," he says, sounding almost like a child that she laughed.

"That's why you're going."

 And there he was. She gave him a small wave and a supportive smile. He managed not to roll his eyes.

"So, how did you two meet?" asks a voice from behind her.

"Huh?" she asks.  She had been too preoccupied to comprehend the simplest questions. She turns around, and faces Helene, one of her few good friends.
 
"How did you meet him?"

I met him a long time ago, before the world was born. In a time that the world had forgotten, in a place where we could dance among the stars.

"My brother introduced us," she heard herself say.

Helene raised an eyebrow. "AND?"

Then, as we set down on earth, we got separated for the longest time, but we found each other again, as we were always meant to. Even if it had meant searching forever and through to the ends of the earth.

"And what?" she asks, laughing softly. "What else is there? He introduced us, he asked me out, and that was it. I've been telling you about him for about three months. Duh."

"Yes, but I've never met him. Duh. And it's not like I've seen a lot of you the last three months either. Duh." Helene pokes Althea's arm playfully. "Huh. Huh. Huh." Each huh was accented with a poke. Althea giggles and slaps at her friend's hand playfully.

"Stopitstopitstopit."

"I see your point though," and Helene nudges her with an elbow. "Wow."

She glanced at him again, a tall, long-haired man in his mid-twenties, newly shaven for a change. He wore a black shirt (RAMONES printed clearly on the front) that didn't quite hide his muscles, tattered jeans that were faded and not for style either but from use, and scruffy-looking Converse Chuck Taylor shoes. At least she got him to wear shoes. Still, he was easily the best looking guy in the room, despite the suits and the formal shirts. He stuck out like a sore thumb, a fish out of water. She could think of so many ways to describe him and anyone could tell he didn't belong in the crowd.

But he belongs with me.

"Hey, stop staring, he's not going anywhere without you, is he?"

"Probably not, but he didn't want to be here in the first place, so I can't be too sure." She smiles as she turns to her friend. "Guard the exits," she whispers conspiratorially.

"He seems nice, though."

"He is.  Very nice, very funny, very smart."

"And very out of place?"

"That, too," she looks over to Tristan again. He was absently searching his pockets and the faint ring of his cellphone can be heard above the low muted "elevator" music of the exhibit. Not as gut wrenching as his other music choices, but still pretty distinctive for the crowd. He looks at the screen of his cellphone, his brows furrows, presses a button and puts it back in his pocket.

"Wanna walk with me around the exhibit?" Helene asks. Althea nods distractedly, and goes with her friend. There was a feeling she couldn't shake off about the cellphone call, but she pushes it to the back of her head, and chats to her friend about the artworks.

Althea closes her eyes and massages her neck as she waits for Tristan to go around and get into the driver's seat of the car.  He gets in, gives a big sigh of relief and smiles at her.

"HOOH! Glad that's over."

"It wasn't that bad, and you enjoyed yourself a little. Come on. Admit it. Come on. No need to be shy about it." The sheepish grin on his face was enough of an answer, it said he did, but he was too man to admit it. He aint' getting' into none o' that metrosexual crap. He doesn't say anything and starts the car.

"So who called you?" she asks, after a few minutes of driving.

"Called me where?"

"On your phone. You didn't answer it."

"Oh. That. Nobody."

"Was it Lisa?"

She left you, Tristan. Remember? SHE .LEFT. YOU. I was the one she left you to. I helped you pick up all the pieces. Why is she calling you? WHY???

Again, no words, but an answer anyway.

"Why does she still call you?"

"I don't know. I never answer."

"Well, why does she still call you if you don't answer?"

"I DON'T know. I don't tell her to. I don't call her. How would I know why she's calling?"

"Why don't you answer her? don't give me that look. It's not a trick. Answer her and ask her what she wants and be done with it."

"Because I don't want to know, babe. I just don't," a hand leaves the steering wheel and touches her cheek. She takes the hand in hers and holds it firmly.

"Well, why can't you just get a new number?"

"Why should I? I've had this number for years!"

"It's just a number."

"Babe?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired. Take me home." She lets his hand go, but it stays on her lap.

She closes her eyes again. She was tired. She heard him take a deep breath, and waited if he had anything to say. He didn't. She feels his hand hesitantly pull away. The rest of the ride was quiet. He dropped her off, gave her a quiet kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight, bee. Call me when you get home."  She says and turns away. As the car drives off, she resists the urge to run after it. She stays up all waiting for his call, and as she was about to sleep, he called. She didn't answer. She heard her message alert tone.

"Am home," was all it said. Wearily, she drifts off to sleep.

She had been staring at her computer screen for the last thirty minutes, and must have read the report a dozen times. She still couldn't understand what it meant. It was something about an art contest that her boss wanted her to look into, but she couldn't get her mind around it.

"Oi. You've been staring at that computer for like, forever, sweetie. You'll ruin your eyes." It was Helene again. "What's wrong?"

"Lisa called again."

"Again? Did he answer the call?"

"No."

"Then, what's the problem?"

"He didn't answer because I was there. What if she calls and I'm not around?"

"Maybe he doesn't answer then either."

"Maybe."

"Why doesn't he get a new number?"  

"Exactly!"

"Have you talked to him?"

"I don't want to."

"That's not going to solve anything."

"I know. I just don't want to yet. Neither does he. You know how men are sometimes. They don't like talking. And him, God, I know he loves me but showing it a little more wouldn't hurt, would it? Flowers. A movie that doesn't involve any gunfire. A nice quiet dinner. You know? A little talking? He does have a tongue. A 'phone call??? One measly little 'phone call! Why do I always have to make the first move?"
 
"That's the way he's always been, you knew that. You TOLD me that. Hell, most of them are like that. If he weren't like that, you ought to be scared? I'm kidding. But, you will call him, you know." Helene gives her a knowing grin, and she couldn't help but smile back. "You love him, I know it."

"Yeah. I do. I'll call him later."

A slightly metallic voice told her "The subscriber you are calling cannot be reached or is out of the coverage area." Over and over again. She gently puts the cellphone down, fighting the urge to throw the useless thing and smash it into a thousand pieces. She also tries to fight the urge to cry, but at that, she failed. She picks up the cellphone again.

"Helene?"

"What?" a groggy voice came on the line. "Hello? Thea? You're crying. What is it?"

"I've been trying to call him for three hours now, but his cellphone's off."

"Doesn't he have any other number?"

"No."

"Maybe he's at a rehearsal or something? Maybe his battery's low."

Althea doesn't answer and Helene could hear her sobbing on the line.

"Hey. Hey. Stop that. Can't you call his friends?"

"They say they haven't? haven't seen him? all day?" her words were interspersed with sobs. "Where is he?" she almost wails.

"Do you want me to come over, sweetie?"

"Nooo?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I'll try calling him again."

"Okay. Call me in the morning? It's the weekend anyway. If he still doesn't call, we'll go do some retail therapy or something."

"Okay. Thanks."

"The subscriber cannot be reached or is out of the coverage area." The metallic voice rang in Althea's head even while she was sleeping.

"Oh, my God!" She sits up, shakes her head and slaps a palm flat onto her forehead. 
"Owww," she says as she rubbed her eyes, looks at the mirror and was not surprised at how bloodshot they were. It was going to be a shades day. She picks up her cellphone. A few "good morning" messages. One missed call. Hurriedly she presses buttons to see who it was, it was from Helene. She sighs. The cellphone asks her if she wants to call Helene. She said yes and pushed the call button.

There is a lot to be said about getting useless things, and the satisfaction that one gets after spending good money on it. By lunchtime, Althea was almost feeling good. Almost. She had resisted calling Tristan again, but she still couldn't stop herself from jumping every time her cellphone rang or the message alert sounded.

"No?" Helene asked after she saw Althea's sad expression after reading a message.

"No," Althea answers. "I think I need a drink."

"Are you sure?"

"Not really."

"Let's get something to eat first and we'll take it from there."

'Take it from there' turned into "just one drink", into "another" and ultimately into two giggling and drunk women who had to call the other's boyfriend to pick them up and get them home.

"Will you be alright?" asked Helene as she got out in front of her house. Her voice was slurred, and her eyes half closed.

"Yeah, I think so. He's just a man, isn't he?" she struggled to stand, and kisses her friend's head. "Bye, Chris. Thanks." She manages to give Helene's boyfriend a decent enough wave, he smiles and nods.

"Don't say that just yet. And don't forget your bags."

"I won't. If I forget anything I'll just get them on Monday."
 
Althea walks towards her apartment, struggling with her bags, noting that she had taken at least one that wasn't hers as she puts them down in front of her door. She leans on the wall, and digs into her purse for her keys, with one eye bleared shut, and one eye trying to follow. While fumbling through her things, the purse fell, and scattered everything inside it. She flops down to her knees, thinking boy that's gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow. She looks at her cellphone and smiles sadly, then sighs and  starts picking everything else up.

Then she noticed that someone was helping her pick things up, startled, she looks up, both eyes open now, and her heart racing.

"Hey."

It was Tristan.

"I've been waiting for you all day," he says.

She stared at him, vaguely wondering "who is he again?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Bee?"

"Yes. Are you drunk?"

"I think so."

"Uh-huh. Shopping?" he asks, looking at the colorful bags scattered at the doorstep.

She nods.

"Let's get you in," he says. He helps her up, manages to find the keys to her apartment, pick up all the bags, and herd everything (and everyone) in through the door. Once inside, he sits her on the sofa unceremoniously and gets her a glass of water.

"I've been calling you since last night," she whispers.

"Really?"

"Yes! Really! Your 'phone's turned off."

He sighs and sits in front of her.

"Why are you drunk?"

"Why do you think?"

"You were gone when I got here. You stay out all day, and you come home drunk. Why are you so angry?"

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I did. You didn't answer. I had a lot of things to do yesterday. "

"How's Lisa?"

A genuinely confused look crossed his face.

"Look. My 'phone fell into the toilet, okay? I couldn't call. I took it to the repair shop. All the numbers on it were lost, but the SIM's fine. Your number wasn't there so I came over, and YOU weren't here. "

"You have your 'phone now?"

"Yes, and I came by to give you something, too."
 
He stands, and picks up a box. She realizes it wasn't one of hers. Helene's? No. Too big for shoes, and they didn't get anything electronic. Besides, the box seemed old and used.
 
Is he returning things? Is he breaking up with me???

"Thea? Lisa's?" he pauses, and tears start to fall from Althea's eyes. "Hey, hey. Don't do that. Thea, come on."

"She's back isn't she?"

What's happening? Is he breaking up with me?-

"Eh? Who? Lisa??!! I don't even know where she is. Last time I heard she was going abroad," he sits on the sofa again, with the box awkwardly in between them. "While I was at the mall having my 'phone fixed, I got you something." He gestures at the box, and something inside made a sound. She looks at it sideways. "Open it."

Another scuffing sound comes from the box, and she shies away from it.

"Bee," he says. "I'm not good at these things. I went to the flower shop, and they had all these flowers and I wanted to get you something and figured why give you flowers they all just die anyway. So I wanted to get you something else from the jewelry store, but you don't like jewelry. I thought of shoes, but I had no idea what you like, or clothes, or?" he sighs heavily and opens the box. "so this is what I got."

She gingerly peers into the box, all the tipsiness gone now.

Two big brown eyes stared out from the box back at her.

"Oh," she exclaims as she reaches in and takes out a squirming pug puppy.
"I remember you saying you wanted one. We were talking about movies and dogs on our first date? You said no shih-tzus. Too high maintenance. No Chihuahuas, too shaky. No Spitzs, or poms, too yappy?  Thea? You did want one, didn't you? I can't give him back, you know?"

"That was so long ago, Bee. I didn't even think you were listening," she says softly, hugging the puppy to her chest.

"I remembered everything you said," he says quietly. 

"You never said anything," she couldn't look at him.

He shrugs his shoulders as if to say "when do I ever?"

Thea stares at the puppy, and feels something loosely tied to it's collar. It was an old SIM card.

"I also got a new number," he says.

Tears began to fill her eyes.

"I love you," he says, finally. 

And those were the only words she ever really needed to hear, anyway.