Second Choice

"Should I book the ticket back home now or later?"

Home? For my assistant is her flat with her newly wed husband and their overweight cat. I could tell by the number of times she's excused herself to the bathroom to make a call or return a text that she missed him and he had missed her. I could hear her giggling under her breathe or the way she smiled at her phone.

I, on the other hand, have nothing waiting for me. I'd had go back to my busy life, with non stop business meetings. I'd go HOME after a stressful days work, to my penthouse, alone. Empty dark rooms for an empty dark soul. When the morning comes, I'll go back to my busy work and the cycle continues.

Sometimes, I lay with my phone on my bed, scrolling through social media, through my business page thousands of followers, then through my contact list.

After the exercise I realize that I'm surrounded by strangers. Yes, strangers, cause there's no connection between us. I know about my friends and families through social media like any other follower. I see happy strangers and sometimes I get an invitation. Maybe a wedding or a baby shower or a Reunion.

So home? Back to my solitude.

"Maybe not yet," I say as I sat down for dinner, Salmon with fried rice.

"I thought you didn't like this place. We shouldn't have to stay here." Hailey's eyes subconsciously glancing at her watch. "What about all the work waiting for us back home. And . . . "

I stop listening already knowing her real motives. I've noticed the difference in her work since she got wedded. She's happier, happier but distracted. Always in a rush to leave work and return home. Either way her excuse is true. I hate it here. I don't know what I'm waiting for. Actually I do. I don't want to admit it. It's the reason I came here in the first place.

"Did my brother call?"

"Not yet."

"Book the ticket for tommorow afternoon." I said getting on my feet.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll text you if I need anything. You can pack up in the meantime." I said before leaving the door.

*

My college roommate had introduced me to Korean dramas. I liked them. A dream. A perfect dream. I guess you could call them that. I don't watch them anymore, they hurt too much.

The female lead in the one I watched last had parents who loved her, a best friend she could always rely on and three guys who were madly in love with her. She wasn't the most beautiful. She wasn't the smartest. She's wasn't the most talented. She was basic.

"It's because she has a pure heart. It's about what's inside," my roommate had said after hearing me complain.

To which I replied, "You have a pure heart. You're beautiful, smart and talented. How many people are madly in love to you?"

I'd admit it wasn't the nicest things to say. But it was true. It was how I truly felt. What was so special about her? I understand it's fiction but I had never watched another drama after that one. It was a dig at the wound, I tried hard to convince myself that I didn't have.

Am I not good enough? Is that why no one loves me? Love not necessarily romantic love. But love. Like that of parent and child, or kindergarten children promising to be best friends for life. Love in it's purest form, in it's simplest form. Someone who has your back always. Someone that stands up for you. Someone for the good and bad days. Someone that sees you.

As far as I could remember, my parents had always loved only my brother. Always. Nothing I did could ever make me good enough. Now I realize that nothing will ever make me good enough.

In the drama when the second male lead was asked why he likes the girl. He said," The heart chooses who it loves." I guess it's true.

I'm competitive. I've worked hard, built a business, became successful but to my parents my brother will always be the best. All in an effort to gain their love but I guess their heart wants what it wants. What my parents heart want isn't me.

Even in kindergarten, Carly and I were best friends. I liked her but she liked Grace. They were best friends. It was that way in almost all my friendships after that. Always the third wheeler Everytime I tried to love again, to form friendships, relationships. I'd be reminded that I'm not good enough because no one has ever loved me back.

It's better to not love at all than be blessed with unreciprocated love over and over again.

I realized I'm alone with no one. No one who truly cares about me. No one would be affected by my presence or absence.

"Another shot," I slurp.

He momentarily glances over the empty shot glasses, before pouring another. He gently slides the glass to me.

"Thank you." I pick it up and without thinking I gulp it down. It burns my throat and I could feel it run down before the sensation disappears into my stomach. Isn't this what people do? They drown their sorrows. Mother forbids drinking. Her perfect son never did. I never did to but it doesn't matter. I slid the glasses to the side and lay my head on the table. It doesn't help the ringing in my head. I stare at the glass and my rough reflection.

"Aren't you good enough?" I say before turning my head to the other side unwilling to stare at my reflection.

"Are you from around here?"

I peel myself off the wooden table trying to understand the question. An uncrowded bar has it perks, like the bartenders aren't occupied enough so they actually make conversations with you. I roll my eyes, a pity chat.

"I haven't seen your face around here, but you look oddly familiar. Are you here for the reunion? It's just recently most of the new faces here are from the reunion."

I stare him in the eyes with my poker face, before resting my head back on the table.

"I'm sorry. I'm curious. I'll let you be," he says and I can hear him leave.

"Wait," I say. "Leave the bottle."

He hesitates, drops the bottle and leaves to the next customer. I'm vulnerable in this state and I'd hate to divulge my deepest wounds to a complete stranger.

Reunion? Yes I'm here for the reunion, back in the little town we grew up in. Going back to our highschool reminded me of all the reasons I hated my childhood.

I worked so hard. I had thought when it came time for the reunion I'd prove everyone wrong. But they proved me wrong.

My twin brother always had all the attention, not only from my parents but also in the school. Back in the day he was star basketball player. I barely gotten my bragging rights before I was compared yet again to my senator of a brother.

I stood alone at a corner watching the smiling cluster around my brother.

Later on, some people did walk up to me but only to ask for my brothers details. I'm still, "Thomas Sister. Thomas lesser sister."

I wanted to scream and tell them about my multi millionaire business. To tell them I'm successful too. I'm more than just his sister. But it wasn't worth it. Most of them won't remember me after that night anyways.

The scale tipped over when I heard my brother on a video call. Mother was with Sister in Law and they were asking about his welfare. They were concerned about him. I waited for my mother to ask about me, but she didn't. She asked about his friends but not me.

I thought I could prove myself. I thought I could reconnect with people. I was wrong.

I lay back on the table trying to gather my thoughts. Did I remember to text Hailey to come pick me up? Did I? Did I think of doing it? Or did I actually do it?

I must have.

"I think I remember where I know you from?"

"Where?" I ask not turning towards the voice.

"We were in the same chemistry class during senior year. You're Thomas's sister."

All my life I felt like an outcast in my family, the third wheel in friend groups and maybe just once I'd like to feel special. "I have a name."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't remember it. What is it? "

I blow the hair off my face. "Were you at the reunion?"

"No but it seems I was right to not have gone."

I turn my head towards him. My eyes trying to imprint the frame of the supposed familiar face. "Insecure?"

" I own a small bar but I like my job. At the end of the day I get to go home to a happy family. I'm a happy man. I'm not insecure."

"Then why didn't you go? You could have invited your friends to your bar or to your happy home."

"It's 2019. If I needed to reunite with someone I could find them on social media. I already reached out to most of my highschool friends. We've met a couple times, catched up on old times. When I got the reunion invite and my friends weren't going, why should I ? Besides there's more bragging and comparison than actual reuniting."

"You must think so highly of yourself."

"No. I realized my happiness isn't in the hands of other people. I love what I do. I'm with who I love. What more could I ask?"

Yeah. What more could you ask for? In the dramas not everyone has perfect families or friends but they find love.

I thought that maybe, someday I'll find someone that chooses me first. To be someone's first choice. To be someone's favourite. To be good enough for someone. To not be a third wheeler.

"You talk too much. You know nothing about me. Stop reaching." I turn my head back towards the wall, my eyes struggling to stay awake.

"Why are we drinking at 11 p.m?"

"Leave me alone. Thank you."

"You can tell me. It's better to tell someone than to try to drink away the problem. "

"Am I not good enough?" For once, I want to be chosen first. To be someone's first and only choice. Not a rebound. Not a second thought. To have someone's undivided love.

"What makes you ask that?"

I pull myself off the table and grab the bottle of vodka. I try to pour the content into my soul but it's empty.

"It's just a thought," I say putting the bottle back in disappointment.

"I'm so sorry." Hailey runs towards me. "I didn't see your message on time. It was my mistake. I got carried away. Sorry."

"My ride is here." I smile at the Bar owner before stumbling off the chair.

"I thought you didn't drink," Hailey asked glancing at the empty glasses.

I shrug. "Let's go home." There's nothing here for me. People leave anyway or they choose someone else.

"How much?" Hailey asked bringing out cash from her pocket.

"It's on the house."

"Thank you." She wraps her hand around me. "I'll help you to the car."

I pull away. "I'll help myself."

"You are enough and you deserve happiness."

I look at the figure, the average height man in a grey shirt that smells like rum. I force a smile. I do, don't I? Then why haven't I found it yet?