Ch. 2: Exactly, like Princess Leia

My dad wasn’t wrong when he lectured me about having high hopes for oneself, he urged  me to not settle with just what you have, dream big and desire more. However, that lecture would have proven more useful had the son he received been more interested after the materialistic pursuits in life, much like him. He always wanted more, never seemed content with what he had. Not that I presume he was unhappy with me and mom, but not a day would pass by where he doesn’t nag about having a bigger house, how I could have been a doctor instead of a theater kid or how it annoys ihm t. She was content with everything except dad’s complaints. She couldn’t bear it, neither could I. But, as I said, dreams are not bad, one should even strive for what they desire. I did it, but just not with high expectations for myself. Despite my father’s wishes for me, I chased the theater life with small steps: worked as an assistant, interned for small time directors, participated in some workshops that helped me improve my scriptwriting and where did it lead me? Right in front of this enormous condominium complex. I’m a humple guy, but it feels damn good to prove my dad wrong. Speaking of,I have an unfinished script waiting for me.

I enter the pin for the main soor and did a quick check on my mailbox before going up. My mails are a predictable routine of: bills, brochures, and magazines I’ve been meaning to unsubscribe from for months. Been telling myself to do so, still haven’t. “You throwing that away?” I shift my gaze over to the owner of the voice. She isn’t exactly as tall as me (and allow me to mention, I’m a tall and slender man), but her forehead levels with my lips. “Yeah.” I reply. She extends her hand out and meets my eyes, a gentle smile gracing her lips. “May I have it? I like taking the free samples out of them.” It is the first time that I got to see her this close, otherwise she’d walk pass me or keep her back turned from me in the elevator. I always thought her eyes were green, but it seems my eyes had deceived me – they’re hazel. Her hair is in a messy updo as always. (I’m not a stalker, but our encounters have been frequent enough for me to notice, we do live in the same building, after all). I might be wrong, but this might mark the first proper exchange of words beyond the customary hellos in the lobby and the thank yous for holding up the elevator. “Sure.” I hand it to her and give her a smile as well.

I hope my smile didn’t look overly forced. My mom once told me my smiles lacked in authenticity, that they appeared awkward – like the kind of smile you give when you want to signal someone: Alright, that’s enough, please leave me be. Since then, I’ve been practicing my smile before the mirror whenever the mood strikes and my assistant has been kind enough to tell me if I improved or not,“Thank you….” there is a brief pause, her bright eyes fixed on me. I squint my eyes for a moment, realizing her intent.  “Charlie.” She laughs, seemingly amused at my delayed understanding. “Thank you, Charlie.” She clenches the magazine with one arm and extends her hand out again, clearly for a handshake. You’re Leia. “I’m Leia.” she introduces herself (again, not a stalker but I overheard her husband call out for one time in the lobby). “Like Leia from Star Wars?” Stupid comparison, Charlie. Nonetheless, she laughs and nods, “Exactly, like Princess Leia.”