“I’ve always gone by Ellie, I guess. My mom called me that as a kid and it just stuck.”
I didn’t really want to tell him that I love Eleanor—that it feels elegant and timeless, and when someone calls me Eleanor it makes my heart flutter. I have always been Ellie, the quirky girl who uses humor as a coping mechanism. The therapist girl who fixes other people’s problems and leaves her own by the wayside. Ellie, who suffers from angry intrusive thoughts and doodles about them. Ellie, who is so unlovable she was left at the altar.
Eleanor is not that. Eleanor is sophisticated—distinguished. Eleanor reads instead of doodles. Eleanor shares her feelings without hesitation. She has gifts and she uses them to serve others. She extends grace freely because she wants that in return. She isn’t closed off to people who are different from her or view the world differently than she does.
Ellie isn’t any ofthosethings.
Ellie feels distant and guarded—letting her own trials overshadow the good and beautiful things in life.
Eleanor seeks out the beauty in this world. She delights in it, knowing that there is something out there worth clinging to—something that makes all of the brokenness and disappointment in the world worth enduring. Ellie and Eleanor are two different people.
And I feltstuckas Ellie.
I want to be Eleanor again. She has hope, and I need that back.
“I like Eleanor,” Benny says softly.
I can’t fight the giddy, bashful smile that works its way across my face. “Thanks.”
“What about you? You don’t seem like a Benny to me.”
He laughs that contagious laugh and I let it surround me like a warm hug.
“It’s actually Bayani—it’s Filipino. My parents wanted me to fit in as a kid, as much as an Asian American kid in a small Oklahoma town could fit in, so they nicknamed me Benny. It stuck.” He shrugs matter-of-factly.
“What do you like to be called?”
“I like Benny, actually. Bayani was my grandfather’s name. I think it sounds old.”
“So when you’re old and senile, call you Bayani. Got it.”
Laughing again he says, “Definitely.”
“So . . . Do you have a girlfriend,Benny?”
“Is this an appropriate boss-employee conversation?” He leers at me.
“We’re off the clock.” I bump my hip into his playfully. I was definitely feeling more comfortable with him—and a little more flirtatious. It was harmless, really. I’ve flirted with guys since Liam, and Benny was very clearly unavailable to me so what harm could a little playful touch and banter do? Plus, he made me smile, and I hadn’t smiled this much in years.
Again, harmless.
Right?
And I need to know if he’s off the market if I want to keep indulging in these flirtatious desires.
He bumps me back, playing along. “No girlfriend right now. There was someone a few years ago but it was just a summer fling.”
“Mr. Benny Divata had a fling? Whaaaaaaaaat?”
“Hardy har. It wasn’t anything serious, just a few dates. I haven’t been with anyone in a serious sense for quite some time.” He looks at the ground as we walk.
“Why? Is there something wrong with you?” I joke, trying to make light of the topic. I can’t tell if he feels embarrassed, or shy for sharing this information with me.
“Hmm, maybe. Just don’t seem like the dateable type, I guess.” He shrugs and kicks at a rock on the sidewalk.
“I doubt that’s the case. You seem very dateable to me.”
“Would you date me?” His voice is relaxed and casual as he lingers on the question. “You know, friend to friend.”
