We Real Cool 13 The Breakers

I don't regret following my heart and my gut. I don't regret thinking out loud even when it means making a few mistakes. I don't regret the momentary embarra.s.sment, the internal self-loathing, and every bit of drama that came with it. In the end, I'd say they were all worth it. They were all worth the euphoria I felt during the last five minutes of the ride. If anything, I regret being too hard on myself.

"We're almost there," Benj said as soon as the song ended. I'd just sat back down, elated and exhausted from the head-banging and the shameless silent singing I did.

I didn't even know this pa.s.sionate albeit awkward singer existed. I guess, given the right confluence of circ.u.mstances—a windy night, a high-end ride, and the right music—I could bring out the Madonna in me.

"What?" I respond, leaning forward to see the information on Benj's phone. "I don't want this ride to end."

True enough, Waze says that we're about a hundred meters away and are estimated to arrive in exactly a minute. It truly is a shame.
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"My sentiments exactly," Benj replies, looking to his right, right at me, while giving me a funny wink; I laugh silently. Benj, hands down, is probably the coolest Uber driver to grace the planet. Red and I will stand by this belief.

"I thought it'd come off as good news to you actually," Red chimes in, making me turn my head to his direction. "Didn't you badly want to get back to Fenway and cheer at the Red Sox game?"

"Red," I reply with a hint of suave. "A lot can happen in a ten-minute ride. Especially if you've got a cool driver driving an equally cool convertible to chill in. Let this be proof to that cool statement."

Red only shrugs; Benj smiles, and I, while combing the ends of my hair with my fingers and humming to the beat of the song now playing, feel unusually odd. It's as though I'm feeling high though I'm unsure what it entails.

"We're here," Benj says as he slows down. "I hope you both have the time of your lives."

"I already did," I reply with unusual excitement. "I don't think anything can top this."

"Young lady," he says, unlocking the doors for us. "The night is young and you're with a gentleman. Anything can happen."

I laugh nervously, uncertain how to handle its intent. .

"Thank you," I say, avoiding the topic. "It's really great to know you, Benjamin. We're probably the luckiest Uber pa.s.sengers in the world."

"And I, the luckiest driver tonight," he replies. "You two take care."

"Right," Red replies while unfastening his seat belt. "Thanks again."

And with that, he makes his way out of the car. I was about to get out as well, but when I took one last look at Benj, I move closer and give him a hug. This surprised me because he was, after all, a stranger. But I can't help it. I saw my dad in him, so I move towards him and give him a big hug. He deserved it. If he hasn't laughed since a year ago, he probably hadn't had a hug either, so why not? I felt like I owed it to him for making our ride special.

And I'm glad that he didn't flinch when I reached out; he even returned the hug I gave with a pat on my back that said, "You take care, Liz."

"Tell your friend I'll see him at one of our grand reunions," he actually says aloud, sending me in a frenzy. He was a Harvard graduate! Of all universities to be affiliated with! Oh the fates, what a coincidence. This makes me extra energetic as I get out of the car. I grip the door's top, suck my core in, and like a ninja, carried my legs and swung them over to the other side.

As I got out of the car and joined a surprised-looking Red, I kept my smile. Benj gave one last smile before driving off, and I wonder what that smile meant. I guess it was for the secret he shared, that he was a Harvard alumnus. Again, I'm glad I followed my gut. After all, if it weren't for that b.a.l.l.sy move of giving him a hug, I wouldn't have found out. In fact, I can't wait to tell Red about it, but he looked more eager to make fun of me from jumping out of the car as though it was the most normal thing to do.

"You didn't tell me you do Parkour," he says. I only roll my eyes playfully and make a face. I want to reserve my opening sentence for Benj's albeit mind-blowing secret.

"You look like you're in a pretty good shape so let's brisk-walk, shall we?" he ask without waiting for an answer. He turns his back and walks past the wooden sign half the size of a movie house's screen that said, "Welcome to Newport, Ma.s.sachusetts!"

"Slow down," I say, catching up with his gigantic steps; I have short legs, for heaven's sake. "Do you know that Benj is a graduate from Harvard?"

Desperate times call for desperate measures, dear friend, which is why I blurted that information, hoping it would get Red's attention and slow him down.

"Yes, Lizzie," he answered with a tone of satire. "We had a little chat while you were having your moment with Lorde. You probably didn't hear our conversation because you were too busy with your duet."

"Hey!" I shout, running towards him and giving him a taste of my cla.s.sic shoulder slap. "It was a beautiful moment so don't make it sound like it's weird or something! You're lucky I got him to like us. If anything, you owe me a thank you, smarty-pants."

"Maraming salamat," he says, which surprises me. It means 'thank you' in Tagalog, my native tongue.

"OH MY GOs.h.!.+" I shout, giving him another shoulder slap. "You didn't tell me you knew how to speak Filipino."

"I'm a fast learner," he replies as a matter-of-factly. "Or am I?"

"Actually," I reply, jokingly. "I've said this before and I'll say it again. You're a weirdo."

"A good one, "he replies,

He's right. The Breakers, which is one of the three most famous mansions along Newport, attracts thousands of tourists annually. The guidebooks I've read and the websites I've visited said that it's home to beautiful painting and artifacts, which are crucial to the history of the community here. In fact, in our required pa.s.sport activities, a trip to Newport is one of the options. I thought about going for it, too. I love beaches, after all. But then again, I was told me that we had a hundred beaches back home and if I were to make the most out of my time here, I'd rather spend it watching a baseball game and a Cirque du Soleil performance.

"Whatever," I say, hoping to end our playful banter.

But in truth, what I really want out of him was another heart-to-heart talk. I want something like the one we had at the bus ride earlier. I want to really know who he really is and how he gets to do all these really fun things.

"You're getting a bonus pa.s.sport activity," Red tells me.

"I figured," I say. "I actually wanted to come here instead of watching the Red Sox. Not that it matters."

"Actually, it does," Red replied. "Tell me about it."

"Well," I mumble.

"Not now," he said. "Once we get past these rocks and reach the sh.o.r.eline, I'm all ears for ya."