Page 73 of The Five Stages of Courting Dalisay Ramos

Dalisay goes on the Asia tour without him.

These days, Evan’s either working, or writing, or reading, and he’s been traveling so much he reckons he sees more of the airport than he does his own house. He misses Tallulah. Sometimes he forgets exactly where he is because he’s always thinking about where he’s going to be next.

When his flight lands in the Leonardo da Vinci airport, it’s just another day at work. Even his jet lag seems to be a permanent fixture. These days, he floats through life, the distinct absence of Dalisay an aching pit in his stomach. Some days are better than others, but he can never truly shake the echoes of their fight. He should have been better, and he should move on, but he can’t. Sometimes he catches himself almost texting her that he’s landed safely or that he’s thinking about her before bed. She left a mark on his heart, like a tattoo, and it might take a carving knife to remove it.

There’s been no time to date, and Evan hasn’t tried. Despite Riggs, JM, and Pinky suggesting that he put himself back out there, he’s not interested.

When he gets to the hotel and checks in early, courtesy of Overnight, he drops off his bags and decides to take a walk. By now, he knows Rome so well, his feet automatically carry him to his favorite haunts.

When they first made the bet, Dalisay said she wanted to go to Vatican City, to “see what all the fuss is about.” As a Catholic, it was on her bucket list.

And now, as Evan walks with nothing better to do, he finds himself there, like his subconscious took him exactly where he needed to be. Lines of sun-baked tourists are already circling around the brick wall dividing Rome from the city-state.

He knows time will heal all wounds, but he keeps scratching the scab open whenever he’s reminded of her. When he smells lavender, when he goes to a bookstore, when he hears someone snort when they laugh. She’s not dead, but she haunts him. The ghost of his guilt rattles its chains every chance it gets.

Evan comes to a stop across from the front entrance of Vatican City and watches as people file in, imagining what could have happened if he’d done things differently that night.

He sits down on a nearby park bench, watching from afar, and finally takes a moment to do nothing for once except think.

At D&D the following weekend, he says what’s been on his mind for days.

“I want to do the Five Stages again.”

Everyone’s eyebrows shoot up. It’s like he’s proclaimed that he’s moving to Mars. JM almost drops the beholder figurine on the board.

“You’re sure?” Pinky asks, swallowing a swig of beer.

Riggs stares at him, open-mouthed. “Is the jet lag scrambling your brain?”

Evan’s never been surer about anything in his life. He clenches his jaw, determined. “I have to show Dalisay that I believe in us,” he says. “I can’t lose her forever.”

“What if she rejects you?” asks Riggs.

Evan shrugs a shoulder. It was the first thing he thought about while he sat there on the park bench in front of the Vatican entrance. He knew it would always be a possibility, but it wouldn’t stop him. “Then she doesn’t have to take me back. Simple as that. I want to do the stages again for real this time, not because of a bet, not because I think I have anything to prove. I’m doing it because I want to. For her.”

Pinky and JM glance at each other but Riggs shakes his head. “Sounds like a bad idea, man. This could blow up in your face,” he says.

“I know. But I need to do something. I … I love her.”

“Oh, Evan …,” Pinky says, her eyes shining.

“There’s no guarantee or whatever,” Evan says, shaking his head, “but I can’t give up on us. Will you help me?” he asks, glancing around the table.

Everyone looks at each other, but they only take a second before all of them turn back to Evan.

“Whatever you need,” JM says, “we’ll be there.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dalisay pushes up the hatch and climbs into the attic.

She has to stoop to navigate through the low room and fumbles for the light’s pull chain. With a yank, the dim bulb illuminates the attic to reveal the mess before her. Despite living in San Francisco for over a year now, the remnants of their move are still evident in the stacks of unopened boxes hastily thrown in the attic with every intention of finding a place for them “later.” It’s turned into a Sisyphean task that only Dalisay is willing to handle. And later has become now.

She’s completely jet-lagged, having returned from the Asia tour yesterday, so she uses the time when the house is still asleep to get work done. Like she told Evan once, when she’s jet-lagged, she doesn’t quite feel like a person, as if she’s still dreaming. Doing things around the house at least gets her feeling more back to normal.

Garage sales are not something people in the Philippines do, and her mom is excited to host her first one. It’s Dalisay’s job to sort through the boxes and find things that they don’t need anymore, riffling through their contents, and organizing them into piles for her mom to review later.

In one box, she finds her dad’s old shirts. She gently picks one up and brings it to her face. They still smell like him. Her eyes prick with tears.

---