Miles Ahead.

Hello there!

Amelia

I always liked taking the longer route to university. The bus always drove past all the nice houses in the neighbourhood. I liked to see all the nice houses. It made me feel good. It made me believe that maybe I could live in one of these houses too. One day.
But that day isn't going to arrive any time soon. I lived in a wooden house next to mangroves. And I had to travel one and a half hours to get to university.
An hour if I didn't take the longer route.
I took the longer route today as well. It's the only thing that will keep me sane. Give me time to think, re think, sometimes overthink. I guess overthinking is probably not the best ways to keep sane. But the recent events in my life couldn't deter me from doing so. As much as I tried to keep my thoughts uncluttered and focus only on the song playing through my earphones, the more my mind shifted to the unwanted memories. It was like a rewind button had been pushed and I couldn't manage to stop it.
I tried to focus on the ride. I looked at the houses that I had been looking at for the past six months. Those same neatly trimmed hedges, those white security protected gates, those same concrete buildings. That same high end society.
As the bus drives by the houses, I catch a glimpse of one of the houses in particular. There was something different about that house. I've been going past it for six months. There's a board hung on the fence with something written on it, just clear enough for me to make out. It reads: NEED HOUSE HELP. IMMEDIATELY! I couldn't read the contact of the employer, so I decided to pull the chains and get off.
I don't know why I did that. I didn't really need a job. I was on scholarship and the allowances were more than enough to feed and clothe me. I didn't even have to pay rent because I could manage the one hour travel. One and half to be exact.
But I was sure all that allowance money will run out quickly if I started taking care of the bills and groceries of my household. And I'm pretty sure Dad isn't going to help us out pretty much.
I didn't want to think about Dad. At all. Not when I'm about to face my new employer soon. Well, I will find out if he's going to be my future employer soon enough.
Before I enter their gate, I take a picture of the board on the fence. I'll save their contact information later if they're not home.
I push open their unlocked gate and walk onto their concrete driveway. I take a look around the compound. The hedges needed a trim, the flowers needed care, well, whatever was left of it anyway. And the grass needed to be cut as well.
They really do need help. I mutter to myself.
I reach the front steps of their house and notice that their door is open too.
I suddenly feel nervous. I've never had a job before. I've never even given an interview before.
It's just house help, I try and console myself.
I knock on the door and there's no response. I knock on the door again and say hello. Still no response.
I wait for around a minute and then decide to walk back out of the gate. I could call them later today and see if they needed a house help or had already got one. So I quietly walk away from the front step and start walking towards the gate.
"Excuse me!" Someone says from the front door. I turn around and notice a man standing in front of the door. In a towel.
I try and look away. Embarrassed, I started fumbling with my words.
"I...I'm sorry. I saw the board outside. I mean on your fence. So I thought I'd check you out. I mean check to see if you're still hiring."
I felt my cheeks turn red. I decided to stop talking. I moved closer to the front steps. That's when I got to see him. All of him. And my God was he breathtaking.
"Just give me a minute," he said and disappeared inside his house.
I was standing on the door step now. My heartbeat was erratic.
He came back after a few minutes, fully clothed. Dark blue T shirt and black jeans.
I managed to get myself together. I wanted to ace this interview.
You're only going to be a house-help! My subconscious barks at me.
"Come in," he says. "I'm Gabe."