Here's is the thing, I, as a "writer" want people to understand about my "work". I want my work to create dialogue among people reading. I want it to shock you enough for you to think it through rationally, before having your views on what's happening. That's my goal. To create healthy dialogue and understanding that we have our own point of view. This is what I'm trying to do here by creating these characters and writing these stories. It is very uncomfortable, but the world is so diverse that what is OKAY here, might not be somewhere else.
Lol, that's it for now. I'll pop in again if anything else needs to be said. I always reply to educated and open minded comments.
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To me, there are two different sort of people in life: Those who get knock down and quickly get up to seek revenge; and those who stay down and hide away to lick their wounds until they can get up again.
I was definitely the latter, and in a way, that's who I've always been. A lover, never a fighter. Though calling myself a lover would be a stretch these days.
I'm a pretty good person, or at least I mostly see myself as one. My mother used to make our whole family go to church on Sundays. She often emphasized on how important it was for my sister and I to be 'good young girls' and 'outstanding persons of society'. Her words, not mine.
But, whether or not the fact that we used to volunteer at soup kitchens and visited elderly people in assisted living was all for show because my dad was the mayor of our town, or because this family sinned so much that we needed what little good came from church; the point is, I was raised to be good, and good I think I am. Afterall, we needed our family to be perfect in the eyes of society so we could blind them enough from seeing whatever ugly thing we were hiding away.
All to say--evidently avoiding talking about my family for much longer than necessary-- No, I wasn't mother Theresa, but I was far better than too many people in this world. Too many that I knew.
Which was why I was finding it hard to understand why my life was so freaking shitty. Yes, I understood that I live in a first world country, have a wealthy family and that there are people who have it way worse.
Regardless, knowing this did not negate the fact that i've had shitty cards handed to me, and so far, it hadn't stopped. Plus, there were many reasons why I had lost contact with my family and never reached out.
What lies in the dark should stay in the dark. When it came to my family, this part should forever stay in the dark. Too many things happened.
Way too many.
So I often wondered, how much of a good person I needed to be for things to start going my way. Because, after all I had to endure in my twenty two years of existence, I deserved a break at some point.
When my best friend Billie told me she had put my name down to be interviewed at the publishing company of my dreams, having found out through a friend of hers that they were having an open interview day, I jumped excitedly at the opportunity. I felt like that was it. This was my time, I had long suffered, I had paid my dues and now I would get to relax; finally getting a job and learning to be happy again.
Well, in retrospect, I should have known better than to dream of nonsense and happiness.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
In total, there were fifteen women, including myself sitting in individual chairs that filled the clean, if not slightly chilly, waiting room.
If only you'd listen and brought a jacket with you, you wouldn't be freezing, I mentally scolded myself, then tried but failed miserably at keeping warm, by crossing my arms in front of my chest to conserve the heat that wasn't stolen by the cool air in the room.
I took a second for a quick look around the sterile room for what felt like the billionth time in forty-five minutes.
Thirteen; the number of people left waiting for their names to be called.
I knew it would be competitive, I simply didn't know how much competition I would have. We all wanted this job, I could feel the fight, thick in the air. The tense smiles and long breaths, the anticipation so thick that you could taste it. We had all been waiting for awhile and were ready to wait much longer if only for a chance at getting to be interviewed for the paid internship which, based on the job description, could turn into a full time employment opportunity.
This was why I was sitting here waiting, only a few weeks before my twenty third birthday, crossing my fingers and hoping I'd be one of the five people chosen. Because, Not only was this publishing company one of the biggest in the world, but it was also affiliated with one of the biggest lifestyle magazines worldwide.
Everyone wanted to work for them or with them. And at the top of all that power and glory, sat the one and only Frederick Halter.
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I looked up in time to see the redheaded girl who had gone in some time ago, walk out as the door was opened for her. She thanked the gentleman who had interviewed her with a soft smile.
While they said their goodbyes, I took the time to examine her. She was pretty, with sparkly dark blue eyes and of a medium height but still taller than me. She was skinny and fit but you could tell she wasn't scared of food. She had a pretty smile, and based on her attire --a blue blazer with a white shirt underneath and dark pants--she knew how to dress to make an impression. I liked her. I wished, like her, I didn't look broke or out of place. I wished I could make a good appearance and a lasting impression everywhere I went like she probably did.
"Thank you, Miss Riker, we will surely give you a call back if you are selected for a second interview." The gray hair man addressed the girl as they were shaking hands goodbye.
"It was a pleasure meeting you." The girl's face lit up, her straight, bright white teeth appearing. She surely was feeling good about the prospect of getting a call back from them. If only I could be so lucky.
As we all waited, four girls plus a young man passed before the redhead but she was the only one so far I had heard him say this to.
I looked down at my shaking legs; an obnoxious physical reaction that happened often when I'm nervous; well that and the sweaty palms, which I conveniently and pretty discreetly rubbed on my blue dress.
I needed to relax, being nervous wouldn't be helpful to me. So, with that thought, I closed my eyes and nearly everything around me disappeared into a blank space. The only things present were my thoughts and the faint voices of the people around me, reminding me that I wasn't alone.
The need to calm myself was there, but in order to do that, I had to block every little whispers and every voices. Casually, I opened my purse, got out my phone and a pair of headphones that I plugged into the jack before placing the buds into my ears. A few seconds later the song started playing, which although very subtle, still overpowered the surrounding noise.
The melody coming from Daughter enveloped me as I was transported to a very calming place, my comfort zone. A place I searched for a lot more these days, so very private and peaceful. If I could ever find some sort of happiness, this was where it came from.
I felt a hand shake me slightly which made me open my eyes. Had I fallen asleep? Unlikely since the song Youth was still playing in my ears.
"Hello, Ma'am? I was asked to let you know that your presence was no longer needed." The brunette assistant with the honey colored eyes, who was sitting at her desk a moment ago, and who was now standing in front of me, murmured in my ear. I frowned, feeling my brows furrow on my face.
The girl was still standing in front of me. Light eyes watching me. "Miss, did you hear what I said?" She asked. I nodded, because yes I did hear her, I was just simply still trying to process what was happening or what happened in the minute or two that I had closed my eyes.
I looked at the hand she still had on my shoulder and looked back at her, trying to relax the muscles on my face.
"Why?" I was on the verge of breaking down and crying right there in front of all those people, but knew it wouldn't help the situation, only making me look pathetic and weak.
"I don't know for sure, but Mr. Halter just walked in a few moments ago. I think he's the one who requested that you not be interviewed." She answered and those words made my heart sink deeper into my stomach, making me wonder how even possible that was.
"Frederick Halter?"
She nodded.
"Yes. I'm sorry." Her expression changing into something of compassion towards me. I closed my eyes for a few more seconds to keep my tears at bay. When I finally thought they wouldn't fall, I smiled and got up.
"Thank you." I murmured the words with my head down and not caring if she actually heard me or not. Placing my small black purse on my shoulder, and with one foot in front of the other, I walked out of the building feeling drained and completely hopeless.
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"Eva, where are you?"
I could always tell when my best friend was near by because she smelled the same as when we first met all these years back.
"I'm in here." I called out as her voice echoed through my tiny studio/ almost one bedroom apartment in the bronx. My favorite place was the little reading nook by the biggest window I had in the entire room. I loved watching the cars and pedestrians outside, going about their daily happenings, those unaware of my misfortune.
Watching the sun slowly set was a sort of ritual for me, the city succumbing to darkness as the light became nothing but a faint point in the sky.
The door of the bedroom creaked as it opened for my friend. I saw her curls peak out of the doorways before her tan face fully appeared into view. She walked in smiling, coming to stand next to me.
"How did it go?" She asked, crouching down to where I sat to place a couple of kisses on my cheeks. She smelled so familiar, like a rainy Sunday morning in the spring.
I looked up to see her pretty face staring at me. So I tried a smile.
"Aw babe, I'm sorry."
She pulled me in to give me a hug and so I placed my head on her shoulder and let my tears fall. It was okay, she was my friend and she understood. I could break down in front of her because I knew she would be there.
"What the hell really happened? I was almost certain you'd get at least a second interview. "
"I-I-d-don't know." I stuttered, trying to get the words out through tears and my now broken voice. "S-she said they didn't want to see me and that I had to go home." I cried. My face, I was certain was looking like a tomato in a lake of salty water.
"Damn, that's shit. You could sue them, you know?" she murmured, grabbing a kleenex out of the box and passing it to me.
I grabbed it and patted my wet face with it. "Thank you." I blew my nose again. "But even if I could sue them, how would I ever afford a lawyer?" Unless she had won the lottery and hadn't told me about it, I didn't know where I could get that much money. "Gosh, I'm such a mess." I got off the bench I was sitting on, walked to the the trash can sitting by the bedroom door, and dumped the filthy kleenex into it.
Billie called out to me, patting the empty spot next to her on the bench I had just been occupying. "You're not a mess, you've just been going through a lot."
I went to sit back next to her, put my head on her shoulder and sighed heavily. I was so exhausted. "Yeah, well unfortunately it looks like I'm still going through a lot and I don't know what I am going to do, Billie. This job literally was my only hope."
A sick feeling took over me as soon as those words came out of my mouth. I couldn't breathe, my chest feeling very tight, as if someone cut my airways, limiting my air intake.
Oh, my God. What the fuck was I going to do? What the fuck was I going to do?
The beginnings of a panic attack are very subtle and then it quickly takes over and all of the sudden, it's just there and it's all you can think about, and the more you try to rid yourself of it, the quicker it would take control of your whole body.
Just the thought of possibly going back to my hometown was enough to send me into panic mode. This horrid, dreadful memory from my past just lurking in the background, tugging, pulling, trying to get to the surface. A memory so gruesome that very well haunted my days and nights, as my dreams turned into nightmares.
"Breathe, Eva, It's okay, I'm sure things will work out for the best." The hug I received from Billie was comforting and appeasing.
I felt like it was all she had been doing lately, and at that very moment I felt selfish. Selfish to always be the one needing my friend, to always be the one requiring emotional support.
"Understand this; no matter what happens, no matter where this leads, you can always move in with me." She assured me, plastering a smile on her beautiful face while trying to appease my worry self. I shook my head, laughing a little.
"What would you do with Micah," I asked. "I doubt your boyfriend would be okay with my crowding you in your tiny apartment." I vocalized to the best of my ability with my breaking voice. She rolled her eyes and got up, taking my hand with her.
"Don't worry, he really has nothing to say in this. Sisters before Misters." She joked, making me chuckle because she just had a way of turning things around, at least for me.
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I am rewriting this story. Please Vote and comment and let a girl know you're enjoying it. 😊😄