Mia.
The streets blare with the catchy melody of a foreign pop song. It causes a tantrum in my ears but to most of the locals, they sway with the sound of the music. I can't identify the source of the music, but from the looks of things, its not from just a single joint but multiple places. What's witnessed is individuals rubbing bodies against each other to the fine tune.
So yes, let's not pay any heed to the music. They're obviously celebrating to God knows What which I think is fun. I should be celebrating too since I successfully landed a job at Starvnos House of Publishers. The excitement which gropes me is on a whole new different level. One I'll never simply fathom. Yes, Im now ready to declare this to Papa. I remember when I entered the basement. Jay rushed to me, eyes filled with questions and uncertainty. Ones which abstractly demanded a positive answer. I put on a charade, that I wasn't hired, then bursted into laughter as I shouted to him that yes I'd been employed.
A genuine delight sparked in his whole body as I pulled him into a hug. Apparently, he has a list of things he needs now that I've a job.
A new house.
A new bag.
New clothes.
New bed.
I had to shut him up with his derisory lists, reminding him Papa was our first responsibility. We attend to his health first before we can acknowledge the extraneous needs. For now, he only gets to receive the petty things he needs like the bag and clothes.
But first things first.
I tread with the twilight sun to the hospital to tell Papa the good news. I skip by the library only to stumble upon the dilipitation of the building. The entire edifice is torn down to something only to be made out after full renovation. My face turns dour as I reminisce the time I worked in the library. Mr Powell would come by on some days and offer treats to every worker. The sporadic parties, the environment. I miss the name the incorrigible teenagers bestowed onto me because I always scolded them to keep quiet. A library's after all the citadel of silence. By the way they called me freckled face. My mind ponder over to Erica and Mr Powell. I think about how they're holding up to the unfortunate circumstances. Hopefully, they're doing well.
*****
The insides of the hospital greet me with the sweet scented mixture of rose, mint and lavender. I say hi to the few nurses I have come to be acquainted with. I peek at Papa's ward. He's upright on the bed as a nurse warmly speaks to him.
"Mia!" He radiates with joy upon my sight. I haven't come to him the entire day due the job interview.
"Papa." I rake my hand through my hair "I'm so sorry I haven't been here the entire day."
"Oh don't worry sweetheart. Amber here has been keeping me company."
"Thank you very much." I tap her shoulders and give her an appreciative smile.
"It's my duty. I'll you two alone now." She smiles at Papa and nods at me as she leaves the ward.
"How are you feeling today?" I ask.
"Milder today. Where's Jay? I thought he'd be coming with you?"
"He wanted too but he had to stay behind and complete a few assignments. By the way Papa, I have something amazing to tell you."
His eyes flashes open. A tint of surprise and suspicion rain in them. "What is it? You've found your true love yet?"
"Papa!" I shriek loudly. "No." I stare down at him as he giggles. Even like this, his sense of humor is pristine.
"I've finally got a job." I squint my eyes waiting in awe to see his reaction.
"That's amazing Mia, I could have hugged you but__"
"Say no more Papa." I drop my arms around him. "You still have."
"And you won't even believe where?At Starvnos House of Publishers." I jump into the sky. Papa laugh at my childish deportment but he understands my joy.
"That's even more..... I don't even know what to say. Tell me. How?"
And the next thing I do is to pull a chair out, ready to tell Papa events that took place prior now. It's ineluctable the evening will be unending, but one of bliss and the assurance of Papa's freedom from this malady.
"So Jay....." I start.
*****
"Here's your desk, Miss North." A short dark headed man with big framed glasses directs me to an empty desk. The first in the last column and just few inches away from Alan Starvnos' office. My stomach somersaults as he creeps into my mind. The constant myriads of butterflies in my belly are because of him. And just on the first day of work, I suss I'm not the only damsel who admires him.
I admire his personality, his warmth and his charisma. And I'll admit, I haven't gotten over his Greek god looks but I promise to maintain professionalism in all our encounters. And in most workplaces where revolting words are spoken of the CEO, its quite the contrary here. You can he's a real gem.
"Thank you, umm...." I purse my lips and raise my head at him with an awkward look.
"Keith." He states.
"Yes Keith. Thank you Keith."
"No problem. Hailey will give you your job details when she reports to work."
I nod and sit on the chair. Hailey must be the secretary Mr Starvnos mentioned about.
"I don't mean to be an annoying asshole but the ladies in this company are to report to work with a heel. Not this..." His eyes settles on my ugly patched moccasion.
My face turns beet red in sheer humiliation. Coyly, I hide my feet from his mocking eyes. "Oh okay, I didn't know that. From hence from, stilleto it is." I clack my tongue on fake bravado.
"I said heels, not stilleto. There's a difference." He crosses his arms in a manner cautioning me to get ready for a long talk.
"I get you." I wink at him playfully and wish he'll go away.
"Hope we can be friends?"
Definitely not.
"Of course." I reply with genuine intention. He waves me goodbye and disappears. I stare at the computer in front of me and turn it on, energized for work.
I'm idle for thirty minutes and Hailey hasn't reported to work. I check the time on the monitor and it's 9:15. I wonder if she's not late or free to report to work anytime.
Or maybe she's in but has forgottten about you.
Just then, Sophie the receptionist appears with her vintage bag on the counter. The action strikes me with the cognizance to look for my own bag.
There its.
Breathing peacefully on the floor. My bag's not for exhibition. It reeks of 1500s vibe. Made of extremely hard lather, one primarily used for carrying small heavy items. Its strong and sturdy and I love it, just isn't for public eye.
I travel my eyes to other desks as an act of confirmation as to whether I'm the only person with a grotty everything.
A very tall, pretty woman walks into the workspace. She has the figure of a model and is simply gorgeous. Her face wears a slight touch of make up as her blond hair bounces with every taken step. Her feet is tucked in a four inch high heel. Half of her beautiful legs don in a pencil skirt. I can't keep my eyes off her.
I have one question rambling in my head though.
Is every single female in this company blond?
"Miss North." She calls from a distance and gestures I follow her.
I mutter soft curses in my head as I realize I have to follow her with my godawful footwear.
Everyone in this company makes me feel like the ugly duckling.
We go into the elevator and get out really fast. My guess, she's on top floor just above mine. She leads me to her office which has the aesthetics of an office unlike Mr Starvnos'. There're picture frames of her and an older looking man. Her dad probably, for the resemblance is uncanny. A part of the wall had beautiful butterflies stickers, ones that appears to magnify the aura of feminity in the office.
"Okay, Miss North. I'm going straight to the point." Her voice's chirpy. Her facade commiserate with the late Ingrid Starvnos. A no-nonsense woman, I presume. "Your job for a starter is very uncomplicated. There are numerous departments here. The editing department, the publishing and printing department, the proof reading department, designing department, the distribution department and those who simply type the manuscripts. That's just to mention a few."
"You'll be part of the typists. Manuscripts will sent to you daily and you'd have to complete typing all. This is a very big company. We efficiently and effectively work hard. We publish over three hundred thousand books monthly. And as a typist to this establishment, your minimum number is four. Typing four manuscripts, magazine content, or whichever material delivered to you. I'm sure Mr Starvnos already fed to you the rewards of hard workers."
I give her a nod as I listen attentively to her. She speaks like a real pro. The words that ekes out of her mouth are graced with deft.
"Your salary at the end of every month is four thousand dollars."
I suddenly become dizzy and thank my lucky stars for sitting my butt in a chair.
Four thousand dollars, this is unbelievable. For just typing? I wondered how much I would earn as an editor. Curiosity slaps the back of my head to ask the barmy question. Instead, I reproach and encourage myself to work harder as she enlightened.
"So we're done here. You're free to go."
"Thank you." I say and get up, shaking the dizziness clouding my senses.
I trudge back to my desk and spot an African American woman who looks two to four years older than me, forcing herself into the small opening that paves way to the armrest of the chair.
She occupies the desk just beside mine. The column that comes before mine. Heaving a relief sigh, she slumps comfortably into the chair. Her eyes center on me and I nervously plonk myself on the seat, breaking eye contact deliberately.
"You're Mia right?" She turns to face me, her mouth biting vigorously into something.
"Yes please." I respond politely. First impression really matters to me. If there's is one thing you can't reverse, it is first impression. Besides I yearn to make friends in this new environment. And who knows, we can be musketeers.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Jane." Her hands approach mine in a firm handshake.
"Nice to meet you too." Her personality portrays features of a hedonistic individual. Most people disregard my presence and shrugs me off. "You've been here for long." I initiate a conversation.
"Oh yes. I have been___"
She's interrupted by Keith who drops some manuscripts on my desk and yomps off.
"Well, work has begun. We'll talk more during lunch." Jane suggests, picking out her own work to type.
Yes,
Let's get down to business!
Episode Six- Affinity
Mia
It's been a week since I started working in Starvnos and I have already made a list of people I so desperately want to avoid.
Keith,
And Alan Starvnos.
You're probably wondering why and my reasons are quite simple.
I still wear my patched moccasin. I don't have the money to buy new shoes yet. And I'm very much aware I violated the rule. Which is why I avoid Alan Starvnos too. Work here is enjoyable to the fullest when you ignore the absurdity of me playing hide and seek. Today, Im to type three manuscripts. Most of them hold interesting stories. Most times I find myself reading the whole thing before typing. There're also few times, I rectify some errors. They're supposed to be edited but still contain a few mistakes here and there.
Jane and I also seem to get along fairly well. For starters, we have a lot in common. Other than our mutual interest in reading and working Starvnos, she also dropped out of college in sophomore year because she got pregnant. Her mother isn't of any help due to her alcoholism, so Jane had to start her whole life again. We fight life in every chapter of our story, but we hope to defeat the pain that comes with it. She hasn't reported to work yet. Not that she is late, I make it a habit of coming to work early to get seated before Keith arrives. And I also plan time intervals for every movement, all of which fit perfectly into not being hawked by Keith. So I am safe.
I get down to work, typing my manuscripts when the unexpected happens.
My stomach tickles and rambles. Not of hunger but of nature calling. My eyes scan to Keith's desk, and he is so engrossed in his work. I thank my lucky stars and jump up. I use a longer route, one that leads to a hallway before the washroom. Had I used the shorter path, also the one which we are required to use, Keith would have caught me so easily. After finishing my business and all the necessary specks linked with hygiene, I step out of the washroom and walk the hallway back to my desk.
"Mia."
I hear a voice speak. Just then, my moccasin decides to reveal more of its true colors. The insole, together with the outsole of one inconveniently strips off. My foot now makes direct contact with the floor. I groan pathetically in my head, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
"Mia." The voice comes again. I have already identified the person. Dragging my foot, I turn towards his direction.
"Mr. Starvnos!" I suck in a breath and revert my gaze.
"Are you okay?" He walks closer to me, his eyes checking up and down my appearance.
"Yes, I'm fine." I stand still like I have been nailed to the ground. One movement and my embarrassment will jump to first class.
"You know you're supposed to be in heels?" His eyes holds still on my ugly feet.
I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Saving myself from further humiliation, I nod in consent.
The corners of his mouth go up with a cute smile. "Mia, can I see you in my office?"
I don't know how to handle that statement, I think to myself. Am I going to get fired? I can't afford to lose this job; I just started working here.
"Yes, please," I whisper to my boss, waiting for him to disappear out of sight. I take off my shoes, carrying them by hand. There's no point in wearing them when they can't serve their purpose. I can feel eyes turning to gawk at me, and I'm sure most of them want to question or judge me. I'm so deep in thought that I can't focus on the vultures surrounding me.
I slump in my seat, but I still notice the vultures watching me, including Jane.
"Okay, what happened?" She asks.
I show the shoe to Jane, and an "oh" escapes from her mouth. "I think I'm about to get fired," I let out an exasperated sigh.
"Why?" She asks, a wave of shock in her voice. "You didn't insult Alan, did you?"
"No. He called me to his office. I can't go barefoot." I look at my shoe with disgust and grimace.
"You can wear mine." At the drop of a hat, she unhooks her heels and hands them over to me.
I let mine down, realizing she might refuse, and I wouldn't blame her because I would too. "Thank you so much," I say as I slip them on. There's a little bit of air at the end due to our foot size difference.
Then I stand up like a phoenix, very much aware that the entire workspace has seen what has transpired between me and Jane. Not fussed by the snickering and murmuring, I press the button on Mr. Starvnos' office and enter.
Mr. Starvnos has his head buried inside a magazine and doesn't see me enter. I clear my throat and his head throws up like a snake ready to pounce. His eyes settle on my face and I wonder what exactly he is thinking in his head. I avoid his gaze as I focus on the enchanting view outside.
"Sit down, Miss North," Tho lol e tone he uses makes my heart jump, but I stay cool. I won't let him see my panic. "How are you?"
A surprised wave of expression flushes across my face. One so conspicuous, I undoubtedly know he's seen. "I'm fine, sir," I say. "I'm sorry. It wasn't a deliberate act for me to bring these shoes. Keith told me I am supposed to report with heels, but right now I don't have any money, and my papa is sick..." I shut up abruptly, realizing I'm saying more than I shouldn't have
"Your father is sick?" He repeats.
Tears threaten to pour out of my eyes. "Yes," I say. I have no idea how that line came out of my mouth. In my moments of panic and frustration, I always turn into a blabbermouth.
"What's wrong with him?"
"He has rheumatoid arthritis." I gaze down at the floor. I don't like talking about my life. It has more bad than good.
"And your mom?" I look at him, and I can see the commiseration waft wildly in his eyes. He's compassionate, and his eyes proclaim it. He can be described as one of those people who can put themselves in other people's shoes for personality's sake, but can't really relate to it personally.
"She died four years ago."
"Do you have any siblings?"
"A kid brother." I clean my nose with the back of my hand.
There's a silence that suddenly reigns the room. It's so deafening and unbearable. I knew discussing my life would flummox us to this.
"And this is why you shouldn't fire me. I need this job to be able to finance my papa's healthcare."
"I wasn't going to fire you. I.... Never in a thousand years would I have thought you carried this lot on you. I'm speechless."
I smile at his words. I can't understand why, but they touch my heart. "Thank you."
"You're strong. You don't look like what you're going through. And I admire you for that," he says in a soft tone, one that makes my heart leap. "And I pray that you'll sail through this."
"I really appreciate it. Thank you so much, Alan," I finally have the urge to call him by his first name. Speaking to him, speaking to someone sure lifts some weight off my shoulders. I feel lightweight now, somehow.
I'm thankful for my shoe turning out this way. Even though it gave me a fright in the beginning, it actually led to a good ending.
I leave his office an hour later. We engage in more friendly conversations. Majority of which are uncomfortable talk because they're related to me. His never-ending questions make my head throb. Nevertheless, I feel elated, and my admiration for him has increased.
I shut his door quietly behind me. I spin in the direction of my desk and find everyone's eyes on me.