Hate the Cold

Marie Wednesday I read the e-mail I received 20 minutes ago and again fought the urge to scream. Hands on my lips, I hid a smile. Yes, I did it! I dropped my hands and openly grinned. Things are finally going my way. 25 years in the world, unemployed, with bills piling up faster than your new hit music video in Youtube, that's me, Marie Joaquin. I've been job hunting for months, making-do with part-time jobs and freelance website designing, until now-- For the first time, I've been finally accepted for a legit job (one with steady-pay and figures I can actually pay my rent with). This week hadn't been easy, but it's not like any day after graduation has been either. The first thing I did when I bid university au revoir! was rent the apartment that I had had my eyes on for months. Best quality: it was cheap--and, well, close to the city square. Sort of. Small was the perfect word to describe it, but luckily the bath room wasn't communal. The owner said that it was at most a 2-people living space but he probably didn't see my luggage; I had brought everything: the microwave, posters, and of course, shoes.  It wasn't as if I was in a hurry to get out of the family house but, you see, it's the foster family house. I was done depending on them--done--and with their "care contract" expiring after I had went and gone to uni, I wasted no time to get out of their hands. I was thankful of course, they were good people, just that that was the reason they wouldn't put me for adoption: it would ruin their good image. My sister on the other hand was lucky to be welcomed to a warmer home (I visited a few times when I passed 18) and she's currently in law school, with her foster parents and I supporting her. Once or twice a month I go and visit her dorm for updates, so far, nothing alarming except for her studies. It was an accident--my sister was 7 and I was 9. Lack of sleep and lack of experience skidding on wet road, that was the driver; blood loss and frostbite, that was our parents. It wasn't that much sad of an experience. What was sad was what happened after: police interviews, the funeral and settling with foster care. It wasn't something that scarred us though, although I did develop a weakness to the cold, but we, my sister and I, were comfortable with talking about it. Close family and friends also helped us, so we weren't really "abandoned" but we were both determined for independence, only occasionally asking for help--but never, never, about money. Sad to say we still had our pride. However small left. Though sometimes, I just rely on godsends, since I'm currently a mess: there was nothing in the fridge except eggs and water, it's been around 6 months since I had a hot shower and I was still using UGG boots from 2 years ago. This e-mail was probably the best thing that had happened all year. It was from MONO, the best of the best. A printing company that is well-known for their personal magazine of the same name and publishing of the bestsellers before it even hit the stores--they have massive connections, hence I quote, the best of the best. I've even just sent that application on a whim--because I knew I couldn't get it. Wow, what a turn of events. I was congratulated passing the 1st round of the job application. I passed together with around 50 other applicants and was asked to make a visit for the 2nd round interview. It was to be done this Friday, 3:00pm, MONO's hq. I released a shaky breath. I can do this. I mentally checked all the things I had to do: practice common job Q&A, proper sitting posture--instantly, I sat up and un-crossed my legs--transportation, well I guess I'll take the bus... I paused. My train of thought, my to-do list in my head--  I needed an outfit ASAP. --- Friday I put on my earphones as I reached for one of the bus' handles, eyes on the wide window in front of me. I was okay, I felt confident. I had managed to rent a gray pantsuit that was on sale and was wearing some black Prada heels, borrowed from my cousin. No noticeable accessories except for my silver watch, my hair was in a bun and I was carrying a hand-me-down pale blue satchel. I'm okay, I told myself, as if in a spell. I'm confident.   I arrived in front of MONO at 2:28pm. I took a moment to study the facade of the building, the huge M-O-N-O made of glass, before exhaling and walking to the entrance. They had a gigantic revolving entrance, and I glided through and headed straight to the reception. Catching sight of me, the lady sitting behind the table gave a warm smile. "Good afternoon," she greeted when I finally arrived in front of her. "Welcome to MONO. How can I help you?" "Good afternoon," I replied. "I'm here for the 2nd round of job application? For the interview." "Oh yes," she turned to her computer. "Name please?" "Um," I leaned in. "Marie Joaquin. J-O-A-Q-U-I-N." "That's a lot of vowels," she commented with a smile and reached under her, retrieving a black clipboard and pen which she places in front of me. "Please sign." "Yeah, I get that," I scanned for my name and jotted my initials on the paper. After, I slid the board back to her. She then gave me a rectangular card, it read: M. JOAQUIN "You're number 27. Please pin this to your chest, right side. You may stay at the waiting area further this side," she raised her left hand. "At exactly 3 o'clock I shall be guiding you to where the interview will be held. Please wait in the mean time." She flashed another smile, somewhat calming my butterflies. "Good luck." I nodded and returned her politeness. "Thank you." With her instruction, I made my way to the left side where there were no doors except for the one at the end. Opening it, I found that it was a huge lounge with a handful of sofas and chairs, all monochrome. Spotting an empty seat, I made my way over quickly, evading the glances of the men and women in business suits. I also spotted a water dispenser and a table with snacks and a coffee maker but with my stomach as it was, and myself as it was (a nervous wreck), I passed the opportunity. I kept to myself most of the few minutes I was in the room, calming myself and focusing on the interview-to-be. I placed my satchel on my lap, clicked it open and scavenged for some breath mints I had placed in earlier. Finding them, I popped one in my mouth and closed my bag, releasing a breath while running my hands on its leather in an attempt to keep them busy. I didn't notice I was spacing out until the lady from the reception knocked and walked in. Looking around the room, I noticed that there were some additional faces who had arrived.  If you were observing you would notice the change of behavior from the lot. I stopped a smirk from forming and directed my attention to the receptionist woman. Still, in all honestly, I could not hide the fact that everyone's nervousness doubled: it was like some sort of ghost passed over and everyone was on edge, waiting for something. "Good afternoon everyone, my name is Michelle and I will be your guide for today," she greeted with the same smile she had greeted me earlier. "It is now 3:00pm, so let's begin. Please follow me." She turned around and almost immediately everyone followed. They did so in a calm, orderly fashion but I knew they were looking forward to be there first one there. Michelle lead us out then to the end of the lobby, housing an elevator. We rode in batches, I was on the last one. Michelle stayed and true enough guided each batch to the 5th floor. Arriving, she gave us the instructions: "Please line up by your number, number 1 please start here," she stepped in front of the elevator. "Everyone else please extend as you see fit." Easy enough for Mister number 1. I thought bitterly. Being number 27 required asking others for their number, which I was hoping to return home without doing. But beggars can't be choosers. I walked back for a while, silently asking people's numbers. "13" "20" "Excuse me," I asked a tall, lean guy. "What's your number?" We made eye contact and he grinned. "Personal or business?" I made a face. But since it was so sudden and so random, the corners of my mouth tugged a little. "Seriously?" I asked, pure disbelief. "Kidding, sorry, couldn't help it." he grinned wider and I could tell he bit back a further comment. Talkative type. "My bad, I'm 26." My eyebrows rose a cm, slipping behind him. "Great. I'm 27." It was his turn to reply in disbelief. "Seriously?" "Yes." "Lucky." I chose not to reply since it sounded like he was telling it to himself more than talking to me. After a few more minutes, the line was settled and Michelle's voice echoed through the hall. "Alright, we'll be moving in 20s. To the rest, 21 to 53, please wait some more, thank you." I fought back the urge to roll my eyes and instead calmly daydreamed my routine for when I went home. Not exactly ideal, but it helped me take my minds of things. Especially the numbing sensation on my soles. First, I was going to treat myself and order take-out for dinner. Next, a long shower with some musical encore. Then, skin care and some light stretching, changing into my favorite matching pajamas. Lastly, as it was Friday, I'll watch a few classic rom-coms so, regardless of whether I passed this interview or not, I was not going to greet the weekend depressed. I switched my weight to my left leg and grabbed some more breath mints from my bag. For dinner, shall I go with Chinese? I'm craving fried rice. Then, hm...milk tea? Sure. I'd love some wintermelon. Then, what should I watch? My Best Friend's Wedding? Valentine's day? Clueless? 50 First dates? I brushed a strand from my face. Why not all? "Hey," I snapped to a pair of blue eyes staring down at me. "C'mon, the next 20." It was number 26. He was motioning for me to follow him and I gave a nod and quickly followed before I was caught holding back the line. My heels clicked and clacked on the marble floor as I sped up. We were made to stop and wait again in front of a huge wall of a mirror. "Face front," Michelle instructed and, like soldiers, we did so synchronously. "Thanks," I whispered to the guy next to me, before eyeing front and relaxing my face to a blank one. The moment my eyes made contact with the mirror, I flinched. It was not because I saw my reflection, no, it was because I suddenly felt something ominous from the other side of the glass, as if someone was staring really hard at each one of us. As if on cue, my cheekbones started to hurt, and I scrunched up my face in annoyance. Calmly, I reached out with my left hand and massaged the side of my face. "I thought this was an interview?" I whispered again to the guy. I felt him shrug and replied nonchalantly. "Not sure, but I heard this was still some sort of assessment or something." I barely gave a nod in acknowledgement as the pressure on my cheekbones seemed to have gotten heavier. There were only a few times I felt this: when it was too cold, when I had the flu, and when something bad was going to happen. I hope it isn't the last one. I squinted my eyes, steady on the mirror; I felt goosebumps, chills, then, just as it came, it passed as quickly. The pressure on my cheeks left as well. Surprised, my eyes fluttered wide open and the stress were off my eyebrows. What happened? I was breathing roughly as I continued to study the mirror before me. The pressure was gone but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was still some sort of presence. Like a predator to its prey. The moment those thoughts left my head, I stepped back from the line, startled. Were those eyes? "That one," I gasped. "Hey," my eyes snapped to Mister number 26, he was looking at me weird. I stared at him, catching my breath. "Did you hear that?" "..." It took a while for him to reply. "Yeah. Michelle said to follow her?" "N-No, a guy's voice, it was deep but--like a whisper. Did you hear?" I said, still thinking of the place behind the mirrors. He sighed. "You weren't paying attention. C'mon." I couldn't give a reply with the plaguing thoughts of dark things behind my reflection, but I followed anyways, shaking the thoughts off and trying to focus on the interview. We were led inside a wide room with glass doors, white walls and tiles with black lining. "Please pick a slip," Michelle said, gesturing a machine on the middle of the room. My best guess was that it was a ticket machine, giving out yellow pieces of paper. "Based on the number on your ticket, please exit at the respective doors. Odd numbers go to the left door and Even numbers to the right." There were soft murmurs echoing in the room and I glanced around. Well, it's not like I blame them, of all the job interviews s***h applications I've been to, this was by far the most complicated and puzzling. I mean, why group us in batches? What's with the waiting, then moving, then waiting again cycle? Why all the trouble for this job? Okay, that's enough. Beggars can't be choosers. I bit my tongue. Well, I start my counter-argument, MONO is famous city-wide, maybe even country-wide, maybe such a "complex procedure" was required to avoid some sort of risk? Maybe it was their way of analyzing each and every one of the applicants? For the company's sake? Shit. I wasn't listening. "...just for segregation, nothing personal. Just that the Odd numbers have different set of interviewers than the Even numbers. This is to rule out any biases that may come forth. Please understand." Michelle's tone was kept calm and crisp the whole time (at least from what I heard), it made me admire her levelheadedness. In a snap, the murmurs died down and everyone quietly lined up and got a slip. When it was my turn, the machine beeped and I took a yellow piece labelled "5". I quickly slipped the paper in my pocket and exited via the right door. Looking up--surprise, surprise--it was another waiting area, much smaller though, with black monoblock chairs and a water dispenser. Since there were only a few people, I didn't rush to get a seat and stopped by the table and got a plastic cup for water. "Hey," I looked up from drinking and saw the guy I was next to a while ago. "Hey, number 26," I greeted. "Yeah," he laughed. "Hey yourself miss 27." "Water?" I offered him a new cup. "Sure, thanks." He got the cup and proceeded to fill it with water and finished it in one gulp. I fought back a smile. "Nervous?" "Kind of. No." he sighed. "A little?" I laughed at him. A moment passed  before he offered his hand, gesturing at his name tag at the same time. "This number-name thing is not my thing so...I'm Gregory. Gregory Chang." I stared at his hand and studied him for the first time since I talked to him. Not surprisingly, he was taller than me, maybe around 6'0 (I'm 5'4), lean, fair-skinned, good-looking--not handsome but cute, slanted eyes and, when I glanced at his suit, you could tell he works out--the guy had some biceps. As if picking a movie, I conclude: Why not? I reached out and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Marie Joaquin." I said, tapping on my name tag. "Cool," he gave me a toothy smile. "So...Ms.Joaquin, what brings you to MONO?" Small talk cued and done. "Well, it was one of a few job applications that accepted me, so," I prolonged "few". "I decided to go and get it over with." I looked down and looked back at him through my lashes. "You?" He shuffled his feet. "It's sort of a family thing. They have high expectations so...as you said, get it over with, you know, to shut them up for a while." "Sure." I nodded. "So, um," He says "so" a lot. "...How old are you?" Michelle's voice boomed through the room. "They're ready for you now," It was then that I noticed there were only five of us in the room. "Follow me. The interview will be done simultaneously, that is," she gestured the room. "The five of you will do it together." Michelle turned and the other 3 hurried to follow. I smiled and glanced at Mr.Chang who was all but calm. I took his cup from him and threw it in the bin, together with mine. "Don't ask a woman her age--Never ask a woman her age." I tried not to laugh. "Let's go." --- "Thank you. You will be notified through e-mail within the weekend. The details of the 3rd and final round of applications will also be in the e-mail. You are now dismissed." We finished the interview at a quarter past 5. I congratulated myself at how calm I answered and how I sat up straight for the duration of my stay in that room. I also saw Gregory in a new light, reminding myself of our first conversation rather than our latest; he wasn't awkward one bit but cool, plus the fact that he had a good background and connection (they said he was part of some fraternity), I think he'd pass, no sweat. How about me?  I shrugged. I did my best. For now though, nothing would relieve me than to wipe my make-up off and sing a Mariah Carey song under the shower. I could wait during the weekend, no problem. We were welcomed by Michelle heading out of the hall and were informed of the directions to the exit. This time we were asked to take the stairs as the elevators were for company employees only. She couldn't guide us herself as she still had some interviewees to attend to. We thanked her before we left. I followed Gregory and some others heading down. Luckily, it wasn't that difficult. Although I was wearing 4 inch heels, they were block, plus with the aid of gravity, we arrived at the lobby in no time with no sweat. Not much anyway. The cool air of the lobby floor welcomed me and I breathed a sigh of relief. Still not forgetting the chills I felt in the mirror-room, I shrugged it off anyway and set my eyes to the entrance, but before I could leave, Gregory held my arm. I looked up at him, his eyes said "wait". Curious, although knowing where this was heading to, I stopped in my tracks and turned to him. "So," he started. "So." I mimicked. Too many "Sos". "Right, right," he cleared his throat and looked at me with eyes as if answering a question from the job interview. "Would you like to have dinner with me?" Sure enough, I slept with Mr.Gregory Chang that night.