One More Time

CHAPTER 1

"These are the files left." She says, giving a nod.

"I’ll be a call away if you need any assistance, ma'am." The young man adjusts his blue polka-dotted tie.

"Thank you, Clement." She smiles and picks up her pen as he exits from her office.

Like every other day for the past three months, Alina sits over the desk, her fingers moving deftly, organizing documents, aligning them with precision. The hum of the air conditioning was a constant companion, punctuated only by the occasional ring of the telephone as she goes through the thick dusty files, studying key concepts and following patterns on the sustenance of the great Sanders Company.

It would have been extremely noisy if not for the soundproof glass used in padding up the Sanders’ building as it stands tall in the heart of the bustling city. As soon as her alarm for lunch rings, she heaves a sigh, tucking her straying hair strands behind her ear. Her butts have been fixed to the chair since thirty minutes past eight.

She pulls her chair backwards and swirls around staring at the misty puffy clouds. The sun isn't visible but it is not so hard to imagine how piercing the rays would be as the weather is unusually warm.

Just before the blink of an eye, she could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead. The air felt thick and suffocating in spite of the air conditioning and scented flowers.

She gets up from her chair and paces to and fro, her eyes fixed to the bookshelf and when she turns, the blank flat television screen hanging on the wall. She reaches for the thick curtains which were already halfway opened, and pulls them into a holder. She almost opens the window but she clenches her finger, staring at the moving cars, pedestrians and the roadside shops that seem too tiny from her view.

She steps away from the curtains, their gentle sway the opposite of the uneasiness brewing inside her. The sunlight filtering through the fabric casts a glow, brightening her spacious office. With a sense of urgency gnawing at her insides, she makes her way to the sleek water dispenser just in the corner.

As she reaches for a paper cup, her hand trembles with a sudden wave of nausea. Panic sets in as the room begins to spin, her vision blurring at the edges. With a desperate need for relief, she fills the cup with water.

But as soon as the icy liquid touches her parched lips, a surge of bile rises in her throat, threatening to spill over. She gasps, abandoning the cup at the top of the water dispenser, her steps quickening as she rushes towards the adjoining bathroom.

All she can hear is her throat and her tongue helplessly retching as slimy liquid pours out of her mouth—a mixture of saliva and water.

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she struggles to regain control, her throat raw and her stomach churning. She turns on the tap and with trembling hands, she splashes cool water onto her flushed face, washing in quite a haste. She looks at the mirror and realizes she washed off her makeup in the process. It is such a sight as her mascara drool down her eyes like signs of being clawed.

"Christ! What have I done?!" She exclaims and takes out some wipes to completely take them off.

After she cleans up, she sees how plain her face is and applies a little bit of powder, while practicing how to conceal the uneasiness she feels in her tummy.

Dusting off her black skirt with swift, practiced motions, she straightens her posture and adjusts the buttons on her pretty pink shirt. She walks out of the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. She walks briskly to her desk and packs up her bag.

"Ma'am, it is quite a surprise you are about to leave."

She pauses as the door opens. "Ah." She forces a short laugh, "Yes, Clement. I have an emergency."

She makes her way out, Clement following behind her.

"Will you be back today?" He asks.

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay. Do enjoy the rest of your day, ma'am." He smiles and stops at the door.

"I hope to. Thank you, Clement." She walks towards the elevator.

She steps into the elevator, clenching her new and expensive Gucci bag, which she got as a gift from Kira.

"Hello, ma'am." A young lady waves at her as the metal doors slide shut.

She managed to wave back with a wide smile before the doors shut finally, leaving her with her reflection, waving and faking a smile.

She thinks to herself and heaves a sigh as she rests her back on the cool metal walls: "I don't think she saw me, though." Dissatisfaction hangs in her throat like a man's Adam's apple—swollen and can never be swallowed.

With a soft chime, the elevator begins its descent, her head feels like it had been uprooted from her neck and placed back again in a split-second.

Alina tries to think randomly: the day she wore a different pair of shoes together because the brands were similar, the night she made scrambled eggs and added some honey, the evening she had her bath thrice because she was unproductive.

Her thoughts came to an abrupt stop as the elevator doors opened. She puts her left foot out, her eyes skimming through the bustling underground hall—the workers bustle about with calculated strides, pushing some packs, and pulling barrows.

The Sanders Company is quite an establishment with a bunch of business underneath—from real estate to rentals, security agency and even….

Fred Sanders had done a lot building this company from a small roadside shop like he always says.

Alina walks to her car, exchanging pleasantries with the workers who acknowledge her.

"Mrs Sanders." A husky voice almost echoes in her mind. She assumes it is her mind but the company driver shows up in front of her.

"Mrs Sanders." He repeatedly calls her name. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course." She winks, wondering how he sees through her.

"I don't think so, ma'am. You can't drive. Let me help you." He takes her bag from her and puts it in the backseat.

Her head spins twice in a second and she is brought back to consciousness as he slams the door.

"Get in, ma'am. You look dizzy." He escorts her to the passenger seat, and slams the door gently as she slouches in.

The tall man adjusts his cap and sits in, starting the engine. His name is Rockwell but prefers to be called Rock. He is one of the company's drivers and quite familiar with the Sanders' house.

She helplessly stares at him, grateful that he is on the wheel.

"Thank you, Rock." She whispers.

The traffic is extremely light as it is just past lunchtime and workers are still in their offices.

"Could it be that I am pregnant?" Alina asks herself, unconsciously putting her hands on her tummy. "I need to check this out. Tim didn't…" Her thoughts fades off.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?" Rock asks.

"No. No." She turns to him, "Er, I'd like to stop at the pharmacy to get something, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind." His smile seems visible from the side of his face as he taps the wheel and bends to the left. "I have seen a pharmacy along this street. It is always open."

The street is quite deserted. "Here?" Alina's blurry eyes skim through the closed shops, empty tables and chairs just before the pastry shop, the green bottles by the brewery store and the dusty signboards above each shop.

"Yes. It is always busy here at night. Day seems like night and night is day."

"Oh." She gasps. "Feels lifeless. It must be dangerous at night."

Rock chuckles. "It is not that bad, ma'am."

"The gangster stuff." She mutters.

"Don't think about it." He scratched his beards.

Alina grabs her purse from her bag as soon as he pulls over. "I'll be back."

She slides the half-broken glass door sideways and makes her way in.

"Good day. Can I get a pregnancy test…" Her voice lowers as she sees two huge tattooed men at the counter.

"Welcome." A thin fair lady pushes her way through. "Get inside, both of you." She slaps their arms in quick motion and smiles at Alina.

"Don't worry. They are my sons." Her breath smells like garlic and orange at the same time.

"Okay." Alina squeezes the last smile she had budgeted for the day. "I need a pregnancy test kit, please. One."

The woman hurries to the shelf at a corner and brings out a test kit.

Slamming it on the counter, "Here."

"Thank you. How much does it cost?"

"Thirteen." She bags the kit.

"Alright." She counts out a wad of notes and hands it to her.

"Have a positive day." The lady chuckled.

Alina couldn't help but shake her head weakly as she made her way out.

"I'm done." She throws her weight in the car.

"Got what you wanted?"

"Yes. Thanks, Rock."

In a jiffy, the car zooms straight into the road.

Despite the music from the speakers, the air feels dry and so does Alina's mouth feel. Her eyes fixed to the road, but her tummy churned not just because she feels she has a stomach upset but because she is nervous about what the result would come out to be.

If she is actually pregnant, how would Tim react? She is sure that he has no memory from that night but how would she be able to convince him that she had opened her legs to no one but him.

Her tummy rumbles as she catches a glimpse of the gate.

Her marriage to Tim gave her a permanent residence in the house and she has been enjoying it so far except for Tim's absurd behavior and the abandonment she always experiences.

The gates opened automatically, and Rock took the smooth driveway down to the park. It is a relief having to smell the pretty flowers after what seemed like a long day at work—which was less than eight hours anyways—and spinning one at that.

"Thank you so much, Rock." Alina alights as the engine dies down.

He hands her the car key and bow slightly, "You're always welcome, ma'am."

She takes a few steps and pauses, "Rock, so how do you get back to work?"

"I could use a cab." He points towards the gate.

"Er, you can take the car back to work." She wiggles the key to him.

"Ma’am, the car is yours."

"I know. You can just pick me up tomorrow morning by seven a.m."

"Oh, okay. That would be my pleasure."

"Thanks again." She makes her way to the entrance.

The house is a mansion, enclosing about twenty master bedrooms, three dinings, three sitting rooms, chapel, wide spaces here and there, corridors and other rooms which they have no name for at the moment.

She turns the knob and makes her way into the magnificently designed yard which seems new to her every time. She walks lightly into the sitting room.

"Welcome, ma'am." A calm voice sounds from within.