Shouldn't Have Dealt

by Mara Lynne

  I set my foot on the bus and quickly find a seat at the back. The view by the window is refreshing. I could listen to May persuading me and the constant battle between my heart and brain while watching the green and blue of the scenery change positions.

  “I don’t know, Angel. I think differently. You’d be a very good publisher someday if you know what I mean.”

  Hearing those words from her makes me want to admit how disgusted I am of myself for lying. May can be right. I can be a very good publisher someday. I can be a real one and not just a publisher in a fraud name—Angel Grant, Metamorphosis.

  “I’ll see you around, May.” I hang up the call.

  I am not sure if ending the call intensifies my regrets for turning down the opportunity. I just know I feel sad about missing May and my friends and not pursuing my dreams because I need to stay away from the enemy. If this were another publishing house or other company taking over McGarry, I will definitely dash back there and leave this bus to its destination.

  The first thing I did when I arrive at Millborne Avenue in Trenton was to get a cup of hot choco from the nearest department store. I was freezing. I forgot to bring my gloves and scarf in my hurry to leave. There were a couple of red mittens at the counter, so I bought one. It was better than nothing.

  In all truth, I feel anxious watching Mrs. Pia Franco, the headmistress, go over my application letter and resume. She reads like a vulture as her eyes peer over her half-moon spectacles. Tapping my fingers silently on my lap eases the anxiety. She has been checking my papers for a couple of minutes now, and all I hear from her are sighs and involuntary moans. It makes me think that she’s not interested in me or something. I made sure my resume was excellently made, though.

  She clears her throat.

  “You have stunning credentials, Ms. Mohr.”

  Finally, I am able to smile.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Franco.” I thought she was going to say I bludgeoned my resume with so many credentials that I sounded like a desperate airhead.

  “Your resume seems to be talking to me while I was reading it.” She smiles.

  Is it a good thing or not? I ask myself.

  “Do you think you can handle children… little children to be specific, ages three to five?”

  I nod frantically. “Yes, ma’am! I think I will be able to work with them.”

  She sneers. “You don’t work with them, Ms. Mohr. You teach them, play, read to them, be a second mother to them.”

  What I actually meant by work with them was to teach them, play, read to them, and be a second mother to them, but I just apologize as a sign of my respect for her.

  Mrs. Franco reviews my papers again, her eyebrows meeting at the ridge of her nose.

  She speaks with her eyes not leaving my resume, “You don’t have experience in teaching, don’t you? Two part-time jobs in college and a brief probationary position in a publishing house… How old are you, Ms. Mohr?”

  “I am twenty-two years old, ma’am.”

  “Very young.” Her eyes are on me now. “The previous teacher assistant I had was forty-five. She had to leave for early retirement. She started here at the age twenty-six. Like you, she was quite young. She dedicated herself to the children and to the school’s vision and mission that she forgot to have her own life. She ended up missing a lot of chances at love.”

  I intently look into her hazel eyes.

  “I am telling you this, Ms. Mohr, because, like Gabby, I do not want you to miss things that you will regret someday. Gabby missed a lot of her chances not because she was fastidious or picky. She thought that it was unnecessary. She started here young, and all she had was us. Did you get what I mean?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I see that you are a career-oriented woman. Things like love won’t be an issue with you, will it? I just don’t want you regretting things at the end.” She closes the folder and brings her fingers together, studying me.

  Three knocks are heard on the door, and a red-haired woman peeps through the opening.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. There’s someone on the line. He wants to talk to you,” she tells Mrs. Franco.

  Mrs. Franco raises her point finger in mid-air and presses a button on the telephone. She pulls up the receiver and places it carefully on her ear.

  “Yes? This is Pia Franco speaking.”

  While the woman is talking to someone on the phone, I have the freedom to wander my eyes around her office. It’s a pretty small one made of mahogany walls and leather couches. Portraits of the past headmistress hang on the wall, and there is a cabinet filled with medals and trophies at the left side corner. Books on the shelves seem to be outdated and old. I don’t see anything modern in the room except for the telephone and the air conditioner. She doesn’t even have a TV.

  “Okay, I understand. That will not be a problem,” she concludes before putting down the call. “Ms. Mohr, there seems to be a problem. I cannot have you.”

  “What?”

  “It appears that a certain Ms. McCaughey has filled the spot a day earlier than you. I am sorry you came here for nothing. I should have told my assistant to take down the ads when an applicant was selected. This is my fault.”

  Why did they tell me about this Ms. McCaughey just now? They should have known the spot was filled in before they let me in.

  “It’s okay, Mrs. Franco,” I humbly say, but deep inside, I am literally bleeding. That is one opportunity lost. Perhaps, this is just not for me.

  I button up my winter jacket as I cross the Montessori’s doorstep and walk along the gravel pathway. The mittens I bought aren’t actually helping. I feel the cold nipping the flesh in my fingers, so I have to breathe on them to heat them up. The pathway is all cleared from snow, so it is not difficult to track. However, it is not the snow-filled front yard or the little kids playing on mounds of ice outside that captured my curiosity—it is my sheer disgust for the man standing outside the very gates of the school. I strongly believe he is responsible for all this.

  “I am not letting you go as easily as that.” He breathes like a knife extinguishing the remaining sense I have. He’s actually turning me into a madman with his actions. He straightens himself up from leaning against the side of his car.

  “I should have thought it’s you.”

  “You aren’t clever enough to have not deemed me as capable of doing this.”

  I smirked in sarcastic amusement.

  “I apologize then for underestimating you. Maybe next time, I shall be more wary about you,” I say, my voice as cold as my hands.

  “Stop avoiding me, Angel.” He grabs me by the arm.

  “Hunter, you just lost me two jobs!”

  “You could have saved them if you swallowed your pride!”

  “What kind of mentality is that?” I can’t believe he thinks like a toddler.

  He draws me close to him, his hand grasping my arm tighter as I come near him.

  “I need you. Don’t you understand that?”

  “Right!” I laugh. “You need me to lie to your parents…to your family, to the world!”

  His face remains stiff. His eyes are cold, but I thought I saw a little hope and earnestness in there—but that was just quick. It is gone in a blink of an eye.

  “If you could give me one acceptable reason why you need me aside from the job, I might consider.” That one is obviously meant for a sharp and humorous argument.

  “Will you shut up if I say one?”

  “Hunter, you’re unpredictable, you know. This one, you take seriously, while my plea for you to leave me, you just shrug off like waste.”

  “I can make your life easier, Angel.” It is not a plain statement. Hunter made sure I understand every word. “Ask, and it will be given. Hell, I can even give the world to you!” His face of stone softens.

  “Stop doing this!” I try to slap his hand away, but he counters by placing his other hand on the small of my back and pulling me towards the length of his body. Now,
I am staring up at him.

  “No,” he firmly answers. “What are you so afraid of, Angel?”

  “I’m not afraid.” I put up a strong façade. Oh, how I wish I live up to what I said. “I just don’t sell myself to anyone anymore, Mr. Stone. And most of all, I don’t pretend to love someone who I don’t and will never love. I don’t think you're worthy of my attention.”

  He smirks.

  “It’s about time you wake up,” I add.

  He shakes his head.

  “Such a huge wake-up call,” he nonchalantly says. “Here, take it.” He hands me a plastic envelope from his inner pocket.

  “I was never asleep, Angel. The wake-up call is useless,” he concludes with that arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

  “What’s this?” I ask. If this is the contract, I’ll burn it as soon as I get home.

  “A miracle.”

  Chapter 11: Dawn

  I fold into half the envelope and store it inside my bag. Weirdly enough, I have this bad feeling about the contents of the envelope. While on my way to the hospital, I try to fight the temptation to open it. It’s just going to exacerbate the situation.

  I fear that what might be inside might totally change my opinion of Hunter Stone. I am dead set on hating the man, no miracles will change that. However, I got this strong feeling that this envelope contains some magic that might shake me to my core and change my already established judgment of this ridiculous man, and I’m not ready for that.

  There are few job openings in the city. For instance, a hardware shop in need of a store clerk, the city museum short of a utility staff, a few restaurants urgently hiring kitchen crewmembers, and much more. But if I were to have a job as a waitress again, I’d rather go back to Max’s. I’m sure Mr. Nguyen and Mr. Maxwell will take me back. Besides, getting a job in Trenton will be more costly. Everyday bus transportation will cost more than what I will spend if I stay in Princeton. Plus, if I choose to rent an apartment, I will have to cut down on my expenses. To what extent can I stretch this frugality, though? I think this is the worst I can get.

  When I reach Princeton, I waste no time. I send my resume right away to publishing companies and other business in need of executive assistants, operation officers, go-to-guys, or anything that is in my book. There’s this one law office that is in need of a secretary. It was the only one that asked me to come back for an interview in a fortnight. It looks like I’d have a good shot at it. It won’t be difficult to do what secretaries do, I think. For the meantime, while I wait for replies from the publishing companies I have applied to, the job will do.

  It is Mom’s time to rest, so I am watching over Dad. Ray will arrive in an hour. He just had some papers he needs to process for his new work.

  While Dad is asleep, I remember Stone’s envelope. I take it out from my bag and begin reading it.

  EMPLOYMENT CONTRACT

  THIS EMPLOYMENT CONTRACT dated this _________________.

  BETWEEN:

  Mr. Hunter Stone of Stone Holdings, INC.

  (the employer)

  -AND-

  Miss Angel Mohr of 42-A Dale Street, Northumber Avenue, Princeton, New Jersey

  (the employee)

  BACKGROUND:

  The employer is of the opinion that the employee has the necessary qualifications, experience, and abilities to assist and benefit the employer in its “business.”

  The employer desires to employ the employee, and the employee has agreed to accept and enter such employment upon the terms set out in this agreement.

  IN CONSIDERATION OF the matters described above and of the mutual benefits and obligations set for in this agreement, the recipient and sufficiency of which consideration is hereby acknowledged, the parties to this agreement agree as follows:

  Commencement and Date Term

  The employee will commence permanent full-time employment with the employer on the ___ day of ____________, ________. (the commencement date)

  Job Title and Description

  The employer agrees to employ the employee as a GIRLFRIEND / FIANCEE. The employee is expected to perform the following job duties: Attending dinners and cultural events

  Escorting the employer during family events

  Act nice and sweet around employer’s family

  Call employer with a term of endearment such as sweetheart, honey, babe, or etc.

  Make public believe relationship is true through gestures and words

  Smile in front of camera

  Obey employer’s orders

  Others

  This is ridiculous!

  I can only laugh at this. This is worse than the first contract I had with him. Does he think I will follow everything that is stipulated in there? I cannot even finish reading it.

  He calls this trash a miracle?

  The screw in Hunter’s head has finally gone loose.

  Automatically, my hands do the honors of scrunching the papers up and pushing them back to my bag. I might just remind myself to burn them when I get home tomorrow morning. I don’t need to read the entire crap. I know I am not going to sign it, anyway.

  I stand up to ease the numbness in my legs. Apparently, Stone’s contract contains this magic that glued me to my seat for a couple of minutes without breathing. What horrible magic!

  Through the glass window, I let my eyes feast on the sparkling splendor of the skyline. The colors and lights are at par with the glowing stars in the sky.

  “Sweetie, is that you?”

  Dad pulls his body up and sits on his hospital bed.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Where’s Sarah?”

  I walk closer to Dad.

  “She’s at home. I’ll be looking after you tonight,” I say as I sit next to him.

  A soft smile forms on his face.

  “Are you hungry, Dad?” There’s a tray of potato salad and beef stew on the table, but I don’t think Dad would want to eat something that is a little cold already.

  “I’m going to buy something, okay?”

  “I think I want some hot porridge, sweetie.”

  “I will get just that, Dad!” I say, remembering a café four blocks away from the hospital that sells good chicken porridge. Dad loves anything that has chicken, so I am pretty sure he’s going to be delighted with it.

  I kiss him on the forehead and proceed downstairs to get his food.

  “Ray?” I pick up my phone right away after seeing Ray’s name flash on my screen. It is cold in the streets, but I am geared up with sufficient winter clothes this time. I think I can stay a little longer to pick up his call.

  “Angel, where are you?”

  “I’m on my way to the hospital. I got Dad some hot porridge,” I say through the receiver, lifting Dad’s porridge on my other hand though I know he wouldn’t see it.

  “Angel…” Is it just me or does Ray really sound a little unsure?

  “What’s wrong, Ray? Are you in the hospital now? Is Dad okay?”

  “It’s not about your Dad, okay? So breathe,” he says.

  “What is it? You’re killing me here now.”

  I hear him sigh.

  “You might want to go directly to the train station, Angel.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Damien’s leaving—for real. As in leaving New Jersey.”

  My legs halt. I hear everything around, including the cars and the noisy teenagers in the sidewalk, so my ears could have not deceived me.

  “I heard he’s leaving for New York. From there, he’s going to take an international flight to Spain. He’s leaving for good, I guess.”

  The words swirl around in my head.

  He’s leaving Jersey for New York.

  He’s leaving America for Spain.

  He’s leaving me behind for a reason I cannot fathom.

  Isn’t he still recovering from the surgery? Isn’t it too early to leave?

  I have no idea where Ray got that info, but he did not seem like he was bluffing. Ray will nev
er play with my feelings. The information is not enough, though. He did not tell me what time Damien will leave or if he would be taking a bus or train. On second thought, he has cars. He can leave any time of the day. That just makes it almost impossible for me to stop him. There’s no way I can stop him now.

  So here I am still standing in the midst of the crowded street with my head just spinning around with ‘what-ifs.’

  “Angel, are you going to the station now?”

  “No.” I am not going there.

  “Seriously? You’re not going after Damien?”

  “No.” My voice begins to break. A huge lump blocks my throat, and I feel like gagging. Even my chest is heavy. There’s no escape from whatever it is that’s causing me all these pain. All I know is I want to rid of it. It is building up—and some time later, I might burst if it remains there. The confusion and frustration I’m feeling is just too much.

  It is done.

  All is done with Damien and me.

  His leaving tells me so much about his apathy and indifference towards me. It stings more than hearing direct rejection. I did not know it would hurt like this to be left with nothing… with no closure, with no goodbyes.

  Damien might have given away his forgiveness to anyone, that he cannot spare some for me. Perhaps, he’s totally over me. Perhaps what we have was not worthy of keeping.

  There’s no use to let these tears free. The man responsible for these tears has chosen to walk out the doors of my life. Crying for someone who doesn’t have the courage to see the hurt he’s caused me and won’t be there to wipe my tears away, is an absolute waste. It is worse than lunacy.

  Then what was it between us? What were we?

  Just an item? Just a speck of amusement for a bored Etheridge? Just a thing of the past?

  He was not really serious about me, was he?