“He is with another woman. Much older than you.”
My teeth tightened as I glared at him evilly. Despite the worry on his face, I couldn’t thank him. He truly knows how to ruin my life.
“What do I care?”
I finally got into the cab, but not to go home but rather to the Island Motel Bar. Even though my chest tightened at the thought of being slapped by the truth the instant I walked in, I braced myself. It is better to be hurt by the truth than to appear foolish for the rest of your life. If Raviel’s accusations are accurate, it would be best to see them face-to-face, so I know I’m going to give up hope that the person I love will return to me.
My breathing became heavier, as did my feelings. I think I’m going to die of chest pain. If Ismael already had someone, why didn’t he inform me? Do I truly have no right to know this from him? I hope it is evident that I have nothing to expect. He ought to have confronted me, just as he did when he exposed his dick with the intention of engaging in sexual activity. He gave the impression that he was using me by abandoning me; why hasn’t he done it yet? Why can’t he tell me face-to-face and verify that everything he stated was false?
I grabbed my chest, trying to recover my breath, but every time I remembered what Raviel had told me, I was filled with rage. Can I handle seeing him with someone else?
I got out of the car when I arrived at the Island Motel Bar. My hands are shaking. Is this how Mrs. Enciso described his haste to Marcus University? But we are not the same. She has the right. She is the wife of Professor Sybill, while I am just a girlfriend of Ismael. Am I still his girlfriend?
My knees feel weak, like if they had feelings of their own. Both are scared of what they might witness and want to flee. What should I say if I see him? What shall I do?
I came to a halt when I saw the man I had been seeking, Ismael, emerge from the pub. I quickly lost all of my vitality. How does he manage to stand on his own two feet while I struggle? Am I truly nothing for him? Is everything actually a lie?
“Mael!”
When a woman called him, I felt as if I had been stabbed a thousand times. That woman grinned and grasped his arm.
It was quite tough to breathe. Why is it like this?
I tried to look away, but what I saw transformed me into a statue. Raviel was correct. Ismael is with a woman. That girl is stunning, and in comparison with me, I actually have nothing. It is true that if Ismael saw a woman like this, he would easily forget about me. We’re actually done, because I’ve got all of the answers to my inquiries now. He basically used me.
I turned with all my strength to the man who had turned his back to me first. It feels like I’ve been killed a thousand times, and I swear to God that I wish I had done it literally. I wish I’d just been stabbed. Because it is the same, it causes the same suffering.
I’ve been crying for a few nights. I thought my tears had run out. But still not yet.
I didn’t attend several interviews since I simply couldn’t. I can’t go out like this, with puffy eyes and no voice.
I check my reflection in the mirror. I have shed a lot of weight. Is this still me? If I don’t eat, I’m confident that my immune system will be severely compromised.
I felt sorry for my appearance. I feel this way because of a man. I’m deceiving myself too much, and I feel like I’m the one lacking. Is someone like me not worth loving?
“Jothea, this is enough,” I begged myself. “Get your head off of him. Please. Think of yourself. Fix yourself for Pete’s sake.”
I stood there for a while staring at myself, before a call jolted me back to reality. Even though I felt weak, I forced myself to grab my phone and answer the call. Unknown phone number.
I responded to it. “H-hello?”
“Hi! This is from the Loeisal Malmdan Company. Is this Miss Jothea Alvandra?”
I was left speechless. I checked my phone again to ensure that I was talking to someone. I wiped my cheeks and straightened up. “Speaking.”
“Great! I’m asking you to a job interview tomorrow for the post of marketing associate because you are one of the applicants with strong credentials. Could you please let me know whether you are available at nine a. m.?”
“Y-yes, Sir. I will be there.”
I caught my breath as I looked in my own mirror. If I was crying before because of my unhappy existence, I’m now smiling like mad. I cried again, but for a different reason: I was about to enter the LMC. Well, as an interviewee, that is a big thing. I need to prepare.
*****
I was astounded by the scale and height of the LMC building. Fuck. Am I dreaming? Is it real that I’m in front of my ideal company?
Gosh, I need to calm down. They’ll interview me. Relax, Jothea. Chill.
I inhaled and exhaled, attempting to keep my composure. I’m dressed simply for business and clutching my curriculum vitae in an envelope. I can’t believe this is actually happening. I suppose this marks the beginning of my adulthood. Even if I have a lot of problems ahead of me, I still need to work and progress.
I entered the building and walked directly to the room where the other applicants were. The guard stated previously that the applicants should wait here. To be honest, my chest was really worried. So this is how I feel while applying for jobs, particularly at my ideal employer. When I entered the casino, I had a backer, so the fear of failing was not as great since the owner supports me.
“Good day to everyone. I am Martin.” The man, who was taller than us, introduced himself as our interviewer for the day. His body is slim, yet there is no denying that he has attractive features and beauty. He glanced at his wristwatch before returning his attention to us. I looked behind me, assuming there were still people there. When I learned there were only five of us, my nervousness increased even more. Is LMC so picky about their applications that only five are left for screening? I wonder how many of us will be successful in our careers. Can I pass?
“So it’s now nine o’clock, and we’re going to start our group interview. Mr. Yves Roize, the marketing supervisor, is here with me. He’ll be one of the assessors,” Sir Martin explained, introducing himself to the man next to him with good posture and muscle. That individual, like Sir Martin, formerly belonged to a different class. He also has a good appearance, yet he appears grumpy, particularly in the way he looks at us. It’s scary. But, unfairly, if we pass, he will be working beside us in the marketing department.
When his eyes met mine, I gulped in disbelief. His eyes were chilly, and he was looking at me; he appeared to be inspecting my entire existence. What the hell? Because of what he did, I became conscious.
“Our marketing manager, Miss Jenna Levanier, will be here later to do the final assessment.”
So, we will conduct three assessments today? Why do I feel that I won’t make it out of here alive? It’s okay to be nervous, right?
I inhaled deeply. I know I can accomplish it. I can talk back to others; this interview will be easy for me I hope.
Mr. Martin is situated before us, adjacent to Mr. Roize, and if examining each of us individually, but it feels like he was about to devour us. Gosh. I am merely seeking employment; why do I feel as though my life is in danger?
“Miss Alvandra, tell me something about yourself that isn’t in your curriculum vitae,” Sir Martin said, making me extremely nervous.
I didn’t respond right away because I didn’t expect his question. He shifted his eyes to the person next to me, as if he was asking the same question to them, and no longer me. The individual next to me didn’t respond also, so we exchanged glances. We both missed the opportunity to respond to the interviewee’s first question. Shit. Am I failing?
“How did you get here?” Sir Martin asked the man at the end. Earlier, he appeared approachable, but now it’s as if we’re going to die from the volume of his queries. Is this truly how a job interview goes?
“Well, sir, I arrived by tricycle. Actually, I took three automobiles from my place to get here.” The person answered boldly, which astounded me. The same was true for the other two applicants that Sir Martin questioned next.
The group interview continues. They appeared to be measuring our ability to express ourselves clearly. They also make us feel at ease around them. Of course, they’ll choose someone who will accompany them. Hoping that I eventually got the hang of it. While I was still unable to recover, the other applicants impressed me with their responses to Sir Martin.
“Now we’ll move on to the second section of the interview. This is to test your vocabulary and how well you understand the meaning of each word.”
I maintain my posture and keep my chin raised. I can feel the pressure in the interview room, which is suddenly filling my chest. Each of the applications is significantly more competitive than I anticipated. I’m nervous, too.
“How do you differentiate loyalty from commitment?” Sir Martin inquired, and I expected him to point to me to respond, but he was talking to the lady next to me.
“Umm, Sir Martin, loyalty differs from commitment. Since loyalty is about staying faithful to something-”
The woman hadn’t finished her response when Sir Martin turned to me, which shocked me. But I need to recover. Here’s my chance. That’s why I opened my mouth right away, eager for another chance to prove myself.
“Loyalty is picking something even when there are many other options available, whereas commitment is devoting yourself to that specific choice and sticking to it even if you know there is something better. That’s when loyalty kicks in. Actually, you can be loyal without making a commitment. In a firm, for example, if you’ve already quit, implying that there is no commitment between the two of you, you may demonstrate your loyalty by continuing to support your brand more than the other competitors in the market,” I said at length, praying that my words were correct. Hopefully, this is the answer they are seeking. Sir Martin gave a modest smile and a firm nod.
“How about prudentiality? What is prudence?” he asked the other applicant. I heaved a sigh of relief, but only because I assumed someone else could answer that. Sir Martin stared at me again while waiting for me to speak, as if he were dissatisfied with the response my buddy gave.
I cleared my throat and responded. “Prudence differs from wisdom. Let me compare them so they are easier to understand. Wisdom is ‘this is the correct thing to do’, whereas prudence is ‘this is the appropriate thing to do if you experienced this.'” I quoted. “Wisdom is the highest form of knowledge, more on the rational side, while prudence is making decisions with empathy and sympathy, a practical thinking that considers a good end.”
Because of the books I’ve read in the last few weeks, I had something to say to him today. I’m not a particularly diligent student, but because I want to graduate, I did my best to pass the final tests. And now I’m applying some of what I’ve learned.
“What about integrity? Miss Alvandra, how do you define ‘integrity’?”
A question that astonished me. Not because I was asked again, but because of what Sir Martin asked me. When the recollection returned to me, I swallowed for a few moments.
“Integrity, Miss Alvandra.”