Chapter 11
“Sigh – I think I’m in love.”
I look over at Kaelyn, who is lying on my bed, a very dreamy look on her face as she rests her head on one hand and nibbles the nail of a finger, a super typical “I-think-I-am-in-love” symptom – for Kaelyn, anyway.
“He says he likes how I sound on the phone. He’s been calling more often, even if just for a few minutes. He says hearing my voice really makes his day. Isn’t that sweet of him?”
Sweet? Lame is more like it. But I keep my mouth shut. This is not the time to wake Lyn up from her dream (or nightmare, depending on how you want to look at it).
She continues talking, not needing a reply from me, another typical “in-love” symptom. “Did I tell you he bought out all the flowers from the hotel gift shop that first day we met, at Redang Island?”
How could I forget? I was there! And I also recall that the hotel gift shop only had one small bucket of sorry looking pink roses, left over from who knows when.
Of course, again, no reply needed. The In-Love girl carries on. “He’s been so busy with work lately – he works so hard! Yet he tries to make time to see me, take me to dinner, and listens as I tell him about my day – he really listens to me! Oh, he’s just so – sigh – what’s that word? I dunno, I don’t want to think that he’s too good to be true, because he isn’t! He’s real, and sincere, but it’s just so, overwhelming, for now. Amazingly beautiful, yet overwhelming at the same time – sigh…”
Sigh, indeed. I wonder how long I have to put up with this. Ok, before you start calling me the heartless friend, or worse still, the jealous b*tch, let me explain the story to you. This “He” that Lyn is talking about, is none other than the world class playboy, Marcus Wang, Assistant Manager of the Finance Department at SD & Co. Why world class, you might ask. Easy. His ex-girlfriends ranged from Japanese to French to Arabian to Thai to English to Dutch to Australian to Indian… and the list goes on, not too different from the one they have at the Miss Universe Pageant, really. And Lyn, she’s just another contestant, another name on the list. So now you can understand why I am not quite enthusiastic about my best friend’s joy. In fact, if I am not in such a rush to complete my presentation for Monday’s meeting, I’ll throw myself at Lyn’s feet, explain to her for the ten thousandth’s time why she shouldn’t get involve with Marcus. But for now, I can only hope that one percent of the last nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine times of pleading went through to her love-lust clouded mind, somehow.
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Meanwhile, I have been working like a mad woman on this project – yes! The solo project, as Ean likes to put it – and frankly, I am happy to say that it’s been breezing smoothly so far, which really boosts my confidence. The only worrying part, if you consider it a worry, is that I’ve not met with the client, ever before, and we usually do, at least once, to go through the finer details of a proposal. But Senior Legal Assistant Julianne has assured me that it will not be problem at all.
“Furthermore,” she added, “despite Mr. Benedict being one of our company’s biggest client, It’s a very simple and straightforward proposal, Tutu, nothing that you’ve not handled before. I’m quite sure you’ll do fine with the information provided, and I’m really looking forward to your presentation on Monday. All of us are.”
Such high faith in me, especially coming from Julianne, is really quite a surprise. Does it mean I am finally getting somewhere?
Later on the same day, Ean also dropped by my desk and did a quick scan through the report I was still in progress of putting together. “Gosh Tu, you’re going to make the rest of us look bad! Do you have to do so much work?”
And before he left, he gave my shoulder a warm squeeze. “By the way, Lyn and Marcus seem to be going strong. Maybe we can double date some time?”
I gave him a shrug, not taking my eyes off the papers I was busy reading, and said, “Maybe.” Yup! I played it cool this time. Not bad huh? But we’ve yet to set a date, not that I’m encouraging Lyn and Marcus, of course.
And so, it’s early Saturday evening, and I am making final changes to the presentation, checking and cross checking to make sure I’ve got everything right. I am determine to complete everything by tonight, and spend tomorrow relaxing and preparing myself emotionally, spiritually, mentally and physically for the big day.
And Lyn is supposed to lend me moral support and assist me in achieving my objective, but the woman is still lying on my bed, day dreaming, no doubt.
“Hey,” I say to her, “aren’t you suppose to be making me dinner? I seem to recall the mention of some pasta and fresh salad on the menu. Are you expecting my microwave and the fridge to accomplish that all by themselves?”
............................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
I am in deep shit.
I totally and absolutely screwed up.
The presentation was a mess; I don’t even know where to start explaining the problem. In fact, I don’t even understand how there could ever have been a problem to begin with. I checked and double checked everything! I even run through the presentation three times, on three different laptops, and backed it up twice on CD and on my pen drive, just to make sure there will be no blunder during the presentation. Yet –
Oh-my-god, what’s going to happen? How will I face Julianne and Jason and Ean and the rest of the office? Everyone must already know of the disaster. They are probably talking about me right now, laughing at me for being cocky and over confident when I left the office for the presentation this afternoon. I was looking so smart too, in a grey shirtdress with matching belt cinched across the waist, my favorite black leather tote and a pair of spiky black heels.
Now the dress is a crumpled heap, the heels long discarded, and the bag flung under the table, away from sight, because the mere glimpse of my files and folders reminds me of my failure and throws me into break-down mode.
I can’t think – all I do is sit on the floor against my bed and stare at the wall. I can’t breath – my lungs are pumping out air even as I try to draw more in, and I end up panting, like I’ve ran up four flights of stairs. I can’t feel myself – there is a numb sensation going through my body; I know my arm is resting right beside my body, yet I can’t really feel it anymore. In the silence of the room, my heart seems to be beating extremely loud, all I hear is “thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…” amplified through the space, or maybe it’s all just in my head?
A banging sound brings me out of the reverie long enough to realize that I’ve been sitting in total darkness, for how long I don’t know, and there’s someone outside calling my name. I am in no mood to see anyone; I’m just going to stay still and quiet in here, and whoever that is will go away.
“Tutu Tan! I know you are in there! Just stop swimming in your self pity for two seconds and let me in!”
It’s Kaelyn. How did she know about -? Marcus, of course. Oh gawd! That means even the other departments have heard about my fiasco! Shit! I might as well just kill my self now.
Knock-knock-knock.
She’s at my bedroom window now. It’s a good thing the curtains are drawn.
“Tutu! We both know you’ll never commit suicide because you want to die beautifully, and you probably look like shit at the moment, so just open the door and let me in!”
Ha! That’s my best friend for you; she knows me too well.
“Tutu! Do you want me to call the boys and break down the door? ‘Cos they’re just outside, waiting in the car.”
That does it. There’s no way I can afford to buy Mr. Sachiiya a new door; after today, I’m not even sure if I still have a job. And I gather by “the boys” she meant Marcus and Ean, and they definitely, absolutely, seriously, totally can-NOT see me in the state that I am at the moment.
I push myself off the floor and walk slowly to the door. Kaelyn stands patiently on the other side, wearing a very pretty flowy top over a pair of funky shorts. She holds out a box of Tarot cards.
“Wanna play Tarots? Or would you rather find out what the stars have in store for you?”
She’s teasing me, trying to make me laugh, and it almost work. But at the familiar sight of my best friend, something inside snaps, and it really really hurts.
I look over at Kaelyn, who is lying on my bed, a very dreamy look on her face as she rests her head on one hand and nibbles the nail of a finger, a super typical “I-think-I-am-in-love” symptom – for Kaelyn, anyway.
“He says he likes how I sound on the phone. He’s been calling more often, even if just for a few minutes. He says hearing my voice really makes his day. Isn’t that sweet of him?”
Sweet? Lame is more like it. But I keep my mouth shut. This is not the time to wake Lyn up from her dream (or nightmare, depending on how you want to look at it).
She continues talking, not needing a reply from me, another typical “in-love” symptom. “Did I tell you he bought out all the flowers from the hotel gift shop that first day we met, at Redang Island?”
How could I forget? I was there! And I also recall that the hotel gift shop only had one small bucket of sorry looking pink roses, left over from who knows when.
Of course, again, no reply needed. The In-Love girl carries on. “He’s been so busy with work lately – he works so hard! Yet he tries to make time to see me, take me to dinner, and listens as I tell him about my day – he really listens to me! Oh, he’s just so – sigh – what’s that word? I dunno, I don’t want to think that he’s too good to be true, because he isn’t! He’s real, and sincere, but it’s just so, overwhelming, for now. Amazingly beautiful, yet overwhelming at the same time – sigh…”
Sigh, indeed. I wonder how long I have to put up with this. Ok, before you start calling me the heartless friend, or worse still, the jealous b*tch, let me explain the story to you. This “He” that Lyn is talking about, is none other than the world class playboy, Marcus Wang, Assistant Manager of the Finance Department at SD & Co. Why world class, you might ask. Easy. His ex-girlfriends ranged from Japanese to French to Arabian to Thai to English to Dutch to Australian to Indian… and the list goes on, not too different from the one they have at the Miss Universe Pageant, really. And Lyn, she’s just another contestant, another name on the list. So now you can understand why I am not quite enthusiastic about my best friend’s joy. In fact, if I am not in such a rush to complete my presentation for Monday’s meeting, I’ll throw myself at Lyn’s feet, explain to her for the ten thousandth’s time why she shouldn’t get involve with Marcus. But for now, I can only hope that one percent of the last nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine times of pleading went through to her love-lust clouded mind, somehow.
.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Meanwhile, I have been working like a mad woman on this project – yes! The solo project, as Ean likes to put it – and frankly, I am happy to say that it’s been breezing smoothly so far, which really boosts my confidence. The only worrying part, if you consider it a worry, is that I’ve not met with the client, ever before, and we usually do, at least once, to go through the finer details of a proposal. But Senior Legal Assistant Julianne has assured me that it will not be problem at all.
“Furthermore,” she added, “despite Mr. Benedict being one of our company’s biggest client, It’s a very simple and straightforward proposal, Tutu, nothing that you’ve not handled before. I’m quite sure you’ll do fine with the information provided, and I’m really looking forward to your presentation on Monday. All of us are.”
Such high faith in me, especially coming from Julianne, is really quite a surprise. Does it mean I am finally getting somewhere?
Later on the same day, Ean also dropped by my desk and did a quick scan through the report I was still in progress of putting together. “Gosh Tu, you’re going to make the rest of us look bad! Do you have to do so much work?”
And before he left, he gave my shoulder a warm squeeze. “By the way, Lyn and Marcus seem to be going strong. Maybe we can double date some time?”
I gave him a shrug, not taking my eyes off the papers I was busy reading, and said, “Maybe.” Yup! I played it cool this time. Not bad huh? But we’ve yet to set a date, not that I’m encouraging Lyn and Marcus, of course.
And so, it’s early Saturday evening, and I am making final changes to the presentation, checking and cross checking to make sure I’ve got everything right. I am determine to complete everything by tonight, and spend tomorrow relaxing and preparing myself emotionally, spiritually, mentally and physically for the big day.
And Lyn is supposed to lend me moral support and assist me in achieving my objective, but the woman is still lying on my bed, day dreaming, no doubt.
“Hey,” I say to her, “aren’t you suppose to be making me dinner? I seem to recall the mention of some pasta and fresh salad on the menu. Are you expecting my microwave and the fridge to accomplish that all by themselves?”
............................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
I am in deep shit.
I totally and absolutely screwed up.
The presentation was a mess; I don’t even know where to start explaining the problem. In fact, I don’t even understand how there could ever have been a problem to begin with. I checked and double checked everything! I even run through the presentation three times, on three different laptops, and backed it up twice on CD and on my pen drive, just to make sure there will be no blunder during the presentation. Yet –
Oh-my-god, what’s going to happen? How will I face Julianne and Jason and Ean and the rest of the office? Everyone must already know of the disaster. They are probably talking about me right now, laughing at me for being cocky and over confident when I left the office for the presentation this afternoon. I was looking so smart too, in a grey shirtdress with matching belt cinched across the waist, my favorite black leather tote and a pair of spiky black heels.
Now the dress is a crumpled heap, the heels long discarded, and the bag flung under the table, away from sight, because the mere glimpse of my files and folders reminds me of my failure and throws me into break-down mode.
I can’t think – all I do is sit on the floor against my bed and stare at the wall. I can’t breath – my lungs are pumping out air even as I try to draw more in, and I end up panting, like I’ve ran up four flights of stairs. I can’t feel myself – there is a numb sensation going through my body; I know my arm is resting right beside my body, yet I can’t really feel it anymore. In the silence of the room, my heart seems to be beating extremely loud, all I hear is “thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…” amplified through the space, or maybe it’s all just in my head?
A banging sound brings me out of the reverie long enough to realize that I’ve been sitting in total darkness, for how long I don’t know, and there’s someone outside calling my name. I am in no mood to see anyone; I’m just going to stay still and quiet in here, and whoever that is will go away.
“Tutu Tan! I know you are in there! Just stop swimming in your self pity for two seconds and let me in!”
It’s Kaelyn. How did she know about -? Marcus, of course. Oh gawd! That means even the other departments have heard about my fiasco! Shit! I might as well just kill my self now.
Knock-knock-knock.
She’s at my bedroom window now. It’s a good thing the curtains are drawn.
“Tutu! We both know you’ll never commit suicide because you want to die beautifully, and you probably look like shit at the moment, so just open the door and let me in!”
Ha! That’s my best friend for you; she knows me too well.
“Tutu! Do you want me to call the boys and break down the door? ‘Cos they’re just outside, waiting in the car.”
That does it. There’s no way I can afford to buy Mr. Sachiiya a new door; after today, I’m not even sure if I still have a job. And I gather by “the boys” she meant Marcus and Ean, and they definitely, absolutely, seriously, totally can-NOT see me in the state that I am at the moment.
I push myself off the floor and walk slowly to the door. Kaelyn stands patiently on the other side, wearing a very pretty flowy top over a pair of funky shorts. She holds out a box of Tarot cards.
“Wanna play Tarots? Or would you rather find out what the stars have in store for you?”
She’s teasing me, trying to make me laugh, and it almost work. But at the familiar sight of my best friend, something inside snaps, and it really really hurts.
I try to give her a smile for her effort, but the tears turn out to be quicker.
