"Feliza, I told you that I'm going to be busy tonight and I don't have the time to celebrate." I said as I sat down on my swivel chair just right beside my table.
"Why are you saying that like it's not a big deal?" Feliza asked.
And I replied, "Uh, because it's really not a big deal?"
"Not a big deal? Can you hear yourself, Genevieve? Come on! Even for just one night? Can't you take work off of your mind even for just one night?"
I tried to ignore what Feliza said as I focused on the screen of the monitor. I'm trying to be practical and rational here. I'm trying to save time. And anyway, what's the use of celebrating? I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm a grown up, and a grown up is meant to work, work, and work.
"Genevieve, please."
I once again ignored her even if I know that she doesn't take 'no' as an answer. I acted like I'm busy with what I'm currently working on; looking what's inside of every white folders on my table, and typing every word on the keyboard with my eyes carefully looking for errors on the monitor.
Feliza Allyn is my only close friend. And sometimes, she can be really irritating and annoying. But on top of it all, is her amazing ability of being persistent like a child.
"Genevieve, hear me on this one."
I sighed.
How can she remember what's with today? I'm the one who should be asking her to celebrate with me. Yet to me, it doesn't look like that base from what's happening right now.
"Genevieve Cloepfil, hear me out." She said in a sing-song voice, and then she plastered out a gummy smile right after.
I finally gave up and looked at her instead. She's still smiling while I was thinking of ways to divert her attention.
"I don't have a huge amount of money to celebrate, Feliza. I can't afford to—"
"I never told you that you should have a huge amount of money," She almost rolled her eyes. "All I ever told you is that you should come with me tonight. That you should celebrate your 27th birthday with me."
Right, right. It's my 27th birthday. But why do I need to celebrate it? It's just another normal day. It's just, 27 years ago, my biological mother had me and brought me out of her beautiful body to finally see the world. But instead of raising me, she gave me to her sister, to my aunt.
"Please don't think that we shouldn't be celebrating your birthday. Plus, I already reserved a table for two, Genevieve. It's going to be a complete waste of money if you are going to refuse my offer. I'm telling you that."
I sighed again, and I lost count on how many times I did that for today. To be honest, I really don't have the time to celebrate my birthday. And I feel like I don't have a reason to celebrate it too. I should be working on what I need to write for the part of the magazine that I am assigned to. As a magazine journalist, I should always prioritize that. And celebrating my birthday tonight is not going to do me any good.
"I promise that you will have so much fun. And that you will never forget this night for the rest of your life." Feliza covered half of her face with her hand, like something naughty suddenly appeared in her mind that she doesn't have the power to prevent.
I rolled my eyes at her, "Fine, I will—"
"Yes!!! That's the Genevieve I know! I'll pick you up later from your apartment. 9 PM, sharp. Wear something sexy and attention-grabbing. Bye!"
With that, my only close friend, Feliza Allyn, disappeared.
It's probably because break time is over and that their manager is going to scold her again for being here in our building. She belongs to the other building; just right beside where I belong to. And I'm more than certain that it's going to buy her more than 15 minutes to get there.
Sure as hell, she's going to get another pep talk from their manager. And that's one of the things that she hates the most.
As for me, I continued working and reading to finally be able to write something. It's been 5 hours now, and I still can't think of how I am going to tell this story on a magazine.
Well, I'm certain that writers do sometimes conquer this kind of unbearable block out. Maybe it's because I'm forcing myself to write? I believe that it's better to write if you're in a good mood or not feeling lazy at all. But how am I supposed to do that? The deadline of this paper is the day after tomorrow. I don't have the time to wait for my system being in a good mood just to do my work. So, it leaves me in a situation wherein I have to force myself to write to be able to accomplish it.
That's my whole world for 3 years now.
Back when I just started, I remember being a hopeful and a dreamer kind of a young woman. Well, I was 24 years old that day. And now that I'm on my late twenties, all I remember is that I suddenly just felt burnt out of everything. Sure I'm sure, I'm passionate about my job; about writing. But I'm stuck in this phase, in this cycle that I badly want to end and quit.
I mean, don't get me wrong. I also fell in love with my job, with being a magazine journalist. Since the day that I set foot on the floor of this building, I knew that I'm one of the lucky ones that made it.
This publishing company is not just any publishing company.
It's one of the most recognized publishing company across the globe. And it is named after the CEO of the company that is a son of another business icon.
The one and only, Conrad Easton.
"Good afternoon, sir."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Easton."
"You look ravishing as always, sir."
"Indeed, gorgeous just like his father."
I grimaced when I heard some of my co-workers greeting and complimenting our boss, the CEO. I can't tell if they're doing it genuinely or they're doing it to get a raise for their salary.
Everyone is hungry for a raise these days, and that's a universal fact.
Just like every normal day, he passes by my cubicle and the other's on his way to the elevator whenever he enters and exits the building. It happens every morning, noon, afternoon, and even on the evening when he's still around employees on overtime.
I lost my focus when I heard Mr. Easton talk.
"Good afternoon." His voice was throaty. It sounded extremely formal.
Simple, yet enough for my eyes to stop reading and look up. And as if it was a movie, the moment that my eyes look up, was also the moment that he passed by my cubicle. Flashing a small smile that is genuine and radiant.
I was taken aback.
I never saw him smile to anyone. Specially to an employee. And if he ever smiles, it's probably in front of flashing cameras. Or a photoshoot of him in the making; his picture about to be on the front page of a magazine.
His reputation is the only valuable thing to him that is worth smiling for.
And sometimes, I even wonder how he became the CEO of this company. He's not that talkative, not that good at entertaining people and his employees. Awful with his interpersonal skills. I see nothing else, but a man with knowledge towards business, and a man that is not fond of socializing.
Or maybe I'm just giving nasty prejudice? Am I bad for being like that?
I bet, I am.
I don't even know him personally, yet my judgements are over the limits.
I shook my head and focused on working anyway. I shouldn't be wasting time. If time is everybody's enemy, then, I shouldn't treat it the same way. Time should be my ally.
I spent the rest of my afternoon just like how I always do.
Working.
Reading files; searching details and articles related to the topic that I'm writing about. And somehow, I was able to write lengthy statements that are enough to fill up a column. I was able to finish writing until working period was done.
On my way home, I took a bus because my car is still under maintenance. It's been a week now, and my baby is still not in a good condition. Led me to a situation wherein I have to commute going to work, and coming home from work.
As I enter my condominium, I took off both of my sneakers and I went to my bedroom. Without hesitations, I laid my body on the soft mattress.
