1 – The Patriot in Pajamas

Aiah’s POV

.

I mean ship.

Oh dammit.

So I curse. So what? There’s a lot more about me that’s even worse. For one, I got fired from my second job as a fu—reaking secretary of a maniac who knows none about writing his own emails whether personal or for business or even about his wife and daughter. I have no idea how he managed to get rich but I guess money cannot buy dignity.

Now here I am, outside a building I can barely remember how I got to, unfortunately still jobless. It’s been one month and I can barely eat anything aside from instant noodles and kimchi. You can just imagine how angry my landlady is. She’s very old but the won’t shut up when it comes to rent. One night, she rammed her cane on my door so hard that I came out screaming “The North Koreans are here!” Until now, the other tenants won’t forget the damned thing and even called me “The Patriot in Pajamas.”

Well anyway, I have to get a job if I don’t wanna be a skinny homeless patriot who curses a lot. I just received a text message from a friend and told me she has a job for me. I haven’t asked what it is yet but I trust her judgment. She’s a nurse. And she’s never overdosed a patient before. Except for that one instance when she had to repeatedly poke a needle in my arm to get blood sample because she couldn’t find the ing vein. Excluding that, she’s a good nurse.

“Oh my goodness, Aiah! How are you? You look thinner!”

A y and fine looking woman greeted me. Her brown curls fell neatly on her back and she slightly puffy cheeks went up to a cute smile. Seeing her feels like meeting Santa Claus. That kind of happy feeling. I have no idea how else to describe it

“Well, I just wondered if I could be an idol.”

“Haha. Still sarcastic, I see.”

Wendy hugged me so tight it felt like I was being squeezed to the last drop. But it’s okay. She is such a breath of positivity and I wonder why I let myself not see her for over a month. We sat across each other and ordered a whole cheese pizza and iced tea before filling each other with 42 days-worth of news about each other. It’s a girl thing.

“You should have called me. My place is small but it can still accommodate a good friend.” She said ever fondly of me.

“I’m broke but I still have my pride.” I joked, wondering if she will ask to split the bill after.

I’m such a bad friend.

“I don’t remember you having any pride. Especially for that guy from before. What’s his name again?”

“Don’t even,” I warned, trying not to sound bitter.

Because the thing is, I am still bitter. Probably forever bitter.

“Have you found him?” She asked as the food arrived.

I shook my head and for a few rare moments, I had nothing to say. A thousand emails, a few hundred people and some five cities after, I didn’t find even a shadow. Maybe he disappeared for good. Maybe he was also on the run, away from me that is. Maybe he died. Maybe… maybe he became a unicorn and became a Starbucks coffee flavor. But the bottom line is, five years later, I still haven’t found him.

“About that job,” I politely changed the subject.

“Oh. Yes. Here,” Wendy took out a neat business card from her bag and handed it to me.

I was surprised upon reading it. A newspaper? Wow.

“You were a journalism undergraduate, weren’t you? Well they’re looking for junior correspondents and photojournalists so I thought of you. One of the patients at the hospital handed me this card.”

She looked at me as if I was something rare. I shook my head and placed the card on the table. I took a bite from my pizza while she just watched.

“Why not? I’ve read your blogs and it’s not 5 years of office work can change.”

“I just… don’t thing I can write anymore.” My voice seemed to lose its strength.

“If this is because of that guy again, I swear I’ll chase him out of his cave and skin him alive.”

Yes, it’s actually because of him.

“Of course not. I just don’t think I can—“

“Just try. Think. You need money. And unless you wanna go back home and prove your parents right about you being a failure, take the chance.”

Take the chance.

I got home a little after 11pm after a couple of beers I drank alone. Five years have passed since that day and until now, the pain in my chest is still fresh. It never left me though sometimes, I get too drunk to notice it. But it’s always there.

I lay awake in bed, looking up at the lizard on the ceiling… wondering if it falls accidentally all the time or… if it sometimes falls on purpose. You know, just wondering whether someone would catch it.

I’m drunk as am I not?

You did this to me, Lay. Just where the hell are you?”

**

“And how do you pronounce your name?” The woman in a crisp black suit asked.

“Aiah… uh… as in Kenya. But without the uh… K and N.” I answered nervously.

A man with a tiger printed on his shirt chuckled and I turned my head so fast to glare at him. Why is he even here with me again? I was in no mood for humor as my headache seemed to split my skull in two. I decided to go to the newspaper office for an interview even with a hangover because Mrs. Landlady asked me about the rent yet again. And I happened to tell her I already have a job and that it was actually my first day today.

“Ooookay… So it’s E-ya?” She said, holding back her own laugh.

“Yup.” I momentarily closed my eyes to hide the fact that I just rolled them at her.

I was already feeling so sick that seeing that good for nothing guy isn’t helping. I massaged my temple and tried so hard to stay calm. I can’t lose my this time. Not now.

“Okay then, since you’ve filled out the information sheets,” she gave each of us a piece of paper with a web address on it, “Please complete the written exam when you get home on this website. We’ll decide from there on who will get the job. Any questions?”
“Yes.” I said, “Can I go home now?”

“Loser,” the guy mumbled and I just ignored him.

“Yes you can, Ms. Aiah. And take care of that hangover.”

“Oh? You knew? Haha. Well thank you and I’ll see you next week, Ma’am.” I smiled and went for the door.

“I like your confidence,” The guy yet again mumbled.

Ignored.

“You are some kind of a , aren’t you?” He slightly looked up at me as I’m taller, “I’ll beat you.”

“The only thing you’ll beat is your own .” I made sure I enunciated properly.

“Tss.”

He turned and just as he did, he ran into another man holding what smelled like coffee. Well at least the tiger on his shirt tasted some caffeine. I didn’t stay around to laugh at him as my head is barely attached on my shoulders.

When I got home, I crashed in my bed and buried my head under the pillow. It felt like there were throbbing speakers in my ears. I heard my phone ringing but all I did was turn on the side where my mirror was. And there, in the afternoon sun, I saw my own face. My cheeks are ashen, my eyes are now bloodshot. I felt like hell and my frizzy black hair is already a mess. I can tell how much weight I lost and it depresses me a lot.

“Good Boy” started playing next door and I saw my lips slightly curve up to a tired smile. I dragged myself off the bed and my laptop. I’m used to working even in my worst condition. I’m used to being hurt that I can numb the pain at will.

I logged on to the website I was given and started reading the details for the article. I’ll get this job. Plus, Good Boy is like my goddamned jam.

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