The Emancipation of a Fuckboy - Chapter 63: Chapter 63
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Dominic
I would've never imagined myself going back to Singapore in just a few months after leaving. I never treated Singapore something like home, and there are a few reasons for that. One, I stayed here for the entire time I was in college, and during those years, I never had a chance to have real bonding with my dad, not even once. Two, I never really found any long-term friends here, I have known a few, but we only became friends for one semester, and the next semester they've already found a new circle of friends. And Three, this is the place where I grieved for all of the pain caused by the problem I, myself, created. Just to be clear, I don't hate this place, but I just didn't have the best experience, and I couldn't even help but ponder about the underlying fact that I am here to grieve once again. I never really fully healed from last time, and here I am again.
When I just got off the plane three weeks ago, my dad was surprisingly there waiting for me, and he was waving this placard with my name written on it. It was like a quick flashback to when my mom and my sister came to get me at the airport, and they were doing the same thing just a few months ago. Perhaps the word to describe it was cheesy, and If I was a teenager, I'd be more than embarrassed about this silly act; instead, I almost shed a tear. It was just an almost thing, and I'm well aware that I don't want my ego to be bruised by this small drama, so I kept the feeling all to myself. I was more than ready to travel alone again, just like I did a few years ago when I first got here. I was more than prepared to travel alone now and sit in the backseat of a random taxi, lean my head against the window and listen to some sad music while crying internally.
Not in a million years that I would expect my dad to be fetching me at an airport in this lifetime. He used to fetch me at school when I was still young, which is probably part of why I almost cried. It brings so many memories of when things are so much simpler and innocent.
My dad treated me to a very expensive dinner after we arrived at the airport. It's the first time that I tasted caviar, and though it tasted so much like ocean water, the overall experience was immaculate. Somehow I was happy that I got the chance to have a long conversation with him for the first time in how many years. It doesn't matter how expensive the dinner was, but that moment helped me breathe from what I'm going through. However, I will admit the fact that I was a little disappointed that we only talked about normal stuff. He gave me a slight hint about knowing that I'm gay, but we never really got into a serious volley about it because his phone kept on ringing. I appreciated the fact that he tried to put his phone on silent mode and focus on our father-son moment, but they keep on making his phone ring, and he had to pick it up in the end. Perhaps, the reason why we only talked about shallow things was that I was still adjusting to this phase. It would've been lovely to hear him disapprove of some of my terrible decisions in life. I have grown so much and learned a lot of things without hearing my dad's opinions, suggestions, and even negative reactions. I sort of depended on my mom and my friends' advice and opinions on how to do this and that.
My dad had to move here to work when I was still in grade school, and through the years, there's a huge gap that was created between us. We're still close as a family, but there are a lot of milestones in my life that he missed. He missed the first time I won a real competition. He missed the time when my voice started cracking up like a duck due to this earthly thing called adolescence. He missed the first time I was in a play playing the role of tree number two and ghost number one. We used to have a lot of video calls during his early years here; however, that gradually changed to nothing but short phone calls and emails after he got promoted to a higher position.
After the dinner, everything went back to the way it used to be, and I'm not even surprised. I guess my dad coming up to get me at the airport was just a blatant coincidence in his schedule. He just had a small break that day, and it so happened that I was arriving. I don't really want to make it a big deal about it. My head is already going through a lot, and creating a problem out of this one is just like putting the last rubber band that will make a watermelon explode.
During my first week here, there's nothing exciting that happened. My mom called and told me that Valentine kept on coming back looking for me almost every day, and they were already growing tired of it. I just told her to stick with the story until he gives up. The truth is, I'm not entirely sure if Valentine will give up, but I know if they just keep on telling him the same story over and over again that he'll get tired and just give up on me.
I submitted my resume to the firm, and I was told to wait for a phone call. While waiting for that phone call, I didn't have any other choice but to distract myself from playing video games and watching TV series just to get through the day.
My second week had a drastic turn. The result of my test finally came to my email, and fear struck me to the bones. It took me almost a day just to decide whether I should open it or not. Fear won over me, and I decided not to open it until I'm ready.
The last time I was here, I was drunk almost every night, and I told myself to change. I know I'm hurting on so many levels. The thought of Valentine going to our house every day is so much distressing. I know exactly what he wants, but I chose to walk the hardest path and forget him. The agony of just reminiscing the past is already gutting me from the inside out, but I wanted to try to forget about Valentine in general, and I partially convinced myself that I can do it by doing non-alcoholic activities. At first, I was successful at it that I already claimed that I can do this without the help of booze, blinking lights, and hangovers. And then there came the result of my HIV test, and I threw everything away.
Going into my third week here, my drinking habit had taken over me. I was drunk almost every night which is typical of me, and there's no one here to stop me. When I finally received the phone call from the firm, I was still drunk and had to go through the interview under the influence of alcohol.
"Mr. Dominic Warren, right?" The tall woman with a high ponytail who was assisting the interviewer called for my attention.
"Yes, that's me" I nodded anxiously, covering my mouth. I went drinking last night as usual, and I didn't know today was going to be the interview. I haven't had any good night's sleep, my breath reeks of alcohol trying to escape my body, and I'm literally shuddering that I might not get this job.
"Follow me please," She said and began walking towards the room where we all had the interview. I took a quick glance at the other candidates who are sitting with me waiting for the results, and they looked like they lost a pageant competition. I stood up, adjusted my suit, and then followed the woman.
"Take your seat," The woman said as soon as we were both inside the room.
"Thank you," I said and sat at the same chair where I sat when we had the interview an hour ago.
"Mr. Dominic!" The woman murmured. She smiled at me for a moment and then set her eyes to read something on the paper that he was holding. This is my first time taking a real job interview, and I didn't realize how nerve-wracking it is to wait for the results.
"...." I was getting more agitated on the inside. Her expression doesn't sit well with me.
"Congratulations!" She cheered, and I was about to jump out of happiness. "Mrs. Lee says that your interview was the best and that you are the best out of everyone."
"Really? Oh my god." I was smiling from ear to ear. This clearly meant that I got the job.
"But," The woman said, immediately cutting my joyous triumph. The breath of relief and the smile that I have were all washed up to nothing but fear.
"But, what?"
"Mrs. Lee hates drinking. She absolutely condemns alcohol and she knew you were drunk that is why she's disappointed."
"I...I'm n..." I thought of lying for a second, but then I guess I reek so much of alcohol that they smelled me even from the distance that we had while having the interview. "I didn't know today was the interview so...."
"I understand. I drink too but I only do it during my day off and when my boss is on a business trip."
"F***," I muttered under my breath.
"Unfortunately, we are not going to accept you for now. Mrs. Lee saw a lot of potential in you and she'll be glad to hire you in the next three months. And of course she's expecting you to be sober when you apply again." The woman went on. "You are now free to go."
"Thank you," I spat, hiding the fact that I'm pissed.
"And can you please call Ms. Mendoza on your way out?"
"Okay,"
I walked out of the room with nothing but frustration and disappointment burning up inside me. The heat felt so much like hell that I immediately wanted to find some fresh air or even just a gust of wind. I literally got the job, but just because I reek of alcohol, they changed their mind? What the actual f***!
I walked straight out of the building and didn't even call the person that that woman was asking for. I did not mean to be that disrespectful, but I don't want to explode with a lot of people watching. I ended up walking a few kilometers going back to my dad's penthouse. I spent the entire walk thinking about how I failed myself. I'm sure I'd get over it soon enough. There are a lot of jobs out there, but damn, why does this have to happen when I'm already at the lowest point of my life? What did I ever do to deserve this much misery? Why do I have to go through this euphony of suffering?
I would've never imagined myself going back to Singapore in just a few months after leaving. I never treated Singapore something like home, and there are a few reasons for that. One, I stayed here for the entire time I was in college, and during those years, I never had a chance to have real bonding with my dad, not even once. Two, I never really found any long-term friends here, I have known a few, but we only became friends for one semester, and the next semester they've already found a new circle of friends. And Three, this is the place where I grieved for all of the pain caused by the problem I, myself, created. Just to be clear, I don't hate this place, but I just didn't have the best experience, and I couldn't even help but ponder about the underlying fact that I am here to grieve once again. I never really fully healed from last time, and here I am again.
When I just got off the plane three weeks ago, my dad was surprisingly there waiting for me, and he was waving this placard with my name written on it. It was like a quick flashback to when my mom and my sister came to get me at the airport, and they were doing the same thing just a few months ago. Perhaps the word to describe it was cheesy, and If I was a teenager, I'd be more than embarrassed about this silly act; instead, I almost shed a tear. It was just an almost thing, and I'm well aware that I don't want my ego to be bruised by this small drama, so I kept the feeling all to myself. I was more than ready to travel alone again, just like I did a few years ago when I first got here. I was more than prepared to travel alone now and sit in the backseat of a random taxi, lean my head against the window and listen to some sad music while crying internally.
Not in a million years that I would expect my dad to be fetching me at an airport in this lifetime. He used to fetch me at school when I was still young, which is probably part of why I almost cried. It brings so many memories of when things are so much simpler and innocent.
My dad treated me to a very expensive dinner after we arrived at the airport. It's the first time that I tasted caviar, and though it tasted so much like ocean water, the overall experience was immaculate. Somehow I was happy that I got the chance to have a long conversation with him for the first time in how many years. It doesn't matter how expensive the dinner was, but that moment helped me breathe from what I'm going through. However, I will admit the fact that I was a little disappointed that we only talked about normal stuff. He gave me a slight hint about knowing that I'm gay, but we never really got into a serious volley about it because his phone kept on ringing. I appreciated the fact that he tried to put his phone on silent mode and focus on our father-son moment, but they keep on making his phone ring, and he had to pick it up in the end. Perhaps, the reason why we only talked about shallow things was that I was still adjusting to this phase. It would've been lovely to hear him disapprove of some of my terrible decisions in life. I have grown so much and learned a lot of things without hearing my dad's opinions, suggestions, and even negative reactions. I sort of depended on my mom and my friends' advice and opinions on how to do this and that.
My dad had to move here to work when I was still in grade school, and through the years, there's a huge gap that was created between us. We're still close as a family, but there are a lot of milestones in my life that he missed. He missed the first time I won a real competition. He missed the time when my voice started cracking up like a duck due to this earthly thing called adolescence. He missed the first time I was in a play playing the role of tree number two and ghost number one. We used to have a lot of video calls during his early years here; however, that gradually changed to nothing but short phone calls and emails after he got promoted to a higher position.
After the dinner, everything went back to the way it used to be, and I'm not even surprised. I guess my dad coming up to get me at the airport was just a blatant coincidence in his schedule. He just had a small break that day, and it so happened that I was arriving. I don't really want to make it a big deal about it. My head is already going through a lot, and creating a problem out of this one is just like putting the last rubber band that will make a watermelon explode.
During my first week here, there's nothing exciting that happened. My mom called and told me that Valentine kept on coming back looking for me almost every day, and they were already growing tired of it. I just told her to stick with the story until he gives up. The truth is, I'm not entirely sure if Valentine will give up, but I know if they just keep on telling him the same story over and over again that he'll get tired and just give up on me.
I submitted my resume to the firm, and I was told to wait for a phone call. While waiting for that phone call, I didn't have any other choice but to distract myself from playing video games and watching TV series just to get through the day.
My second week had a drastic turn. The result of my test finally came to my email, and fear struck me to the bones. It took me almost a day just to decide whether I should open it or not. Fear won over me, and I decided not to open it until I'm ready.
The last time I was here, I was drunk almost every night, and I told myself to change. I know I'm hurting on so many levels. The thought of Valentine going to our house every day is so much distressing. I know exactly what he wants, but I chose to walk the hardest path and forget him. The agony of just reminiscing the past is already gutting me from the inside out, but I wanted to try to forget about Valentine in general, and I partially convinced myself that I can do it by doing non-alcoholic activities. At first, I was successful at it that I already claimed that I can do this without the help of booze, blinking lights, and hangovers. And then there came the result of my HIV test, and I threw everything away.
Going into my third week here, my drinking habit had taken over me. I was drunk almost every night which is typical of me, and there's no one here to stop me. When I finally received the phone call from the firm, I was still drunk and had to go through the interview under the influence of alcohol.
"Mr. Dominic Warren, right?" The tall woman with a high ponytail who was assisting the interviewer called for my attention.
"Yes, that's me" I nodded anxiously, covering my mouth. I went drinking last night as usual, and I didn't know today was going to be the interview. I haven't had any good night's sleep, my breath reeks of alcohol trying to escape my body, and I'm literally shuddering that I might not get this job.
"Follow me please," She said and began walking towards the room where we all had the interview. I took a quick glance at the other candidates who are sitting with me waiting for the results, and they looked like they lost a pageant competition. I stood up, adjusted my suit, and then followed the woman.
"Take your seat," The woman said as soon as we were both inside the room.
"Thank you," I said and sat at the same chair where I sat when we had the interview an hour ago.
"Mr. Dominic!" The woman murmured. She smiled at me for a moment and then set her eyes to read something on the paper that he was holding. This is my first time taking a real job interview, and I didn't realize how nerve-wracking it is to wait for the results.
"...." I was getting more agitated on the inside. Her expression doesn't sit well with me.
"Congratulations!" She cheered, and I was about to jump out of happiness. "Mrs. Lee says that your interview was the best and that you are the best out of everyone."
"Really? Oh my god." I was smiling from ear to ear. This clearly meant that I got the job.
"But," The woman said, immediately cutting my joyous triumph. The breath of relief and the smile that I have were all washed up to nothing but fear.
"But, what?"
"Mrs. Lee hates drinking. She absolutely condemns alcohol and she knew you were drunk that is why she's disappointed."
"I...I'm n..." I thought of lying for a second, but then I guess I reek so much of alcohol that they smelled me even from the distance that we had while having the interview. "I didn't know today was the interview so...."
"I understand. I drink too but I only do it during my day off and when my boss is on a business trip."
"F***," I muttered under my breath.
"Unfortunately, we are not going to accept you for now. Mrs. Lee saw a lot of potential in you and she'll be glad to hire you in the next three months. And of course she's expecting you to be sober when you apply again." The woman went on. "You are now free to go."
"Thank you," I spat, hiding the fact that I'm pissed.
"And can you please call Ms. Mendoza on your way out?"
"Okay,"
I walked out of the room with nothing but frustration and disappointment burning up inside me. The heat felt so much like hell that I immediately wanted to find some fresh air or even just a gust of wind. I literally got the job, but just because I reek of alcohol, they changed their mind? What the actual f***!
I walked straight out of the building and didn't even call the person that that woman was asking for. I did not mean to be that disrespectful, but I don't want to explode with a lot of people watching. I ended up walking a few kilometers going back to my dad's penthouse. I spent the entire walk thinking about how I failed myself. I'm sure I'd get over it soon enough. There are a lot of jobs out there, but damn, why does this have to happen when I'm already at the lowest point of my life? What did I ever do to deserve this much misery? Why do I have to go through this euphony of suffering?
End of The Emancipation of a Fuckboy Chapter 63. Continue reading Chapter 64 or return to The Emancipation of a Fuckboy book page.