Absinthe novel Chapter 20

Despite being the slut that I was, I still hadn't slept with Robert. In fact, I hadn't slept with anyone after JM. And in hindsight, I kind of wish I hadn't resisted Rob.

If I had done it with him that night in my Jacuzzi, he wouldn't have probably taken things to the next level.

And by next level, I mean the freaking flowers he'd been sending over to my place since that day! And chocolates from Belgium and France! And stupid teddy bears and random stuffed toys!

Ugh, what did he think of me? A schoolgirl?

Had he never courted another gay guy before? Was he patterning all his wooing to how straight men win over straight women's hearts? It was too cheesy for me to stomach.

Derrick passed by quietly as I was busy removing the sunflowers, roses, and tulips I had just received from the kitchen. He opened the fridge, took out a can of beer, and opened it.

"Hey," I said, giving him a heartfelt smile. I missed him. Although he was still living in my apartment, I'd barely seen him the past few days.

"Hey," he answered back lazily. "So Robert's still bombarding you with flowers, huh?"

"Yeah. It's pretty annoying," I said. "Wanna go out today? I wanted to do some shopping. My classes are finally starting tomorrow."

"Shopping? Nah, I'll pass." Derrick started walking back to his side of the condo.

"Hey!" I said, trying my best to keep the conversation going. "Are we okay?"

"We will be." Derrick asked in reply. "I was the one at fault. And I need to make it up to you. But work has been overwhelming. I promise to really patch things up with you once I get a breather from the hospital."

I nodded as I watched Derrick walk away. Maybe it was not yet the time for us to fully reconcile. I just wished I knew why he was so pissed off with me. It wasn't like it was his money I'd wasted on JM, right? So what was there to be upset about?

After getting rid of the useless flowers from Robert, I took a shower and readied myself to go shopping. This time, I wasn't going to go for the usual brands—I was looking to purchase several garments to wear in class. They would serve as my 'work clothes' once we started baking and cooking with Chef Maxwell. I couldn't possibly wear expensive outfits every day, right? I would just ruin them with all the mess I'd make in the kitchen.

When I got to the basement and reached my designated parking lot, I took a long look at my cars: my trusty BMW SUV, which was basically what I'd been using around the metro; and my closely guarded gem, a full option SL 550 Roadster Mercedes Benz.

Don't get me wrong—I didn't buy that ultra-luxurious car. God, I could never afford it! Just like my high-end suits and watches, the car had been given to me, too.

Now you might wonder who on earth gives ridiculously expensive cars to other people? That, ladies and gentlemen, is the reason why people like me choose to stay in the corporate world.

The two-seater convertible had been given to me by the Samsong Group's heir, Jungsoo Lee. It was the reward for half a year's worth of sleepless nights championing his merger project with the biggest semiconductor factory chain in Taiwan and China. I didn't really head the project, but I had taken care of all risk analyses and financial projections. It was vital for Samsong Group's heir to succeed because it was his way to shut the mouths of his father's lackeys and win the power struggle associated with transitions of ownership.

And boy did we succeed.

It had made international headlines—how Korea, or Samsong Group rather, finally monopolized the production of semiconductors in the world.

I had been reluctant to take the car, to be honest. I mean, for crying out loud, it was the type of car driven by millionaires like Faye and her husband.

I know it's difficult to understand my hesitation then. Hell, I doubt that I would've ever been able to understand myself had I not been exposed to that aspect of capitalism. The simplest way to explain it is this: these things are what capitalists use to bribe people like me to forget our dreams, to give up on our hopes and personal aspirations.

Why quit Samsong when I can enjoy all the luxuries any other salaried worker would never be able to lay their hands on?

Had I not been fired for kissing JM, I would probably still be slaving my life away, exchanging my hopes and dreams for sports cars and fine suits.

I had been exploited like your average factory worker, only it wasn't just my body that had been used to the point of deathly exhaustion but also my brain and my will to live.

I glanced at my cars again. Had it been worth it? Had I been happy back then? Was I happy now?

Before I could descend further into the endless pit of self-doubt, I figured I'd skip driving and use local transport instead.

It had been ages since I last used the metro's trains and buses, and it felt like it had been several lifetimes ago since I last rode the country's iconic jeepneys. I figured it would be an adventure to experience it all over again.

I should have known that it was a bad decision from the very first sign: I'd forgotten that there were no public transport vehicles coming in and out of the subdivision because, well, everyone who lived there was rich enough to have their own cars.

I almost gave up halfway as I walked from my building to the main entrance as the distance was quite lengthy and the morning sun was roasting me alive. As soon as I reached the gate, however, I was told by the security personnel that public transport vehicles do not pass by the area because of the general lack of passengers.

Apparently, the staff who work on the premises all use a scheduled shuttle bus provided by the property management. I ended up requesting the lobby staff to drop me off at the nearest place where I could take a jeepney. The property driver insisted on taking me straight to my destination, but I politely instructed him not to.

I got off a good number of kilometers away from the property. The driver said that was the place where most of the property staff would wait for the property's shuttle service. I took a jeepney headed for the EDSA-Taft LRT Station. I was one of the first few people inside. We waited for the jeepney to fill while the barker kept shouting our destination to get the attention of potential passengers.

It was a slow wait, probably because of the time. It was past 10 AM, and since most passengers on weekdays are employees, a lot of them were most likely already at work.

"Six more! Six more and we're leaving!" shouted the barker.

I made a quick count of the passengers inside. There were six seated in front of me and the two other passengers on my side of the vehicle. That jeepney is what they call a "niner" or "siyaman" in the local language. The term refers to the vehicle's capacity to seat nine passengers on each side.

Nine stick-thin passengers, mind you.

I was sorely tempted to pay the fare for the empty seats so we could go, but doing that would make me look like a big asshole. So instead, I waited like everyone else, and it took another 30 minutes to fill the jeepney. I was reminded why I had been so happy with the public transportation system in Seoul and why I had always dreaded the one here in my home country.

The only consolation I had was that we were all fairly slim and could sit comfortably.

Or so I thought.

"Two more! Two more! We're leaving soon!" cried the barker.

So the jeepney was not your usual niner but a "tenner."

Two more passengers came and squeezed themselves in the already full seats. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't used to the day-to-day hustle and bustle of the metro anymore, so I got my ass booted out of the seat.

About 90% of my total ass area lay hanging beyond the edge of the seat. I had to hold on tight to the metal bar on the ceiling of the jeepney to stop myself from fully falling over.

Help me, God!

The slow process of each passenger handing their fare to the next person until it reaches the driver started. I hastily took out my wallet, and what I saw convinced me that taking public transport that day was the worst decision ever: I only had one-thousand-peso bills inside.

Naturally, I did the stupidest thing I could think of.

I called everyone's attention and asked them to stop paying. The passengers all looked at me like I had several loose screws.

"Uh, it's my treat!" I explained, avoiding their skeptical eyes and fighting the urge to literally face-palm myself.

I handed over a one-thousand-peso bill to the driver and told him to keep the change. Everyone, including the driver, was staring at me in disbelief.