Rude

Sagging eyes, red-rimmed nose, and dishevelled hair; Elma awoke the next morning feeling slow. She could not help reminiscing how the previous night had played out over dinner.

"Huni, I believe you can still try again," her aunt had tried to console her; tried to because that attempt had failed woefully.

Elma still could not eat, and it wasn't because the varied recipes on the menu weren't edible in view. If for anything, Elma had thought that the apple-flavoured cake was a pastry to die for! Though she'd thought so, she outright ignored the ache in her tummy. Not even Ted's persistent appeal could win her over though he tried.

Now that Elma dwelt on the emotions she had stomached all up till that time, she wished she'd simply walked away; stomped the floors up the stairs, and into her personal space in that house. If she'd done just that, she would have been spared of Howard's ridicule by how he'd said, flatly, with a scowl on his face: "Finally thinking there was one good thing to celebrate only for it to be worth nothing in the end. You don't deserve my sympathy for losing out on your job, Elma. I'm afraid I can not handle this slip on your part any lightly."

Howard Dean Hughes was always a tough man, or at least he was to Elma alone. According to aunt Marilyn, Howard was a good man, a righteous man who had his way of showing his care and overall emotion that may, at least about ninety percent of the time, not agree with the mind view of other people. Yet, he was still good in her aunt's eyes.

Elma thought Howard was particularly picky of her faults.

Presently, Elma's chin was tilted in the angle of the sun's hue that was winding inside her bedroom when she heard it; it was the sound of someone knocking at her door.

"Elma Huni," The voice sounded simple; simple, and thin. A little too thin perhaps. "Can I come in?" said the knocker.

"Sure you can." Elma was already up on her feet when she mumbled under her breath, "The house belongs to you after all; you and Howard."

The bedroom door creaked ajar, and in walked the slender prim woman; her aunt Marilyn. For a woman who was thick into her fifties, Elma thought that she looked pretty hot in whatever it was she decided to throw over her gorgeous body. Presently donning a pair of leather tights under a maxi sweatshirt with boots to match, Marilyn looked quite a snack and much like she was in her twenties. Her red lipstick and golden hair which was wrapped up in a ponytail highlighted her features. Elma saw a lot of her mother in this woman; they were sisters after all.

"Did my unintentional knock spook you though?" Marilyn's hips bounced in a swing as she made away from the doorway. "And why do your eyelids sag so much?"

"I didn't sleep much that's why." Elma had barely finished when her aunt pulled her in with a gentle squeeze, kissing her hair. "I failed you yesterday, I know," Elma said, pulling away but Marilyn held firm to her hands.

"None of that was your fault, Huni." Marilyn slicked a stubborn lock to the back of Elma's ears, looking at her gently with her eyes that coloured like liquid honey. "Ted told me all about the stuff you would not talk about to me last night."

"I couldn't. Not that I wouldn't have eventually. I just wasn't in the mood."

Once Elma said that, she dashed for the waste bin and got busy picking the crumbs of wasted paper off the floor.

"You could always hand out more letters, you know."

"Right. Like Howard said. I am a HUGE failure."

"Never mind what he said. I believe in your worth and I know that that company is going to come begging to take you back with a proper apology."

"Fat chance, Auntie. Wishes don't grow on horses."

"So what if they do?" Marilyn's hold over Elma was enough to make her stop acting so busy. "Granted your room is trash, but your mood shouldn't be as well. Last night you went to bed, empty. I leave for work in a minute. I cannot allow you to starve yourself any longer."

"But aunt Mari…"

"No buts, Elma. Be down in a minute. Breakfast mustn't get cold."

"Of course."

Elma skulked down the stairs in a pretty vibrant mood. After the talk with her aunt, Elma felt the boost to live out the day with much enthusiasm.

Howard was the first person to notice her down the hall.

"Going somewhere?" he asked in a gruff voice. His scowl sat with him even after she said she was going to be out a bit. "It would have been proper if you'd just stated your mission instead of sneaking out like that."

"I'm sorry," Elma had wanted to say when the voice of her aunt echoed down that side.

"Huni, is that Elma you're talking to?"

"Of course," Howard said with a straight face and a fold of his arms. "Think she's got somewhere pretty important else she wouldn't be dressed like that."

"She is…" Marilyn rushed into the hallway, sizing her up. "You got a call from them, Sweetie? They called already to book another interview?"

"They haven't yet." Not exactly true, Elma thought. After her aunt left, she got a message from the company saying her presence was needed at the office at exactly 8.0'clock. She was fifteen minutes ahead of schedule and aimed to make good use of it this time around. She didn't want to rejoice too soon about it but maybe seeing Ted would have prompted her to spill the news?

"I just needed a walk," Elma said in a relaxed tone kicking her gut off from feeling so many butterflies over the news she was fighting to keep. "I know my outfit doesn't look all that casual for a walk and I—"

"Sure," Marilyn said. "I never saw anyone go out for a casual walk in that fit. But whatever it is, I wish you good luck on your job hunt, today."

Elma flashed a quick grin at her and was about to turn for the knob when she thought it best to ask. "Has he left already?"

"Yes," Marilyn alone replied to her since Howard was long gone into the dining room. "Ted's office called in early. He had to leave."

"Oh."

The exterior of the Di Mauro's Firm was nothing short of an edifice. Elma felt like her eyes would pull out of her head once she alighted the yellow cab she'd boarded to the heart of the city where the company towered. Several feet in height could only mean it had nothing short of a dozen floors or more.

Golden flecks tainted her amber irises as she took in the full view of the glass walls skyscraper. Her mouth dropped slightly open until the cab jetted off, its four wheels screeching loudly in the air.

"Phew, this is it," Elma exclaimed as she made it through the electronic gates in her brief pencil skirt and moderate-inch stilettos.

When Elma finally reached and entered through the front door, her anxiety grew as much as her anticipation to clinch the job. The atmosphere reeked of busy fingers rapping onto many keypads all at once. She saw a lady behind a desk who looked friendly and suave. Or maybe it was because she was beautiful and sophisticated behind her glasses as she peered onto the screen she was typing into.

"Hi. I'm Ms. Gray," said Elma once she was near her corner.

"Good day." The woman was just polite. She didn't seem prompted to even strike a glance.

A moment of respite and Elma felt like she could try another approach. "As I said before, I am Elma Grey. I came for the interview? I was wondering if you can kindly take me up to where it would be holding."

Sasha, as inscribed on the badge on her uniform, lifted her eyes to look at Elma this time. Elma stood, simply waiting for her to finish with the inspection of her outlook. If dressing was a criterion for getting screened, she wouldn't know. So Elma permitted her the luxury of time to scrutinise her as much as she wanted. When Sasha seemed like she'd had enough of her view, she huffed before springing up on her feet to begin arranging some files on her desk, saying nothing.

Sasha took her time, arranging and rearranging those files. When Elma peeked at her watch, it read 7.56.

Shit! She wasn't going to miss out on her interview again, was she?

"Hi, um, Sasha? Can you please point in the direction of the board room or something? Where exactly is the interview happening?"

Again Sasha ignored her.

Elma would no longer have any more of this.

"Hey!" she had to shout. "I've been talking to you for a while now, are you going to show me in or not?"

"What do you want? As you can see I'm busy," Sasha finally said.

"So because of that, I am supposed to wait out here until I miss the time for my interview?"

"Who do you think you are to make demands?" Sasha contested, planting her cyan blue eyes on her. "Do you think you can just walk in here and make demands?"

"I am new here and I barely wanted to ask for directions. A little kindness wouldn't hurt, you know."

"Well maybe I don't particularly like beautiful redheads," Sasha remarked with a tight-lipped smile.

"So then you are racist. Not just racist but racist and mean. It's almost eight. Can't you shove your prejudice aside for one simple minute and show me to the interview? If you won't, then I demand that you put me on a call with HR otherwise I am going to start creating a scene and making a hell of noise right now."

"You know, at this point, I can not take you being rude to me any longer. Just look, you've barely been accepted to work here and you're already causing such a headache."

Just then the sleek-looking phone on Sasha's desk began vibrating. Elma fixed her eyes on the dangling telephone as Sasha picked it up.

After murmuring a chain of "Okay, sir" and "Mm-mm", the call dropped with Sasha saying, " You are wanted in his office— Mr. Riccardo Di Mauro's."