JC´s Trip

JC decided to travel light. He checked all his things, making sure everything he needed was there in the suitcase, his passport and contact numbers. If he needed something, like toothbrush, he was sure there would be places where he could buy them. He was taking note if there were things he could have missed. This will be a short stay, JC reckoned, but a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him to see the place he had only been hearing about from his parents.

Travelling had become a routine when it was done for work. It had lost its lustre for some of his colleagues, but not for him. Being thrown into a place he had been longing to see all his life was a welcome order.

Comfort, he realized, was temporary. His assignment would change all of it suddenly. He would find himself away from friends, from the comfort of his home, to be in a faraway land and face all the consequences of change.

Taking risks, he didn't mind either, for it was what made the difference. Sometimes in a war-torn area he would have to brave the dangers in order to get to the truth. In reality he loved the challenges, being in the middle of it all, among the people who politically made the changes in those countries. This time would be different. No wars and no revolution to cover.

His boss said he had an instinctive grasp of the complexities of foreign policies and the skill to turn out incomparable work in a very short time. This was the reason he relied on him. He also said he was the kind of reporter who never took things for granted. Punctuality in the submission of reports was a trait he was valued for. So, failing the boss was the last thing he would want to do.

One cursory inspection of his flat and he was ready to leave. He made sure it was in order, checking the faucet, cooker, and every cord pulled from their sockets. He made one last count, looked around and finally closed the door behind him. Rent this place? He smiled at Mr. McMillan's insinuations. This trip might be for a long time. Who knows? He shook his head, smiling at the thought. But on the other hand, it would be self-liquidating. The rent would pay for whatever little expense for repairs it would entail. Why not? He thought.

He took the elevator and got down to the lobby. At the landing Fidel, the concierge, greeted him. He had been taking care of the whole building for twenty years and had seen different people come and go. In his 50s, with greyish hair he offered to help, seeing that he was loaded. "Taxi, Mr. Martin?"

"Yes, please," he answered, while tugging along two medium sized bags and a brief case.

"On a business trip again?" He rose from his seat and opened the main door. "It seems this time it won't be for a short one?"

JC nodded. He stopped at the door, looked out and glanced at the concierge. "While I'm away would you be kind enough to take a look at my flat?"

Nodding, he answered, "No problem, Mr. Martin."

"Thank you. Here's the key. And if you need something urgently call this number. It's the secretary to my office. Kate's her name."

Within a few minutes a yellow cab pulled over. It idled in front of the apartment and the driver loaded his luggage into the trunk. He said goodbye to Fidel and hopped in. On the taxi he had some mixed feelings about leaving this place. He felt gloomy. He knew it was temporary, though. It was work. But still he felt a wave of unexplained murkiness.

Looking out, the tall skyscrapers that he saw along the way made him more melancholic, as if he were not coming back. Was it that he would be leaving some friends who are inside those flats and offices or was it because of the sad memories that they brought to his life? I've lived in this place for as long as I could remember and grown to love it, the people, the night life, my job and my flat. There's no place like home, he mused. The taxi driver inserted a cassette and Frank Sinatra came out crooning 'New York, New York'.

The driver was from India, dark skinned and wearing a turban around his head. A very respectful dude, he asked if the music disturbed him.

JC said, "Not at all. Your taste in music is quite classical. Where are you from?" He removed his glasses and wiped them with a tissue paper.

Looking at him through the mirror, the driver said, "I'm from Nepal, sir."

"It's an interesting place," commented JC.

His eyes were on the road, but he kept looking at JC in the mirror. "Have you been there, yourself?"

JC said, "Yeah, it was a brief visit, about two and a half years ago, to learn meditation and something else."

"It's nice to know that."

"Have you been back?"

"I have not been home for a long time, sir. I have my family here . . . four kids. But I'm proud of my motherland, sir."

"Don't you feel homesick?"

"Of course, I do sir."

The taxi wormed its way through the night when Frank Sinatra came singing, I've Got You Under My Skin. The night was breezy and cool. He was thinking of his assignment, his friends and of course Kate. Having a second chance with her didn't seem so bad, but the new assignment in Asia was meant to keep them apart for a while. If it were not for the assignment, he would perhaps have given in eventually to all her sweetness and would have opened up a new chapter in his love life.