Old Acquaintances

The sun never sets on East Fordshire. When I moved to Fordshire, I had not once heard the city sounds dying. The mornings were jingles of car horns, dogs on walks, and school children on their way out. The nights were a complete contrast to the morning, even brighter and lively with street music, local food bars, and a few mobs now and then. The Fordshire air is always brimming with lazy moans of kids whining, or adults complaining about not getting enough of the weekend. That's what big cities do to you; they give you all and leave you wanting more of it. 

The summer morning was rising with its illuminating grandeur as I stepped out of Miss Mason's apartment. Miss Mason's apartment on Fifth Street had the privilege of being closest to the nearest bus stand. That advantage and the fact that old lady Mason never nagged me about late rents were the only two things that kept me from moving out, and there's Romilda too. 

At 8 am, the city bus pulled in. A queue of some six people hopped on in a hurry. I didn't remember public buses being so crowded at this hour, but who was I to say a thing about the city that rarely slept. A few couples were heading out for work, high school seniors bickered about homework, and there were people like me- Single ass, trying their best to make a little too much money from this labyrinth of a city. The freshly painted white paint gave off wisps of resin scent, and I almost sneezed when another woman nudged me in the elbow.

The woman seated next to me had big doe eyes. Her blue eyes looked like sapphires on my charm bracelet. She chapped her lips with a maroon red lip gloss as the bus honked. Her nose had that straight cut that screamed posh. Amber locks rested on her shoulder, tucked under a French beret. She wore a similar, pitch-black blouse tucked in those dreadful pencil skirts that make you feel like hell wrapped around your legs.

Watching someone rock an outfit; that you'd end up looking like a clown is unnerving! What I wore at the moment was no different except that my hair was all curls, my skin all dusky, and the red of my lipstick was nowhere the eloquent maroon of hers. I looked like a joke next to her. An old, bald man sitting opposite us just approved my thoughts with the look he shot at her. It's one of those looks you give to girls after checking them out and marking them up with ten on ten. 

Do you know what's worse than not being able to look pretty? Never sit next to the incarnation of Aphrodite while you are fretting, looking like an oddball. That's why lotus blooms in mud and roses bloom with thorns. All beautiful things in the world know what would highlight their presence, so they stick around with the ugly and devious to let themselves stand out.

 Something clicked inside me. She could be a co-worker heading for work. Yes. What are the chances! We were heading to the Third Street, she had the work outfit on, and we looked like we worked together, except that she might be the uptown girl that I was always jealous of. Maybe, I could make new friends, and with that idea, I thought of breaking the ice when the bus turned on Fourth Street.

"Hi, I am Eva Mellon. I work at Bexley's." I said, sticking my hand out for a handshake as I balanced my tote bag in my lap.

She said nothing but turned and smiled.

"Hi, Eva. Fancy seeing you here. It's been a long time." She said with her smile growing merry every other moment.

Was I friends with this spitting image of Marilyn Monroe? I could hardly remember anything like that if I were. I could learn a thing or two from her. That works. Like that one time I was nearly failing in French but spending more time with Cadeau earned me a B+ in semis. I could get used to being a bit more beautiful.

"You know my name?" I said with a grin, and she chuckled.

I might be a hypocrite, but pretty girls aren't always rude and bossy. She might be one of those rare breeds. You know, the kind that's dolled up inside out with goodness that adds more meaning to the world? Yeah, that shit.

"Oh yeah. The boss told us you lost your head, I mean your memory. I am Amanda." She said, her smile plastered on her pretty face.

"Oh, I see," I said, happy to have come across a co-worker cum friend from a workplace I hardly remember.

"Uh, Eva! What do you think about the HR?"Amanda asked.

Was that supposed to be a trick question? I don't know whether I could answer it, but if we were friends, I was sure we would bitch about things together. Girls gossip, period.

"I don't remember it anyway. You know, the amnesia leaves hardly anything to judge about."

"Yeah, that's true. I was thinking about this work attire. You know."

She paused, waiting for me to say a word.

"Oh, that! It's a truly despising outfit. Who wants budding editors to look like they were a part of a funeral!" I said, and her face was no more merry and poignant. 

Did I say something wrong? We sat in silence for another ten minutes. Maybe, Amanda here had some hormone issue with mood swings. I tried to shut up as the bus stopped at Third Street. Twelve and a half steps from the bus stand were Bexley's Publishing House in the mammoth architectural wonder of Trivia Complex. In case someone's wondering, I count steps. That's another peculiar(read odd) hobby for that I am not ashamed.

Amanda rushed to the stairs and seemed swift for someone in a pencil skirt. On the other hand, I could barely walk five steps without cursing.

"Good Lord Jesus! To hell with pencil skirts. Why does the dress code have to be so stupid?"

To my amazement, I found myself saying the words a bit too loud to find Amanda turning, and a man on the sidewalk caught my eye. She walked away, muttering and entered the building. As for the man in an ultra-modern, black tuxedo, he had a pair of shades. A grey tie rested tucked against his white shirt. He shot me a glance, and his lips turned into a half-smile.He stopped for a moment, and then his pace quickened as he made his way toward me.

"Good morning, Mellon!" He said, his brown-blonde hair gelled back as his cologne filled the space between us.

"Good morning, sir." I said rather awkwardly.

He seemed familiar, but I could hardly remember seeing him before. His jawline had a light muzzle, and now a flock of other, similarly dressed men surrounded him.

"I am glad you showed up at work today. Perhaps you don't remember me. Never-mind."

Now I am the girl who doesn't remember anyone. I hardly had a say in that, but it was getting annoying now. Another peer with mood swings? I didn't know. Though he looked good for a man. Not like a 'man' man. Maybe, a little hot, but I was to ensure that the five tiny fernandos in my pocket go back home with me, untouched. Like ever!

"I am sorry," I said, my tone came out to sound seriously apologetic. Why was I apologizing when I had not intentionally done anything? Things happen out of their own accord.

"Well, never mind that. I agree those outfits are stupid, though." He said and walked away with the herd of men waiting for him.

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, faster than the tickle I fought in my core. He must be a 'big' thing here. Damn, I didn't get his name.

The first thing I get when I show up at work is a boner for a man whose name I don't know. Way to go.

"Can't wait to see how this day turns out for me!" I mumbled when I felt another hand on my shoulder.

I turned to see a man in the Bexley special blazer, beaming as his smile touched his blue eyes, and I knew it had to be him! I could never forget him.

"Oh my god, Josh! It's you!" I said.

"You remember?" He asked excitedly.

"It would take me more than an accident to forget you, "I said, meaning every word.

I remember Joshua Harris from the Marketing-Team, very well. He was the guy I had stumbled with the day I got my job at Bexley's. We were in touch for a month, and when he got a position in the marketing team, I was happier than ever. Joshua Harris was my crush. I have fangirl-ed on him ever since I met him.

"Come, let's go. Tyranny Turner just entered. We don't wanna get late." He said, and I followed him, not getting a word he said.

I had a few questions- Who was Tyranny Turner? Was he a monster? Why were we in a hurry? 

But I decided against asking any of them and followed Josh gladly into the Trivia. I would take a harmless crush over a dark and mysterious hotshot any day and put it in a Jimmy Fallon way- safety is sexy.