I was reading a friend's blog just minutes ago and looking at all the comments that she was receiving on her post. In a way, I've like the kind of attention you can get via blogging. Used to get a fair share of comments myself on my previous blog posts. But now...I just feel like I'm done with it all. I am more than happy to leave that all aside and just keep quiet. Low. Unnoticed. Huh. So much for being the centre of attention, huh? And even then, probably some psychologist would want to pull me up my bootstraps and say that I am acting the way I am because I am still thirsting for attention in some strange sick way.
Chatting to the girlfriend yesterday morning on the way to work, I asked her what her work environment was like. She told me, "Oh, I'm mostly working on my own. I don't get interrupted by people. I just get given a file and am expected to finish the file within a certain period of time. And then I go home."
Which just makes me think, "Sh|t. Why can't I have a job like that?"
As much as I "enjoy" seeing patients and treating them and making them feel better and no matter how much my parents tell me that I am suited for hospital work and that I should look at getting back into that some time soon (as in drop everything and start job hunting), I have to disagree. Perhaps this is my introverted side talking but I have a slight suspicion that I can very well and possibly die a old grumpy man. And you know what's interesting about that?
I don't mind a bit.
***
CHAPTER 4
ring....ring...ring...ring...
"Who is this?"
"Hi...Mum? Its Stefan."
"Larry? That you, Larry?"
"No, Mum, its Stefan. Your second boy."
"Oh, Larry, its been so long since you called. What's been keeping you, Larry? Your poor mother is dying of tuberculosis over here and you never ring your poor mother?"
"Mum...its Stefan"
"Larry, your father's been just out of control lately. He's been drinking til 3 every single morning and then he comes home and trashes half the house before collapsing on the couch and puking on himself. Larry, we need you back here."
Stefan cradled the phone on his shoulder. The receiver stank of saliva and cigarettes. He tried to ignore the incessant chatter of his mother over the wire.
"Mum. Mum..."
"Your good for nothing brother is probably starving at his godforsaken writing job somewhere so he'll be of no use to us."
"Thanks, Mum," muttered Stefan. At least I have a job. Larry. High and mighty Larry. The one who made it big and got out of the ghetto. The one who is supposedly earning 3 million a year as a pharmaceutical company director. Sorry to disappoint you, Mother, but big, successful, rich, Larry is no pharmaceutical director. He's a drug dealer, probably the equivalent of a Colombian drug lord in the Asian regions. And no, he is not coming to your rescue. When Larry and I got the first chance, we got the hell out of there and swore that we would never come back.
His mother continued to squawk into the receiver and Stefan tapped his foot impatient against the glass of the telephone booth. Leaning back, he settled in for an extended phone call when the sharp beep reminded him that he only had half a minute to go. He made another deposit.
"Hey man. Can you hurry up?" A rather frustrated looking man tapped Stefan on the shoulder. "I've got a call to make to my wife."
"Does it look like I'm going to leave any time soon? Find another phone," Stefan growled. The man muttered an expletive under his breath and walked away, giving him the finger. Stefan shrugged.
"Larry? You there, Larry?"
"Yes, Mum, I'm here. How's Mrs Tan, Mum?"
"Oh, Mrs Tan. She's just had her gallbladder removed. Can you believe that? Its from all the fried food that she keeps eating at the food court everyday, or so her husband says. I've been telling her since forever that she should stop having fried noodles 3 times a day but would she listen to me? No..."
"Oh boy. Here we go." Stefan knew that once his mother got started on a subject, she would go on and on about it and never let up.
"Mum. Mum."
"What is it, Larry?"
He hesitated. "Mum...I'm going to go away for a while. And I'm not sure when I'm coming back."
"What do you mean, you're going away? Aren't you gonna come back and visit your poor mother any time soon? And someone needs to give your father a good talking to. What he's doing lately isn't good for him. Or his liver, mind."
"Mum...I'm going away on a...uh...business trip. And I'll put some money in the mail for you. Okay? You take care of Dad for me. And tell him I love him."
"Oh...okay."
That did the trick. As long as Mum heard that there would be money in the bank, she would be okay.
"I love you, Mum."
"Just make sure the cheque comes in, okay, Larry?"
"No problem, Mum. Bye."
The phone clicked. And Stefan sighed. That was it? His last contact with his current reality? But he did not think. Did not plan what was going to happen next. Marty Rock shows up and his world as he knows it ends. And then Anna gives the order and he is supposed to disappear without a trace. Brilliant.
He had a few more writing assignments to complete. A few columns and letters. Some scripts. A half finished novel. A few things he had to do. Things to tidy up. Oh, yeah. He had a friend to catch up with. A bit of money to distribute. And Anna. Yes. Anna.
There were so many questions to ask and so many answers to obtain. And truth to tell, he was just a little bit lost to begin with.
But first, a drink. A very nice, thick, foamy drink.
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