Chapter Fourteen

1555 Words
After that night I never brought up the little girl again. Wayne also never spoke about her. A whole week went by and we kept exchanging texts, meeting at each other's houses and going out to the park or lunch together. Not once did Wayne ever allude to the matter, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't impatient to know. He said he'll tell you soon. I reminded myself, but it didn't seem to make me feel better. How soon was soon? Shaking my head, I looked over at Wayne and tried to focus on what he was saying. We were eating a meal together at a restaurant. I had gotten off from work early, courtesy of Wayne. "John, are you listening to me." I blinked a few times before I could fully pull myself out of my thoughts. I sat up straight, apologizing for spacing out before staring at Wayne. He looked crushed, probably because he knew what I had been thinking about. "I wanted to tell you something," he mumbled, staring down at his plate of shrimp. My eyes went wide, and my heartbeat quickened, thinking he was about to talk about the girl, but there was no way that's what he wanted to tell me. He would be asking for attention if he wanted to discuss that with me in a crowded restaurant. "What is it?" I asked when he didn't say anything. I watched him take in a deep breath before licking his bottom lip. "A friend of mine was asking me for recommendations for a position in his company," Wayne started. I rose a brow at him, still not sure where this was going. "I put in a good word for you. Of course, he needs to see your details and you'll have to set up a day for an interview—" "Why would you do that?" I asked, cutting him off. Maybe someone else would have jumped at the opportunity without a thought, but even though I was a walking disaster as far as achievements go, I was proud — maybe a little too much for my own good. Wayne was trying to use his connections to set me up, and I felt weird about it. "I did it because you have the credentials, and you have a lot more in you than working for minimum wage," Wayne said, staying calm, even though my angry outburst had brought a few eyes to our table. "I know you're skeptical about taking it because of the position we're in. That's why I didn't offer you a job at my company instead. I won't be your boss. I can't use your employment against you. Maybe that'll ease some of your worries. And if you're concerned about getting in via just recommendation, don't be. You still have to take an interview and submit your C.V. In other words, it's not a guarantee," Wayne explained. His voice was low, and I could tell he picked his words carefully. I stared at him for some time, looking away to look at my plate of food instead. "Do you know why I work at the repair store?" I asked, looking over at him just in time to watch him nod. I was surprised. I had expected him to shake his head before I went into explaining. "You think it's the only thing you can do without your anxiety messing everything up, right?" Wayne guessed, and I just stared at him before looking down and nodding. "That, and I've looked for better jobs before. I'm just terrible at interviews, and keeping myself calm," I explained, reaching out for the glass of wine that had been poured for me more than an hour ago before taking a sip. "What makes you think I'll do well in an interview for your friend's company?" I asked, and Wayne shrugged before resting his head on his hand. "You're doing a lot better overall right now, aren't you?" he asked, making me take a few minutes to think about it. Yes, it felt great to be getting treatment, and I guess I was confident enough to put myself together for a few minutes for an interview. After swimming in my head for a bit, I nodded, and Wayne's smile widened as he rested his hands on the table and went on about the details. I ate, watching him talk his heart out. He was trying his best to make up for everything. One by one. I couldn't get a proper job because of my depression and anxiety, and he was trying to fix that because he felt like he was the cause. He didn't say that, but I could read the determination in his eyes. He wanted to right his wrongs. I wondered if he could fix everything like he was trying to do. Was that possible? Could he go as far as fixing my lack of trust in him? I wasn't sure if that would or could even happen, but I remained as hopeful as him. ━━━━━━━━ Later that evening I went through every drawer in my apartment in search of my documents. I was kneeling by the drawers in my living room when I heard footsteps behind me. I paused what I was doing, turning my head to the side to see who it was. I spotted Edward coming up to me in a loose pair of shorts and a striped shirt. He smiled before raising his hand to wave at me, and I watched him walk over to the worn-out sofa before taking a seat. "What are you doing?" he asked, and my gaze turned back to the drawer I was searching. "I'm searching for some documents," I explained, wondering if I should keep looking for my transcript. I could always email the university for a copy of my manuscript, but I wasn't sure I was in the mood to sit at my desk and worry about them bestowing bad news to me. Even though I knew it was highly unlikely, I couldn't help thinking about situations where they had lost it somehow, so I kept searching. I knew I had my recommendations, my full transcript, and a full C.V stashed somewhere. I had put them away when I realized that I wasn't going anywhere with my job search and that the part-time job I had managed to land would end up being my full-time employment. "Oh." Had been the only thing Edward said in response. I knew he was curious, but he wasn't going to poke me about it. He just sat there as I continued to look through the drawer. He started humming, and I smiled, remembering how we had met each other at the bar. He had been humming to the song coming from the speakers, and I had joined him. That's how we started talking, and after a few drinks, we went to his place. I had been surprised to figure out we were in the same apartment complex, but that's a story for another day. I was about t give up searching when I found a clear file at the bottom of the drawer. I took it out, opening it before looking through its contents and smiling. It had everything I needed, and all I had to do was scan the documents and email them to the company. "What are they for? You look really relieved," Edward said in the background, unable to keep his curiosity to himself. "I'm job hunting again," I explained, and Edward let out a small 'oh' before nodding his head in understanding. I got up from my knees before walking over to the sofa and taking a seat beside him. With a big smile on my face, I started to look through the file's contents again. "Everything's so dusty. I don't think I've taken this out in two years," I said, laughing a bit as Edward's eyes scanned the sheets in my hands as I looked through them. "You were in engineering?" he asked, his voice high and full of surprise. I blinked, realizing I had been staring at my manuscript for a little too long. "And you graduated with a first-class," Edward continued to say, his eyes widening with the new information. "Johnathan, what are you doing here?" By here I think he meant the rundown apartment and bad neighborhood. I shrugged, not knowing how to reply to the query. "You can get almost any entry-level job you want," Edward went on, and my face started to warm up. I didn't take praise and compliments very well. "I've never had good luck with interviews," I said under my breath after a period of silence. I felt a little weird, so I folded the cover of my transcript to hide the 'first-class' typed up in cursive. Edward's eyes finally looked away from it, but he kept letting out dramatic sighs. I think Edward picked up what I meant about having problems with interviews because the living room went quiet. "Well, I'll help you practice. How about tomorrow?" he offered after a while of us just sitting side by side. A small smile touched my lips, and I nodded, accepted his offer. I was glad to have Edward as a friend.
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