Chasing November

Chapter 3: Diving Without Air

The fan wuthered overhead, rocking back and forth as each of its blades rushed in a circle but never went anywhere new. The clock's second hand ticked each minute away at a painfully slow pace, dawdling with such boldness she couldn't believe it. Every hour was an eternity; every ray of light was an illusion. All her thoughts were out of place, scattered on the ground like trampled flower petals, and yet, Gen went through the motions and explained to a client the best ways to reduce costs and increase profits for their start-up business. She knew they'd be foolish and not listen to a word she said, but that was their fault. As long as she did her job, nothing else mattered.

The firm had her meeting with clients five to six times a day and she managed dozens of accounts by herself. Her paycheck was nice, but for the amount of work she put in, it wasn't worth it. Over the last six months, the company had begun consuming every ounce of free time she had, siphoning pieces of her soul with every day that passed.

'Welcome to the real world', she kept telling herself. 'Everyone goes through this.'

The real world sounded great in the beginning. Now, she was just tired. She was ready to call it quits, because every day was monotony, every day was stagnant, and yet she continued to wake up, take a train to work, and do the exact same thing as the day before. Where was the excitement? Where was the purpose? She hadn't found either of those yet, but she hoped they'd turn up sooner or later.

As her meeting with the client ended, the clock read 6:05, and she sat motionless at her desk, staring at the door. Another long day had come and gone. Another account settled. Now, without a single drop of enthusiasm, she packed her things and prepared for a long train ride, because it was finally time to go home.

******

The mugginess of stations always made her nauseous, but the cramped interiors of the trains themselves were ten times worse. She sat quietly with her bag at her side, and as the train's repetition of stopping and restarting continued through various stations, her gaze was fixed straight ahead, aimed on the city beyond.

She had called Manila home her whole life. Though she stayed in various countries over the years, Gen was born and raised in the Philippines, and the city trapped her like a caged bird. She saw the apartment buildings painted with unnatural colors that clashed with the static grays, blacks, and silvers of skyscrapers. On the streets below, there were knotted electrical wires stretched above the sidewalks, clogging the lampposts on which they rode. Cars were jammed together like always, and the skies were overcast. Manila was a charming place most of the time, but today, it was a stifling, vast prison.

The train car glided over the tracks, but not smoothly; it made a rhythmic chug as the metal wheels roared over the rails. Fortunately, it was less crowded that time of day. Most people had already gone home or were beyond the railway by then, so there were just six other people on the car. None of them spoke, and even fewer of them looked happy.

Is this what growing up is supposed to be like? she thought, eyeing the people on board with her. Their faces were so bleak and tired. Will it ever be different?

On social media, her old friends seemed happy with how their lives turned out. They'd post pictures getting married or landing their dream job. Some of them traveled abroad or studied overseas. Their lives were perfect. But hers? It was like a surgery gone wrong. The bones were rearranged so poorly and the wound didn't stitch up, it wouldn't heal. Now, she was left incomplete as everyone around her insisted she act as if she were whole. The best parts of her were missing, but nobody cared. Nobody noticed. She was an airplane on autopilot, and she had no idea where to land.

But there was at least one thing she looked forward to.

November.

For the first time their relationship, she and Jamie were going to meet. Two people that were absolutely perfect for each other, yet so far apart, were finally going to become something real. They would be more than just faces on opposite ends of a screen.