LICENSE TO LOVE

CHAPTER 3: FROM FIRED TO HIRED

The morning sunlight filters through the partially opened blinds, casting a soft glow into the room. I stretch, feeling the warmth of the sheets against my skin, and reluctantly rise from the bed. The cool touch of the bathroom floor greets my bare feet as I shuffle over to the sink. I splash my face with cold water, the abrupt shock rousing me more effectively than any alarm could.
Standing before the mirror, my gaze fixated on my own reflection.

My emerald eyes stared back at me, piercing and perceptive, as if they held the key to my innermost thoughts. I traced the contour of my cheekbone with a finger, observing how it caught the light perfectly. My straight nose and full lips were in exquisite harmony, each feature complementing the other.
Brushing aside a stray strand of hair, I admired its luscious chestnut hue and how it framed my visage. My complexion, velvety and luminous, seemed to exude a soft radiance in the morning light.

Adjusting my blouse, I appreciated how it accentuated the gracefulness of my figure. There was a comforting reassurance in this daily ritual, this moment of self contemplation. It served as a reminder of the resilience and elegance I embodied, even in the face of an uncertain day--a trait I shared with my father.

Offering a small, approving smile to my reflection, I whispered to myself, "You possess the strength to overcome this," feeling a quiet confidence settle within me. Running a brush through my hair, the gentle bristles gliding through the tangles effortlessly. Subsequently, I applied a swift dab of moisturizer and a hint of makeup, a routine that prepared me to confront the world.

Before heading to work, I delivered a meal to my father. A blue sports car zoomed past me, narrowly missing my feet. I instinctively recoiled, adrenaline coursing through me as if anticipating the occurrence. Upon arriving at Pine Woods Hospital, I navigated the long, white corridors with a basket of heart-healthy food in hand. The scent of fresh vegetables, grilled chicken, and whole grains permeated the air, offering a comforting contrast to the antiseptic hospital odor. Though I couldn't visit my father that day, I hoped the meal would provide him solace and convey the depth of my care.

Approaching his room, I approached the nurse's station with a warm yet apprehensive smile directed at the nurse behind the counter. "I have food for my father. He's in Room 312. While I can't visit him presently, could you ensure he receives this?"

The nurse nodded, accepting the basket with a gentle smile. "I'll see to it that he receives it."

Watching as she carried the basket away, I experienced a mix of relief and sorrow. I longed to be by his side, to share a meal and engage in conversation, but circumstances rendered that impossible. Inhaling deeply, I sought to steady the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Casting a final glance towards his room, I proceeded to the waiting area. Retrieving my phone, I scrolled absentmindedly, yet my thoughts invariably returned to my father. I hoped the meal would not only cater to his dietary requirements but also serve as a reminder of my love and support. I resolved to visit him immediately after work.

Before departing, I left a note with the nurse, expressing my affection and hopes for a swift recovery. Stepping out of the hospital, a quiet hope blossomed within me that my gesture would offer a modicum of comfort and care, bridging the physical distance between us despite my absence.

It took me approximately a quarter of an hour to hail a cab to my workplace. Despite being slightly tardy, I maintained an air of optimism and composure as I entered Jeff's Cafe, where I encountered Mr. Smith, also known as Jefferson John Smith. While he preferred to go by Jeff, a few individuals still referred to him as JJS, a moniker he did not particularly favor.

To my astonishment, I found him taking orders from a gentleman, while an unfamiliar young woman was tidying up the unoccupied tables. The sound of the door opening caught their attention.

"Good morning, Mr. Smith," I greeted him with a forced smile, well aware of my lateness.

"There is nothing particularly good about this morning, Blaire!" His sharp tone caught me off guard, causing me to lower my gaze in embarrassment. The man he had been attending to seemed unfazed and unperturbed.

Mr. Smith rose from his seat and made his way to the counter, with me following suit.

"Just observe the desolation that envelops my Cafe," he lamented, gesturing with exasperation. "I cannot settle my financial obligations with an empty establishment, and I certainly cannot abide a lackadaisical employee who prioritizes personal matters over her assigned duties." He proceeded to assist the young lady with the cleaning, while the man remained engrossed in his phone.

"I sincerely apologize, Mr. Smith. I assure you, I awoke early and diligently completed my tasks on time, but I encountered delays while searching for a cab to bring me here." I struggled to contain my emotions, but Mr. Smith unleashed his own without reserve.

"You know what, Blaire, I must relieve you of your responsibilities here. You are fired! I am certain a cab will arrive shortly to convey you back to your lovely abode," he declared without even glancing in my direction.

"Mr. Smith, please reconsider. How will I support my father? This job is my sole means of managing our expenses. My rent is due next month. This was merely a minor misunderstanding--I--I pledge that it will not happen again," tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

The weight of it all became unbearable. I couldn't face my father, nor could I bring myself to lie to him. I refused to become like my mother, who had abandoned him. I was not prepared to bid him farewell, not yet. Without a second thought, I exited the Cafe. Feeling unready to return home, I settled down beside the shop.

Some time later, a gentleman approached me; to my surprise, it was the same man I had encountered at the Cafe. "What is it that you seek? I no longer serve coffees!" I snapped at him.
He scoffed and bent down to my eye level, offering me tissues, which I accepted without a shred of pride. "I am not here to ridicule you in any way," he remarked casually.

"Then what is your purpose?" I inquired with a voice that was trembling and strained.

"I am here to extend to you an opportunity to work at GLAZE GLOBAL CORPORATION," he said with a mischievous smirk that I found rather off-putting.