Mr. Rodriguez

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I couldn't sleep that night. I think I know that guy. I forgot to look at him closely when he approached me and asked for the application. I knew. He was helping me but I didn't trust him.

I sank in my sleeping bed as thoughts of a tall guy in a blue shirt and faded blue jeans filled my head. He was walking three steps toward me. He was dark. Yes. Like my dream guy: Tall. Dark. Handsome.

It seemed too good to be true.

"Jeniiiiiine!!!" I gasped. It was my auntie.

Time check: 5:00 am. Shoot!

"Where is the rice?! How come there's no food yet?!!" She was wearing her old night gown again. It's similar to her personality: old and it totally sucks.

I went out of bed, tied my hair and faced her saying, "I'm sorry auntie. I woke up late because I had been studying for my tests."

"Hmp! Useless girl!"

I stared at her.

I don't want to let that one pass. I hold on to that statement. Yes. I can feel the heavy weight of my chest now. I swallowed hard and I never smiled. I promised myself to never receive anymore insults again. That will be the last one. Today, I will cross the Rubicon.

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I borrowed the school's telephone and dialed the number that the handsome guy gave me. Oh, shoot again. I forgot to ask his name. I checked the calling card he gave me. Mark Kenneth Rodriguez.

Hmm. His name sounds rich.

The other line was ringing now. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four--

"DMR Company. How may I help you?" The voice on the other line sounded sounded like he just woke up.

"Good morning, may I speak with Mr. Mark Kenneth Rodriguez?"

"Wait a sec."

*Hmm.. not very professional sounding, I thought.

I heard a melody ringing on the line. And then I heard his voice, "Mark here. I'm not available today. But please leave a message."

I paused. And let out the words with the most professional sounding voice I could give, "Hi Mr. Rodriguez. This is Jenine Mendoza, the applicant you met yesterday... I was wondering if you could update me regarding my application in YOUR company. I'm using the school's phone. It' s 253-6441... Please call me. Thank you."

I dropped the phone. Sigh. I wish he'd call me.

The first period bell rang. I needed to go.

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I was the last person to enter the classroom. Huh! Good thing I wasn't late. I was attending the Humanities 1 class and my teacher was an artist, literally. He basically knows everything from visual arts to performing arts. He's an art god. And I stared at him, admiring his shiny yet sticky-looking mustache and red cap.

"Today, you'll be painting nude."

"Like literally?" A guy with braces reacted.

"Yes. You'll be painting your nude bodies on canvas."

*Oh! I thought we'll be painting WITH OUR nude bodies on. Lol!

"You see... art is just a copy of reality. When you see a naked woman, it's not actually a naked woman. You see a copy of the idea of a naked woman who wears nothing at all."

*Okay. Now he's speaking. Time to scribble.

I was about to open my notebook when a familiar guy wearing a blue sweater and dark blue pants walked in the room. He was holding the arm of a goddess. Really. The woman whose light brown curls fell perfectly on her hips and whose curves would embarass my lanky figure was the personification of Aphrodite.

She was beautiful and HE was holding her. Everyone stared in awe at them. I'm sure she was not wearing anything under the towel that she's wrapped with.

"Mr. Green," he extended his hand to our professor.

"Ah! Mark!" Mr. Green looked delighted to see him. And then Mr. Green faced his class and announced, "Everyone, this is one of my brilliant students in Grade 12, Mark. He has brought us our subject today. One of his, well, girlfriends, uh... what's her name again, Mark?"

"Andrea, Sir."

"Andrea!"

The class clapped their hands. The boys were pretty much perked up with what they were about to see. The girls looked at Mark and covered their mouths with their hands as they giggled.

"Unfortunately, girls, we only have one subject. Mark is excluded. He just contacted Andrea for today's activity," our professor told them as a matter of fact. The girls let out a sigh of disappointment upon hearing it.

"Well, I'll leave her with you, Sir," Mark said.

"Thank you, Marky boy!" The professor's voice sounded very delighted, as if Mark has left him with a humongous prize.

We started to get our paint brushes and mixed the colors of our paint as Andrea took off the towel and striked a pose. The boys unconsciously said their 'Aaaahh's as Andrea gave them a fierce but seductive look. As for me, well, I have accepted the fact that I will never have that kind of body but I am not insecure. Really. I'm not.

*Whatever, I thought.

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I felt guilty looking at my painting of Andrea. I thought she looked sad, like she was caged. I saw it in her eyes, the longing to be free. I was thinking of those thoughts as I bumped into the hard chest of a man.

"Mark," I uttered.

"You..."he said.

For seconds we stared at each other, guessing each other's intentions.

"I... I called your company," I said.

He scratched his head. And looked down. "Oh. I'll make a follow-up with my Dad."

"Thank you," I said and turned around to go.

"Wait!" He held my arm, which was weird.

I looked sideways at him. And he said, "Can you come with me? I'll introduce you to him."

I gulped and said, "Will that guarantee a job?"

"Yes," he said.

"All right, then."

In less than five minutes, we were inside his Black Fortuner and was heading to the Great House.

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"I saw you in Humanities class this morning," I started. I was seated beside the driver's seat. On the other hand, he---with a perfectly calm disposition--- was managing the wheel.

He cleared his throat and looked sideways at me. "I didn't notice you," he said. At the corner of my eye, I saw him swallow his saliva while trying to center his attention on the road.

"Yes --" I thought *because you were too busy holding the arm of that voluptuous lady.

"So... we're batchmates. I didn't notice you in  the batch, too."

"I'm a transferee."

"Oh."

He made a graceful turn to the entrance of a flower garden. Not just an ordinary flower garden but a really grand flower garden. The tulips were moving, opening and closing their petals. The sun flowers illuminated a light like the sun's. And the orchids made the air in the garden breathtakingly cool.

"Wow..." I gasped at the magnificence of it.

"It's not visible outside, though," he said. And I realized that I really did not see a flower garden outside the gate. "It's magic," he continued.

I giggled unconsciously. And I realized the flowers make a good welcoming surprise to all the visitors. I opened my mouth again, not believing its touch of magic, like what Mark said.

"I like it here, Mr. Rodriguez," I said with a smile never leaving my face.

He smirked as he heard the name. "Mr. Rodriguez." He pronounced.

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