Story of my story

Fictional story about a young girl who copes with the sudden rush in responsibilities in her life.

t's those days when you yearn for Satan to kidnap you or this 'METRO' bridge to fall on my company bus ( in such a way that only I will be hurt beyond repair ) , and yet nothing. Nothing happens. Instead, I'm safely perched on a chair which swivels in one full circle. My left hand is in between my incisors. My right hand is on the electronic mouse. My face looks like as if I have just seen my puppy run over by a truck. The system I am sitting in front of has absolutely no sympathy over my condition. It incessantly keeps on beeping the same error over and over again. I need to complete my module by Wednesday and it's already half past six in the evening. Monday evenings are terribly boring ( and depressing, especially today ). I have to leave by seven if I have to keep my sanity level in check.
With only thirty minutes to spare, I strut across to my manager's cubicle who is merrily chatting with a fellow manager whom I heard recently joined our company recently. It took me six months to realize that its okay to disturb my manager for a life critical advice. Just as I near him, he recognizes my arrival and the other manager leaves. I ask my doubt, to which he supplies a generous reply seasoned with his charming smile. His eyes look so warm and welcoming. They somehow tease my facial muscles into a smile. That's the charm my manager spreads. How much I ever grumble about him, the minute I see him smiling at me, I take back all my words. By the time I return back to my seat, it's seven. I pack my bag, put on my jacket. I swing my bag on my shoulders, walk out of my floor with a heavy heart. I always take the stairs down to the ground floor from third floor. I can opt for the lift, but I just can't bear the thought of getting stuck in the lift all alone.
One last swipe of my electronic ID card at the ground floor and I am done for the day. I walk to the outside of my campus where a minibus enough to hold around 15 people waits. I occupy a seat at the right side of the bus, next to the window and push the window open. The cool night breeze teases the hair off my face. I take a deep breath and just stare out into the open.
Thoughts of my unfinished work start trickling into my head. I am feeling utter useless at the moment. I have a feeling, that I might be thrown out of the project, if I do not deliver on time. No kiddo, you've solved a client's problem and even successfully completed a mini project. Your manager might just scowl at you. Ha Ha Ha ..... Very funny. My manager. Manager. Hmmm. Once upon a time, I kind of admired him. When I started working under him, the feelings of admiration just evaporated.
I was under the impression that managers are always meant to have red eyes like a demon and keep yelling all the time, hitherto I met mine. It was quite filmy how I met mine. When I stepped into my project, my manager was on-site giving Knowledge Transition sessions to the offshore people. My team lead roped me into those sessions. I used to sit quietly listening to the voice coming from a distant place. At one of the sessions, I tried imagining the person from his voice. I imagined a man in his early thirties with a receding hair line and a paunch. I must say, I am a bad judge because when I actually saw my manager, my jaws dropped. Perhaps, I can vote him as the Most FIT Boss on my floor. The most agile manager. Maybe it's also because of the work nature that keeps him on his heels all the time.
Being a newbie, I have no option but to look up at my immediate manager for advice and inspiration ( strongly on work related matters only. For the rest of the topics, the chunk of people I keep bumping into help a great deal) and I am not disappointed at this concern. General George S. Patton once said, "Never tell people how to do things. Tell them what to do and they will surprise you with their ingenuity". My manager just does this. I don't know about the surprise part though. He's quite inspirational. Not that he's the 'Sri Sri Ravi Shankar' of my team, but at the end of a day, I feel confident about a better tomorrow.
I am compelled to add that I am very sure he can even sell ice to an Eskimo. I can confidently bet on that.

The bus drops me at a point which is some five kilometers away from my home. I find Kevin, my brother waiting for me to pick me up. Kevin's face breaks into a smile as soon as I meet his eyes. I just feel like cuddling into his arms.
Kevin helps me into the back seat of our Corolla Altis. I had a knee cap adjustment surgery recently. I still need help getting into a vehicle. At office, I somehow manage. But when Kevin is around, I let him help me. Kevin gets into the car next to me. The driver gets the cue from Kevin to move. It takes roughly twenty minutes to reach home. Going home sounds like descending from Mount Everest. Every turn my car takes, I feel a rush of goodness enveloping me.
Kevin looks at me fondly and asks, "So How was your day, Carol?". His eyes have a glitter. However old he gets every year, he never lost his chocolaty looks. "Hmmm.. fine", I reply with a weak smile . Kevin smiles back and pulls me near him with his strong arms. He pushes a strand of hair from my face and whispers, "Everything's gonna be fine, sweetheart" .
I've reached my home. I get out of the car and proceed towards my home while the driver pulls over into the garage. My home is an ancestral home. It was passed on from generations together where each room has a story to tell.
Kevin opens the gate for me. I walk in, climb the five stairs to the entrance of my home. As I near the door, Gilbert, my eldest brother waits at the door held open for me. Gilbert picks me up into his arms. I hug him tightly with my arms. Kevin comes up from behind and manages to peck me on my cheek. Gilbert and Kevin are blessed with an amazing talent to figure out what's going on in my head. After all, they both have raised me from when I was a ten year old. My parents died in separate accidents abroad. Dad died in a plane crash in Melbourne. Mum died a week later in a car accident while going to work in Adelaide. It was hard for all of us. Especially me. But I had Gilbert and Kevin who were like second parents to me.
Our foyer has a stairs which leads to another floor. Gilbert carries me to my room in the first floor. I shut my eyes tightly. As Gilbert carries me to my room, I can hear Kevin chatting with Sophie, his wife.
Gilbert gently lays me on my bed. Gilbert tells me to change into my night dress and moves out of my room. I change into my night dress and then sit on my bed, which is so neatly laid out. It's appearance pulls me towards it. As I am retiring to my bed, Kevin comes in with a plate of food. He feeds me roti. Gilbert comes in by the time I finish having food with water. I sip in the water. Kevin and Gilbert each kiss me Good Night on my forehead and walk out of the room, turning off the lights and pulling the door close behind them.
I snugly hide inside my blanket. My eyelids force shut by themselves. This day is finally over. God, hope tomorrow turns out fine.

The End

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