Three thuds! That was how she unequivocally decided to punish her car for breaking down earlier and making her wait half an hour in the auto mechanic garage. She struck at the steering wheel in front of her out of sheer annoyance in a bid to honk the loud horn.
The woman wheeling the white 2016 mini cooper clubman at the head of the queue was always very slow to react whenever there was even a slight movement in the already overly congested road which caused other cars to maneuver into the lane they were driving through or rather, parked in because she had barely moved fifteen meters forward in the past ten minutes.
She pressed the button to wind down the vent glass beside her and ducked her head, popping it out the window it in an attempt to get a glimpse of the far end of the Piccadilly circus like road.
She also caught sight of the woman wheeling the white car through her side mirror. Her face was buried into her phone and her eyes were glinted in happiness while was seating here in frustration, thinking the woman was still only an ignoramus in driving given the 'L' tag behind the car.
Just then, a small van drove into the lane.
"Hey!" her voice came out sharply as she screamed at the woman unbothered about the lot of people that had begun to stare at her.
She fought the urge to curse at the woman for coming into the terrible traffic of the Massachusetts when she apparently could not be smart about driving.
On second thought, she tilted her head back into the car and winded up the glass, turning up the air conditioner to literally feel cool and calm her nerves as she was certain smokes were puffing out of the ears of her bright red face. She fell into the driver's seat allowing all the frustration to gruesomely seep in.
The black pant suit she had on had successfully been ruined from the glass of beer that was spilled on it by some random highly intoxicated man in the bar she had taken a detour into, to drown her rage and anger. And although she immediately dashed into the washroom to get off the stains, the strong stench of the alcohol still persisted which dainted the aura of her car. Add that to the list of things making her feel exasperated right now.
Right before that, her boss sent her a mail dismissing her from the firm for four weeks because he thought, "your head is not in the right place at the moment and I wouldn't want that to compromise the work of the firm." He didn't want to out rightly put it to her but she knew better–she was fired. If she resumes at the firm after four weeks, her position would have most definitely been occupied.
And in the morn of this gory day, Madame Maria del Carmen Garcia phoned her daughter, demanding her presence at the 'Colita Real' back in San Luis, Mexico. Her statements could not have been any more different from a threat that even her stubborn persona wouldn't dare ignore. So, she had just bobbed her head up and down in response to her mother's rigid and defeaning intricately cold words right after the line went off.
"Arrgghhh!"
She groaned loudly with her mouth closed pounding at the steering wheel again till her hands began to hurt, not minding the man looking at her weirdly. Her head fell to the wheel and she shut her eyes tight hoping that when they came open, she would magically find herself in her apartment.
'Well enough of the wishful thinking Alejandra García!' her sub conscious pricked at her with those taunting words that only reminded her of the plaguy reality glaring at her.
She lifted her head from the wheels, palming her cheeks with both her hands with her elbows rested on the steering wheel as she looked angrily at that white 2016 mini cooper clubman.
Alejandra has been having a lamentable day. It was not the first time in the week. It had become a reoccurring situation since the last three days. Bad, worse and today was absolutely abysmal.
The day before today, the electricity in her building loft suddenly went off.
"We are sorry to announce the situation, but there has been a little technical problem at the electrical panel. Have no worry, the situation will be resolved shortly." It was that darn porter's voice through the speaker informing the hundred and two residents of the building to exercise patience for a situation that would be fixed 'shortly.' That 'little' technical problem took about seven long hours to be resolved. What's worse, it had happened at about seven thirty in the evening which meant she had to stay cooked up in her hot and dark loft for seven long hours.
The day after that, in her indisputable rage, she yelled at a colleague in the firm who had been innocently pointing out the very erroneous financial report she submitted to the board for the meeting.
Well, in her defense, she was computing those numbers when the lights at her loft went off. Mistakes were bound to be made since in that moment, all that clouded her thoughts was how she was she was going to march down to the porter's lodge and give them a piece of her disarrayed mind. After all, she squandered a lavish amount on electrical bills.
Today, she had taken deep breaths before stepping out of her confinement because she read online sometime that it always helped with the feeling of immerse anger and frustration threatening to burst out of someone.
Failed anthropology clearly as she got fired in the same day, before she even stepped into the office. Of course she had confronted the head of human resource (HR) in the firm and ended up letting out all of those feelings that had been threatening to explode, in a very dramatic scene.
So here she was! In her continued run of bad events that will eventually sum up the terrible week she had been having.
Thank goodness, the mini cooper clubman finally moved. From then, she went on and on the now mildly congested road and soon enough, was driving freely through the road towards her loft building.
In about twenty five minutes she was at her loft building.
She pulled over at the garage, slamming the door shut when she was out and making her way inside.
At the porter's lodge, the bald man clad in a black two pieced suit called her attention to the news channel he had been spying.
Alejandra lethargically dropped the box incorporating all her personal belongings from the firm to the floor and plopped down weightlessly on one of the chairs in the lodge.
"What Turner!?"
The man grimaced inwardly at her sharp response to his nothing but friendly call for a little chit-chat about the economic analyst on the television, spewing his debatable thoughts on the recent decline in the national GDP of the country.
"Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," he pouted like a little girl whose doll just got snatched from her arms.
Nothing unusual about that, everything about Turner reflected that of a woman, the way he spoke; in that squeaky 'very annoying voice that never has anything reasonable to say except vomit about the electrical problems in the building' as said by Alejandra. The way he walked–sultrily and very provocatively which made everyone think that he was either bisexual or just straight–gay that is.
"What Turner?" Alejandra asked again. "What next? The water supply has also developed a technical problem?" Her index and second finger moved up and down to show a quotation of the words, 'technical difficultly'.
He scoffed in disdain at the way the words flew out of her mouth. Why does she always have to be so rude to him? Come to think of it, all the time he tries to be friendly towards her, she was very ready to dish it out to him rudely. And he doesn't learn does he? Always inviting her and setting himself up for more of Alejandra Garcia's cold responses at him.
He murmured profanities to himself before audibly informing her of the real reason he had halted her angry stomp towards the elevator.
"This came for you," he stretched his arms towards her. The white envelope in his hands simply read, 'To Alejandra'.
She eyed at it with skepticism. "What's that?"
"How am I supposed to know?" It was Turner's turn to give her a taste of her own medicine while feigning an unruffled attitude.
Alejandra rolled her eyes and groggily stood up from the chair, meandering towards him to snatch the envelope out of his hands.
Turner stared pitifully at the envelope as she massacred it whilst trying to get it open which made him wonder what on earth got her to be so vile early this afternoon.
Shit! Alejandra was torn between her infuriating anger and shock as she stared down at the plane ticket and small note that was contained in the envelope. The note read, "See you on Saturday."
As much as those words seemed benign, she could imagine how it actually sounded in that voice.
Her villainous mother had been daringly staid about everything she had said when she phoned her that morning. She wanted Alejandra back in Mexico by Saturday. And that plane ticket staring up at her was enough reason for her to oblige to this calling.