James and I walk into the storage room as I switch on the lights and indicate to him the different items and the corresponding cartons. I try to keep the conversations to a minimum, avoiding physical contact, drawing at least one-and-a-half-meter distance from him.
He is now asking me some questions about the induction cooker on the range, and it seems like he knows nothing about cooking, serving or servicing. With time, my curiosity and rage increase exponentially. Breathe in, breathe out. Don't be unprofessional, I whisper to myself.
I press a button to demonstrate the heating process, "You press here if you need to warm up the whole panel. And the green one here to just keep it warm after it is finished."
"Okay. So what happens if I burn the soup?" He turns to me, serious.
"You cannot burn the soup, James." I try to explain, "It will take an awful lot of time to dry up the soup. And also, if it reduces to a level, the heater will turn off automatically."
As if enlightened, James nods slightly as he squeezes his eyebrows and scribbles down some words on his notepad. His shirt slides off a little and his collarbones appear, emphasizing the width of his shoulders.It strikes me that all of a sudden, I have a chance to observe and stand beside a person I have not spoken to for the past eight years.
James looks up and our eyes meet. He curls his lips and smiles without showing his teeth. He nervously scratches his hair, "What's the matter?"
Isn't it ridiculous? In school he is this person that enjoys ganging up on me with the others. Now, I am teaching him the basics of cooking, cleaning, and so much more. The roles between us seem to reverse. I try to find an answer to why he is here and what really happened between the others and myself in school.
"Nothing. I am just thinking about something."
The music in the background is playing a recent pop-song called Gangnam Style. Its heavy beats and electronic sound effects cover the shop with a false sense of excitement and perhaps, hopefulness.
"Ok." He crosses his legs and pulls away from me. Leaving a distance between us, "let me go and clean the counter up."