Senioritis: Chapter 1

Ten Years Later

The lights man put the spotlight off. I sighed in relief. That blinding light always gave me the feeling a big ravenous monster would come out of it and eat me like finger food.

“Another good show, EJ,” JD said as I inched my way towards the chair next to hers. She was the very enthusiastic director of my travel TV show, En Route. She had been my school mate in college, took up the same course I finished which was Mass Communications, and been my friend since.

“Not until we see the final output,” I answered in a modest tone, coughing a bit.

“The final output is just as good as the input,” she defended. “If the output is better, then there must have been loads of flaws in the input, flaws that I have never seen in most of our takes.”

“With you as director, how can we go wrong?” We laughed.

It was night time and we just wrapped up the studio scenes of En Route. Hosting a TV show of my own had always been my dream since college. We had a collaborative team of creative and detail-oriented people, the ones I enjoyed working with. Each one had a designated job to do, but all of us shared with one another our brilliant ideas that could contribute to the success of every episode.

JD had always been a great help to me, not just as a director and friend, but also as a critic. She would often give me tips on how to look good on TV. Well, not that I was not good looking in person.

There were a number of things we shared in common, things we both loved and cared so much about it felt like we would never survive a day without them.

Writing was on top of the list. We worked together in our alma mater’s student publication and had our fill of the issues revolving around it that dampened, but never killed, our spirit at times. There were little perks we enjoyed like winning in journalism contests held at fancy hotels in beautiful places in the country.

Second were books particularly novels. They created a world in our minds we knew would never exist in reality, but made us feel it did nonetheless. Having a poor collection of novels, she always lent me hers, including the Harry Potter series which I only got interested about in second year college.

Third, of course, was our passion for productions that always extracted creative juices from our crammed brains and exhausted our energy. But the outputs replenished our drained body, getting us prepared for the next project. Personally, what I loved the most about my work was its non-routine nature. I hated routines. I always wanted something new, something different and going places that I featured on the show was the perfect job for me. Tourist destinations, heritage sites, odd places—they offered various things that my eyes and heart could feast on. Well, I really never considered it as job per se. It was actually work and leisure combined, two things divided by a thin lining.

So, yeah, we were happy souls connected to each other by several silver cords that never loosen through time. No wonder why after several years, we still ended up working together, living up our dreams and passion. Having someone you had known for a long time in your workplace made me feel I truly belonged there.

After packing up, we went out of the set and proceeded to the spacious parking lot. My black Volvo was parked on the right side, several steps from the entrance of the TV network’s building, while her red SUV was stationed on the opposite side, seemingly waiting for her to be driven home.

“See you next week,” she said as she reached for the car door.

“Wait-a-sec, aren’t we having coffee tomorrow?” I asked, a bit surprised about her sudden change of mind.

She made a small frown and said, “I’ve just remembered I have to go home in the province. It’s been a while since the last time I enjoyed its comforts. And I miss mom’s cooking.” She winked.

“Oh, right. See you next week, then,” I agreed as I shut the trunk.

I got in the car and started the engine. She conked her horn and drove away after a minute. I stayed longer staring at the blank wall in front.

Now I feel tired. Hmpft.

After a few revs on the engine, I left too.

I drove past several high rise buildings made alive by bright lights coming out of their windows. Flood lights illuminating them from the bottom revealed their towering figure and glory in the city. One of them had flashing flood lights of different colors that made the building look like dancing in the night. Apparently, it was a hotel and casino. The aura was inviting, though I was not a casino fanatic. I continued driving along the highway past other skyscrapers and imagined myself owning one with a penthouse where I could enjoy a glass of champagne on a very soft lounge chair. Ironically, I never liked to live in a penthouse, much less live in a condominium unit. It made me feel as if I were some anti-social locking myself up in a cosy cage. I only got one for myself, so I could have somewhere to rest and doze off when I could no longer drive home because of unbearable fatigue.

Christmas lights added glow to the lively city. People were busy shopping for gifts and decors at stores lining up the block. Perhaps they were coming straight from work and that was the only time they had to shop for great finds.

My eyes jumped from a crammed store to another crammed store, and then I suddenly stopped on my tracks. Something caught my attention and brought my mind back to sometime in the past.