Chapter 7 His departure

JC accepted the job, hopeful that the new assignment would give him a promotion. 

In their talk at the office, Mr. McMillan told him, "Your role is principally to follow the story of the controversial senator, Benigno Aquino Jr., who is on his way back to his country after seven years in exile.  He is a charismatic person and full of followers. People think that he is the only possible replacement for the ailing president. There are threats to his life. And he might not be able to step on the land. This is the reason journalists are overly interested in covering his life. Catch up with him. I don´t want any other newspapers to come first before us. "

JC listened with an open mind. "Copy, sir,"  was all he could say.

In going out of the office, JC was jubilant and eager to do what his boss told him to do. "The discomfort is temporary. Of course, there is a sudden change in temperature, from temperate to tropical that I will have to adjust.  I hated the sweat on my shirt in going out of the plane. Some of my colleagues couldn´t cope up with it. But I´m young and  I could easily adapt to the changes. This assignment would change all of it at the right time. Traveling becomes a routine when it is done for work. It has lost its luster for some of my colleagues, but not for me. I love it. Being thrown into a place I have been longing to see all my life is a welcome order. Also, I will find myself away from friends, from the comfort of my home, to be in a faraway land, but I will surely face all the consequences of change in due course.

Taking risks, I don´t mind either, for it is what made the difference in this kind of job. Sometimes in a war-torn area, we journalists will have to brave the dangers in order to get to the truth. In reality, I love the challenges,  among the people who politically made the changes in those countries. This time will be different. No wars and no revolution to cover. But who knows of the dangers when I´m there in the middle of it all? "

"So I should never fail him," JC promised to himself.

Mr. Mcmillan picked JC from among the rest because he was sure that he had an instinctive grasp of the complexities of foreign policies and the skill to turn out incomparable work in a very short time. This was the reason he relied on him. He also said he was the kind of reporter who never took things for granted. Punctuality in the submission of reports is a trait he valued in his person. He really thought he was the right person for this job.

Before leaving the office, JC signed an insurance contract.  His plane ticket, a place to live, and names of contacts were handed to him by the amiable Kate on a piece of paper.

He decided to travel light. In his flat, while packing he checked all his things, making sure everything he needed was there in the suitcase, his passport, and contact numbers. If he forgot something, like a toothbrush, he was sure there would be places where he could buy them. He was taking note of the things he could have missed. This will be a short stay, JC reckoned, but a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him to see the place he had only been hearing about from his dad. 

One cursory inspection of his flat and he was ready to leave. "I´ll have to see that everything is in order. I have checked the faucet, cooker, and every cord is pulled from their sockets." He made one last count, looked around, and finally locked the door behind him. Rent this place? He smiled at Mr. McMillan's insinuations. "This trip might be for a long time. Who knows?" He shook his head, smiling at the thought. "But on the other hand, it would be self-liquidating. The rent would pay for whatever little expense for repairs it would entail. Why not?" He smiled at the thought.

He took the elevator and got down to the lobby. At the landing Fidel, the concierge smiled at him. He had been taking care of the whole building for twenty years and had seen different people come and go. In his 50s, with greyish hair, he was ready to lend a hand at any time to any of the apartment owners. Seeing that JC was loaded, he offered to help. “Taxi, Mr. Martin?” 

“Yes, please,” he answered while tugging along two medium-sized bags and a briefcase. 

“On a business trip again!” Fidel rose from his seat and opened the main door for him to pass. “It seems this time it won't be for a short while."

JC nodded. He stopped at the door, looked out, and glanced at the concierge. “While I'm away would you be kind enough to take a look at my flat, Fidel?”

Nodding, he answered, “No problem, Mr. Martin.” 

“Thank you, Fidel. Here's the key. And if you need something urgently call this number. It's the secretary to my office. Kate's her name. And this one is my dad´s number. He is going to pick up my car from where it is parked. Be sure to give him the key as well.”

Within a few minutes, a yellow cab pulled over. It idled in front of the apartment and the driver loaded his luggage into the trunk. 

He said goodbye to Fidel and hopped in. In the taxi, he had some mixed feelings about leaving this place. He felt gloomy. He missed it. He knew it was temporary, though, but it´s about work, nothing more. Still, he felt a wave of unexplained murkiness.

Looking out through the window of the taxi, the tall skyscrapers that towered along the way made him more melancholic, as if he was not coming back. Was it that he would be leaving some friends who are inside those flats and offices or was it because of the sad memories that they brought to his life? I've lived in this place for as long as I could remember and grown to love it, the people, the nightlife, my job and my flat. There's no place like home, he mused. 

The taxi driver inserted a cassette and Frank Sinatra came out crooning 'New York, New 

York'. The driver was from India, dark-skinned and wearing a turban around his head. A very respectful dude, he asked if the music disturbed him. 

JC said, “Not at all. I like Frank Sinatra. My dad taught me who he was. Your taste in music is quite classical. Where are you from?” He removed his glasses and wiped them with tissue paper.

Looking at him through the mirror, the driver said, “I'm from Nepal, sir.”

“It's an interesting place,” commented JC.

The taxi driver´s eyes were on the road, but he kept looking at JC in the mirror. “Have you been there, yourself?”

JC said, “Yeah, it was a brief visit, about two months ago, to learn meditation and something else.”

“It's nice to know that, sir. How do you find my country, sir?"

"My stay was for a few days. I should have gone around but I went to Nepal just for that purpose. And I don´t want to compare the place with New York. I would say it´s a mystical experience I had."

There was a short silence and JC asked him a question. “You must have been here for a long time. Have you been back?”

“I have not been home for thirty-five years, sir. I am raising a family . . . with four kids. It´s hard to maintain four kids. That´s why I can´t afford to travel anymore. But I'm proud of my motherland, sir"

“Don't you feel homesick?”

“Of course I do sir.”

The taxi wormed its way through the night when Frank Sinatra came singing I've Got You Under My Skin. When they passed Central Park, JC´s imagination was aroused by the coolness of the air. The night was breezy and nippy. Manhattan and Broadway were still alive as usual.

JC was contemplating on his assignment, his friends, and of course Kate. Having a second chance with her didn't seem so bad, but the new assignment in Asia was meant to keep them apart for a while. If it were not for the assignment he would perhaps have given in eventually to all her sweetness and would have opened up a new chapter in his love life.

The short trip gave him some time to reflect. "How lucky I am to be traveling free because of my job. In comparison, this man is traveling on the same dusty roads for years in order to feed and educate four children. While I´m seeing different places, some other unlucky ones are stuck in one place hoping that someday they could visit their own country."