Nadia
"Miss, did you hear me? I asked why you want this job?" the interviewer repeated, looking slightly annoyed that he had to repeat himself.
I knew better than to show hesitation, which could be misinterpreted as fear or lack of confidence and that wasn’t really needed in my line of work.
After all, I was applying for a prestigious position as a lawyer at a reputable firm— again might I add— having had previous attempts at other firms unsuccessful.
My mouth was open, but no words came out. I thought to myself, why wouldn’t I be short of words when they weren’t asking the right questions? Why else would someone want a job? Isn’t it obvious? When a company posts a vacancy and someone applies, isn’t it clear that they want the position?
I forced out a cough, momentarily putting my thoughts on hold. "Because," I began.
You can’t do it on your own, and I need the money... and I also studied for years to come looking for a job like this, I wanted to say.
But instead, I said, "It’s been a dream of mine to help people who couldn’t help themselves."
I cringed internally, imagining myself in the interviewer’s seat, asking someone this question and receiving such a clichéd response. I would have straight-up yawned or told them,
I remained silent, as there was nothing to say. Her suggestions were reasonable, indeed it would make life easier for me.
But while I had confided in her about Mr. Larforteza, the man I had come to know as my father, there were certain things I had kept to myself.
How could I explain to her that the father I had grown up with wasn’t my biological father?
I couldn’t bring myself to confide in her about that; I feared she might look at me differently and not want to be friends with me anymore. Right now, she was the only person I could talk to comfortably... sometimes.
After my mom died, my father had fallen critically ill, requiring a blood transfusion. During the testing process, it was discovered that my sister was a match, but I wasn’t. The test results revealed that I wasn’t his biological child.
From that day on, he destroyed every picture of my mom and stopped treating me with kindness.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there had to be a reasonable explanation for this revelation.
My mom had lost her virginity to my father, or Mr. Larforteza, as he now preferred I call him, so I had always assumed I was his child.
But science doesn’t lie, and I was forced to accept the harsh truth that I was not the exception to the rule.
Sure, my sister Celia wasn’t aware of what had happened, and she still cares for me, but she was treated as the firstborn daughter in my stead.
My father had even gone so far as to make it known in the household that every asset he owned was to be given to her, if he’s no more, leaving me with nothing.
That’s why it’s so hard for me to go around boasting about his name. If he were to find out, and he always seemed to have a way of discovering things, I would never hear the end of it.
I had even made up my mind to conceal my surname, but when I was in college, Celestine was my Roomate so she happened to see a lot of my video calls with my sister and sometimes father.
The next day, everyone learned I was Mr. Laforteza’s first daughter. I quickly realized I couldn’t trust Celestine with some information, given her… enthusiasm.
That’s why I had yet to reveal to Celestine the real reason I hadn’t been using my father’s name, and I didn’t intend to. My goal was to build a life where people would know me for who I am, on my own merit... but with my credit cards starting to decline and no job in sight, that dream was starting to seem like a childish fantasy I once had.
My phone suddenly rang jolting me out of my thoughts. I brought it out of my purse and eyes widened.
Mr Larfortaza, my father, was calling me.
Celestine peeped and on seeing who was calling, she yelled excitedly. "Pick up!"
I picked up immediately, quite curious myself.
I cleared my throat and said, "Hello?" The line was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if he had butt-dialed me. That would seem plausible since he rarely calls. We only speak because of my sister, Celia.
But then his voice rang out, sending shivers down my spine. "Nadia, how are you?"
I was taken aback, suddenly at a loss for words. ’How am I? I don’t know, hOw… aM I ?’ I thought to myself.
Just as I was struggling to respond, Celestine jumped in, mimicking my voice, "Fine, dad."
I mouthed ’what the fuck is wrong with you?’ to Celestine before placing the phone back to my ear, just in time to hear strict and stern orders.
"Be home by 7 pm, I’m cooking dinner. Take care." With that, he hung up.
Celestine murmured something about "now’s my chance" and other encouraging words, but I couldn’t shake off Mr Laforteza’s words.
"He’s cooking dinner?" I thought to myself, alarm creeping in. "Is today the day I die?"
My phone rang again, and this time around it was the agent I had hired to help me look for a job.
I picked the call quickly, ignoring Celestine that was trying to peep to see who it was.
After communicatng with him for a while, I ended the call and stood up. "I have to go,"
"But you just got here, and we are yet to eat your cake."
"Save some for me later," I tell her while fixing my purse.
"Where are you off to? I thought your father said 7pm it’s just 3 pm."
"There’s a new job offer, I have to check it out. Wish me luck and who knows, we might eat both cakes." the words rushed out my mouth, as I rushed out of the lounge ignoring Celestine’s disappointed look.
Not exactly looking ahead of me as I rushed out to where I could get a taxi, my head bump on a hard chest.
"Oww," I groaned as I rubbed my bruised head. I looked up to