Approval

I make a U-turn back to the large white house now on my right. Could that be the one? I give her a call.

"Hi, are you outside?"

"I think so... does your house have a black grill gate and white walls?"

"Yes that's the one, I'll be outside in 2 minutes..."

I make it in one piece in damp weather to my boss's house. It is lavishly simplistic. I turn off the engine and keep an eye on the front door, agitated fingers drumming the steering wheel.

Okay. Straight to the point. Yvette. I'm going to be doing a movie. Damnit, I can't believe I'm doing this... Yvette. Um. I've always had a passion to be an actor and an opportunity popped up and I want to be committed to your company but at the same time this is something I have always wanted to OH MY GOD OH CRAP SHE CAN'T COME OUT NOW I'M NOT READEEEEEEE

The soft silhouette of my employer wafts out of the house and toward the front gate. I get out of my car with the elegance of a retard, and she opens the gate to let me in.

Yvette has been on maternity leave for the past several weeks so I have not seen her in a while, let alone visit her house. But I am desperate to do two things: get her to personally sign my final documents for my internship, and tell her something which had been arranged a year and a half ago, right before I had switched full-time jobs.

She welcomes me inside and sits me down in the warmly-lit living room. Yvette looks subdued but blissful. She glows like a mother. I dread the thought of extinguishing it tonight.

She obligingly signs the final reports and it lifts the first weight off my chest. She then tucks her hands back into her lap and looks at me attentively like a little schoolgirl in front row.

"Now, you said there was something you wanted to tell me?"

I sweep imaginary hair behind my ear, scrunch up my face and force it out.

"Um, yeah... I've been... sssssssssselected to be in a movie."

I look at her. Time goes slow enough for me to watch, through her eyes, the information processing in her head. I almost don't want to know what is going to happen next. I could be mauled by a Rottweiler and not flinch.

"Really?"

"Yeah..."

Her reaction is not anger. It is not disappointment. In fact, she looks intruiged. Something is wrong. What happened to the apocalypse?

Yvette continues to ask about the movie, her curiosity unwavering: the cast, crew, director, release dates, auditions... And then her eyes widen with a new concern.

"You know, after this movie... Are you going to...you know, come back?"

She makes it impossible for me to say anything but 'yes', so I say it three times.

Then comes the question that is to determine my near future:

"How much time do you need off?"

"We're set to shoot in the two middle weeks of January, 9th to 22nd."

"...Oh, only? Okay."

My bomb has been diffused. As if the anti-climax is already not overwhelming enough, Yvette decides to make it worse.

"You know, my husband was one of the producers for Spinning Gasing..."

I leave the house in a daze, and step into my car. I drive off to the nearest petrol station to fill up, and the moment I hit the highway, I slam my palms on the wheel and scream until my lungs give way.

I love my boss.