Chapter 2 │Chances

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I move closer to the elevator. There is a weird tingling feeling in my stomach. Even though I made a mistake, I apologized as well. What was he so arrogant about?

Pushing these thoughts away, I turn back and I am so surprised to see that it has only been a minute to the whole drama, and the sweepers have cleaned the floor as if nothing happened. Were they expecting something like that, and were ready with the mops and wipers? Or this man really crashes into someone every day that the staff is so used to about it? Anyways, that freaking madman has wasted my precious fifteen minutes.

It's 9:30 am now. Thirty minutes late for my interview, how very late of me.

I heard a ding of the elevator. Without any thought, I pushed myself into the empty block. Its lengthier side was a mirror, and the other two sides had plain mud brown wallpaper. Simple, yet so extravagant. I reached the 9th floor within a minute, and started looking for any banner that can lead me to the interview place. This floor is comparatively emptier, just a hallway with a lot of doors. My eyes are going up and down to every room, but no clue.

"Good morning ma'am. May I help you?" says a voice from behind. It's a woman standing at the reception, in a uniform with a smiling face.

The first good thing of the day.

"Yes, please. I am looking for the place for my interview," I replied.

"Okay. What is your name? And what time was your interview scheduled? I'll take you to the respective room."

"My name is Mi Hana. Actually, my interview was at 9:00 am, but due to some circumstances, I couldn't reach exactly on time."

She is still looking at me and then she looks at the computer screen and says, "I am sorry, Miss Hana. But your interview time has already passed. We may not be able to reschedule you," these words are falling heavily on me.

"What do you mean you cannot reschedule? My reason is very genuine. I tried my best to reach on time, but I couldn't. Please understand."

"Miss Hana, we were strictly told to keep up with the rules for this interview. You know this selection process comes annually, and we have a very tight and sorted schedule. I understand you..."

"I'll wait," I cut her off. "Just put me anywhere on the list. Morning, afternoon, Evening, anytime. Even if you are taking interviews tomorrow, I'll come again. Just consider my request for once."

The lady is clearly irritated. "Okay. Please sit and wait here." She pointed her hand to a small waiting area on a side.

With a sigh of relief, I walk and sit there. I'll sit till night even if I have to. I cannot let this chance brush away at all. There's too much going on in my mind. This day has been the most difficult in my life. Back in America, Dad never wanted me to struggle for anything. He made my comfort his absolute priority. My aunts used to say that he has spoiled me enough and that I may never know the taste of struggle, I realize it now. It's not like I am giving up, but my legs are not strong enough to bear the burden of all of this alone.

I still remember the day I convinced my father to send me to Korea. It was a slow day, and I received an email from La Belle.

A letter of acceptance that people die for.

It was that my selection has been approved and the next step is my interview. My father was not happy. He never wanted to send me away. Especially, after my mom passed away. But I told him, I belong to my country. Even though we moved to America after my mom passed away, my heart was always in Korea.

I may not remember much, but I remember walking with mom. I remember our short trips to the beaches. I try to remember the most I can. If by any chance I knew that these moments will just stay for a while, I would have never let them go away. Or maybe, I would have preserved them better in my twelve-year-old brain.

I told dad that it's enough; ten years since we are living in America. I have graduated now, and I want to do a job in Korea. Once, I get a job here, I will never have a chance to go back to my country, not even for vacations.

"Hana, if anything makes you feel closer to your mother, I would never be a hindrance to it. I would be rather glad to know that you remember her. Although this old man's memory is fading away, I see her in you. You are her reflection," said dad, his voice almost breaking.

I could understand. It is hard. He doesn't want to let me go, neither do I want him to be alone here. So, we decided to move together, back to my hometown, where I belong.

"I won't go back, I promise myself," I cried to myself.

My thoughts are suddenly cut off from chit chats and rushing noises. I see a group of people walking towards the elevator. Everyone is talking, with exuberant faces. They are shortly joined by a young-looking female in a formal suit.

"Thank you everyone for coming here. You all are finally shortlisted for our two-month training and coaching sessions, here in La Belle. We hope to train you as professional makeup artists one day," says the lady in a loud, formal tone. The group applauses for itself, and heads towards the elevators.

"Are the interviews done?" I asked, with a lump in my throat.

"Miss Hana, I already told you that we cannot reschedule your interview in any way. This year's selection is all done, and we cannot hire any more recruits."

That's it. I expected these words at the least. My confidence has drowned. My purpose, struggle from last year, has gone to drain. The lady is still speaking, but I cannot hear her. Is this country ever going to own me? A tear now rolls down my face. And maybe there are many more in line waiting. Before I cry a river right here, I need to leave. I ignored the speaking lady and rushed to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

There's no one. I stare at myself in the mirror, the tears of loss are flowing. And then there comes the reaction of my mouth. I put my hand on my mouth to muffle my voice as much as I can. My tears have turned black due to the mascara, and my face looks terrible now. I joined my hands and let the water gather in it to splash on my face.

Just then, I heard a bathroom door open.

Shit! Someone was inside? I have been crying like crazy. What would she think of me?

A woman, likely in her thirties or forties, walked to the sink. She's wearing a skirt suit, with bangs lying on her head. I started splashing my face more rapidly, to avoid getting into any conversation.

"I can understand," the lady said, suddenly. "This bathroom has acted as an escape for girls like you, for years."

I stopped splashing my face and look up in the mirror to see her.

"Girls like me?" I am full of emotions right now. My voice is numbed of crying, and I am actually very disheartened.

"Yes. You girls give up too easily. Duh, this generation," the lady is still standing straight, looking at me from the mirror.

"I haven't given up. I just...

I just don't have any chance left," I cried.

I gulped and went back to finally splash my face for one last time. There was just silence, the woman still didn't move.

"I'll give you a chance," said the lady, suddenly.

I stopped again and looked at her. Her straight lips have a slight curve now. I stand straight to face her.

"What do you mean?"

She slides her hand in her breast pocket and takes out a business card.

"I am Miss Ombre, the director of La Belle."

Oh my god, no.

She sees my hands still dripping drops of water. So, she slides the card into my coat's pocket.

"Tomorrow, 9 am sharp, in my office."

She starts walking towards the main door. And then she turns and says,

"Makeup is supposed to make you beautiful. If it ruins your face, you are doing it wrong."

She smiles and then leaves.

What a day full of surprises.

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