Exiled (AmBw)

Chapter 19

After leaving the hotel, I found a pleasant cafe where I could get something to eat and brainstorm. I ordered something simple, a cream cheese bagel and a coffee, just a little something to hold me over until lunch. While eating, I had worked out a foolproof plan of how I would survive for at least three days in Japan. On paper, I divided up how to wisely use the money Takanori left for me. I tried to keep in mind that Takanori wanted me to buy myself something nice. His kindness now governed how I allotted the funds. Knowing Takanori, he's going to want to see physical proof that I bought something when he comes to visit me in New York. I calculated only the bare necessities: food, transportation, and lodging. Takanori believes I'm leaving Japan today, so I made sure that the majority of the cash that was leftover after budgeting was more than enough to get something that would somewhat reflect the amount he gave me.

Seeing as I didn't have any interviews scheduled for the day, I found a nearby internet cafe where I could start writing up my articles. This trip hasn't even felt like a business trip, especially without all the things I had grown accustomed to having, my laptop so I can write, my purse with my business cards so I can do some networking, and my phone, which would have been blowing up with emails from work. 'Oh, Shoot! Emails!' I thought, remembering that I hadn't checked my work email since I landed in Japan. After shuffling my luggage into a private cubicle I rented, I sat in front of the computer, hesitant to login to my email. I made it a point to clear out my inbox before this trip, to prevent getting overwhelmed by the influx of emails I would receive. This trip was one of my first times working with a few of my co-workers, seeing as even though we all belonged to the same department, I hadn't gotten a chance to work with them because Chris always had me working as his assistant most days. I wanted to make a good impression, so I hope they hadn't held the past 4 days against me. I inhaled deeply before hitting enter on my password. To my dismay, I had 59 unread emails sitting pleasantly in my inbox, just waiting for me. I shouldn't have been shocked, but yet here I am. I stretched, put my hair in a quick ponytail, and began clawing my way through my emails. Even though responding to emails wasn't one of the hardest parts of my job, it sure as hell was tedious. I managed to tear through most of them with relative ease. Some were office emails about department meetings and recognition posts. Others were emails that didn't need my immediate response anymore, such as the email I received from Naoto informing me of the changes to our interview. Then came the real nail biters, like an email that I received from Caroline, the Copy Editor, and a few from Evan, our Fact Checker. I'm sure my failure to respond didn't sit too pretty with them. I contemplated writing a long explanation as to why I had taken so long to respond. On second thought, I figured this could be seen as a sign of weakness, knowing Chris as I do, I'm sure he has been slyly talking crap about me, muddying the water, painting me in a bad light to everyone in our department. Instead of taking my usual approach to life by apologizing, I whipped up a nice email summarising the success I found in Japan and the vision I had for this piece. If I ever plan to be no longer under Chris' wing, I need to pull up my big girl panties and show them I can handle myself. After a whirlwind of corresponding emails, I felt liberated by their responses, they weren't snarky and underhanded like Chris, which was a breath of fresh air. I smiled, thinking that maybe this is my life turning around for the best. Quickly glancing at the time, I realized I spent almost two and a half hours staring at the computer answering emails only, I hadn't even touched my articles as yet. I sighed deeply, feeling those two hours and a half in my eyes, lower back, and shoulders. I stood up to stretch, giving my aching bones some relief when I felt a familiar growl, my stomach. For a second, I considered fighting through my hunger, trying to finish up answering my emails, but inevitably I decided against it. Responding to people while "hangry" seemed detrimental so, I logged out and took my things with me to forage for food.

Outside of the internet cafe, I sat on top of my suitcase, wondering what I should eat for lunch. While in deep thought, a scream pulled me back to reality.