Chapter 6
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"Yes."
Boban brushed Sasha's hand as she set down her teacup. The thick, oily hand was not unlike the lump of fat clinging to his stomach.
"You'll have to go to Albert's wardrobe before you leave, I've left something for you."
"Yeah."
"And shred all these documents."
He held out a stack of papers, and Sasha hurried to accept them as he slid them across his desk.
"Understood, Senator."
"This one, I need you to type it up for me."
"Yes ....... Senator."
He placed another sheet of paper on top. The stack of papers was quite heavy.
"And what do you do after work?"
Sasha's eyes darted from side to side before she answered calmly.
"I'll be resting at home, Senator."
"Good."
He smirked slyly, slapping his hand on his desk.
"Why don't you have dinner with me tonight?"
There had been plenty of men who had asked her to eat with them, watch a movie with them, take a walk with them, or walk her home, but Sasha had never said yes.
"Yes, okay, Senator."
"Good, ah. Just make sure you go to the costume shop tomorrow, you'll have a hard time with your hands after work."
Sasha returned to her seat and thought of the first thing she could do, never expecting her first yes to be from a balding, pot-bellied, middle-aged man.
"......This is crazy."
No. She didn't know what a shredder was, she didn't know how to type, and all she knew how to do was wash, clean, bandage, and bathe. The best she could do was the odd errand to Albert's wardrobe to pick up clothes, which wasn't urgent. Sasha found herself in front of the desk of the man she'd come to when she needed a spending resolution.
"Uh, I'm sorry, what's...... shredding...... shredding?"
"......You're kidding me?"
He repeated in disbelief. He half expected it to be humorous. But Sasha swallowed hard and spoke again, her face white.
"Do you think you could teach me how to type......?"
"Holy shit, Miss Schmidt."
He cursed and shook his head in disbelief for a moment.
"Who the hell hired you?"
Sasha didn't know, and she didn't think Senator Boban had picked her, and she didn't think this nameless man had picked her, so what kind of connections had Jared made to push her into this position. She didn’t know much about secretarial work, but she knew a lot of women would love to have it. For women like Sasha, who were either housewives, mothers, or volunteers, secretarial work was the only job that allowed them to work equally with men.
The man grumbled and showed her how to use the shredder and typewriter. She spent half the day typing the five lines that Mr. Boban had written down, and by the time she left the office, she was completely exhausted.
"I'm sorry, Senator."
"It's okay, it's okay, it's just a job, take your time."
Boban, a regular at the restaurant, pulled out Sasha's chair and soothed her. His touch was relaxed and unhurried as he took off his coat and hat and handed them to the waiter. He smiled as he picked up a glass of water from the table, which was nicely decorated with hydrangeas.
"He must have had something in mind when he recommended you."
He?
"What would you like to eat? The veal tenderloin here is excellent. Wine? Or whiskey?"
"Just, uh, water."
"Don't make me feel bad. Miss Schmidt."
He reached out and cupped Sasha's chin gently, smirking. Sasha caught her first glimpse of his discolored gold teeth through his oily mustache, which made his laugh quite vulgar.
"Just one drink, then."
"Great.”
Boban raised his hand and hailed a waiter. While he winked at Sasha and ordered off the menu, Sasha tried to figure out who "he" was that Boban was talking about. In the midst of it all, she didn't realize Boban was calling out to her.
"Elga?"
"Yes?"
"Do you mind if I call you Elga?"
"It's ......."
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No."
He touched his mustache and laughed.
"I see. And your family?"
"I'm an orphan...... No, I have one brother."
Sasha reminded herself that she was Elgar Schmidt, then stammered and changed the subject. Boban found it funny and began to chuckle, a laugh that didn't stop for a while, as if she was being mocked. Sasha clinked her glass of water and asked.
"What's so funny, Senator?"
"Nothing. It's just......"
He held up his palms, still laughing.
"I just feel sorry for you."
Boban poured the wine the waiter had brought, first into Sasha's glass, then his own, and soon raised his glass.
"Here. Elga Schmidt, to the bright future of my innocent young lady."
Sasha awkwardly raised her glass after him, his unintentional laugh nagging at her. The whole time, Sasha tried to figure out who "he" was that Boban was talking about, but the more he drank, the louder his voice became against the wall window, making it impossible for her to converse with him, let alone ask questions. The restaurant's staff were very used to dealing with Boban. They even took his hat and coat and put him in a taxi in front of the restaurant, giving him his address.
After parting ways with Boban, Sasha managed to get a small notebook and a pencil just before the general store closed, and as soon as she got back to her room, she tried to write down every detail of the day's events, but the more she wrote, the more she saw how pathetic and stupid she had been, which was not the kind of harvest Jared wanted.
Sasha stopped by the dress shop early in the morning to find Boban's clothes. She'd been worried that she'd run out of time after spending all day typing on an unfamiliar keyboard. The last thing she wanted was to be fired for not doing her job, but the last thing she wanted was to be fired and stuck by Boban's side, even as his mistress. She had crossed the border and knew no one here, so she had to stay put until Jared contacted her, or she wouldn't be able to go back, and she wouldn't survive.
With the well-packed box of clothes in hand, she headed around the same corner as yesterday to Senator Boban's office, the chill of the crisp morning piercing her skin through her thin coat. She wondered if she should buy a fall raincoat, but she didn't have much money. Forty bahk at most.
She hadn't realized the value of 40 bahk until last night, when she went to the restaurant. It was the price of the steak she'd eaten. Not that the restaurant wasn't expensive, but it was a ridiculously small amount of money compared to that. So a raincoat was out of the question. She had to compromise by layering a blouse under her coat.
Arriving at the office, Sasha dumped Boban's box of clothes on the coffee table in his office and looked at her watch: 8:30 a.m. She naturally opened the office window first to air out the interior. It was an old habit from her time in the ward. As she washed the dishes she hadn't done the day before and practiced her typing, the office staff began to arrive one by one. Then, just before nine o'clock, Senator Boban appeared.
"Elga, you look beautiful today."
He patted Sasha on the cheek as she stood up to get her bag and coat, then hummed and took off his coat.
"Why don't we watch a movie this evening?"
Sasha hesitated. As much as she liked getting close to him for his information, she was afraid that if she didn't walk the line, she'd soon be lying under him.
"Take your time. Sweet Elga."
He touched Sasha's cheek again and winked.
"May I give you a piece of advice?"
Someone spoke to her as she was organizing Boban's coat and bowler hat.
It was the same man whom she still didn’t know his name. His eyes were hostile as he pushed up his glasses. He leaned in closer, glaring at her.
"The last secretary got a cottage on the beach, and the one before her got a gold mine across the ocean, in the New World. I'm sick of stupid women who become secretaries just to fuck around with the boss. I don't care if you're from Nepiran or how much money your parents have, Miss Elga Schmidt, if you're here to work, do it right, before you start calculating how much money you can rip off Senator Boban by spreading your legs. Type your consonant vowels properly, do you have any idea how much work I have to do because of crazy women, damn it!"
Sasha couldn't figure out why he was so angry. She could only vaguely infer that he was taking out his stress on me about his overwhelming workload.
"Senator Boban is a married man, you silly woman! Do you have any idea how graceful and beautiful Mrs. Boban is......"
No. Was it reverence for Mrs. Boban......? Just as his face was reddening and threatening to burst, there was a sudden bang, like something breaking, but more nervous and dense.
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