The car Damar was driving was speeding through the toll road. I couldn't close my eyes out of worry because the car was moving too fast. What exactly was he chasing, driving this fast?
Damar refused to use the company's operational car, claiming that another division needed it more, while he could use his personal car. His idea was commendable for his loyalty to the company. Ugh. But deep down, I couldn't help but curse him. That two-faced man just wanted to be seen as a good employee.
Halfway through the journey, the man beside me hadn't spoken a word. Not that I expected a lengthy conversation, but at least he could avoid being as silent as a statue. Seeing his serious face only intensified my hatred.
The client we were meeting was in Bogor. This was the second meeting after the previous head of marketing had made the initial approach. Damar's job was merely to follow up, nothing to be proud of.
I glanced at him with heavy eyes. Damar was focused on the steering wheel. I sighed deeply, already bored with the silence.
Damar was never talkative, but I used to initiate conversations to avoid this awkward silence. Now, I couldn't be bothered to make small talk.
Honestly, my back was sore, and my stomach felt oddly crampy. Was it the nasi uduk Damar bought for me earlier? But... this pain felt different. Oh no! Don't tell me this is a sign of my period.
Because I lied about having a stomachache last night, now I'm actually suffering. I have a pad in my bag, which I always carry just in case, but now I'm struggling to find a way to ask Damar to stop the car so I can use it. Especially since the man beside me looks anything but friendly.
What should I do? Can I ask Damar to stop? I think there's a nearby gas station.
I cleared my throat softly, trying to break the tension. If I weren't with Damar, I'd easily ask to stop. But everything feels different with him driving. Ever since I distanced myself from him, we stopped having casual conversations.
The pain in my stomach intensified, making me wince. No wonder I've been so emotional lately, blaming Damar for everything.
I cleared my throat again, but he didn't even glance at me. I grew more anxious. If I waited too long, I might end up staining his car seat. Alright, I'll swallow my pride this time.
"Sir..." My voice faded as Damar briefly glanced at me. Even in that short moment, his sharp eyes showed annoyance at being distracted.
"The air conditioning is a bit too cold," I said. What am I even talking about? Why am I bringing up the AC? Damar didn't seem to care, but moments later, he adjusted the temperature.
"Too cold?" he asked, though it wasn't clear if he was really asking or just repeating my words. I wasn't cold; I just needed to use a pad.
Alright, this time I'll do it. Just think of him as a colleague, not an annoying boss.
"My stomach hurts," I finally said, immediately regretting it. I should've been more specific.
That one sentence made Damar slow the car.
"I already asked Doni to buy you painkillers, didn't I?" he said, as if blaming me for complaining despite having medicine.
"I took it," I replied with an arrogant look to show I didn't care about him, even though he was my boss. I couldn't let him see my anxiety.
"Why didn't you take the medicine? You knew we had a trip today and ignored your health," he scolded me. I frowned, surprised by his nagging.
"If you knew I wasn't feeling well, why didn't you take someone else?" I snapped, my stomach cramping even more.
"Because you're the only one who met the client before. No one else would know what to do," he replied.
I wanted to argue until his head ached, but I had something more urgent to deal with.
"Stop at that gas station now!" I ordered as Damar almost passed it. He looked confused but pulled in. As soon as the car stopped, I jumped out without saying another word.
I breathed a sigh of relief after using the pad, thankful I didn't stain my skirt. Feeling more comfortable, I confidently walked back to the car where Damar was waiting.
"Why didn't you say you had a stomachache?" he asked as I opened the door. My eyes widened in disbelief. Didn't I just tell him that earlier?
"It's not as bad as you think," I replied, faking a smile while seething inside.
"Let's head back then," he said. My eyes widened again. Head back? We were already halfway there!
"Why go back? I'm fine now, and we're already halfway," I protested.
"How can you work properly when you'll be complaining about pain the whole way?" he said.
Wait a minute... Could it be that this man thinks my stomachache is unbearable and that I'll be whining in pain throughout the journey? Oh my gosh! I only asked to stop at the gas station to use a pad, not because of diarrhea.
"Dear Mr. Damar," I said, clearing my throat and putting on a serious face. My anger had reached its peak. He knew I had a stomachache last night and even bought me medicine. But why did he drag me on this trip today? That's what really upset me.
"I won't ask to stop at a gas station again," I said. Even if I had to hold my bladder, I'd do it until we got back.
Damar tilted his head, looking at me as if I'd said something absurd.
"Let's head back," he repeated with a blank face, then started the car without another word.
Ugh! Why do I feel so frustrated?(*)