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I was rather puzzled. The Japanese was walking towards me. “Anything? You looked pale,” she asked in a low, concerning tone.

“No big deal, I had a mild cold last night,” I replied while reaching for my cardigan from the locker.

She was easygoing but just too straight forward to be friends with, too naïve in this matter-of-fact society.

Hence, after excusing myself, I headed swiftly to my geography class, located two blocks away. Geography has the highest student ratio over teacher by five; I need to go to the southern room, before the next bell strikes, to locate a suitable seat. As I was searching, I saw Shawn waiving towards my direction. He was kind enough to reserve a place for me just beside him.

There were no other alternative in the sardine packed room, hence I accepted his kindness. I placed my knapsack on the table, thanked him then went standing at the side of the back door of our class, viewing greens. Just then I noticed Shawn has stolen a few glances of me.

During gym, one afternoon, I recalled, I almost lost consciousness after our 200 meters’ sprint event. I was trying hard to breathe in and out, slowly, through my mouth. Then I heard someone alarmed the coach on my condition.

“Bridget, are you all right?” a caring voice asked. I didn’t make any effort to look up to know it was Shawn who has suggested taking me to the in-house clinic. He held his arms around my slender waist and pulled my arms on his shoulder. He towed me across the block while I leaned helplessly on his shoulder…

My illusion was intercepted by someone’s footsteps. Mr. Dan’s manifestation has been juggling in my mind since last night and I simply just can’t wait for another second for him to enter. I wonder who he is, without me noticing he has actually stepped in our room. I was stunned looking at his gigantic figure while the rest of my classmates, on the other hand, were standing in attention, preparing to greet him.

I have imagined him standing tall and smart but not with a protruded belly, untrimmed gray mustache, shining top and a hunch! Throughout his introduction, I avoid having eyes contact with him; fearing he might have noticed I am cross ‘examining’ him. I personally think he lives well without much predicament or anxiety and most importantly have a fine supply of delicacy compared to our poor selves.

Flipping back into last night’s memory, I only have had some sliced bacon, macaroni and cheese – a so call ‘budgeted meal’. However, after a couple of hours, subsequent to dinner, I felt hungry. It was 10 p.m. then.

Usually, by this time; I should have been dozed-off but not tonight. I toasted left and right, doing sheep-count but I simply couldn’t sleep. I walked to the hall and saw mom busy completing her chores. She is surprised to see me then asked, “What’s up, dear?” This was the first night I have ever had supper with mom accompanying me since dad demised.

I was upset to notice some newly grown winkles and crow’s feet engraved on her exhausted face as well as the darkening of her eyes. On her disorganized hair, there were some visible strains of grey hairs, growing like some dried out lawns.

Looking at her pathetic, obnoxious condition, I can’t stop pondering the proposal Craig had for me. But, is this an obligation or an opportunity?

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To my least expected, it was Craig who was standing before me. And, beside her is Jack.

“Bridget, I was doing my research when this guy appeared from the farmhouse,” she commented with a shoulder raised “and, he seemed to be good in Biology.” After excusing herself, I am left with him alone.

“Why from the farmhouse?” I tried to keep to my voice casual.

“Does it matters?” he threw back the question to me, “It has been three years and it’s rather surprising this was the first question to me! Why wouldn’t you ring me up?” he was furious.

I couldn’t find any excuses that we’d a short, uneasy paused. I hid my trembling hands behind my back, looking away at my own shadow.

He walked a few steps forward as he speaks, gasping hard on my shoulder, “I waited for you, and I don’t see why you keep hiding your feelings?”

“No I didn’t!” I protested deliberately.

“Liar,” he raged.

I looked down the dried leaves, and wished I could simply utter whatever that have buried in my bloody vault all these years. And, who is he I should reveal these secrets? Since when, I am an open book? Have we gone this far in relationship? But, was this the shadow that has been creeping near my window that day or …

“Bridget, I’m not pushing you but I have been here for you, and I just wish you could know” he clarifies, turning away, hands hauled inside his cargo pants pockets.

A weekend has passed but I didn’t happen to seeing him anywhere around.

I walked to the locker, uneasily, to take my cardigan. Upon opening the locker’s door, a memo flew to the ground. There were some notes on it. I bend forward to pick it up. I scanned through the contents, the unfamiliar writings read:

Bridget, I lied.

I have come on a biz trip as a sub-contractor and will be staying here for good. On your family situation, I knew you are ‘unprepared’ so I am leaving it to you to decide what’s best for both your family and you. I shall be seeing you again, if you pleased, a fortnight from today to discuss ‘bout your upcoming plans and shall see what I can do to help. Trust me; there will always a brighter tomorrow.

Luv, Craig

(to be continued)

An Obligation?

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The rest of the week was uneventful, and soon it reaches Tuesday. As I am doing my survey at the school library, time and again, I sniffed this scent again and it’s getting closer and closer to where I stood. I paused. My mind was searching; “Where the hack it comes from?” my thoughts were unmanaged, “Would it be someone I knew?” A creepy feeling telling me this isn’t true.

Reaching out my hand for the book that stood right in front of me, I heard a soft whisper saying, as though he heard my troubles “Yeah, you aren’t dreaming.”

Damn it! I turned my head towards the direction the voice spokes. There I saw him standing right before me, this blonde bloke from Panama. “Hi, Bridget!” he greets with a grin. Then, before me being able to put my thoughts into words, he has left, leaving me with 101 question marks, and not to be left out, confusions.

I didn’t let it bug me for long. Instead, I headed towards the counter with the inches thick reference books in my arms. Along the corridor, I enjoyed the sound of rustling leaves and the shaded trees make a good place for me to get my ass on the ground and finishing my assignments before the due for the next upcoming subject.

During Geography, we were coached to introduce ourselves. According to the temporary lecturer, Mr. Kelvin Dan will only be available next week.

Heard of rumours he has been invited, by the Ministry of Education since a few years back, to provide higher quality education for this newly developed syllabus. Before leaving, he has advised us to gear up relevant workbooks which have been written on the board.

I am heading the lockers’ room, and there he was, standing right in the middle of the corridor, smiling to me.

“Hi, to you too,” I greeted without giving a second thought, as a gesture of well manners “well, I hated saying this but it’s kind of weird seeing you here, where I least expected.”

“What to do?” he grinned, “besides, my father is the principle of this school and I guess you wouldn’t risk by shifting school, wouldn’t you?” Craig explained the reason behind his reappearance, with a chuckled. “And, I am wondering do I have the privilege to buy you a drink later … at the café or somewhere, you know it’s kind of inconvenience here?”

“Fabulous, but I really need to go!” I kept walking as I spoke.

I just couldn’t express how eager I am to accept the offer but I hesitated. Perhaps, the rejection is most probably caused by the tough financial situation we’re facing. It was difficult and embarrassing, though, to accept the fact that we are struggling to make ends meet. I simply couldn’t let this perfect encounter be ruined. It’s undeniable that we are “match made in heaven” when we are at Cynthia’s Place, at least as far as I presumed.

One day, after school, mom sought me to look for Jaclyn who might be at the back yard or somewhere near. According to mom, she has gone collecting some specimen for tomorrow’s lab test. I obediently strolled down our back yard however no way I could see her shadow. Fearing she might have gone near the abandon farmhouse, I jogged straight without haste.

Those dried leaves that have fallen on the path were somewhat a foot high, without appropriate maintenance. When I am searching, a familiar voice from behind greeted me.

“Should I turn around?” this was one of the million questions asked.

(to be continued)

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Just before the bell strike, I managed to step my feet into Modern Arithmetic. I have, recently, signed in for this subject. The classroom was small. And, the lady coming in is wearing amethyst pendant, very charming and chic – in her early 30s, I presume. As of her appearance, you will never belief she, in fact, is a degree holder in Bachelor of Psychology and Civil Engineering.

According to her, “Initially it wasn't easy with financial complication emerged during the midway of her almost a decade course. But, perseverance and determination lead her to success”, she added. She achieved extra credits and on-the-job experience by doing part-time lecturer at a local university recommended by a senior professor.

She claimed, “The technique used is designed to analyze your basic arithmetic skill.” Each of us is given some assignment and notes. Shortly after 12 minutes, the lesson ends with everyone greeting her goodbye.

Back in 1975, when dad is still around, I remember asking him, “What will I be?” after which Miss Potter, my English lecturer sought us to compose an essay: my ambition, earlier that day.

Suddenly I heard mom humming a rhythm. It sounds familiar though. The rhythm became clearer towards the end that sounds like this:

“… whatever will be, will be

The future’s not us to see, Q-sera sera

What will be, will be…”

At that time, I could not figure out what’s her meaning behind all the humming. But, it does ring a bell now.

I have spoken on my desire to becoming a secretary or office lady, when I have grown up; all dressed up smartly in official suits handling administrative tasks. I have envisioned spending my salary on personal glooming, nice attires and some indulgence - a Mercedes sports car and travelling with the little extras, of course.

Meanwhile, the wonders of the Mediterranean, in discovery channels, have captivated me with pleasant climate and its’ most-sought-after delicacies, culture and on top of all this – its’ 1^st class shopping alley at Milan. It was almost achieving perfection, but how? When will that day be? I looked at myself, feeling recoiled and left out.

I have always questioned myself, “Have I taken things for granted?” My life is doomed. I never have expected to commute to school, performing daily ‘walkabout’, being jostled and thrust left and right merely to catch a public bus which is made of some ‘scrap steel’ with a roaring engine.

As far as I could recall, dad has hired a chauffeur as early as eleven years ago, a black middle-aged Negro to serve us while he was away for business trips. But, now, I have to tolerate the filthy body odor which smells like carcass of some mammals that makes me wanting to throw out. These low ranking commuters looked pathetically obscene with sweats gushing all the way from their forehead and underarm as though they have not taken bath the whole year.

That summer afternoon, as usual, I was busy screening the ‘tank’ hoping to find myself a place to sit after which I have aboard a bus. Not very far away, next to the aisle, there was a seat beside an old folk. It was a free seating bus therefore with a little more effort I can rest the load of my shoulder.

The wind was strong due to the unwind window and the bus’ speed.

He has been too indulged in his conversation with the bloke sitting just in front of him. Unnoticeably, I feel a warm, greasy feeling attached to my right arm – it was the ‘leech’. I frowned whilst shifting my buttock away.

He gazed at me then continued with his conversation as if nothing has happened. The prolonged conversation irritates me even more with saliva sputtering over my checks. I cursed him to death, thinking how pathetic I am.

For me this shouldn’t be happening to us, decent people. I was very upset and have then decided could simply make a stop at the park for some private time alone before freaking out. Yeap, as a matter of fact, I did. I alighted from the ‘tank’ and make a move down the street which heads me directly to my destination.

There were some stray dogs barking at me when I walked across them. I witnessed many children were fooling around freely – with no guilt, no restriction and most importantly with financial freedom, I bet. But I don’t. I don’t belong to this community anymore, now, that dad was not around. Solitary and insecurity were the only words I can best describe my current emotion. I am despaired, words unarticulated.

When the sun sets in, I have decided to make a move again back to my pathetic hole that I called another day.

Five minutes have gone. But I am nowhere other than the bus stand which I alighted from earlier. Then I noticed there was a familiar scent blowing towards my direction. And, it was getting more and more significant when a gush of wind blow right to my face. It makes me wanting to sneeze. I remembered the exact scent somewhere, sometimes ago. I searched the surrounding randomly. I was certain that it was close. But, I simply couldn’t see any hint nor does it ring a bell to me.

The bus I was waiting, finally, arrives. With merely a few miles, I can see mom was waiting at the doorway.

“Hi, dear where the world have you gone to?” sought mom’s caring voice.

“Nay, just strolling in the park,” I replied hastily, “you know there are loads of assignments I ought to complete and thought of having a peace of mind on the way home,” while putting my knapsack away.

“Next time make sure you call,” she says humorously.

We didn’t have any phone access, not within two miles away – public booth. Perhaps, this was the last thing in her mind that she has ever thought of. But I believed once she gets hold with our household finances I bet the next thing will be with the installation, after all, we have grown up and there are times we make last minute arrangements or needed it during ‘mergencies.

(to be continued)

A Twisted Faith

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Today will be very different from the others. All of us are gathered around the dining table for a quiet meal. Our three-year-old brother, Chuck, is perching in his highchair, just awake from last night's slumber. He stared at us through his transparent watery blue eyes, swallowing bread. Without any clue, he asked, "Where’s daddy?"

The environment turned dead silent.

Dickens, Jaclyn and I gazed at each other, stunned.

Then the three of us, diverted our attention to the patio where mom was busy preparing food. No reaction to be seen!

To me, I would rather assumed that the question remain blur, unheard. I wouldn't want to see mom despaired anymore. She has had enough! All the excruciating sufferings and obstacles she faced from the day dad diagnosed with such cruel illness until this very day. I tried to divert my siblings’ attention to the on-going TV program, as if nothing has happened.

On dad’s funeral: she has had not got a chance to shed into tears. It simply strikes too early. He did not even say goodbye to us, not even a last word from him!

His appearance turned ugly during the final stage of dialysis, his hair falls badly, drifted appetite in spite of the severe medical condition he is having. Being the eldest of the family, I can’t do anything but to make trips to chapel, making confessions and pleas.

He brings joy and laughter to our entire family “Why must god be so cruel to steal him from us?” I murmured.

Suddenly I felt a bit wobble.

This was when Jaclyn noticed tears dripping from both my eyes then starlet me. “Are you okay?” she asked in apprehension.

“Yes,” I then added with a grimace, “just some dirt got caught up here” looking way as my left limb pretending rubbing my eyes.

Night comes and greets us not long before. We were asked to return to our bedroom and brace up for tomorrow. Jaclyn and I huddled up in a lower deck while Dick sleeps isolated on the upper one.

The bed frame is granted by Mrs. Baker, an appreciation on mom’s hard work for meeting her weekly production quota some fortnight ago. How joyful we are at that moment! But, it seems something is missing.

“Can we get a mattress or something?” a timid voice from behind asked. It was Dick.

The results: we have plain porridge almost every breakfast just to save enough for it. Then one fine morning, in the midst of our ‘salvation program’: Dick jumped off his chair, down the hall for his wardrobe. He appeared, clutching his piggy and volunteered mom to have some of his savings.

We were all rooted, feeling dejected.

The lumps in our throats bring tears to our eyes, especially mom. A prickly feeling of responsibility and guilt penetrated deep inside my heart. In spite of this, I have taken a part-time job at £2.30 an hour; handling some dispatch and documentation tasks in a catering company, hoping that the small amount would do something for the family.

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Wed, 17 Apr: It has been a year living here. Usually, mom will be preparing 'starch' for breakfast, with no exception for today. When asked on why she prefers cooking congee her reply would be “… more nutritious.” A simple reply though.

She was a modern, amicable, Chinese mixed which has migrated and lived in America ever since the last two generations. She has thick, dark copper hair while her ivory-skinned inheritate the fair complexion of her Chinese ancestors. Her pink, tender lips and physically in shape figure are merits that has lured dad to befriend her, initially, apart from those fine virtues.

The breakfast was brief as I need to rush to the bus stand before it gets too late. Upon my arrival, there have been a long queue waiting. I murmured as I tossed through my wristwatch, the 12^th birthday present which is also the last from dad, “Why the bus I am waiting for still in vain?” “Or, could it be that I have missed a trip?”

(to be continued)