story continues...

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)