Chapter 6

The short conversation went something like this:

“Hello, is that Zinc Ang?”

“Hello Sunny! You called! Wait. Hmm… you finally called. I was expecting your call, dear. How’s work?”

“It seems like you are okay.”

“Of course I’m okay with it! Wait… a dinner date will be good. How about restaurant? Of course, my treat. Can’t let a pretty lady pay, right?”

“You’re not impotent, right?”

“You’re more important to me! The book says I must make all the decisions. Tomorrow, five in the evening. I’ll wait for you at Bukit Batok MRT Station. Okay?”

“No, Zinc. I’m just calling to see if you’re okay.”

“Of course! I’ll see you tomorrow then, okay?”

“No.”

“The book says when girls say no, it means yes! You’re just trying to be difficult! I’ll see you then. Wear pretty pretty, okay?”

“Look-”

“What kind of flowers do you like?”

“I’m not coming, Zinc.”

I hanged up and the phone card ejected. As I was walking off from the payphone, I realized something that jolted my senses like an electrical shock: I had remembered every single word of our conversation, like how a teenager would remember everything that her first crush had said to her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next day, after school ended, Chew Ling ran off, saying that she was going to be late for work. Work? Chew Ling, the rich Cedar girl working?

“Sunny!”

I let out an audible breath. I had just reached Bukit Batok MRT Station after a sleep in the train. Just in front of me, standing near the ticket office, was Zinc in a white shirt and black pants. He looked smart, akin a waiter in a classy restaurant. A woman – not more than fifty years old - carrying an umbrella was saying something to Zinc.

I stepped back. The woman beside him strolled along with a smile.

I’m sick of acting…

“Hello Sunny! You are early too!” Zinc said, that stupid smile of his never leaving his lips. On his right hand was that “Pocket Idiot's Guide to Getting Girls”.

I stared at him with my mouth wide open. The woman was holding on to his left hand like a mother taking a kid out for a walk. The woman seemed harmless: She was wearing a green Giordano “World Without Strangers” t-shirt and black Bermuda shorts.

“You’re so young, still in school uniform.” the woman said in Chinese. She sounded like those aunties I often heard in the wet market who always bargained for the best price. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on here, I never promised him anything, or whatever. I’m going home. Whoever are you related to him…” I motioned my chin to Zinc. “Don’t make him disturb me again.”

I did not see Zinc’s reaction. I dashed towards the bus interchange and looked at my watch every few seconds to hint them that I was “in a hurry”.

I then heard someone crying: Weird, sobbing sounds that I often heard in the cinemas coming out from grown-up men who always refused to admit that they had cried when they walked out of the theatre.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bukit Batok Bus Interchange has always been brown since I first stepped here. There are no SBS buses here: All the buses are from SMRT. Adding brown to brown was the brown ground and the yellow signboards all over the place.

I went towards my bus signboard and sat on the stone chair in front of the queue for the queue has never exceeded ten people. Someone was walking briskly towards me at the bend of my eyes. It was the old woman with Zinc. She staggered towards me, her umbrella swinging front and back.

“Girl?” she said to me.

“No, auntie. Look, I think you’ve got the wrong person. Zinc – that guy – whoever he is, had been disturbing me everyday last week. I’m going to call the police if he continues to harass me.”

“I’m so sorry!” the woman said, tapped the tip of the umbrella to the ground and sat beside me.

Why the hell did she bring out an umbrella on a sunny day?

“I’m his mother. Zinc has Down Syndrome. His IQ is only 60, so-”

“I don’t care if he’s got down symptom or up symptom. I don’t care if his IQ is high or low. I’m still going to call the police if you guys continue to harass me.”

“Oh.” When the woman sighed, she was looking down. I could no longer see her face. She used the umbrella to push herself up and forced a trembling smile. “Okay. Sorry that he disturbed you.”

I fixed my gaze at the queue in front of me. What was taking the bus so long?

“Sorry.” she said again and then that was when I realized the purpose of the umbrella: It was for her to balance herself. She would use the umbrella to push herself up a seat.

“Are you-” I said. Stopped.

Shut up, Linda. Talk more, make more mistakes.

“I’m fine, if that’s what you intend to ask.” she began to make her way slowly back to the MRT Station.

I closed my eyes. Opened again. Then closed.

What? Define perfect.

The woman – Zinc’s mother – had taken just twenty seconds to walk from the MRT Station to the bus interchange. Now, three minutes later, she was still struggling to walk back to the MRT Station.

“What…” I raised my voice so that she could hear me. “What’s a down symptom?”

She wheeled, faced me and showed me that trembling smile again. “It’s Down Syndrome, girl.” She then began to stroll towards me; and all of a sudden, her walking pace increased miraculously.

The power of a mother’s love, or just pure pitying act from her? Whatever it was, it worked.

Next (Chapter 7 >>>