Chapter 1

It was a Sunday morning; the only morning in the week which I would be able to wake up without the alarm clock’s intervention. When I woke up, I patted the area beside me and realized that my husband, Terry, had already woken up.

I yawned and took a deep breath. The morning smelled fresh. I rolled around in bed and buried my face onto Terry’s pillow. It had become a routine to smell Terry’s pillow every morning, as if to confirm that his aura still lingered there.

I heard the water gushing in the bathroom when I rubbed my eyes. It had to be Terry. The screen on the digital clock said 10:01 AM, 14-05-06, SUN. It is just a typical Sunday morning, I told myself.

Terry walked out from the bathroom with a bottle of gel in his hand. He had changed into a light blue shirt paired with a dark blue tie. His thinning hair was parted to one side. As he stepped towards me, I smelled a tinge of fresh cologne on him. He looked like a Mathematics teacher. “Morning, cutie.” he said and planted a quick kiss on my cheek.

I nodded. It is just a typical Sunday, I told myself again. I smiled at Terry. He was checking his reflection at the mirror.

“Okay, set to go. Won’t be driving; my mother hates sports car.” Terry said. I nodded again, as if I had just forgotten every English word this morning.

“Love you, cutie. See you tonight. Call if anything chops up.” he muttered, tossed his keys up, caught them in mid-air and then slotted them into his pocket. “Do something, eh? Watch some DVDs, read some cheesy novels by Low Kay Hwa, chill out with your girlfriends or go to the gym. Don’t work. Don’t spend your day daydreaming, eh? Just go do something.”

With that, he left the room. I remained seated in my bed until I heard the main door closing. It was then I digested his words: Do something.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Do something.

I washed up within minutes, had a quick bath and then spent ten minutes choosing what to wear. I applied a light layer of foundation on my cheeks, darkened my eyelashes with mascara and applied lip gloss on my lips before getting off the apartment. By then, it was going to be eleven soon.

When I reached the car park, I unlocked Terry’s car - a blue sporty Subaru Impreza 2.5 WRX STi with a high rear spoiler and golden rims – and then stepped in. I daydreamed for about a minute before starting the engine.

I stepped on the clutch, pulled down the handbrake, shifted the gear to gear one and blasted loud music into the car. Then, I stepped on the accelerator and released the clutch. The sports car hollered to life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It is just a typical Sunday morning.

The roads were very Sunday. Yawning drivers with four passengers hogged the first lane. There was an upsurge of family cars moving at bicycle’s speed. I overtook most of them. It is just a typical Sunday morning, I reminded myself again.

“Yesterday was Saturday. Today is Sunday. Tomorrow is Monday.” I said aloud, as if to calm myself. Then, I increased the volume of the radio to stop myself from murmuring. After five minutes of driving, I came to a halt near a coffee-shop. The signboard read “Da Fa Lai Coffeeshop”.

I got off the car and fished out a cigarette box from my handbag. Heads turned as I dragged my stick. I tried to ignore the extra attention. After I had reached the filter of my stick, I flicked it away and took a deep breath.

Why in the bloody hell am I here?

I walked towards the coffee-shop. Almost all the tables were occupied. People were jostling for seats, as if this is the only coffee-shop in Singapore. The stallholders were all yelling and rushing. A boy, not older than ten, was trying to balance two bowls of fish-ball noodles with a rectangular metal tray. He was trembling as he walked.

I scanned the coffee-shop. The smell of coffee was overwhelming. I took a step forward and, then, stopped myself. In the mist of the din, someone shouted aloud, “Kopi-o, kopi-si, teh-o, clementi, tak kiu!”
I turned to the shouting. It was the coffee-shop assistant. As she shouted, she rushed towards the drinks stall. She wore a floral t-shirt, a pair of three-quarter pants and sneakers that had two holes at the toes section. On her waist was a small black pouch which carried all her coins.

When a guy raised his hand, the coffee-shop assistant rushed to him, nodded and then yelled, “Coke light!”

I shook my head. It is a typical Sunday morning, I told myself for the tenth time. I turned and walked off. Even with the loud din in the coffee-shop, I heard someone saying these two words: “Ah girl?”

It was soft and it was distanced. I could have made a mistake. I did not turn my head; I continued to walk towards the car.

It is just a typical Sunday, Elle Yap. Typical!

This Sunday is the second Sunday of May. And, on every second Sunday of May, it is supposed to be “Mother’s Day”.

And that coffee-shop assistant; she is my mother.

In other words, like what she always said, I am her daughter.

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