Chapter 12

At about five-thirty, someone knocked on the door. I peeked through the hole. There were three women. I then unlocked the door and allowed them in.

One of them was about fifty years old. She had grey hair and when she saw me, she broke into a wide smile. “Hello. I’m Ivy, a volunteer co-ordinator from HCA Hospice Home Care. We’re here to chat with the patient.”

I nodded and motioned them to the sofa. Ivy took out a name card and passed it to me. “This is Khim.” she pointed to a lady standing beside her. Khim nodded and extended her hand for a handshake. Her shoulder-length hair was tied into a bun. “This is Fanny.” Ivy then pointed to the lady on her left.

After exchanging our greetings, the four of us sat on the sofa. I switched off the television and was about to serve them tea when my mother came out from her room. She walked towards us energetically.

I did not know what to do. My mother ruffled her dishevelled hair and sat beside me. The colour on her cheeks was back. The painkillers had worked well.

Ivy introduced the two ladies to my mother, saying that they were volunteers. “Hello, Madam Lim.” Khim said.

My mother shook her head a little. “I’m so weak, I’ll be sleeping thirty hours a day, so you idiots can go home.”

My cheeks warmed up instantly. I apologised to them, excused myself and went to the kitchen. There were no drinks in the fridge. I poured three cups of plain water, took a deep breath and when I went back to the living room, they were no longer there.

I put the cups on the coffee-table and thought of ways to chase the volunteers out of the house. My mother had always not gotten along well with strangers. I looked into my mother’s room. She was pointing to the superheroes in the drawing that I had drawn for her. Khim was nodding, while Ivy listened attentively. I took a step forward and Khim turned to face me for a split second before turning back to my mother.

“This is Daredevil!” my mother explained to the three volunteers. She, then, explained to them about “imaging”. Somehow, a smile formed on my lips. I stood back. Khim laughed. Then, Ivy joined in the laughter. My mother then said something which sent the four of them into a frenzied laughing spree.

I did not know what happened next. Maybe, the laughter infected me. I laughed and nodded at myself. My mother was proud of my drawing and me. She had been showing my drawing to almost every person that she met. I took a step back. My mother was still pointing at the various superheroes on the drawing. I glanced at my room, then at my mother one more time before I marched towards the main door.

“Yeah. She’s some sort of artist in a big idiotic company…” I heard her saying. I opened the main door gently and then went off. As I climbed down the stairs, I realized something.

My mother is so proud of me. Have I ever been proud of her?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A fifteen-year old girl’s wardrobe will usually consist of clothes that cost less than twenty dollars. When I was fifteen, I had only one branded top. It was a Guess pink top that Teresa, my primary-to-secondary school buddy, had bought for me as my birthday gift. However, during one quarrel with my mother, she accidentally tore it and I did not speak to her for more than a week.

One of the days, during recess time, I told Teresa about it. “My mother accidentally tore the Guess top that you bought for me last month. That bloody hell bitch. Anyway, don’t buy Guess top anymore. They tear easily.”

“Oh, that?” Teresa said and then stroked her chin. “That’s not a real Guess top! I bought it at Bangkok for only five dollars! Come on, you should know, right? Look at the label at the back of the top. It wrote “Guess Jean”. An authentic Guess top will have the wording “Guess Jeans”! With the ‘s’!”

I did not know what to say. Teresa bought a non-authentic top for me and she seemed indifferent to it? The bell rang after that. I did not speak to Teresa for the rest of the day. But, on the next day, when Teresa helped me buy drinks during our recess time, I broke my cold war with her and forgot about the non-authentic top that she had bought for me.

A few days later, when I went home, I saw a pink Guess top lying neatly on my bed. I felt the texture. There was no more tear near the shoulder area. My mother managed to sew the top back? But, it looked so new.

Then, I looked at the wordings on the label at the back of the top. “Guess Jeans”. With the ‘s’.

“Tell me if it doesn’t fit. It is exchangeable. But, the transport there is very expensive. No buses stop there; I can only reach there by MRT. By the way, it’s seventy-five dollars, not fifty dollars. That idiot just won’t give me any discount, no matter how hard I bargained. Very, very stubborn.”

I wheeled. My mother was standing at the threshold of my room door with her arms folded. I just nodded and held up the top. It looked perfect.

When my mother went off, I just stared, stared and stared at the top for more than ten minutes.

Now, I understood why my mother, for the past few days, had been skipping dinner. I did not know if I should cry or laugh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My mother regained her energy upon receiving palliative care. She no longer vomits every hour. She was able to walk around the house with ease.

I visited her three times a week. She had given me the key to the apartment, as I had thrown away mine two years ago. Whenever I was there, she would either be watching television or sleeping. If she was sleeping, I would tidy up the apartment. I tried not to go back to my room, as it brought back too many memories.

“Remember those idiots from ‘Horse P’?” my mother asked me one day, while we were watching television. It was some singing competition which required viewers to vote for them via SMS or phone calls.

“That three volunteers?”

“Yeah. They come in two’s now. That Key and Funny. I like Key. She makes me laugh. She knows of my condition. She understands me. She knows how to talk to a person who is dying soon. Well, that Funny is an idiot. She opens the window when I am talking.”

Opened the window when she was talking? She did not make sense. I glued my eyes to the television. Some youngster was singing a slow Chinese song. She sang very well, like some famous Singapore singers.

“I really like that Key. Like as if we’ve got something in common.”

I nodded.

“You remember Key? That short-haired girl with red rosy cheeks? And, a bun on her head? I always pinch her cheeks. They’re so soft.”

I looked away and nodded. The singer had just finished her song and her fans screamed so loud that the judges’ words could not be heard.

“I’ve lived in this world for more than half a century and this Key is one of the best persons in the world.”

I nodded again. I was listening to her every word, but I did not portray my attention.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When I was seventeen years old, I got back my ‘O’ Level results. I had expected myself to get at least a decent result that would route me into a Polytechnic course. In the end, I failed my English and got 25 for my L1R4.

I had expected my mother to create some commotion when she saw my results. But, when I showed her my results slip, she just nodded. I trembled. Had she gone crazy?

“Have you tried your best?” she asked me.

I nodded. It was not entirely true. I had been spending my Saturday nights dancing at small clubs and Sunday afternoons hanging out at shopping centres.

“Okay, that’s enough. As long as you tried your best, you’ve passed. At least, to me.”

When she passed the results slip back to me, my hands were still trembling. The reason why she was not angry at me still remained a mystery. I did not probe any further; I went back to my room. The next day, I told my teacher that I wanted to repeat my studies.

“Your mother agrees to that?” my ex-form teacher asked.

“Amazingly, yes, without a trace of emotion.” I confessed. I could see the shock building up in my teacher’s face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had been three weeks since my mother had been discharged from the hospital. She did not look sick to me, except for the occasional bruises that appeared on her skin and her tiredness.

I went back to work, as per normal. The Creative Director did not give me any work. I spent a week in the office designing templates and surfing the net.

One of the days, when I was editing some pictures, I got a call from an unknown number.

“Is that Elle Yap?”

“Yes. You are?”

“We need to talk.” The voice on the other end sounded familiar. I lowered my eyebrows and ran the voice through my memory.

“Who are you?”

“I am one of the volunteers with Hospice Care. My name is Khim and I am assigned to your mother. Please don’t tell Hospice Care about this call. Elle, we need to talk. It’s about your mother.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I met Khim at the McCafé beside Lido. I could not recognise her; it was she who recognised me. When I reached the café, she waved at me. She had red rosy cheeks and a slim figure. Her complexion was flawless. If I were to guess her age, it would be twenty-five.

After I had ordered my coffee, I said, “What is it about?”

Khim was stirring her cappuccino. “I am a volunteer with Hospice Care.”

“I know that.”

She licked her lips with her tongue. Somehow, she sounded strange, as if the hot coffee had somehow altered her voice. “I’m not supposed to do this. I mean, meeting a patient’s daughter privately. But, it’s all for your mother’s own good, so I hope you’ll not tell Hospice Care about this.”

I nodded. She could talk all she wanted. Even if I were to go back to my office, I would be wasting my time surfing the internet.

“Well, your mother had told me about the complex relationship she had with you. And, of course, that is from her point of view. Elle, I want to hear the story from your point of view.”

I had not expected that. I thought she was here just to tell me about my mother’s condition. I plucked out a cigarette stick from my cigarette box and lit it. That might be able to scare her off. “I don’t wanna talk about that.” I said, inhaled and exhaled the smoke off my lungs.

Khim reached for the stick on my hand, snatched it from me and doused it. I widened my eyes. She then took the cigarette box from the table and dropped it on the ground.

“She’s your mother.” she said, her eyes on me. “And, you’re her daughter.”

I stood up.

“I don’t like to go back empty-handed.”

“It’s between us, Miss Khim. None of your bloody hell business. You don’t stick your nose-”

“Elle!” Khim lowered her eyebrows and bit her teeth. When she did that, the rosy cheek disappeared and her dimples curved out. “Your mother is dying. Both you and I know that. Do you want her to leave this world with a memory of regret? Do you know how painful that feels? There’re only three to six months left. Don’t you want to make things right, again? You have a chance, Elle, to make things right, again. Don’t make a mistake now. Do it now; not tomorrow! When is the last time you thank your mother for everything that she had done for you?”

I lowered my head. The box of cigarette had landed near Khim’s shoes. I then closed my eyes.

“What do you want to know?” I said and sat down.

“Everything. From the time you were born till today.”

“What did my mother tell you?”

“I’m not going to tell you that. I need the story from different points of view. One from your mother and another from you. I had promised her that I will never tell anyone what she had just told me. Elle, everything you say now will be kept between you and me only. I promise you that.”

I lowered my chin to my neck and then started to tell her about the story between my mother and me: From the day when she caned me for stealing biscuits in the kitchen to the day when I left the house – and her - in anger.

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