Chapter 2

Everyone has an earliest memory. In my earliest memory, I remember myself kneeing on one of the seats in a MRT train.

I was less than five years old then. Singapore had just constructed the Mass Rapid Transit, commonly known as MRT, and my parents wanted to try out the trains. When we got into the train, the first thing that greeted me was the air-conditioned air. It felt so cool and fresh. I skipped to one of the seats, instantly. My parents were laughing as I stood on the seat.

“Sit down, ah girl.” my mother said in Chinese. I forgot what she was wearing, but I remembered what my father wore: He was wearing an ironed white shirt and a black tie, like he was some waiter in a high-class restaurant. “Ah girl, sit down.” my mother said again, slapping my ankle.

I sat on the seat. Almost all the passengers in the cabin were adults. Some of them pointed out of the window as the train moved. I turned again, knelt down on the seat and looked out through the window. “Mama, it’s moving!” I said in Chinese.

A few people laughed softly. I tapped my mother’s shoulder and kept on repeating myself, “Mama, it’s moving! It’s moving! Elle is moving fast!”

My father, a brawny man, then explained the law of physics to me. I did not understand a single word that he said. My mother turned her head and looked out through the glass window, as well. “Elle can move fast!” I yelled.

When the train was nearing a station, a female voice announced, “Chinese Garden. Chinese Garden.”
“Can talk!” I shouted, jumped off my seat and looked around me. “Where? Where is the talking? Elle wants to talk!”

“Elle, come back.” my father reached for my hand.

“Papa, where is the talking?”

“Ah girl, sit and enjoy the ride.”

“Mama, where is Elle going?”

My mother was stroking my hand as she said, “Pasir Ris.”

“Pasir Ris…” I looked up on the notice board. We had just reached Chinese Garden and, if we had to go to Pasir Ris, we had a lot of stops more. “One, two, three…” I started to count, impressed with my numbers. “One thousand more stops! Why must Elle go Pasir Ris, mama?”

My mother was still stroking my hand. She then said in a deep, measured voice, “We’re going to Pasir Ris not because of the destination, ah girl. It’s the journey there that is fun. Life is like a journey in which time is the distance and emotions are our obstacles: Finishing the journey, overcoming the bad emotions with good emotions, is more important than pondering on why we are going to the destination. Understand, ah girl?”

I nodded, smiled and turned to my father. “Papa, mama is speaking Spanish again.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Whenever I saw a car in front of me, I overtook it without signalling. A few cars honked at me, but I maintained my speed. My phone rang when I was going to exit the expressway. I dug out the hands-free and slotted the earpiece into my left ear.

“Cutie, where are you now?” Terry said.

I took a fleeting look at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was already one in the afternoon. “On the road for a spin with your car.” I said, signalled to the left and then finally exiting the expressway.

“Take good care of my car, eh.” he said. “I may be home at around midnight. Depends. You take care, okay? Love you.”

“Okay.” I said and hung up. A motorbike, a black Honda Phantom TA200, overtook me. I snored a little and stepped on my accelerator hard. A few seconds later, the Phantom was toiling behind me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When I reached the car park near my HDB apartment, I parked the WRX within a few seconds. I took out my cigarette box and wallet out from my handbag and left the handbag inside the car. Then, I strolled towards the motorcycles’ parking area, sat on one of the motorcycles and slotted a key into the ignition lock. The moment I turned the key, the headlights shone.

I got off the bike, opened the helmet box and capped a full-face helmet over my head. A few seconds later, when the engine had warmed up enough, I sat on the bike again, kicked the side stand away and rounded the throttle.

My motorbike, a blue Honda CB400 VTEC 1, rocketed forward like a bullet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Your father is an idiot.” my mother said, one day. I did not know what had happened. All I knew was that they had a loud quarrel a few days back and, this morning, my father disappeared.

“But then, where is papa?” I said. We were in the living room and my mother was ironing a few of my clothes.

“Gone. Your father is an idiot, okay? You remember that.”

I shook my head. “Papa buys Elle toys. Papa buys Elle sweets. Papa-”

“You, shut up!” my mother slammed the iron on the ironing board. I jumped and looked away instantly. “Your father is an idiot! A stupid idiot!”

I glued my eyes to the television. I was trying hard not to cry. My heart was beating a lot faster and there was a hot sensation on my cheeks.

“Oh, ah girl.” my mother had walked from the ironing table to the sofa within nanoseconds. “Ah girl, sorry. Ah girl-”

“Mama, is papa dead?” I said. I knew what death meant: It meant that someone had left this world to a better world. Everyone will eventually go to that better world.

“Ah girl, papa is not coming back.”

“Mama, papa is dead, right?”

My mother did not say anything for the next few seconds. She was looking down, as if to avoid my gaze. “Yes. Papa is dead. He is not going to come back. Now, it’s just us.”

My mother then wrapped her arms around me. She nearly squeezed me. We stayed in that position for a long period of time. Finally, when she released the hug, I said, “Mama, why papa doesn’t take Elle there? To the better world?”

“Because your father is an idiot.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Terry came back at around eleven that night. He carried a packet of food which smelled like some kind of fried noodles. As he put the packet on the dining table, I opened it.

“Char kway teow. Redhill’s char kway teow. Smells too good to be missed by you. Had a feeling that you’re not asleep yet.” he said and kissed me gently on the cheek.

“You eat it.” I replied, closed the packet and walked back to our room.

A few minutes later, Terry opened our room door and peeked in. “Eh, the cutie pie I know doesn’t walk away from good food. Please don’t possess my wife. Let her come back!”

I did not laugh. I was sitting in front of the mirror, scanning for any pimples or blackheads on my face. Terry walked in casually. I could smell alcohol on his breath.

“Look, I found this above our doorbell just now.” he said, and placed a small star-shaped mirror on the table. It had a yellow frame. I looked down at it and then concentrated on my face again. “Amazing, eh. A star-shaped mirror. You can’t find it anywhere, eh!”

I nodded, found a blackhead and gasped. It was not there last night.

“Cutie, take a look-”

“I’m tired.” I said, squeezed the blackhead out with my fingers and took a deep breath.

“Okay.” Terry put the small mirror into the side table drawer.

“Hey, you don’t keep things that you found outside!”

“Eh, it’s an interesting ‘thing’. And, yahoo, my cutie pie is back.” Terry grinned and slowly, he wrapped his arms around me. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I know how you feel. One day, your mother and you will patch up. I had a big argument with my dad a few years back, too. We are now talking to each other like best friends.”

“Dear,” I stroked my reddened nose. It hurts. Just like how it hurts for me to say the next few words: “It’s not that simple.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Every second Sunday of May is Mother’s Day.” Miss Yang, our art teacher, said.

I was only seven years old then. All my classmates remained quiet as Miss Yang continued, “May is the fifth month of the year. During Mother’s Day, we tell our mothers how much we love them. That’s the day that we repay our mothers.”

One of my classmates raised up his hand. “Miss Yang, you have a mother?”

Everyone kept quiet, as if that question hit a vein. Miss Yang smiled and said softly, “Yes, Johnny. I have a mother. Now, boys and girls, what date is it today?”

I looked at my small Hello Kitty watch that my mother had bought for me a few months back. “First of May!” I yelled as I fanatically raised my hand. “First of May, Miss Yang!”

“Yes, it’s first of May today. Two Sundays from now, it will be Mother’s Day. I want all of you to design and draw a Mother’s Day card to your mother. You can draw anything because you know your mother best.”

I clapped my hands softly. I had always liked drawing. Miss Yang then started to tell us the format and the tools used in this lesson: We had to use only 2B pencil and colour pencils. The size of the card would be half of our drawing pad.

When we went back to our seats, I started drawing immediately. I drew my mother on the cover of the card and, then, I drew myself standing beside her. My mother had long curly hair whereas, I looked like a dog crawling beside her. Then, I whipped out my colour pencils and coloured the pictures.

I struggled with the heading of the card. I wondered if it should be “Happening’s Mother Day” or “Happening Mother’s Day” or “Heppy Mother’s Day”. I did not know how to spell “happy”. In the end, I raised up my hand. Miss Yang nodded and walked towards me.

“Miss Yang,” I said, pointing to the three writings that I had scribbled on another drawing pad. “Which one is correct?”

Miss Yang read the words and was about to correct me when she saw the drawing that I had sketched. “My.” she said, as she held my card. “What’s your name?”

“Elle Yap Yong Ling.” I said. Then, I started to spell my name on the paper. “Elle’s name is Elle Yap Yong Ling.”

“Oh, that’s really nice.”

After that, I wrote out my Chinese name on the paper. “Elle’s Chinese name is Yeh Yong Ling. Elle’s mother teach-ed – taught – Elle how to write Elle’s Chinese name.” I said.

“Elle, you draw very well.” Miss Yang said. “Are you in any special arts class?”

“No, Elle is not in special art class. But, Elle likes drawing! Like, how Johnny likes Batman!”

“That’s great.” Miss Yang read the words on my paper. “Elle Yap… good. You really have potential. Your handwriting is nice, too. You wanna write some other words to show me? Like your mother’s name?”

“Elle doesn’t know what her mother’s name is. But, Elle knows what her father’s name is.”

Miss Yang curved her lips as if to stop herself from laughing. “Okay, Elle, write it down. I am really very impressed with your drawings and handwriting.”

“Elle doesn’t know how to spell.”

“What is your father’s name?”

“Elle’s father name is ‘idiot’. Elle’s mother said that. Elle’s mother also said that you are an idiot.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I was at work that day when she called.

I remembered myself looking listlessly at the computer, dozing off a second or two every few minutes. When I realized that I was too tired to continue, I stood up, ready to make my way to the pantry when my handphone rang.

A few of my colleagues turned to face me when the loud ringing buzzed. I looked at the exterior of the screen. It was from an unknown number. I sat back on my chair, flipped opened the phone and said, “Hello.”

“Hello, ah girl.” a familiar voice greeted me. Why in the bloody hell did I take more than a second to recognise that voice?

“Hey.” I said and, then, laid my back on my chair.

“Taken your lunch?” she said in Chinese. She had never known English.

I looked up at the clock. It was going to be twelve soon. I yawned once and realized that my stomach was grumbling. “Going to.” I muttered.

“Don’t go hungry.” her voice seemed weak. Or, maybe that was how she sounded like? I did not know. I could not remember. I had not spoken to her on the phone for more than half a year.

“I don’t do small talks.” I said. “What do you want?”

There was silence for one second. Two. Three. I could hear her slow breathing.

“Well?” I said. “I’m going to hang up if there’s nothing else. Goodbye.”

“Wait.” she cut in and, then once more, an odd silence enfolded us.

I waited. I looked up at the clock again and counted wordlessly the number of times the second hand ticked. By the tenth tick, she finally spoke again.

“Ah girl, I’ve got cancer. I may die within the next six months.”

When another ten seconds of silence were constructed, I knew my mother was not joking.

I dropped my handphone and the phone hit the carpet floor.

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