A Special Friend

"Knock, knock!" I gently waved my knuckles against the old wooden door and swiftly tip-toed away. I glided myself behind a wall and peeped out. As it always happens, the door opened steadily with an eerie creak. A hand stuck out the door and collected the bag I left at the doorstep. With the same eerie creak, the door went shut. My job was done.

This had become a routine for the past few months. As I headed for the stairs, a plethora of thoughts ran through my mind. It wasn't anything unusual. Each time after delivering the bag, an indescribable emotion would rush within me. It always makes me tear but I also feel a great sense of satisfaction knowing my help has been accepted.

Paige was a lady who lived alone. Paige. Each time I refer to her by her name, I am reminded that no matter how many times I had visited her place to deliver the bag of daily necessities, I never knew how she looked like. The only thing I knew of her was that, she was an intelligent woman who lost her family in an unfortunate accident and the impact of the loss made her recline to seclusion. The first few times I stood outside her place, she refused to open the door. And each time, I tried to figure how to get her to accept the items I brought on behalf of Social Services. Finally I figured I shouldn't be standing by the door.

As ironic as it may sound, I had grown reliant on her through the months. She had become a friend whom I could confide in. Whatever unhappiness or joy I had, I would always write a note and place it in the bag for her. I knew that I could trust my secrets with her. At the same time, I hope that whatever little interaction she could have would someday bring her out from her seclusion.

As I reached the ground floor, I heard footsteps from behind. They were slow but definitely intimidating. I froze and wondered if I should quicken my steps. I braced myself and decided to turn around to take a look. When I turned around, I saw a shrivelled old lady following behind. "Oh well," I thought to myself. I guess my thoughts ran too wild. As I continued my way home, I heard a voice calling, "Tru!" I stopped and wondered who it was.

"Tru, right?" the old lady hesitated.

"Yea... yes?" I replied cautiously.

"You mind taking me for a walk?" the old lady said.

"P... Paige?" my heart started beating fast. Could it be that she finally came out from hiding? The next word rooted my feet to the ground.

"Yes..." the reply reverberated in my ears. I couldn't believe it. When I regained my senses, I hurried up the steps to help her down and we went for a walk. It felt like eternity.

Paige. It was the first time I could put a face to the name. She was a good conversationalist and since that day, I stopped writing her notes. She was special because she made my life special.

Anger

The wind started picking up as the clouds moved to blanket the night sky. One by one the stars were covered by the blanket of cloud. It did not make much of a difference, but the sky seemed to have grown a few degrees darker.

Nat had the inevitable feeling in his gut that something might go wrong this evening. There was nothing more than a queer grinding of his thoughts, but Nat was quite accurate when it came to such things. The impending storm just reinforced his beliefs.

A slight beep indicated an incoming call on his mobile. Looking at the name flashing on the screen, a frown furrowed across Nat’s forehead. Nat stared at the flashing name for a couple of moments more, as if trying to will it to change, or hoping that the person might hang up.

“Yes?” Nat’s voice betrayed a slight hint of irritation.

“Hello? Hey, I wouldn’t be able to make it,” the female voice on the line said quite slowly. The wind howled, making it even harder for Nat to hear what she was saying.

“Right,” Nat replied a single word response.

“Sorry,”

That was how the conversation ended, in a single word, without even an explanation. Somehow, Nat was glad there was no explanation. Knowing what he had been displaced by would only have further infuriated him.

It was not the first time that he had been displaced at the last moment by an anonymous event. Nat picked himself up and dusted the sand off his jeans and started for the car. The low lying clouds reflected the red, orangey hue of the streetlamps and seemed like an angry sheep rampaging across the sky. Nat had the exact same feelings.

Nat slid into the car as drops of rain started to bombard the area. Sitting there, Nat turned the key and the engine roared to life. It was not the usual purring that Nat had grown accustomed to over the past year. The engine roared an angry little roar. Every thing around him was encouraging Nat to release all the anger that he was trying so hard to suppress inside him.

Easing on the accelerator, the car moved out of the lot and onto the road. A sudden depression on the acceleration pedal hurtled the car down the road. The rain had also started to pour, causing Nat’s visibility to decrease considerably. However, nothing could convince Nat that slowing down was the rational thing to do. Nothing was rational now.

The car bore down the expressway at breakneck speed. The empty expressway merely encouraged Nat. The speedometer reached one hundred, then one hundred and twenty, then one hundred and fifty. Lightning continuously flashed like the whip of a unforgiving foreman, motivating Nat to speed up.

The expressway started to wind and meander and on the wet surface, it was increasingly hard to control the car. Turn after turn, the car swerved more and more. At the last turn, Nat was met by the blue and red lights of a police road block.

Nat slammed on the brakes and the screeching of his tires rang into the night. The policemen ran for the side of the road as Nat’s car crashed into one of the patrol cars. Nat’s car flipped and soared into the air with graceful ease. However, the car landed in an abrupt thud.

Inside the car, time seemed to have slowed down for Nat. Nat could see the car rocket into the air and as the car spun it was like a ride at a theme park. Nat was still in an adrenalin rush and death had not crossed his mind. The sickening thud brought Nat back to reality. But it was already too late, Nat died on impact.

Smiles

The morning sun filtered through the large clear panes of glass and turned the plastic divider into an instant mirror, reflecting the faces of the people behind me. The rays of sun flickered as the bus moved under the cover of trees. The disturbed rays caused the imaged to flicker, just like an old television nearing the end of its lifespan.

It was a morning just like any other morning. John had woken up barely an hour before and was making his way to work. There was nothing really special about this morning and the bus passed by all the usual stops and gradually filled up, just like it had every morning for as long as John could remember. One by one the empty seats were filled up with a person. Soon the last empty seat was taken up by a middle aged woman laden with groceries.

Passengers who boarded the bus after that had little choice but to stand. Occasionally someone alighted and a standing member would take the vacated seat. It was a smooth transaction, there was hardly ever any disagreements regarding the transactions of seats.

The bus pulled into a bus bay and an elderly woman gingerly made her way up the bus. Scenes like these were not uncommon, the driver waited for the old woman to move deeper into the bus before moving off. The old woman made her way down the bus, deeper and deeper she went, but no one stood up to offer her their seat. The old woman weaved through the mass of standing passengers skilfully as if she had done it regularly for most of her life. The sad truth was that she probably had to weave through the throngs of standing passengers with no one offering her a much needed seat.

John gestured to the old woman and pointed to his seat. The old woman gave a smile, warm and appreciative. John stood there and let the old woman slide into the seat. The woman thanked John in Cantonese, but John could not understand and merely smiled embarrassedly in return. The bus continued its journey oblivious to the kind gesture that had taken place.

The bus entered the expressway and picked up speed. John did not have a good foothold and he shifted uncomfortably among the crowd. He held on tighter to the handhold overhead and wished silently that the bus driver would slow down. Fortunately, John managed to survive the trip and the bus slowed down considerably as it left the expressway. The bus was nearing the terminal and that was John’s stop. Soon John would be free from this crowd.

Turning out of the expressway, the bus began to teeter as if the bus was travelling on an uneven surface. It had turned out that the storm the night before had seriously damaged the trees in the area and there were branches all over the road. Suddenly, there was a branch that was larger than all the rest. The bus driver could not avoid it and the bus jerked violently. John was unprepared and lost his balance, falling backwards.

John sat dazed on the floor before surrounding passengers moved to allow John space to get up. The old woman looked away and tried her best to stifle her laughter. However, there was no success and she burst out laughing. Some of the surrounding passengers passed looks of disapproval while others had pity written on their faces. John pulled himself up and straightened his attire. His initial emotions of disbelief soon faded as he stared at the old woman. He wondered if she would have fallen if he had not offered her his seat.

John smiled back at the old woman. A warm smile similar to the one that she had given him just minutes ago. The old woman had stopped laughing, and she wore a huge beaming smile on her face. The laughter had contained no malice and John was glad that he had brought such joy to someone. The old woman said something else in Cantonese, only to receive a look of incomprehension.

Reaching the terminal, John alighted with the old woman. The old woman tugged at John’s sleeve as he bade goodbye and started in halting English, “Thank you, day started very good.” She pasted a large smile on her face. John just smiled in return, knowing that he could not have said anything more than what his smile could convey.

An Empty Cup

The empty cup sat on the counter alone, just like its drinker, empty and alone. John stared at the glass only to see his reflection in the dim light. The reflection was slightly distorted in the curvature of the glass. Not only did it reflect John’s face, it kind of reflected John’s current emotional state: slightly distorted.

It was another night after another day at work. Nothing too interesting happened, but it wasn’t all that monotonous either. John was a policeman. The elastic hours meant that he couldn’t really keep a social life going. Drinking at the bar was as much of a social life as John could hope for. Initially the bar was a place where John could meet new people and relax after a good day’s work. Now the bar was a place where John came to seek solitude. He often wondered why anyone would want to enter such a profession.

John had entertained the thoughts of changing his profession for as long as he could remember, since he started 26 years ago. Recently, the thoughts had intensified. 26 years of service was a long time. There were times when the job gave John fulfillment. However, much more of the time, the job just gave him the greatest headache of his life. He had a feeling that by the end of this night, he was going to get another one of those chronic migraines that his doctors told him so much of.

The bar had pockets of drinkers huddled in different parts of the establishment. Everyone was whispering as if afraid the next person could pick up an unintentional piece of news. John was alone as usual at the, at his usual spot: the third chair from the right, right underneath the ceiling lamp. No one else dared sit at the counter. The counter was John’s. Unless you had business with John, you do not sit at the counter, even when he wasn’t there; you order your drink and leave, that’s the unwritten rule.

The only patrons of the bar on weeknights were regulars. So nobody really stays at the bar for too long, which suits John just fine. John was still staring at the empty glass in front of him, deciding if he needed another one. A sudden cold wind blew from behind him, sending a chill up his spine. John had never felt this before, not after downing as many vodka shots as tonight. Maybe he needed more, or maybe he needed something stronger.

Before John could signal for another glass, the bartender firmly told the newcomer at the door to close the door before the bar froze over. The man stood at the door, letting the warm air sweep over him. The door shut with a jingle as the door swept past the tiny bell hanging over the doorframe. After that, the warmth slowly returned to John, creeping up over him like a blanket being pulled up from his feet. The newcomer sat himself right next to John. The bar watched in a new silence.

John tried to shift slightly to his left, as far as the stool would allow him to. However, the guy just seemed to be inching ever so closer as well. The man placed his left hand onto the counter. He pulled his sleeve back to reveal a stainless steel hook. John’s eyes widen. His stare traveled up the arm to the man’s head. John half expected the man to have a parrot and eye patch. Fortunately, the only fascinating part was the hand. Now, John knew he needed another drink.

First Day of School

The occasional sound of cars whizzing by the entrance of the school could be heard. As I stepped past the canteen towards the quadrangle, I began to lose sight of where I was heading. It was too early in the morning and the sky was dark. I could barely make out the lines outlining the assembly area and the street lights were too far to be of any help.

As I proceeded towards where I assumed was where the classrooms were, I nearly tripped over the curb. The loud stomp of my left foot trying to prevent a fall broke the rhythmic echoes of a broom brushing along the cement floor and reverberated, breaking the comfortable silence. When this intrusion of mine died off, the rhythmic sweeping sound could be heard again.

The unfamiliar surrounding began to cause a little discomfort as I stepped into the middle of the classroom block trying to figure which room to head to. Having heard ghostly stories about the school prior to my admission didn’t help as I began to grow overly conscious of the whistling breeze and a chill ran down my spine.

“Relax. It’s just a story.” I thought to myself in an attempt to muster some courage. As the sky began to light up, I spotted a door with the label “1E”. “Ah! There’s my class.” I said to myself trying to keep my focus off the horrifying images in my mind. I stepped into the classroom and reached for the switches near the entrance. The lights flickered on and for a brief moment, I thought I saw a black figure at the back of the room but I managed to convince myself that it was just an optical illusion from the sudden brightness my eyes weren’t getting used to.

Suddenly, I felt a hand grab onto my right shoulder. I was startled and hesitated for a brief moment before turning around. Before I managed to turn the whole way around, a face appeared right in front of mine from the side.

“Hey!” a familiar voice sounded. My heart skipped a beat and I took a step back and saw that it was Liam, a childhood friend whom I hadn’t seen for 2 years.

“I’m posted to this class too!” an obviously jubilant Liam said excitedly almost like a shout.

“Great!” I thought to myself and smiled. “Company before school officially begins. Now that’s a good start.”

As Liam headed towards the back of the class to grab a seat, I held him back and said, “Let’s settle down in front.”

“So we can see better that way?” questioned Liam.

I glanced towards the back of the class again and replied, “Yes, so we can see better that way.”

Saying Goodbye

As the loud crowd gathered on a lazy Sunday afternoon, the chilling sound of a mobile phone rang. It played the happy tune of Merry Christmas, yet there was something strangely odd about it. Amidst the cheerful lyrics and upbeat tune, there was a tinge of sadness somewhere hidden amongst them.

“We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas…” the phone rang relentlessly. On a hot and humid afternoon, even a cheery tune as such would get on one’s nerves. “Why can’t this person just answer the phone?” I shouted in my head only to realize that it was my phone. Hurriedly, I answered it, “Hello?” The lady over the other side of the phone sounded anxious, “Where’s your mum? How can I contact her? Tell her Grandma’s in hospital and her condition is critical!” I was dumbfounded. For a moment, I stood there unmoving. When I regained my senses, I tried to calm the nerves of the caller as much as I was shivering myself, “Alright, I will get her to call you as soon as possible. Bye.”

Next thing I knew, I contacted Mum and told her to call Aunt Casey. As much as I had hoped to hop onto her car along the way, I could hear Dad telling Mum to ask me to go home to look after Grandpa in the background while they rushed to the hospital. I was reluctant but I had to obey.

When I opened the door to our living room, I headed straight for the incense. I lit them up and knelt down. In my heart, I prayed for the well-being of Grandma. “Please, let Grandma pull through this. Please.” All I could do for the rest of the day was to wait.

During this period, time began to crawl and even slowed to a stop. The minute-hand of my watch took eons to move an inch yet the sky seemed to have darkened prematurely. Suddenly, the door creaked open and I saw Mum drying her tears. “Lost” I thought to myself. Deep in my heart, I knew we have lost Grandma but I kept silent. I punched myself from within as my heart wrenched at the thought that I never got to see Grandma one last time. All I wanted to do was at least say goodbye but even such a dream seemed too far-fetched already.

Fame

The sidewalk was still bathed in the afternoon sun but thunder rumbling from a far away place announced the arrival of an impending storm. I stood at the door and peered out into the sky. Dark clouds had rolled in, invading the once clear sky. Outside in the streets there were hardly any people. Inside, it was a similar sight, there were hardly any people. The screech of chairs against the floor signalled the departure of the only patrons of this slow afternoon.

I bade the couple good day as they sauntered past me at the entrance. They smiled back and shook my hands as if we had been friends forever. No one else seemed surprised that they had done it. In fact most patrons do, some even ask for an autograph and photograph.

I am still famous. Though I do not make the front pages of the entertainment daily anymore, my every move is still well documented by many fans. Patrons would sometime even talk about such personal things that it does not surprise me anymore. I would be 47 this July, and that would work out to be nearly two decades of strangers speaking to me, concerned about my personal life.

Two decades ago, on a sunny afternoon, much like today, a lanky oily haired young man had auditioned for a talent contest. The young man did not know it, but the competition would change his life. This was not some cliché that played out in some movie where the main character would let fame get the better of him and then realise his mistake and turn over a new leaf. No, I did not have to go through all that. I had it really well, and I am still enjoying the fruits of my fame.

I look at the empty eatery. Some restaurateur might fret at the sight of an empty eatery on any afternoon but sometimes I wished that this was how the bistro would remain. I always enjoyed the peacefulness of the place. Compared to the madness of the bistro in full swing, I would take the peacefulness of emptiness any time. Furthermore, the bistro did not rely on a steady stream of patrons to stay afloat. The royalties from my past is more than able to allow me to live a life of luxury.

The bistro was more of a hobby. It gave me something to do while making me feel more common. The only downside of fame was the distinct line that it drew between me and others. I sat myself at the table next to the window resting my tired legs. Lost in my thoughts, a cup of Earl Grey and the papers were deposited on the table by Ally, my daughter. I was a creature of habit, even if my daughter did not do this, one of the other would have. I thanked her as she left in a hurry. I could never understand why the young were always in some kind of rush.

I slowly enjoyed my tea as the sun moved across the sky with the passing of time. Soon the evening crowd would come and the madness of the restaurant would begin and the friends that I never knew would start to stream in.