twilight in the sky of night
waterfalls in the lids of eyes
butterflies of winter snow
dreams of stars in barren flows
hands of warmth in empty beds
sobbing souls of broken hearts
widows, orphans, vagabonds
margins of the country’s fields
live in the cold of frigid stares
erodes away thy blameless souls
Monday, March 30, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Five Lives
She heaved into the toilet bowl, and the intense discomfort caused tears to prick her eyes. The contents of her dinner swam in front of her eyes, and the foul stench caused the bile to rise up her throat once again. She had drunk too much. Far, far too much, she thought. Images of the vodkas, long island teas and cheap stout attacked her mind. And how the guys in the club had touched her, but she had been willing bait anyway. Her outfit had consisted of a black backless top, jeans that rode down and strappy heels that made her look tall. She had wanted attention, and received more than she had bargained for. The heavy night of dancing, alcohol and cheap friends-she had done it for a reason hadn’t she? It’s over, Lina, Nathaniel had said. And the words of the text message, heartlessly sent, made her want to wretch again. The burn ran from her stomach and pierced her chest, but this time, she defied and swallowed the bile back down.
The bile stained the satin bed sheets, and Jessie knew she would need to have them cleaned
before the next customer. The man on top finally rolled off her, his right arm wiping away the sweat on his brow. He offered her a weary smile as he lifted up the bed sheets and got up from the bad. She forced a smile back. He was one of her best and most regular customers. She waited for him to leave the room for the adjoining bathroom before she pulled the sheets aside and picked up her clothes. Funny how she let him spill his seed into her but didn’t like him to see her completely. Blouse, skirt, belt and black patent pumps-in that order she put them back on. He came back out from the toilet, smiled again and thanked her as he placed the required amount of money on the dressing table next to the bed. His wedding ring reflected the dim light of the table lamp. He reached out to take her hand, and years of practice had trained her not to flinch. “Come and see me out, Jessie.”
Jesse sighed. His company was getting bought over, and soon he would be made redundant. The promises of his university, the dreams of a high-flying career and the draw of deep pockets had crashed along with Wall Street. “Be careful.” Grace had warned him, when he described in flying terms the projects that he was doing and the products his bank was selling. He hated himself now for dismissing the insightfulness of his wife, he had always known that Grace was exceptionally perspective. Wasn’t one of the reasons why he loved her so deeply? And now that she was heavily pregnant, he regretted becoming an investment banker, wondered deeply if he had let her down. His phone rang. “Yup, Mr Lim. I’ll meet you there at 12. Thanks.” Packing up his bag, he proceeded to leave the office to meet a prospective buyer of his BMW.
The BMW nearly crashed into her as she dashed across the road. Natalie cursed at her stupidity for not looking first, but dashing across roads was common practice for her. Being a university student, working part-time and shuttling between two divorced parents meant she was constantly running around to some place or another. And now that her dad had recently remarried, she had to spend more time with him and his new wife to assure him that she was not angry or resentful at him. Then spend even more time with her mum to promise that she would not neglect her. How was it possible to be angry anyway? Theirs was an arranged marriage, loveless, civil and only kept together by the domineering hand of her paternal grandmother. The divorce was a relief for all three of them when her grandmother passed away. She reached the café where she was supposed to meet her mum for lunch-she had sounded really excited and Natalie wondered why. Pushing the glass door open and scanning the place for her mum, she gasped. Her mother blushed as Natalie raised her eyebrows at her interlinked hands with the man sitting next to her. She loved teasing her mother. The stranger held out his free hand and said smilingly, “Hi, I’m Gabriel.”
“Gabrielle! Are you ready?!” Gabrielle winced at her second aunt’s shrill voice and looked at herself in the mirror one last time. She felt foreign in her strapless white embroidered gown, and wondered if all brides looked as nervous and pale as her. Her female relatives began ushering her out of the house, into the car, and to the church. Every so often, Gabrielle stumbled in her four-inch stilettos that her mother had forced her to wear because David was a good six inches taller. She felt nauseous, and wondered if she would trip and fall as she walked along the aisle. Someone, she did not know who, pulled her hastily out of the car. At the front of the altar, she saw David, looking nervous but hopeful. He smiled at her. As the wedding march started to play, Gabrielle started to shiver. She suddenly remembered the words of her teacher back when she was still studying in a Catholic missionary school.
“The choices we make are eternal.”
The bile stained the satin bed sheets, and Jessie knew she would need to have them cleaned
before the next customer. The man on top finally rolled off her, his right arm wiping away the sweat on his brow. He offered her a weary smile as he lifted up the bed sheets and got up from the bad. She forced a smile back. He was one of her best and most regular customers. She waited for him to leave the room for the adjoining bathroom before she pulled the sheets aside and picked up her clothes. Funny how she let him spill his seed into her but didn’t like him to see her completely. Blouse, skirt, belt and black patent pumps-in that order she put them back on. He came back out from the toilet, smiled again and thanked her as he placed the required amount of money on the dressing table next to the bed. His wedding ring reflected the dim light of the table lamp. He reached out to take her hand, and years of practice had trained her not to flinch. “Come and see me out, Jessie.”
Jesse sighed. His company was getting bought over, and soon he would be made redundant. The promises of his university, the dreams of a high-flying career and the draw of deep pockets had crashed along with Wall Street. “Be careful.” Grace had warned him, when he described in flying terms the projects that he was doing and the products his bank was selling. He hated himself now for dismissing the insightfulness of his wife, he had always known that Grace was exceptionally perspective. Wasn’t one of the reasons why he loved her so deeply? And now that she was heavily pregnant, he regretted becoming an investment banker, wondered deeply if he had let her down. His phone rang. “Yup, Mr Lim. I’ll meet you there at 12. Thanks.” Packing up his bag, he proceeded to leave the office to meet a prospective buyer of his BMW.
The BMW nearly crashed into her as she dashed across the road. Natalie cursed at her stupidity for not looking first, but dashing across roads was common practice for her. Being a university student, working part-time and shuttling between two divorced parents meant she was constantly running around to some place or another. And now that her dad had recently remarried, she had to spend more time with him and his new wife to assure him that she was not angry or resentful at him. Then spend even more time with her mum to promise that she would not neglect her. How was it possible to be angry anyway? Theirs was an arranged marriage, loveless, civil and only kept together by the domineering hand of her paternal grandmother. The divorce was a relief for all three of them when her grandmother passed away. She reached the café where she was supposed to meet her mum for lunch-she had sounded really excited and Natalie wondered why. Pushing the glass door open and scanning the place for her mum, she gasped. Her mother blushed as Natalie raised her eyebrows at her interlinked hands with the man sitting next to her. She loved teasing her mother. The stranger held out his free hand and said smilingly, “Hi, I’m Gabriel.”
“Gabrielle! Are you ready?!” Gabrielle winced at her second aunt’s shrill voice and looked at herself in the mirror one last time. She felt foreign in her strapless white embroidered gown, and wondered if all brides looked as nervous and pale as her. Her female relatives began ushering her out of the house, into the car, and to the church. Every so often, Gabrielle stumbled in her four-inch stilettos that her mother had forced her to wear because David was a good six inches taller. She felt nauseous, and wondered if she would trip and fall as she walked along the aisle. Someone, she did not know who, pulled her hastily out of the car. At the front of the altar, she saw David, looking nervous but hopeful. He smiled at her. As the wedding march started to play, Gabrielle started to shiver. She suddenly remembered the words of her teacher back when she was still studying in a Catholic missionary school.
“The choices we make are eternal.”
Sunday, March 8, 2009
The Divorcee- revised
Her stilettos clicked against the marble and then concrete as she walked out of the office into the carpark. Her pace did not slow down even though her steps caused water to splash from puddles that were freshly formed on the ground from a light shower that ended only minutes ago.
Her hands fumbled for her car keys in the right pocket of her jacket, before she grabbed them and unlocked her black BMW. It was only when she slammed the car door shut, turned on the air-con, and music from her favourite radio station was blasting out of the hi-fi that she sighed and leaned her head gently onto the head rest.
Evelyn disliked the lawyer’s office. She wondered why Philip had chosen that particular lawyer. Mr Low was severe and unrelenting in probing about her marriage, which Evelyn felt was strange. Wasn’t divorce one of those issues in life that was always approached hesitantly and carefully, like how someone always hesitates before asking a terminally ill patient if he was feeling okay?
She had assumed it would be like those drama serials, where the gorgeous female lead sashays into the lawyer’s office and signs the divorce paper with a flourish. And the philandering husband gets his comeuppance. She laughed at her own naivete.
Yet divorce was more than a signature. Every trip to the lawyer’s office made her feel like speeding down to Clarke Quay and spend the rest of the day getting wasted. But unfortunately she was wasting away at something else, called the paperwork and paraphernalia of divorce. The endless visits to the lawyer and griming over alimony settlements. Even worse were the stacks of boxes swimming around her house and over her head as he prepared to move out and away from her. She could still hear the ringing of the keyboard in Mr Khoo's office as he typed out documents, talking but never speaking to her, pressing her for information about the marriage (or the lack of it). Perhaps the austerity of the whole affair had been a little too startling and foreign; she had assumed it could end with one signature.
She turned out of the car park and began her quick drive towards the nearby Republic Tower. While alcohol was tempting, she had a client to meet in thirty minutes. A divorced woman was diminished worth in an unkind society-she had to make up for that with an outstanding stockbroker portfolio.
As she drove along Raffles Place, she remembered that it was here where she met him to initiate the divorce. She couldn’t do it at home, purely because she could never find him there. But he was always at work, and it made sense to look for him here.
"If you think you can just walk out of this, literally or not, and leave all the mess and the shit for me to clean up after you, you're going to be really sorry."She squared her shoulders."I didn't live till now just so I could get walked all over by assholes like you. And put up with your lies and smirks and stupid ways. Or come home to a jerk with foreign perfume and lipstick all over his shirt for me to breathe in."
Perhaps she hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but the years of frustration pinched every word that fell from her lips.
"So I'm saying that if you want to move on, then we make this quick and fast and it'll be all over. You don't walk away as and when you like, you don't avoid me and think that everything will pick up all by itself. A messed up marriage still needs cleaning up after."
And that was how she had initiated the divorce, and it had been so sudden, like she had delivered the blow with a sledgehammer, even as the "institution" as they liked to call it, had fallen apart over the five years that they were tied together by that damned certificate.But she was glad that she hadn't gone all histrionic and emotional on him.
She liked the way she stated her decision the way a very tired doctor told a patient's family that that there was absolutely no more hope at the end of an exceedingly gruelling operation.And contrary to popular opinion, the sky didn't fall and the world didn't end. She perfected the manner in which she delivered the divorce news to her friends and colleagues. She learnt how to craft her voice into a lilt of mild disappointment and sadness, and displayed a little bit of frailty on her features. This usually meant pauses of uncomfortable silence at the lunch table, but someone else would always cleverly orchestrate a change in subject matter and the lively mindless chatter would gain momentum again, everyone forgetting, or perhaps pretending that the awkward subject of her divorce had never been broached in the first place.
“It’s okay.” She spoke softly, to comfort herself. She had it all; a nice apartment, a great job she loved, friends who would pub with her till late and confidants who could see through her and comfort her. So she had no husband. Big deal.No, she had lost that one to another woman."I'll be leaving you this place, so it'll make settlements a lot easier," he said, as he was tugging the suitcase along the hallway." Where will you live then?" she asked absent-mindedly. Communications between them had broken down to lines of polite chatter.He shrugged." I and Su.. I mean, I've found a place to stay in, for, you know, a short while." But he had already given himself away.She shook her head as she recounted that particular memory. It was no wonder that Philip had let go of the house so easily; he had already established another home, so whatever here never really mattered in the first place.
The car’s speed slowed as it was nearing lunch time and congestion was beginning to form. She cruised along the main road to turn out of an exit for the car park. She had arranged to meet her client at Republic Tower’s cafe.
“Mummy! Daddy! Look!” Evelyn heard as she wound down the window while approaching the car park from the hectic road. She turned her head to glance in curiosity for young children were rarely found in Raffles Place on a Tuesday afternoon.
Suddenly, she realised that she had done something terribly wrong and gripped the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. Evelyn had glanced at the kid for too long and had made the wrong turn. She would pay for it now.
There was an incoming truck, which she swerved to avoid and slammed into the side of her car. Wincing in pain, she swerved again to the left to avoid the motorcycle that was heading straight in her direction. There were honking sounds everywhere as furious drivers wondered what on earth was this car doing travelling against the traffic! Evelyn panicked, and she knew that it was hopeless. There were far too many vehicles. “Too many...”, she thought helplessly as her entire vision swung sideways with the motion of her vehicle.
She had swerved too much this time. The car crashed into a large tree that was off the road and the force created a colossal dent in the front of her car as it came to a stop that broke the glass window shield into shards coloured by the black smoke spewing from the damaged engine.
Evelyn was not spared. She felt her entire body thrust forward, restrained by the seatbelt that could not stop her head from smashing onto the steering wheel.
Evelyn thought maybe her skull cracked, for her head was throbbing so intensely she didn’t bother to fight the unconsciousness that was creeping over her. There were voices floating around her-she guessed the accident must have caused quite a commotion.
But behind her fluttering eyelids, all she saw was the kid of five seconds ago, laughing and shouting for his parents. There was her ex-husband, walking leisurely along the pavement, holding the hands of another woman, smiling fondly at his son. He must have been three years old, and she had never known.
“Mummy! Daddy!”
Evelyn cringed at the voice playing over and over in her head. “Get out!” she screamed silently, and begged for sleep to take her away. Take her away from the old house of unhappy memories, from Mr Khoo’s office, from the busybodies who had gathered around her car, from the kid with the mocking laughter ...
Her hands fumbled for her car keys in the right pocket of her jacket, before she grabbed them and unlocked her black BMW. It was only when she slammed the car door shut, turned on the air-con, and music from her favourite radio station was blasting out of the hi-fi that she sighed and leaned her head gently onto the head rest.
Evelyn disliked the lawyer’s office. She wondered why Philip had chosen that particular lawyer. Mr Low was severe and unrelenting in probing about her marriage, which Evelyn felt was strange. Wasn’t divorce one of those issues in life that was always approached hesitantly and carefully, like how someone always hesitates before asking a terminally ill patient if he was feeling okay?
She had assumed it would be like those drama serials, where the gorgeous female lead sashays into the lawyer’s office and signs the divorce paper with a flourish. And the philandering husband gets his comeuppance. She laughed at her own naivete.
Yet divorce was more than a signature. Every trip to the lawyer’s office made her feel like speeding down to Clarke Quay and spend the rest of the day getting wasted. But unfortunately she was wasting away at something else, called the paperwork and paraphernalia of divorce. The endless visits to the lawyer and griming over alimony settlements. Even worse were the stacks of boxes swimming around her house and over her head as he prepared to move out and away from her. She could still hear the ringing of the keyboard in Mr Khoo's office as he typed out documents, talking but never speaking to her, pressing her for information about the marriage (or the lack of it). Perhaps the austerity of the whole affair had been a little too startling and foreign; she had assumed it could end with one signature.
She turned out of the car park and began her quick drive towards the nearby Republic Tower. While alcohol was tempting, she had a client to meet in thirty minutes. A divorced woman was diminished worth in an unkind society-she had to make up for that with an outstanding stockbroker portfolio.
As she drove along Raffles Place, she remembered that it was here where she met him to initiate the divorce. She couldn’t do it at home, purely because she could never find him there. But he was always at work, and it made sense to look for him here.
"If you think you can just walk out of this, literally or not, and leave all the mess and the shit for me to clean up after you, you're going to be really sorry."She squared her shoulders."I didn't live till now just so I could get walked all over by assholes like you. And put up with your lies and smirks and stupid ways. Or come home to a jerk with foreign perfume and lipstick all over his shirt for me to breathe in."
Perhaps she hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but the years of frustration pinched every word that fell from her lips.
"So I'm saying that if you want to move on, then we make this quick and fast and it'll be all over. You don't walk away as and when you like, you don't avoid me and think that everything will pick up all by itself. A messed up marriage still needs cleaning up after."
And that was how she had initiated the divorce, and it had been so sudden, like she had delivered the blow with a sledgehammer, even as the "institution" as they liked to call it, had fallen apart over the five years that they were tied together by that damned certificate.But she was glad that she hadn't gone all histrionic and emotional on him.
She liked the way she stated her decision the way a very tired doctor told a patient's family that that there was absolutely no more hope at the end of an exceedingly gruelling operation.And contrary to popular opinion, the sky didn't fall and the world didn't end. She perfected the manner in which she delivered the divorce news to her friends and colleagues. She learnt how to craft her voice into a lilt of mild disappointment and sadness, and displayed a little bit of frailty on her features. This usually meant pauses of uncomfortable silence at the lunch table, but someone else would always cleverly orchestrate a change in subject matter and the lively mindless chatter would gain momentum again, everyone forgetting, or perhaps pretending that the awkward subject of her divorce had never been broached in the first place.
“It’s okay.” She spoke softly, to comfort herself. She had it all; a nice apartment, a great job she loved, friends who would pub with her till late and confidants who could see through her and comfort her. So she had no husband. Big deal.No, she had lost that one to another woman."I'll be leaving you this place, so it'll make settlements a lot easier," he said, as he was tugging the suitcase along the hallway." Where will you live then?" she asked absent-mindedly. Communications between them had broken down to lines of polite chatter.He shrugged." I and Su.. I mean, I've found a place to stay in, for, you know, a short while." But he had already given himself away.She shook her head as she recounted that particular memory. It was no wonder that Philip had let go of the house so easily; he had already established another home, so whatever here never really mattered in the first place.
The car’s speed slowed as it was nearing lunch time and congestion was beginning to form. She cruised along the main road to turn out of an exit for the car park. She had arranged to meet her client at Republic Tower’s cafe.
“Mummy! Daddy! Look!” Evelyn heard as she wound down the window while approaching the car park from the hectic road. She turned her head to glance in curiosity for young children were rarely found in Raffles Place on a Tuesday afternoon.
Suddenly, she realised that she had done something terribly wrong and gripped the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. Evelyn had glanced at the kid for too long and had made the wrong turn. She would pay for it now.
There was an incoming truck, which she swerved to avoid and slammed into the side of her car. Wincing in pain, she swerved again to the left to avoid the motorcycle that was heading straight in her direction. There were honking sounds everywhere as furious drivers wondered what on earth was this car doing travelling against the traffic! Evelyn panicked, and she knew that it was hopeless. There were far too many vehicles. “Too many...”, she thought helplessly as her entire vision swung sideways with the motion of her vehicle.
She had swerved too much this time. The car crashed into a large tree that was off the road and the force created a colossal dent in the front of her car as it came to a stop that broke the glass window shield into shards coloured by the black smoke spewing from the damaged engine.
Evelyn was not spared. She felt her entire body thrust forward, restrained by the seatbelt that could not stop her head from smashing onto the steering wheel.
Evelyn thought maybe her skull cracked, for her head was throbbing so intensely she didn’t bother to fight the unconsciousness that was creeping over her. There were voices floating around her-she guessed the accident must have caused quite a commotion.
But behind her fluttering eyelids, all she saw was the kid of five seconds ago, laughing and shouting for his parents. There was her ex-husband, walking leisurely along the pavement, holding the hands of another woman, smiling fondly at his son. He must have been three years old, and she had never known.
“Mummy! Daddy!”
Evelyn cringed at the voice playing over and over in her head. “Get out!” she screamed silently, and begged for sleep to take her away. Take her away from the old house of unhappy memories, from Mr Khoo’s office, from the busybodies who had gathered around her car, from the kid with the mocking laughter ...
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