The trip was a birthday gift for
both of us – from both of us. So is the brand new backpack that I’m so proudly
sporting. Cranberry red, my favourite colour – mind you.
The bus conductor greeted us with
a familiar yet incomprehensible language. We just nod hoping that what she’s
saying is what we believe she’s saying - a ride to the beach where we’re
planning to spend the 2 nights. The way she handled the passenger and the fact
that she’s in the line of work usually dominated by men, gained my instant
respect. You know from how she organizes the crowd, she’s been doing this for
quite some time and she’s doing it well.
She’s young and petite. I would
know for sure if I ask (which is highly inappropriate) but if I had to guess, I
would say she’s about a tad younger than us. She has super short, dyed hair. Under
the foreign morning sun, they shimmered like polished brass. Her shirt is tucked
inside her well-worn jeans.
She gave us a double glance as
soon as she saw us coming out of the arrival hall. Emme and I looked at each
other and smiled. She’s knows.
The bus is a white air-conditioned 24 seater. It’s a bit
rickety which was evident from the sound it made every now and again as it
moved through the small yet industrious town. Not that it bothers me. We had
rides like this before. In Malacca on our first amateurish backpacking trip
together. This kind of things, the noisy engine, the large cup of ice blended
coffee you spill on the shopping mall floor, the 8 gruelling hours spent at the
café while waiting for the bus ride home, they actually made the whole
experience even more memorable. They connect you to other strands of memories
which would otherwise stray away and disappear. They made it a journey.
Emme was holding my hands all the way. They’re cold and
sweaty. Which means she’s excited. She can’t stop smiling. So can’t I. I kept
asking myself the question that I’ve asked a million times but couldn’t quite
get the answer.
What’s a beautiful
girl like her doing with someone like me?
From behind her sunglasses I can see the filtered sunlight
lit her timid eyes. They were fixed on anything the bus passes by. Soaking in
the moment. Perhaps in hope that someday, when we’re just about to fall asleep after
a long day of toiling at our routine day job, she could kiss me and say,
“Sayang, remember that warm morning when we’re taking a bus ride to the
beach….”, And we’ll be instantly taken back here. On this delightfully rickety
bus.
45 minutes is all it takes to deliver us to paradise. The
sun hid behind the lime stone hill but the heat it brings disseminates and
engulfs the small coastline town. The massive lime stone formations dotted the
entire sea side. Like a gallant monument invincible to the relentless waves.
Even though we felt like racing right to the beach, our
rationale took us to our room.
The room was bigger than what we thought it would be. On the
bed, 2 swans made of white towels kiss each other. I thought to myself, now
I’ll never be able to get a bath. What would I dry myself with? The only towel
we have is being made into a beautiful ornament and I don't have the heart to un-ornament it.
Emme started to unpack our load. Looking for a change of
clothes for both of us. She’s always looking out for me in that department. She
insisted on doing the laundry on the ground that I always wrongly mix fabrics
and colours. Which I humbly agree. I’ve ruined her favourite shirts in more
than one occasion. So I stayed away from the complicated world of laundering. Since
Emme, I never had to worry about what to wear. She keeps me clean and
presentable.
Emme had already stripped.
Walking casually around the room with nothing on. It’s amazing how we’ve gotten
so comfortable around each other. Considering the strangers we were not 5 years
ago. The first time this happened, Emme was in the shower and yours truly was
invited to join in. I was sitting at the edge of the bed for a good 5 minutes
trying to gather the courage to just walk towards the bathroom door. Even after
that, being naked around Emme is not my biggest virtue – if you can consider
that a virtue. So even after we moved in together, I still avoid stripping in front
of her as much as I can. Until one night, I was down with a high fever. So high
that I couldn’t even stand on my own two feet. I must be running a temperature
of 40 degrees or more. My skin felt so hot that I thought I would be developing
blisters on them. Like the one Regan got in William Friedkin movie, The
Exorcist. It got worst as the night advances into morning. I can’t remember
much about what happened that night because I was high on medication but I can
vaguely recall Emme taking my clothes off one by one and dabbing my body with
ice water. That ice, felt like burning spears tearing through where it lands. I
moaned as my body twisted in resistance. I remembered Emme kissing my forehead and
telling me that everything’s going to be ok. Little by little I succumbed to
her. And so does my sickness. After that, somehow, I eased a little. I got less
shy. I changed. I surrendered in acceptance of who I am.
After removing ourselves from the
accumulated heat and reeking smell of sweat, our stomach grumbles asking for
the afternoon’s provision. We submissively comply and head out to the streets. Most
restaurants are still closed or are just about to set up so we moved further
until we finally arrived at the beach which was full of people of all kinds.
Some looked wary, some looked enthusiastic, some looked discontented for some
reason and some are just like us – lucky to be here. Under a large tree just by
the jetty, we saw two local women selling lunch to the boatmen. We joined in. The
food was ok. A good introductory to what to expect.
At this small town, there’re more
massage parlours than there were places to eat. And dirt cheap too. We were
tempted and walked in into one. The woman at the front door welcomed us with
the softest voice and the biggest smile that makes you feel like you’re a long
lost relative that they’ve been wanting to meet their entire life. As if our
arrival brought some meaning to their life. She wore a flowery thin cotton
blouse that covered her navy green satin skirt just above the knee. We were
asked to lie down on the beds and strip off. The speaker was playing some
jungle flute song that has the sound of water flowing in the background.
It’s amazing how as we evolve
into this so called civilized and industrialized society, our music evolved
along with us. This jungle song used to be played by our ancestors. Back when
it does not matter how much money you make per annum or whether you’ll be able
to settle the mountains of bills that’s thrown into your face every month.
People were calm and relaxed. No rush, no fuss. Now, music mirrors how we view
life. Hectic and unforgiving. Listening to the ‘modern’ music sometimes makes
me more depress than I was 5 minutes earlier.
To my surprise the masseurs
didn’t pull down the curtains to separate us. Instead, we were laid side by
side. Like they would a normal couple. Did they know? Is it that obvious? The
thought somehow made me a little bit embarrassed. They were talking to each
other in their mother tongue as they ‘knead’ us with their elbows and knees and
I have a hunch they were talking about us. Every time they giggle, I broke into
cold sweats. I told Emme about this later that night and she told me they’re
probably gossiping about their friends and that the world doesn’t revolve
around me. But I know even she couldn’t tell for sure. I mean about that gossiping
thing.
We retreated to our white swan
sanctuary and went unconscious until dusk.
We rushed to the beach to savour
the sunset. Half way we realized we were too late. Along the streets, people
were already busy setting up tables and canopies for the night market. Emme was wearing a
long white dress strewn with red and blue motif like they were meticulously painted
with a brush. Held together by thin strings, her neck and the base of her bosom
were left exposed. She seemed to bring a calm note to the otherwise chaotic and
loud night scene. Walking effortlessly through the crowd. I felt as if, she’s a
stranger that I can’t seem to take my eyes off of. This beautiful girl. She
can’t be walking with me. That can’t be possible.
When we finally reached the
beach, her sandals gave up on her.
She walked bare footed and
refused to take my offer for my shoes or at least a new one.
We sat by the jetty while I tried to fix her torn sandals
with a couple of rubber bands – to no avail. The breeze was particularly strong
tonight. Pulling us towards the Andaman Sea. In front of us, the waves had receded
as if submitting to the order of the night. The boats which were lined neatly
and kept from adrift by iron anchors swayed on the sleepy water – in unison.
I told Emme, that I was blessed to have been able to make
this journey with her. To have found a friend in a lover. To be able to finally
not care about anything else but the beauty that has been bequeathed upon us. I
told her, I want to go further. With her. To places much stranger than this. To
mountains and valleys, lakes and seas. I finally found someone to share my childish
sense of wonder with.
As I said these words, her eyes narrowed as they always do
whenever she’s overwhelmed with emotions.
She took my hands and kissed them gently.
“Take me anywhere you go.”
Under the clear star studded sky, I wish I could kiss her instead of only uttering a meagre “Yes”.
We said goodbye to this mesmerising town uncertain of
whether we’ll ever have the privilege of returning to its captivating embrace.
Nevertheless, it sparked a legacy that begged to be
fulfilled.
Where life’s going to take us after this, we’ll never know.
All I know is, I don’t want to wait for a miracle to knock on my door anymore.
Since Emme, I learnt that miracles can be made.
All you need is that one person who believes that the miracle
has always been inside of you, all along.
