Steadfast

The coach sways in its course. Aged metal wheels wrestle with the tracks and let out a high pitch scream. The train speeds away, barging on into the darkness like a steadfast war chariot. Taking me away for Eid and away from her. Oh, I don’t mean to make the festive season sounds so melancholic but here I am staring at the ‘ceiling’ of my berth with dread. I lie submissively while an old enemy nibbles on my insides and leave an echoing emptiness. I know this feeling. I haven’t had it for a very, very long time. I thought I’ve grown out of it. I thought I’ve mellowed away. Turns out, I haven’t even budge from who I was the day I laid my eyes on that smile.

6 days. Just 6 days Ms. Drama Queen. That’s less than a week. You’ve handled a severely longer period than this, right?

I close my eyes. Take a deep inhale. Let out a heavy breath hoping that somehow someone stronger will come out of it. None.

Lord, I’m missing her.

Funny, after all these years, I’m still the same hopeless Mea.

The last 8 months of being overindulged by her presence is offering little help in times like these. They exacerbate this ludicrous longing like the arid August wind feeding a fuming bushfire.

She took care of me. Meticulous with everything that concerns me. Often, she bathed me and let her fingers cleansed me and shunt my troubles away. She stayed up all night, dabbing my skin with icy cold water when I was down with fever. She speaks in the softest tone. One that made me want to break into grateful tears. She pacifies me when the world has its way on me. She urges me to soar and spreads her arms down below in case I fall. She took care of me.

There are times when life’s monotonous ritual took a toll on us. I tried my best to keep this love on its toes. Emme is resilient. She had kisses and hugs on tap should Mea be needing it. She never changed a bit.

I want Emme to always know that my stars and moon revolves around her. That she is closer to me than my own skin. That my love for her rushes from all directions. I know it’s too easy to blame it on being human but I am infested with weaknesses. Of which I am ashamed of and struggling to stray away from. I want her to know that I would exhaust my might for her. I’ll fight to the death for her honour. That this love too, is on tap.

The old locomotive rages on. My headphones delivers a coinciding theme.

I'd go hungry
I'd go black and blue and
I'd go crawling
Down the avenue
You Know there's nothing
That I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love

The storms are raging
On the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret
The winds of change
Are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing
Like me yet

Make You Feel My Love – Bob Dylan

Dear Emme,

If someday you're awaken from whisperings of doubt and fear, just look into my eyes and you’ll find me. Close your eyes, and let the worries dissipate with the kisses that will follow soon after…

Another Emme

She was lying on her side in the middle of the living room. Beckoning me to come closer. Her eyes and brows formed this sharp, inexplicable allure that hits me like a lustrous sheen from a thousand swords.

She was wearing nothing. The thin linen blanket that lined the edge of her curve slipped down to her waist. Her long wavy hair was still damp from the late afternoon shower. They smelled of summer ripe peaches and sweet vanilla. Under the warm waft from the ceiling fan, they fluttered.

She bit her lips. She let her gaze hunt me like a hungry hound. She knew she got me. And I had no chance…

She inches her way towards me. I tried hard to bury the surge that’s growing inside of me away from my telltale eyes. Like the last soldier standing against a horde of enemy, I put on a fake bravery.

Then, her lips discovered mine. Boldly, her fingers moved mischievously. And I succumbed.

And, at that very moment, as she claims what is hers, I wish it was possible for me to conceive her bloodline. Our bloodline. To have a descendant with a resemblance of whatever grace and charm that never fails to captivate me. Her wide piercing eyes, her crimson lips, her brilliant wit……and that smile.

Imagine that. Imagine being bestowed with another one of that smile. Another velvety touch on the coldest of days. Another kind words when the rest of the world look away. Another heart to love.

Another Emme.

Imagine that.

Orange Rubber Ball

 

As I unlocked the front door, I heard giggling, A shuffling sound. A brief silent...and more giggling.
                                                      ____________________________

 The alarm clock which was connected to an imaginary 400 watt low-fidelity speaker started my Monday routine….

7.00 am A call from the Pharmacist. Machine down. Tend machine.
9.00am Call Engineer in India. Check hardware.
10.00 am Vendor came for equipment calibration
11.00am Meeting aka clown convention
1.00 pm Attempted to have lunch. Failed. Rush to warehouse. Urgent matter.
2.00 pm Quick light-speed lunch
2.15 pm Attempt to fix machine.
5.45pm Machine refused to be fixed.
6.00 pm Ride home. Heavy rain.

On the way home, I’m still thinking about work. What needs to be done tomorrow. Things to be completed. Problem needs rectifying. People who annoyed me. Being confronted by the Manager on how everything is my fault including the WWII. Tons of unfinished paperwork piling on the desk which I wish I could just shred and recycle to reduce global warming. And the damn machine….

Gosh… what a long day… A song from the famous Britons was playing over and over again in my head as I cruised along the lonely highway…

 It's been a hard day's night
And I've been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night
I should be sleeping like a log

But when I get home to you
I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright

A Hard Day’s Night – The Beatles

As I unlock the front door, I heard giggling, A shuffling sound. A brief silent. And more giggling.

Emme was playing with Blanco (oh, did I mentioned? We changed the name from Cinnamon to Blanco Diablo which is Latin for ‘The white devil’). Blanco was chasing his favorite rubber ball while Emme throws it around. “Blanco! Look who’s home!”, said Emme in nothing but bra and panties – a standard issue just-got-home-from-work uniform. I gave her a kiss and picked Blanco up. He was breathing heavily through his cherry red reindeer nose. After changing to my ‘uniform’, I took over from Emme. Blanco is an amazing cat. No matter how high we threw the tangerine colored ball, Blanco would surely catch it. He would push the ball around with his paw and when he gets too far from us, he would carry the ball back to where we are with his mouth. He’s too smart and outrageously adorable. Just like my Emme. (Except of course, she has less hair).

Exhausted, we lay on the naked floor. Emme on my shoulder and Blanco on her chest. We watched the ceiling fan turned relentlessly in hypnotic precession.

And as our giggles (and purr) filled the unoccupied space around us, everything started to make sense again. The line between all that is important and trivial become vivid. This is my family. My very own family. Nothing is more important than this. And nothing is less significant than the chaos on the other side of these walls. No matter what happens, this is where I fall on to and I am in turn, their refuge.

I held Emme closer and whispered silently to myself,

 
So this is how it feels like to hold a dream in your arms…
 

So cinnamon

It’s midweek. 8.30pm and we’re already yawning. The day was quite tiring. I had an audit which thankfully, for the sake of my career, went well. Emme went for her first physiotherapy. She sprained her wrist while sleeping (?). And to avoid raising any queer curiosity, she actually told the doctor she got it while lifting the cooking gas can. The doctor then went and ask her how long she’s been working at the kedai runcit. I laughed and told her’ “The Prophet told us to tell the truth all the time”. Which she responded with the look-who’s-talking smirk. But our yawning frenzy most probably originated from two big plates of rice we managed to get into our digestive system in record time that evening. On any other night, we would have retired to the bedroom, cuddle up, talk about our day, and watch some movies or youtube – until we doze off. But that night stirred up some inexplicable uneasiness in us. We can’t seem to shake it off. Emme kept saying she has this craving for something sweet and I kept thinking about going to the bakery supply to get some ground cinnamon for my pumpkin cinnamon bun. And I felt old sitting Cleopatra style on the sofa deliberating and trying to muster the will to walk that 10 feet to the bedroom.

Granny Mea

That’s it! “Hun, get dressed. We’re going out tonight”, said Mea the young and restless. That startled Emme and she looked at me for a full 3 seconds calculating my sanity before replying, “Where to sayang?”. “Cheesecake for your sweetooth. What do you say?”, I said as I grab my pants (Of course, I was wearing pants initially but it’s not suitable for around town use…really, I was!). “Are you sure? Aren’t you tired?”, said my wife, still trying to understand the chain of events that led to my sudden animated state. “Yes honey, jom”, I said raising my eye brow in an attempt to look serious.

8.45pm and we’re already dressed. Emme went to get the car while I took out the garbage to a bin across the street. I waited for Emme to bring the car around but after almost 5 minutes she’s still parked. I went to check on her and saw her standing still behind the car. Holding a cat. A stray cat. And at that ‘uh-oh’ moment, I knew he’s a keeper for two reason; 1. I always have a soft spot for cats. 2. We can’t possibly leave him out here. There’s no way he could get food on his own and there’s a lot of hungry wild dogs in the neighborhood. Although I don’t know if we’re ready for him. We had just settled down. We can’t even get the house tidy for more than a day. Can we take care of another living being? Or am I thinking too much and blowing things way over proportion. I’ve had cats all my life. Why this one felt so…challenging?

Emme went to get some food for him and I waited in the car. Deliberating still. Are we ready...are we not. Where’s a daisy when you need one?

The cat is a mix breed Siamese. He’s got a hint of brown fur on his ears, feet and tail. His white coat is dirty from lying down on dusty concrete and tarmac. He’s too skinny for his size. He snooped around inside the car and marked the carpet with his nails. Assisted by my chest, he stood, looked into my eyes and pushed his bubble gum pink nose on my face. Gosh... you’re making this hard you adorable little furball you!

While he’s feeding, Emme looked at me and said, “Can we keep him?” which I immediately answered, “I don’t know honey. But let’s take him inside. We can’t leave him here”, when what I really wanted to say was, “yes”.

We kept him in the bathroom because that’s the only safe place we could think of at the moment. The cheesecake trip is still on so we went back out.

Emme and I sat frozen in the car. Staring at an obscured horizon, passing through the windshield and the wall. Not saying a word. I felt thrilled and worried. Of the commitment. The responsibility. Is he going to be happy with us? Is he going to be happy being a house cat? Is the house going to smell? And a million other question marks that multiplied with time.

I cranked up the car. We try to reason. Pros and cons. Fate and God’s will. How this is not a coincidence. How we’ll managed. Boarding when we’re out of town. Plenty of vets just a short drive away. The money we need to put aside for his upkeep. The house is going to smell different. It’s going to demand a big chunk of our time.

But he’s too cute.

We’re two suckers in denial. Truth is, we’re already sold.

Before we know it, we were already looking for a name. ‘Cheesecakes’, ‘Oreo’ and all dessert based names we could think off (that’s the disadvantage of figuring this out while you’re on the way to the bakery!)

“Cinnamon!” I said half screaming.

She smiled.

“Cinnamon”, Emme whispered. Perhaps trying to find out how the name would feel coming out of her lips.

She nodded and reached for my hands.

Cinnamon it is.

So Cinnamon, it’s going to take some time for us to figure out your favorite food and toys. I hope you will like it here. I am Mea. The clumsy one. That’s Emme. She’s smarter and naughtier than me. This is your home from now on. We’ll try our best to make you happy and healthy. If you hate the food we gave you, look at us dead on, meow and blink twice. We’ll try and work something out. We love you Cinnamon. We’re glad you chose us.

Snow Moon

I rest my hand on her chest. Under my palm, she breathes away the remainder of the day. Her dark hair obscures part of her eyes and lips and disappears behind the collar of her thin nightgown. They sway softly in erratic rhythm, roused by the ceiling fan turned full blast. It’s a warm February night. Perhaps a sign that the monsoon is finally coming to an end. The Snow Moon beckons from beyond the barren, cloudless sky. I lie quietly beside her, kiss the tip of her eyebrow, pull back and wait. Nothing. Her only riposte is the sound of her stillness. I’ve heard people say that silence is the most deafening sound.

How true.

At that moment I realized that although I missed her while she’s at work, when she went away on one of her business trips or when she went out on her futsal practice, I missed her the most when she’s asleep. When she’s unaware of anything. Or of anyone who might be staring at her at this ungodly hour. Anticipating a smile. An acknowledgement.

Lying here just 2 inches away from her, I’ve never felt so lonely and ignored. Silly me, I feel neglected.

Crack a smile for me sayang. Just one smile….

Earlier that evening, when I got home from work, the whole house smelled of thyme, garlic and oregano. And of roses coming from the perfume oil burner. Emme helped me off my jacket and hastily ushered me to the shower. She got her long hair tied in a bunch. She was wearing a checkered apron the color of tangerine and raspberry. It’s got a tiny pocket on the front. Perhaps for keeping recipes. “Stay away from the kitchen. I’ve got a surprise for you”, she said at the bathroom door. A quick kiss and she rushed back to the stove. Today is her off day and Emme was making a special dinner for both of us. On the bed, my t-shirt and pants were carefully lined. My favorite stretched-to-the-limit sleepwear. As soon as I don them on I heard Emme calling. While putting two plates on the dinner table she smiled and said, almost singing, “Who’s hungry?”

Chicken & shitake Aglio E Olio, baked sweet peas, peach sorbet and almond pistachio ice cream.

I looked at Emme. Amazed. Grateful and flattered. At the thought that someone went through all this trouble just to make me happy. But I’m not happy.… I’m elated! And that’s an understatement.

I cleared my plate in less than 10 minutes. The linguine Aglio was perfect. And don’t get me started on the dessert…

I kissed and hugged her tightly. Dinner was splendid. Compliment to the chef. My personal chef. Mind you.

As we retired to our bed, I rubbed her tired shoulder. They were stiff from the day’s labor. My poor baby. I kissed her eyes and lay her down. Her weary eyes were begging for an overdue rest. Almost as soon as they were closed, she departed into slumber.

So here I am, still staring at my lover. My eyes explore the curls, arcs and curves that conspired to form this beautiful creature. So are the kindness, gentleness and wit that never fails to warm my heart even in the coldest of days. This girl puts everything on the table. She left no chips for herself just in case the game turned sour and she needs to cash it for the cab home. She’s betting everything on me. On us. On love.

Tears roll down my eyes for reason I couldn’t quite explain. I move closer, put my arms around her and whisper, “I love you sayang. With all my heart. I always have and always will.”

And this is as honest as I’ve ever been in my life. This is the most sincere of words that ever came out of my mouth. In the dead of the night. When no one is looking or listening.

Even the person for whom the words were meant for.