THE INTELLIGENT SINGAPOREAN

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The Confessions of a Singaporean Gangster in London – Chapter 32 “The Reflections of The Third Wife.”

Posted by inspir3d on February 20, 2005

Leaning on the window sill that night, the third wife turned her eyes up to the starry night and fixed her eyes on one particular point of light, and tried not to take her eyes off it. She had heard from the man boy how stars were so very far away, she remembered he dreamt only of rocket ships and distant worlds.

Then, just as she was watching – the star wavered like a man who had suddenly lost his steps, then wavered again and snuffed out.

“Huan Guan,” She whispered.

He didn’t stir.

“I just saw a star go out, exactly the way you said, it would.”

It was a trivial thing to wake him for, but she couldn’t help herself. She put a hand on his naked back and felt a pang of loneliness. The man boy had told her once such a star had burnt out millions of years ago, and yet its fire had streamed towards her ever since – like his love for her – searching her out once again just the way the fortune teller had predicted – this was fate, it was destiny – she felt alive even when all the world slept around her, she had never being so charged with alertness before.

Turning to the man boy in the dark, she wondered what a dismal thing, to live an unremembered life – dead days all adding up to the emptiness of nothingness, but it had all changed in his return. All the more reason to finish this night and find a way to make it into art, she said to herself and with these thoughts she kissed his him.

The following morning, the sky was whitish blue and the clouds iridescent like she had very seen before – as she looked at him wolfing down his breakfast, she was reminded of fresh ice shavings served in a polished metal bowl – full of live and tingling, the sharpness of his eyes, the way they seemed to dart around as if the world was still a place of wonderment and adventure – the white neat row of teeth and the innocence of his smile as they beamed through the morning – the sound of his voice, rising and lowering in hushed tones as he spoke to her about how, he planned to emigrate with her to America and some ridiculous yarn about having sneaked into a town council hall and a crematorium to get hold of some false papers – and something about running a joint called the magic bowl – about getting a decent job and eventually working with rockets and flying machines – it was all nonsense of course, but it hardly mattered – like the place he had brought her too, it was a strange and foreign world, one where, she was simply content to remain forever and assume her place as the woman who had and will always love him.

Somewhere along the conversation, she noticed a dark shiny Mercedes with it’s menacing three pointed star like the sight of a machine gun pulling up to the side curb.

She remain still and continued to smile at the man boy pretending to listen to all his ridiculous plans of setting up home somewhere in America. A place he mentioned, with a open verandah, a white picket fence and even a cherry tree by the side. As she continued staring, her minds eye turned inwards:

“Trapped beneath your crushing gaze, I looked again fleetingly. This time when I held it longer, I began to see you as you truly are, small, delicate and lovely, not like those cruel men; and I began to pity you, and from this pity to love you even more.

You are too fragile for their world my love, they will crush you and this time surely you would be finished. I realize from that moment it was futile to continue loving you, there will be no wide open verandah’s – no white picket fences – or even a cherry tree with a wooden swing my love – only in another life not this one.

Today, I realized, for my love to continue. There is a price, I must pay – a terrible price.”

As she listened to the man boy man telling her about his dreams, she sipped her cold coffee and look again at the car with the black tinted windows parked by the side, she said to herself,

“As long as I am with him, he will be safe. They wouldn’t dare to make a move. I mustn’t let him know. The boy is full of dramatics, he would probably whip out his toy gun and do something he saw in the movies. No! that simply wouldn’t do – I’ve have to bear it all – the unbearable and plan his escape.”

In the background Mozart played softly – it was a clean, a well lighted café, a world so far from her own dark world of intrigue and dead days – a world she yearned to be part of – the man boys brave new world, he had described in his simple rounded tones – where the gaudy polished seats gleamed brightly with hope like bright red cherries – sunny corn yellowed Formica tables with rounded edges – bright orange tiles she once saw in a cartoon movie – complete with even a plastic clown who sat all alone on a bench with a dazed happy smile as if he had just finished his second opium pipe – it was right in the middle of China town, London – it was McDonald’s.

darkness 2002

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