Well, friends, a Valentine's Day surprise for you. I've written a story and I will post it in 3 parts, the last on the day itself. This isn't a 'love story' because a) don't know how to write one, b) haven't figured out how to develop one in a short story. It's more a story about meeting and opportunities, since they always say that the falling birth rate is partly due to Singaporean women not meeting men and getting married.
This story is purely the creation of my imagination so any coincidental resemblance to any real person or situation is just that - purely coincidental. Hope you enjoy it.
Sara stared at the street scene, which had nothing particularly interesting, but she was in the mood for nothing more than just staring at, well, nothing in particular. She kept playing the conversation she had had with her sister-in-law that morning over and over in her mind.
‘Sara,’ Diana was shaking her head, ‘I couldn’t take him anymore. I don’t know what happened to your brother. I mean, I thought we had a good relationship but we just didn’t connect. I really don’t know why. There were times I thought there was something wrong with him.’
‘Wrong?’ Sara asked, ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know,’ Diana looked almost apologetic, ‘Mentally wrong. He became so weird. It was like he was building this cocoon around himself and he wouldn’t let me in. It was like he didn’t want me or anyone in his life. And he couldn’t explain it to me.’
Sara sighed to herself for the umpteenth time that day. She worried about her brother more than she did for herself. He was their mother’s favoured one but he never cried, as far as she knew, when she left them. She herself cried for months and through all the tears, she did think that something was wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She thought all was finally well when he fell in love and got married. And now, this.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him and when lunchtime came, she hopped on the shuttl
e bus that took her away from the workplace. She just felt that she needed to go somewhere different. She decided to treat herself to a KFC meal.
Her mind was so occupied that she didn’t notice the man at the next table till he walked over to the bin to clear his tray. She recognised his Gap Oxford shirt at once. She had a lady’s version in exactly the same light blue shade.
No ring, she noticed. These days, she looked for rings. She didn’t really know why but her last few ‘relationships’ had been with married men. She didn’t think of them as real relationships for they never got very far. It was odd, but for some reason, they were all married men, and it was not that she went out of her way to meet such men. Was she a ‘tragedy magnet’, as one of her friends explained? Why, she had wondered all those times, did married men want relationships outside their families? But she had no interest in having a hand in shattering anyone’s life. Enough lives had been shattered.
Absent-mindedly, she finished her meal and stood in the queue for the bus back.
Should she call Dad to tell him? Did he already know?
‘Manhattan?’ asked the voice next to her.
‘Huh?’ she turned. It was Mr No Ring. He was looking at her Bottega Veneta.
Designer bags were her weakness, and she had on several occasions persuaded herse
lf that she could afford them. But this Manhattan bag was a precious gift from Dad, and she loved it and used it most days, and didn’t care that it was a few seasons old already.
So this guy liked designer bags?
‘My mum,’ he explained. ‘She loves designer stuff. And she shops all over the world for these things.’
Time for small talk, for which she was really not in the mood. It turned out that he was a systems person attached for a few months to the big advertising company that occupied three floors of her office building. That gave them something work-related to talk about and she briefly explained what she did as a graphics person. He’d never actually met a graphics person, he told her. The company’s graphics work was done by a sister company somewhere else.
‘So do you draw and design and stuff in your free time too?’
Why, oh why, did he have to be in such a chatty mood? He certainly looked like someone worth getting to know, but she really didn’t feel like chatting.
Should she call Dad now or after work, she was asking herself. Did she have to answer this guy?
‘Sorry,’ she heard him say, ‘I’ll just keep quiet and let you enjoy the ride back.’ Oh dear, could he read her mind?
‘Oh, no, sorry, it’s okay,’ she forced herself to be sociable, ‘It’s just that… err… well… I’m just rather preoccupied with something.’ Should she just let on a little? To this friendly stranger? ‘Something… umm… bad happened in the family.’
Was she imagining it or did he look slightly alarmed? Well, she could see he wasn’t really sure what to say to her. ‘Don’t worry,’ she managed a vague smile, ‘I’m okay.’ Suddenly, she felt that she wasn’t okay, and she didn’t know why but she felt a great urge to cry. Best to just look out the window, she told herself.
He was quiet as they got off the bus and walked towards the office building. As they walked towards the lifts, he hesitated at first and then said, ‘You take it easy, okay? You know where to find me. Gotta run. Just saw my client over there. See you around, ya?’ He waved and walked briskly towards a stout man in a bright yellow shirt.
She just stared after him, and felt like crying again.
Back in the office, Sara stared at her computer screen. She had the beginnings of a book cover. Very impressive book. She had read it a few times over because she was enthralled by the lovely stories these three teenage girls had created. They reminded her of all the things she had wished for when she was growing up. But now, she could only stare at the three flowers she had drawn before lunch. She didn’t want to draw anymore, and she could feel the tears coming on again.
Flashing light… an email from Auntie Sophie! The woman she loved with all her heart.
How are you and Sam? I sent you the card by post but I will tell you now first. Liza will be married at the end of this month! You all must come ok?
For the first time that day, she smiled a real smile to herself. Dear, dear Auntie Sophie, she was the mother Sara never had. She was there for everything her mother had walked out of. And she cried pots and pots of tears when Auntie Sophie finally called it a day and went home. She was already in her mid-40s and she had been with them for some 15 years. It was time to go home, Sara agreed. But she was 20 years old and had never lived a day she could remember without her Auntie Sophie.
So she went back to her own five children who had grown up while she was caring for Sara and Sam. On days she travelled down to her son’s home in Manila, she emailed as often as she could to Sara.
She tried calling Sam again and frowned as she listened to the ringing tone. She had alternately called his mobile and home phones but he was picking neither up. She couldn’t wait to tell him about Liza’s wedding and yet, part of her was actually relieved he didn’t answer. Because she didn’t know what she was going to say about him and Diana.
She wasn’t thinking properly anymore. No point sitting and staring at the three flowers and worrying about Sam, she thought to herself. She took the afternoon off and fell into bed the minute she got home.
(to be continued)
This story is purely the creation of my imagination so any coincidental resemblance to any real person or situation is just that - purely coincidental. Hope you enjoy it.
Sara stared at the street scene, which had nothing particularly interesting, but she was in the mood for nothing more than just staring at, well, nothing in particular. She kept playing the conversation she had had with her sister-in-law that morning over and over in her mind.
‘Sara,’ Diana was shaking her head, ‘I couldn’t take him anymore. I don’t know what happened to your brother. I mean, I thought we had a good relationship but we just didn’t connect. I really don’t know why. There were times I thought there was something wrong with him.’
‘Wrong?’ Sara asked, ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know,’ Diana looked almost apologetic, ‘Mentally wrong. He became so weird. It was like he was building this cocoon around himself and he wouldn’t let me in. It was like he didn’t want me or anyone in his life. And he couldn’t explain it to me.’
Sara sighed to herself for the umpteenth time that day. She worried about her brother more than she did for herself. He was their mother’s favoured one but he never cried, as far as she knew, when she left them. She herself cried for months and through all the tears, she did think that something was wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She thought all was finally well when he fell in love and got married. And now, this.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him and when lunchtime came, she hopped on the shuttl
e bus that took her away from the workplace. She just felt that she needed to go somewhere different. She decided to treat herself to a KFC meal.Her mind was so occupied that she didn’t notice the man at the next table till he walked over to the bin to clear his tray. She recognised his Gap Oxford shirt at once. She had a lady’s version in exactly the same light blue shade.
No ring, she noticed. These days, she looked for rings. She didn’t really know why but her last few ‘relationships’ had been with married men. She didn’t think of them as real relationships for they never got very far. It was odd, but for some reason, they were all married men, and it was not that she went out of her way to meet such men. Was she a ‘tragedy magnet’, as one of her friends explained? Why, she had wondered all those times, did married men want relationships outside their families? But she had no interest in having a hand in shattering anyone’s life. Enough lives had been shattered.
Absent-mindedly, she finished her meal and stood in the queue for the bus back.
Should she call Dad to tell him? Did he already know?
‘Manhattan?’ asked the voice next to her.
‘Huh?’ she turned. It was Mr No Ring. He was looking at her Bottega Veneta.
Designer bags were her weakness, and she had on several occasions persuaded herse
lf that she could afford them. But this Manhattan bag was a precious gift from Dad, and she loved it and used it most days, and didn’t care that it was a few seasons old already.So this guy liked designer bags?
‘My mum,’ he explained. ‘She loves designer stuff. And she shops all over the world for these things.’
Time for small talk, for which she was really not in the mood. It turned out that he was a systems person attached for a few months to the big advertising company that occupied three floors of her office building. That gave them something work-related to talk about and she briefly explained what she did as a graphics person. He’d never actually met a graphics person, he told her. The company’s graphics work was done by a sister company somewhere else.
‘So do you draw and design and stuff in your free time too?’
Why, oh why, did he have to be in such a chatty mood? He certainly looked like someone worth getting to know, but she really didn’t feel like chatting.
Should she call Dad now or after work, she was asking herself. Did she have to answer this guy?
‘Sorry,’ she heard him say, ‘I’ll just keep quiet and let you enjoy the ride back.’ Oh dear, could he read her mind?
‘Oh, no, sorry, it’s okay,’ she forced herself to be sociable, ‘It’s just that… err… well… I’m just rather preoccupied with something.’ Should she just let on a little? To this friendly stranger? ‘Something… umm… bad happened in the family.’
Was she imagining it or did he look slightly alarmed? Well, she could see he wasn’t really sure what to say to her. ‘Don’t worry,’ she managed a vague smile, ‘I’m okay.’ Suddenly, she felt that she wasn’t okay, and she didn’t know why but she felt a great urge to cry. Best to just look out the window, she told herself.
He was quiet as they got off the bus and walked towards the office building. As they walked towards the lifts, he hesitated at first and then said, ‘You take it easy, okay? You know where to find me. Gotta run. Just saw my client over there. See you around, ya?’ He waved and walked briskly towards a stout man in a bright yellow shirt.
She just stared after him, and felt like crying again.
Back in the office, Sara stared at her computer screen. She had the beginnings of a book cover. Very impressive book. She had read it a few times over because she was enthralled by the lovely stories these three teenage girls had created. They reminded her of all the things she had wished for when she was growing up. But now, she could only stare at the three flowers she had drawn before lunch. She didn’t want to draw anymore, and she could feel the tears coming on again.
Flashing light… an email from Auntie Sophie! The woman she loved with all her heart.
How are you and Sam? I sent you the card by post but I will tell you now first. Liza will be married at the end of this month! You all must come ok?
For the first time that day, she smiled a real smile to herself. Dear, dear Auntie Sophie, she was the mother Sara never had. She was there for everything her mother had walked out of. And she cried pots and pots of tears when Auntie Sophie finally called it a day and went home. She was already in her mid-40s and she had been with them for some 15 years. It was time to go home, Sara agreed. But she was 20 years old and had never lived a day she could remember without her Auntie Sophie.
So she went back to her own five children who had grown up while she was caring for Sara and Sam. On days she travelled down to her son’s home in Manila, she emailed as often as she could to Sara.
She tried calling Sam again and frowned as she listened to the ringing tone. She had alternately called his mobile and home phones but he was picking neither up. She couldn’t wait to tell him about Liza’s wedding and yet, part of her was actually relieved he didn’t answer. Because she didn’t know what she was going to say about him and Diana.
She wasn’t thinking properly anymore. No point sitting and staring at the three flowers and worrying about Sam, she thought to herself. She took the afternoon off and fell into bed the minute she got home.
(to be continued)
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