I'm meeting friends. The surroundings are vivid, burned into memory from a lifetime spent walking down these pavements. We're standing outside Orchard station; ION should be behind me, but the memory of that is fuzzy - a throwback to the days where naught but a large patch of grass occupied the space, filled with congregating Filipinos on a lazy Sunday.
My group is already here, all of them. Its noisy, the raucous sounds of friends on longtime friends. I say my hellos. I smile warm smiles; I grin with genuine joy.
And then I see her.
She's wearing a red dress; its long, textured, patterned... very vogue. She's got shopping bags in hand from all those expensive boutiques lining the stretch. She's made up; made up for a night at a party or ballroom event. It's layered on thick, but not so much that it overpowers her feature. It isn't the way I like my women to look, but I'll readily admit that it looks just about right on her. In any case, it's a far cry from the fresh-faced, lively girl that I'd known so long ago.
She's a different person now. Changed. Somebody grew up.
She sees me. Her eyes narrow to slits, simmering with the compressed intensity of a setting sun on the badlands horizon, clawing to stay above the borderline. Her face is stone - frozen beauty carved out of Grecian marble. She hates the situation she's been put in, hates my guts for being here. And she looks so, so dangerous. Red eyeshadow; a cornered Siamese cat, hissing.
A faceless friend steps up to introduce us, blissful in his ignorance. I step past his half-formed sentences. There's no hiding to be had, and both of us know this. We exchange greetings... small talk. You look great, I tell her. Thanks, she says in a manner that implies finality and a wish to avoid further conversation. But I can't do that. A potentially good day, spoilt rotten by our half-hearted attempts to make peace - that's not something I can abide by.
I extend my hands, initiating what I hope looks like a warm embrace. Here, the shopping bags are her ally, and she uses them to full advantage, raising them half-heartedly (surprise surprise) to demonstrate her inability to respond in kind. I press my case, and we manage some semblance of a hug at least. Its stilted; its awkward; but it goes some way towards addressing the yawning chasm between us both. I suppose that's all I could ask for at this point.
We're off, heading to whichever destination that the group had intended to visit. It's not important and it doesn't matter. My subconscious recognizes this, and flashes forward to the next scene.
We're walking down flights of stairs, the whole lot of us. The stairwell echoes with the sounds of multiple ongoing conversations, struggling to be heard above the din of footfalls on tiled floor. The person beside me speaks. I recognize his face - Kelvin, my junior in the college dragonboating team. In reality, he's aware of the history between Jolene and I. Here, he isn't.
He enquires about the awkward moment that occurred in the beginning of the day. What did you expect, I reply, She's my ex, and she was my first.
I catch a glimpse of her. Our eyes meet, her expression void of emotion. I search for signs of warmth, but find nothing.
We're in a food court, or a hawker centre. The group fans out in search of their lunch, and I find myself walking alongside a fat chap who volunteers his experiences with food from the stalls that we pass by. We pass by a chicken rice stall - I think I may have that, I say. It's not a bad choice, he replies. Despite his obvious lack of familiarity with the vendor, he means to encourage. As purveyors and recipients of the commodity known as friendship, we've all experienced such exchanges in our lives - and right now I'm grateful for the affirmation. It's been cold sorta day.
She must've been a really nasty girl to turn you all inside out like this. Best to forget about her.
Nasty?, I reply, Maybe that's why I can't forget.
You can be accepting of your past, but your past may not wish to accept you; and that sometimes, there's nothing you can do but to accept that outcome too.
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