Tutu Incorporated

Chapter 14

2007-04-24T05:14:00.000+08:00

I’ve just finished lunch with Kaelyn at the O’Brien’s near her office, and she’s absolutely envious of my “freestyle” life at the moment.

When we parted after our sandwiches, she wore a very longing look and pouted sadly. “So you’re off to your window shopping and bookshop browsing at KLCC, while I head back to my tiny cubicle, a stupid project which is due tomorrow, and that bunch of gossiping female sharks – Can’t you just kidnap me and take me with you?”

I laughed as I gave my dear friend a hug and reminded her that Freestyle-life also comes with an almost empty bank account and a pair of parents who are constantly nagging you about being sensible and realistic.

“Yeah, but it still beats working with the bitches.”

I had no reply for that. Instead I pushed her towards the direction of her office and promised to call her later.

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It’s been more than a month since I’ve left SD&Co. and my time spent there is beginning to feel more and more like a dream. It comes as no surprise that in such an established firm no one is irreplaceable and life goes on with or without you. But it’s still quite disappointing to realize how quickly people can forget you. I’ve not heard from Julianne and the rest of the team since my quiet departure at the end of the year. Ean still calls every other day and we try to catch up over coffee once a week, but he’s been very busy too. And if rumors can be trusted, he should be receiving a promotion very soon.

I try not to think of my past two years as a waste. I always believe that there’s something to learn anywhere you are, and I am encouraging myself to be positive about the valuable experiences I have acquired. I am also encouraging myself not to revisit the depressing parts too often; they are over and done with, after all.

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It’s a weekday afternoon and KLCC is pack with tourists of all nations. I am greeted at the entrance by two groups of Chinese and a small group of Japanese who are listening not too intently as the guides brief them about meeting points and gathering time. A few steps ahead, two English couple speaking in their lovely English accent are discussing about the lovely Malaysian weather. And walking out of Prada, a large family of Middle Easterns, where all the women and girls are covered up in dark robes and carrying large shopping bags with even larger designer labels.

I side step a group of college students (finally, someone local! – I was beginning to feel outnumbered), and head for the top floor, where the bookshop is located. The upper floors are reasonably quieter, and take my time looking into the shop windows.

After a quick detour into Nike to check out their yoga apparels (I’m thinking of taking up the practice), I finally step into Kinokuniya. I am just about to start exploring the new arrivals when a lady loaded with shopping bags and an arm full of books bump into my side. The books cause quite some noise when they hit the timber floor, and a few customers nearby turn to look at us curiously. But because this is not a Harlequin plot, no one rushes to help us, not even the sales people (hm, if this is a Harlequin plot, it would have been a guy bumping into me, and a cute guy at that, but yeah, my life is no story book).

“Oh, I am sooo sorry!” The lady apologizes as she struggles to pick up her books while at the same time trying to stop her shopping bags from slipping off grip.

“It’s ok, here, let me help you,” I reply, already stacking her books into my arm. They are mostly cook books, and weigh quite a bit. Italian, French, Japanese…

“Tutu?”

I look up from the books to a familiar face. “Elsa!?”

“Oh my god, how have you been?” Elsa pulls me into a hug, shopping bags and cook books and all, and I return it warmly. It’s good to see her, irregardless of the circumstances in which we have parted in.

“I’m fine, just fine. And yourself?” I give her a quick overall glance, taking in her short cropped hair which is expertly styled, her plain white blouse, turquoise slacks, gold accessories (all genuine, I’m sure) and matching designer handbag. “You look great, as always.”

Elsa smiles, “Oh thank you dear, I’m well too, but I missed you!” She checks her watch before turning back to me with a knowing look in her eyes. “Are you in a hurry? Because I would really love to catch up – I have so much to tell you!”

I’ve missed Elsa too. Every so often, and especially lately, I find myself thinking back to the times when I used to hang out at her Art Café, chatting with her about life and such, learning how to use the industrial size espresso machine and gossiping about the tai-tais who pass by. I love my little studio-cottage with its lemon trees, of course, but I was happy at Elsa’s too.

I quickly agree to coffee, and after paying for her cook books, Elsa leads me into Dome. “Their lattes aren’t as good as mine, of course, but they are decent enough.”

I grin and tell her how much I miss her special brew. “How’s the café doing, by the way?” I ask after ordering a cinnamon latte.

Elsa adjusts her blouse and leans back into her seat. “Oh sweetie, how long have you not visited Damas area? I’ve closed the café almost six months ago!”

“What!?” I lean forward in dismay and disbelief. “Why?”

Elsa shakes her head with a little laugh as she reaches out to squeeze my hand, “I met a man. We’re getting married. And then we’re opening our own restaurant together.”

Wow. Wow. I think I just got bombed, twice, within a minute. No make that three times – Art Café gone, Elsa meeting a man, Elsa getting married.

“Oh. My. God – Elsa, that’s great! Congratulations!” I lean across to hug her, almost knocking our coffees off the tray of the waiter who’s just arrived.

When the waiter left, Elsa stirs her drink quietly before turning back to me. “Tutu sweetie, I want to apologize for kicking you out of the apartment.”

That must be bomb number four. I wonder how many more are there.

I take a sip of my coffee, working on the right words to say. “Don’t be silly, Elsa. It was totally my fault; me and my naïve ignorance in trusting people too easily.” Yup, I can really say that again.

But Elsa shakes her head and squeezes my hand again. “If you want to put it that way, then it was as much my fault as it was yours. But you don’t know the other half of the story. My half.”

I wait for her to continue, not exactly sure what to expect.

“Well, you see, I met Chang – that’s my fiancé – at around the same time the episode with Bambi happened. We went to the same cooking class together. He is a widower, with a grown up son. We clicked immediately because we have a lot in common, and he proposed to me on our third date!”

She pauses for the words to sink in, and I gasp at the drama of it all. I thought these things don’t happen in real life anymore. Then Elsa continues. “Things were happening a little too fast for me to handle, and I told him I needed some time. You know about my past, how my ex hurt me so badly that I almost sworn myself off marriage for good. Chang is a wonderful man and so patient and loving he’s almost too good to be true. For a while, I wouldn’t allow myself to believe that such an amazing thing was happening to me, and I sort of shut the world out for a while, as I tried to sort through what was going on in my life. And that was when the thing with Bambi happened and added to the complication. I had a lot of things going on in my head at that time, and I really didn’t need someone turning my home into a prostitute center, so I ended up asking both of you to leave. It was a rash decision and it wasn’t fair for you, because it wasn’t your fault at all, except for being sweet and soft hearted and wanting to help the girl out.” She stop to take a breath, “I’m really sorry, Tutu. Please forgive me?”

I shake my head. Elsa’s words did put some things into perspective, like why she was so detached and disconnected the few weeks before I left. But it’s all in the past now. I’ve put it behind me, and so should she. I realize then how much I want to see her happy, and I tell her so. “Elsa, there’s nothing to forgive! I would probably have done the same if I were you. Really! I’m doing fine so you should stop blaming yourself for what happened. And I’m so happy for you, having met someone who loves you so much, and celebrating that together! There must be so much to look forward to!”

Elsa smiles quietly, and nodded. “Tutu, you really are a sweetheart, you know that? Thank you.” Then she takes a deep breath and let it out in a rush, the smile on her face widening. “You are right; there really is a lot to look forward to! Now, it’s your turn. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

In the space of a second, ten thousand things flash through my mind. Where do I start? My new studio-cottage, my wonderful landlords, my drama at work, my jobless status, my ambitious but unachievable New Year’s resolutions, or my ever-so-confusing mixed feelings for Ean?

In the end, I decide to tell her that I am currently in between jobs, and also fill her in on what happened which led to my present condition.

“Well, it’s good to take a break sometimes,” Elsa says comfortingly.

I shrug and laugh, “yeah, but only when you can afford it. I don’t think I can sit around for too long not doing anything, and my parents are definitely puzzled when I told them I need to re-look into the direction my life is heading. To them, it’s as simple as you study, you graduate, you work, you get married, and you have babies, and so on.”

Elsa is quiet for a while as she traces the edge of her cup with a finger. I take the time to admire the delicate details of the bracelet on her wrist, which was made out of precious stones of all colors weaved randomly through strings of gold. The stones catch the afternoon light coming through the café window, winking and sparkling charmingly, reminding me of magic and fairytales.

“I can’t change your parents’ viewpoints, thou I can certainly relate to the struggle and challenge of realizing your dreams. But, I think I might have a temporary solution to your financial situation.”

I tilt my head to the side, taking my eyes away from the twinkling stones on her wrist to focus on her face, only to find a similar twinkle in her knowing eyes.

“I happen to need a manager at the new restaurant.”

“I’m not –”

She interrupts me, probably already expecting my objection. “Skills can be learnt, it’s the personality I am looking for.” She arches her eyebrow and smiles. “So, are you up to the challenge?”

Chapter 13

2007-01-17T16:14:00.000+08:00

Tutu Tan’s 2007 New Year’s Resolution

1. Get a new job – but in order to do that I first need to:
a. Identify what kind of job do I want?
b. Identify what direction do I want to head towards?
c. Should I remain a lawyer, or try out something else?
d. Do I need extra skills or qualifications?
e. Do I want another job?

2. Go traveling – I want to see the world! – But how will I afford? Guess I have to get a job then…

3. Learn a new skill and/or acquire a new hobby which is non work related – hm, come to think of it, do I have a hobby at all? Does shopping counts? Oh, that requires money too.

4. Get a boyfriend! – no, of course Ean doesn’t count! Wanna know when was the last time I had a serious relationship? No, better not.

5. Improve relationship with family – yes, I do have a family, in case you’ve been wondering.

6. How many resolutions does one need to have for a new year? Does it always have to be 10? … …

7. This is all I can handle, for now.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

“Aquarius January 20 – February 19

Your address book is about to expand – and most of these contacts will come in useful later on in the year when you’re thinking about switching careers or moving house. In March, you’ll meet a man with love potential. But be warned, although this is a slow burner, it’s worth waiting for. When you finally get it together, by the end of the year, it will be dynamic. Keep your eyes peeled around April, too, when an unlikely male figure turns career mentor.

Don’t refuse any invites – especially as Jupiter’s effects are on full beam at the moment. Can’t be bothered going to that party on the other side of town? Force yourself! This is the one that’ll bring the most opportunities. Start putting any career goals you have into action straight away – you’ll be reaping the rewards by December.”

“Are you reading your horoscope?” Kaelyn sits down next to me on the sofa and props her legs onto the coffee table.

I quickly turn the page without looking at her. “Of course not! I was just checking out the new hair colors for the season. Do you think I’ll look good in blond?”

Kaelyn frowns at me in a manner which tells me that she thinks I’ve either lost my mind, or think she’s lost hers, and didn’t bother to answer me at all. That’s what you get sometimes when you’ve known someone since when you were 10 years old; they can tell you that they think you’re being silly even without saying so. Lyn¬ picks up the remote and switches on the TV. We are having a girl’s night in at Kaelyn’s place. Her parents are holidaying in New Zealand, and her brother Jake is out partying, as usual. So it’s just us girls and a stack of feel good chick flick DVDs. A pot of vegetable curry is warming on the stove, and Lyn’s just popped some naan bread to warm in the oven. I’ve opened a bottle of chilled Sauvignon Blanc and the night is ready to roll!

Then my friend has to say something so spoil the mood. “We must be getting old. Who else do you know stays home on a Saturday night watching Lake House and Devil Wears Prada?” I open my mouth to answer, but she cuts me off. “And don’t tell me Mr. and Mrs. Sachiiya, because you know bloody well I am referring to people our age.”

I turn in my seat so that I face Lyn, and then I say to her very seriously, “so, would you rather we get changed now and hit a club? Because we can, if that’s what you really want.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, but shoots me a pout. “That’s not what I meant,” she says after a while.

I know what she meant, but I still want to hear it from her. Something’s been bothering Lyn lately, and it’s not because she’s force to spend Saturday night watching DVDs with me. In fact, she was the one who suggested we hang out together tonight. So I continue to look at her expectantly.

Finally she gives an impatient sigh and hugs a pillow to her chest. She didn’t look at me when she says, “I – Marcus and I, we – actually, it was he who – I mean we –,“ she stops, sighs again, and then takes a deep breath before letting it out in a rush. “We broke up.”

Gasp! Hm, why am I not surprised? Oh, ok, I think I should sound a bit more sympathetic, Lyn is my bestest friend, after all. “Oh Lyn –“ I reach for her, but she holds up a hand to stop me.

“Uh uh – don’t say it. Don’t say anything. I know you’ll tell me ‘I told you so’ and I don’t want to hear it. I also don’t need your sympathy – comfort, maybe, but don’t feel sorry for me, because I’m not, feeling sorry, that is. We are grown ups, right? And these things happen – people get together and then separate all the time. Look at Ean, happily married one year, and divorced the next, but life goes on.”

“Mm hm.” I don’t say anything, just nod in agreement.

“And like you said, Marcus is a playboy. You’ve warned me about him, and yet I made the decision to be with him, but at least I was prepared, sort of. And it wasn’t like we’ve been together for forever or anything; it’s only been three months, and we had our share of fun. But we are not made for each other, I sort of realized that even from the beginning, but it was something different, and I wanted to give it a try. He made me feel special, like I was the center of everything, and I was! Just not for very long, that’s all. But it’s nobody’s fault. He is who he is, just not who I want him to be.”

“Mmm…” I nod again, trying to come up with something comforting and encouraging, yet un-clichéd, to say. “Sweetie, at least you knew what you were getting into, which sort of cushioned the fall, I guess. And –"

“It’s ok, Tu. I’m ok, really.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Besides –“ she pauses, looking hesitant.

“Yes?” I prompt.

“I’ve met someone new.”

“What?!”

She’s got to be joking! I mean, when does she finds the time to meet a new guy and I don’t know anything about it until now? I thought we were best friends!

“Who? When? – How come?”

Lyn actually laughs. “Shall we get started with dinner, and I can fill you in while we eat? And stop looking so shock, Tu. I said I met someone new, I didn’t say I was getting married!”

Huh, right. That’s my friend for you – always full of delightful surprises. I get up from my seat and follow her into the kitchen.

“By the way, Tu, your horoscope prediction is right, you need to start going out more.”

Chapter 12

2006-12-17T13:33:00.000+08:00

Tutu Tan
59 Pers. Burhanudin Helmy
TTDI 6000 Kuala Lumpur
Tel: +6012-5855005
Email: tutu.tan@gmail.com

November 30, 2006

Mr. Jason HL Yeoh
Partner, Corporate and Commercial Department
Shearn Delamore and Co.
Wisma Hamzah-Kwong Hing
No.1, Leboh Ampang
50100 Kuala Lumpur

Dear Mr. Yeoh,

Notice of Resignation

I would like to inform you that I am resigning from my position as Legal Assistant for the Shearn Delamore and Co., Corporate and Commercial Department, effective December 29, 2006.

Thank you for the opportunities you have provided me during my time with the company. I appreciate the support provided me during my tenure with the company.

If I can be of any help during this transition, please let me know.

Sincerely,

Tutu Tan

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Outside, the rain pours down relentlessly, giving the landscape a fuzzy quality. But despite the unforgiving weather, cars packed with Christmas shoppers continue to crawl bumper to bumper into the car park across the street, ignoring the blinking lights saying “Car Park Full”. Red taillights glow alternately thru the shower.

Indoors, it’s anything but gloomy. Christmas carol tinkles in the background; decorative baubles in red and silver hangs from trees and garlands; fake snow fogs the glass; baristas dressed up like Santa’s elves cheerily greets each customers stepping into Starbucks; the espresso machine sputters and hissed in rhythm to the carols, delivering steamy hot cups of lattes and foamy cappuccinos. At a nearby table, a girl is arguing with her boyfriend because he got her a tall Frappucino with whipped cream. She wanted a grande, light, without the cream but with lots of caramel sauce. Further down at the corner, a toddler is feeding his juice to the potted plant as his Indonesian maid looks on, while the parent sips their coffee and read their individual magazines.

On top of the buzz, a persistent voice is speaking – no, lecturing is more like it – and I am unfortunately at the receiving end.

“I can’t believe you’re going to walk out just like that. We all know it wasn’t your fault, we all saw you working your ass off preparing for the project. What happened was just a last minute cock-up and had nothing to do with your performance. You don’t have to stand out and take all the responsibility, you know? Blunders during presentations are really common, and it’s not like you’ve not done your homework or gambled away millions of the client’s money – damn it – why are you making this so difficult? Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, Tu?”

I wrap my hands around my lukewarm Toffee Nut latte and look across the table at Ean, his expression all earnest and serious as he tries to convince me to withdraw my resignation from SD&Co. I don’t understand why he is so worked up. In fact he has been this way since he found out about my plan, and that was two weeks ago. Since the disastrous presentation, Ean’s taken over the project, and from what I heard, doing a good job of it, and will be wrapping it up before Christmas.

Don’t get me wrong; I am not jealous or mad at Ean in any way for taking over my project (my first – and last – solo project). Just the opposite, I have come to accept it, and even able to move on from there, which is why I can be so calm. My mind is set, I have made my decision, and I’m not taking back my resignation.

Oh, I’m sorry; I guess I should at least tell you (just briefly) about what happened during the presentation, and the enlightening process which followed. Well, here it is:

On that fateful morning, I arrived early at work, checked through my documentations, backed up the files in my laptop and did a dry run with Julianne and Ean. They were generally happy and gave some tips on how to handle some difficult questions. For the rest of the morning, I sat at my desk doing some paper work, and feeling confident and excited. I should have realized that things were going a little too smoothly.

Julianne, Ean and I left for early lunch, and then made our way over to Mr. Benedict’s office on Jln Ampang. Things started going wrong the moment we stepped into the Zen-styled office. First, Julianne spilled her take away coffee on waiting area’s very plush and very white sofa. The receptionist screamed for the cleaning lady as we scrambled out of our seats and stood awkwardly aside while the poor lady ran in with two pails, a mop and five towels. None of us dared to ask why someone would choose to use white sofa in a high traffic waiting area. Ten minutes later, we were still standing at the reception when Mr. Benedict’s secretary came to inform us that the meeting will be delayed as Mr. Benedict was still at lunch and will not be back for another hour. However, we will need to complete the presentation within forty minutes because by then Mr. Benedict will have to leave for his doctor’s appointment. Mr. Benedict is a very busy man, indeed.

Ean was about to argue, for we were previously given an hour and a half for the presentation, but Julianne stopped him and told the secretary that forty minutes was not a problem. It was better to be able to do a shorter presentation than not at all. The secretary showed us into the meeting room and left. I remember noticing that she looked very good in her white pant suit.

Inside the room, Ean started setting up the laptop for presentation while Julianne and I went through the notes, finding ways to make the presentation shorter. We were quite wrapped up in our discussion and didn’t notice any problem until Ean started cursing. Somehow our laptop could not detect their projector, hence could not be connected. Which meant no projection. Which meant no presentation.

I was really panicking by then. Everything I have prepared, all the statistics and proposals and information were in the PowerPoint document in the laptop. My notes were only for back up. I have to show the presentation!

“Let’s try and see if we can borrow a laptop from them.” Julianne suggested, and Ean agreed, so he went around asking. Almost half an hour later, he came back with a triumph smile and a very sleek piece of machine under his arm. When we managed to hook it up with the projector and my carefully prepared PowerPoint blinks onto the screen, we all whooped with relieve. Moments later, Mr. Benedict walked into the room, shook everyone’s hand, sat down, and the presentation began.

The first five minutes went on well enough, if you discount the fact that Mr. Benedict was a bear of a man, dressed from top to toe in full white, who is incapable of showing any sort of expression on his face. Maybe that’s why he is a successful business man; you never know what he is thinking. At the least we are beginning to understand why the rest of the office looks more pristine and clinical than a hospital; he is into white, and nothing else. Interesting.

Ten minutes into the presentation, things started happening. Bad things. Without warning, the state-of-the-art on loan laptop flickered, and then died. Yup, it went dead, just like that, and wouldn’t restart, no matter which button we pressed to resuscitate it. Shit! (Later, I found out that their people called our people to inform us that the pen drive I used to transfer files from my laptop to theirs contained some un-namable virus which were so powerful it totally wiped out the entire system. And that we owe them a new laptop. Till today, no one understands from where the virus came from, for no other computers within our company, nor my own laptop, had been affected.)

And then, as if nothing catastrophic has just happened, Mr. Benedict turned to me, and asked in that loud booming voice of his which I will remember probably for the rest of my life, “Why are the presentation text in red and black? I do not deal with people who cannot find it in themselves to respect others’ special preferences. You may leave now.”

What – What?

My mind went totally blank then. Thinking back, Mr. Benedict was not so intimidating, actually. I could have just laughed him off and went on with my presentation using the notes which I have already prepared. I could even have switched on my own laptop and run the presentation from there, projection be damned, at least he could still see what we have prepared and listen to what we have to say. I could have, I could have – yes are probably thousands of I-could-haves, yet at that point of time, all I could think of was that I have failed, and that the sanitized “Zen” place totally sucked.

I flipped. Yes, I admit that. Maybe I could have tried harder to hold myself together. But all I felt then was being totally drained. Maybe it was the accumulated stress throughout the weeks leading up to the presentation, or maybe it was the hiccups we faced since the moment we entered Benedict’s office which multiplied the pressure level to an unbearable state, and everything starts to fall apart, inside and out.

Maybe, I was just not strong enough.

You all know what happened after that. I went straight home and locked out the rest of the world until Kaelyn came and rescue me from myself. What followed was some serious soul searching, as cliché as that may sound, to identify where I came from, where I want to go, and where exactly I ended up heading towards.

The results? Lets just say that if I have initially set out towards Destination A, after two years of traveling along the highway, I’m actually closer to Destination T, more than half way towards Destination Z, which is absolutely not where I want to be. So I am pulling over, catch my breath a bit, and maybe take out my compass and try to locate my direction again.

Thank goodness Kaelyn’s been very encouraging.

“This is exactly what the stars predicted! In this new year, you will be going on a journey of self discovery, and even though it may seem a bit unwise at this point of time, you will in fact discover much more than you expect to find. Retreating has nothing to do with cowardness, but because you have found the strength to reach for your dreams.”

Does that tell you anything at all?

Chapter 11

2006-11-05T13:09:00.000+08:00

“Sigh – I think I’m in love.”

I look over at Kaelyn, who is lying on my bed, a very dreamy look on her face as she rests her head on one hand and nibbles the nail of a finger, a super typical “I-think-I-am-in-love” symptom – for Kaelyn, anyway.

“He says he likes how I sound on the phone. He’s been calling more often, even if just for a few minutes. He says hearing my voice really makes his day. Isn’t that sweet of him?”

Sweet? Lame is more like it. But I keep my mouth shut. This is not the time to wake Lyn up from her dream (or nightmare, depending on how you want to look at it).

She continues talking, not needing a reply from me, another typical “in-love” symptom. “Did I tell you he bought out all the flowers from the hotel gift shop that first day we met, at Redang Island?”

How could I forget? I was there! And I also recall that the hotel gift shop only had one small bucket of sorry looking pink roses, left over from who knows when.

Of course, again, no reply needed. The In-Love girl carries on. “He’s been so busy with work lately – he works so hard! Yet he tries to make time to see me, take me to dinner, and listens as I tell him about my day – he really listens to me! Oh, he’s just so – sigh – what’s that word? I dunno, I don’t want to think that he’s too good to be true, because he isn’t! He’s real, and sincere, but it’s just so, overwhelming, for now. Amazingly beautiful, yet overwhelming at the same time – sigh…”

Sigh, indeed. I wonder how long I have to put up with this. Ok, before you start calling me the heartless friend, or worse still, the jealous b*tch, let me explain the story to you. This “He” that Lyn is talking about, is none other than the world class playboy, Marcus Wang, Assistant Manager of the Finance Department at SD & Co. Why world class, you might ask. Easy. His ex-girlfriends ranged from Japanese to French to Arabian to Thai to English to Dutch to Australian to Indian… and the list goes on, not too different from the one they have at the Miss Universe Pageant, really. And Lyn, she’s just another contestant, another name on the list. So now you can understand why I am not quite enthusiastic about my best friend’s joy. In fact, if I am not in such a rush to complete my presentation for Monday’s meeting, I’ll throw myself at Lyn’s feet, explain to her for the ten thousandth’s time why she shouldn’t get involve with Marcus. But for now, I can only hope that one percent of the last nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine times of pleading went through to her love-lust clouded mind, somehow.

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Meanwhile, I have been working like a mad woman on this project – yes! The solo project, as Ean likes to put it – and frankly, I am happy to say that it’s been breezing smoothly so far, which really boosts my confidence. The only worrying part, if you consider it a worry, is that I’ve not met with the client, ever before, and we usually do, at least once, to go through the finer details of a proposal. But Senior Legal Assistant Julianne has assured me that it will not be problem at all.

“Furthermore,” she added, “despite Mr. Benedict being one of our company’s biggest client, It’s a very simple and straightforward proposal, Tutu, nothing that you’ve not handled before. I’m quite sure you’ll do fine with the information provided, and I’m really looking forward to your presentation on Monday. All of us are.”

Such high faith in me, especially coming from Julianne, is really quite a surprise. Does it mean I am finally getting somewhere?

Later on the same day, Ean also dropped by my desk and did a quick scan through the report I was still in progress of putting together. “Gosh Tu, you’re going to make the rest of us look bad! Do you have to do so much work?”

And before he left, he gave my shoulder a warm squeeze. “By the way, Lyn and Marcus seem to be going strong. Maybe we can double date some time?”

I gave him a shrug, not taking my eyes off the papers I was busy reading, and said, “Maybe.” Yup! I played it cool this time. Not bad huh? But we’ve yet to set a date, not that I’m encouraging Lyn and Marcus, of course.

And so, it’s early Saturday evening, and I am making final changes to the presentation, checking and cross checking to make sure I’ve got everything right. I am determine to complete everything by tonight, and spend tomorrow relaxing and preparing myself emotionally, spiritually, mentally and physically for the big day.

And Lyn is supposed to lend me moral support and assist me in achieving my objective, but the woman is still lying on my bed, day dreaming, no doubt.

“Hey,” I say to her, “aren’t you suppose to be making me dinner? I seem to recall the mention of some pasta and fresh salad on the menu. Are you expecting my microwave and the fridge to accomplish that all by themselves?”

............................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I am in deep shit.

I totally and absolutely screwed up.

The presentation was a mess; I don’t even know where to start explaining the problem. In fact, I don’t even understand how there could ever have been a problem to begin with. I checked and double checked everything! I even run through the presentation three times, on three different laptops, and backed it up twice on CD and on my pen drive, just to make sure there will be no blunder during the presentation. Yet –

Oh-my-god, what’s going to happen? How will I face Julianne and Jason and Ean and the rest of the office? Everyone must already know of the disaster. They are probably talking about me right now, laughing at me for being cocky and over confident when I left the office for the presentation this afternoon. I was looking so smart too, in a grey shirtdress with matching belt cinched across the waist, my favorite black leather tote and a pair of spiky black heels.

Now the dress is a crumpled heap, the heels long discarded, and the bag flung under the table, away from sight, because the mere glimpse of my files and folders reminds me of my failure and throws me into break-down mode.

I can’t think – all I do is sit on the floor against my bed and stare at the wall. I can’t breath – my lungs are pumping out air even as I try to draw more in, and I end up panting, like I’ve ran up four flights of stairs. I can’t feel myself – there is a numb sensation going through my body; I know my arm is resting right beside my body, yet I can’t really feel it anymore. In the silence of the room, my heart seems to be beating extremely loud, all I hear is “thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud…” amplified through the space, or maybe it’s all just in my head?

A banging sound brings me out of the reverie long enough to realize that I’ve been sitting in total darkness, for how long I don’t know, and there’s someone outside calling my name. I am in no mood to see anyone; I’m just going to stay still and quiet in here, and whoever that is will go away.

“Tutu Tan! I know you are in there! Just stop swimming in your self pity for two seconds and let me in!”

It’s Kaelyn. How did she know about -? Marcus, of course. Oh gawd! That means even the other departments have heard about my fiasco! Shit! I might as well just kill my self now.

Knock-knock-knock.

She’s at my bedroom window now. It’s a good thing the curtains are drawn.

“Tutu! We both know you’ll never commit suicide because you want to die beautifully, and you probably look like shit at the moment, so just open the door and let me in!”

Ha! That’s my best friend for you; she knows me too well.

“Tutu! Do you want me to call the boys and break down the door? ‘Cos they’re just outside, waiting in the car.”

That does it. There’s no way I can afford to buy Mr. Sachiiya a new door; after today, I’m not even sure if I still have a job. And I gather by “the boys” she meant Marcus and Ean, and they definitely, absolutely, seriously, totally can-NOT see me in the state that I am at the moment.

I push myself off the floor and walk slowly to the door. Kaelyn stands patiently on the other side, wearing a very pretty flowy top over a pair of funky shorts. She holds out a box of Tarot cards.

“Wanna play Tarots? Or would you rather find out what the stars have in store for you?”

She’s teasing me, trying to make me laugh, and it almost work. But at the familiar sight of my best friend, something inside snaps, and it really really hurts.

I try to give her a smile for her effort, but the tears turn out to be quicker.

Chapter 10

2006-10-01T22:52:00.000+08:00

Kaelyn and I are sunbathing. Or I should say I am sunbathing; Kaelyn is talking – nonstop, for the past half an hour. Here’s a short summary of what she’s been talking about.

10:05am
Kaelyn: Tu, can you please help me apply a bit more sun block on my back? I don’t want to get burnt. You know how ugly I look when I get burnt. Remember the last time… … … (blah blah blah, you don’t need to know about the last time, trust me!)
Me: Hm…

10:10am
Kaelyn: Mmmm, this is absolute bliss, don’t you agree, Tu? Blue blue skies, powder-fine sand, water so clear you can see straight through to the bottom, and phew, did you notice all the gorgeous gorgeous bodies on display? Yumm!
Me: Hm… yeah, I know.

10:18am
Kaelyn: Hey Tu, check this out! My star sign says that romance is definitely heading my way this week! I’ve always wondered what a holiday fling would be like!
Me: Hm… that’s great, Lyn.
Kaelyn: Yeah, isn’t it? Did you notice that really cute guy at breakfast this morning? I ran into him twice at the pancakes table, and he didn’t look Asian. Did you see him?
Me: Hm… no.

10:25am
Kaelyn: I think I’m getting burnt. Maybe we should get into the shade now?
Me: (sighs and rolls my eyes) Girl, you have half a tube of sun block on your back, I’m not surprise if you actually gets fairer after this trip. Now, would you just shut up so I can do some serious tanning?
Kaelyn: (opens mouth but no sound comes out)

Yup, I am finally on a holiday, never mind that it is in fact a company-departmental trip (which, may I add, has been postponed due to reasons labeled P&C), and the organizers had enthusiastically arranged activities and games for every other hour and we are all expected to participate. The key point here is that I AM ON HOLIDAY!! So, why then, you may ask, is Kaelyn with me, since she and I don’t work at the same company at all!?

Well, you see, my good friend can be quite sentimental, which under most circumstances, can actually a good thing. When she heard that our department and Finance’s will be going for a 3 days 2 nights trip to Redang Island, and that our team and two others have taken a couple of days off to stay on till end of the week, Kaelyn grabbed my hand and started jumping up and down like a five year old.

“Tu! Do you realize that it’s been ages since we last went on a holiday together? When was the last time? Can you remember? You can’t right? What I have in my memory is you and me on our school trip to Cameron Highlands – it’s been that long! I think we should do this together, since I’ve not been to Redang anyway… Can we? Can we?”

And that was how Lyn ended up with me on my company holiday. I’m sort of regretting my decision now, though.

“Good morning, girls! Up early to start on the tan? Quite a bit to cover, isn’t there?”

I should have expected; interruptions are inevitable, at work or at play. But this particular intrusion also happen to come with long silky hair, perfect make up (water proof, of course) already golden-tanned skin thanks to weekly solarium visits, killer-curves not covered by the white bikini which is a size too small, and an accent from god-knows-where.

The unbearable screechy drawl continues, its volume increasing with each word. “Well I would have been up earlier, if it hasn’t been for Jason, who refuses to let me jump out of bed early. That silly fellow; he said we don’t cuddle enough, and so we ended up being late for breakfast, as you can imagine.” The narration stops, probably expecting a response of sort, but Lyn and I just toss a tight smile in her general direction before turning away towards the sea. It’s a good thing we both have our sunglasses on; she wouldn’t have been able to withstand the eye-rolling dagger-shooting gaze we are actually giving her. Sensing a lack of interest, but still needing to put in a last word, she sighs dramatically before saying, “So, I guess I should find myself a spot, if there’s any left at all, and catch up on the tanning, eh? Well then, later girls!”

As we wave off the retreating form with great relief, Lyn points out that not one part of the body jiggles, even as the hips are forcefully swayed from side to side across the sand. I shush her, and try really hard to relax and think of nothing, which is the major objective of this holiday. But my boss’s 25 year old wife has totally spoilt it for me now. The image of stern, solemn, no-nonsense Jason who’s already in his mid fifties, with a receding hairline, growing paunch and hairy chest, asking his Supermodel-wannabe wife half his age for morning cuddles – yikes! I really need to get that out of my head!

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I must have fallen asleep. When I open my eyes again, the sun is high and bright, the skin on my tummy is beginning to burn, and Kaelyn is no where to be seen. I grab the tube of After Sun and smear a big dollop on my hot skin. Then I reach for my Coppertone SPF 35 and search around for Lyn again. I need her help to cover my back with sun block; I don’t want to look like an octopus with too-short tentacles while trying to reach behind me.

I finally spot her at the beachside bar, in her green bikini top and a sarong wrap, deep in conversation with a dark hair man wearing beach shorts and sunglasses. She leans closer to say something, and the man throws his head back laughing. He looks some what familiar, but it’s hard to tell from this distant. Well, I don’t think Lyn will be available anytime soon to help me with my sun block.

“Hey gorgeous, you look troubled. Come, tell uncle Ean what’s bothering your pretty head.”

I turn back around to find “uncle” Ean plopping himself down onto the bottom half of my beach mat. Like most guys on the beach, he wears a t-shirt, broad shorts, thong slippers and a pair of sunglasses. He also spots an Addidas cap for extra shading from the sun.

“Hi uncle, you don’t look ready to hit the surf. Taking it slow today?”

“Yeah,” Ean leans back on his elbows, “stayed up late last night drinking with a few of the Finance boys, and had a hard time waking up this morning. Maybe I’m really getting old?” He grins and I reply with a small laugh.

“Hm, maybe.”

Ean tilts his head back to get a better look of me, his eyebrow arching over the frame of his sunglasses. “Really?”

He sounds worried, and I had to laugh again. “No! Of course not!” I shove him playfully on the shoulder and then nod at the group of girls sitting nearby. “They’ve been ogling you ever since you sat your butt down.”

Ean makes a face. “Ogle. You make me sound like some hot shot on display.”

“Well, you are! To some, anyway,” I add, “don’t you know what most of the girls at the office who are under 30, and some over 35, thinks of you?”

“I can’t be bothered with what they think, really. However,” he tilts his head back again, and I can’t stop my heart from doing a tiny flip when a boyish grin spreads across his handsome face. “I do care about what you think.”

My throat has turned dry suddenly. “Uh, about what?” About you? Well, I think a lot about you, but if it’s possible, I hope you’ll never find out!

“Oh, about anything and everything. But let’s start with what caused you to frown and look so thoughtful just now. You’re not thinking about the project are you? Because I forbid you to think about work this week, even if it’s your first solo project and there’s a promotion promise hanging at the end of it.”

Less than a week ago, Julianne handed me a folder containing a new investment planning project and told me that Jason and herself had had a discussion, and thinks that I’m ready to take on more responsibilities. At the end of the project, they want to sit down with me and talk about my “development plans”, was how she put it. Ean translates that as getting a promotion, a pay rise, and maybe even an assistant. Of course that got me into a hype, which resulted in working till midnight 3 consecutive days prior to leaving for Redang, and Ean and Lyn had to physically remove me from the office and strap me into my seat, or we might have miss the flight and the beautiful beach and surf altogether.

“I wasn’t thinking about work, but thanks for reminding me just when I’ve finally managed not to think about it at all since waking up this morning.” I give him a mock annoyed look before going on as-a-matter-of-factly. “I was just worried about getting an uneven tan, and was looking around for Lyn to help apply more sun block on my back.”

The boyish grin is back. “Hey, now that I can help.” Before I can say anything, he took the bottle of Coppertone from me and sits up. I must have a horrified look on my face, for he adds, “I did spend four years in Queensland surrounded by beach babes who constantly needs help applying sun blocks – in fact, my friends and I even considered setting up a sun block-applying service during the summer season and earn some extra cash; it sounded quite promising then.”

“Yeah? I can imagine.”

Ean waves away my condescending reply and guides me onto the mat so that I’m lying on my stomach, with my back to him. I sense rather than see him squeeze the lotion onto his palm, place the bottle down near my arms, and then kneels down beside me. I didn’t realize that I have tensed up with anticipation of the contact until I feel him ruffling my hair playfully.

“Relax, Princess! I promise to be gentle.”

I bunch my hair up in one hand to get it out of his way and at the same time give him what I hope is a relaxed, carefree smile. He winks back. But my smile slips immediately when I feel him untying the strings of my bikini top.

“Ean, I think –"

“No, don’t think. Just lie back and enjoy the ride.”

It is at the tip of my tongue to shoot back a sassy reply, but somewhere at the back of my mind a rein appears and pulls me up short. There is a pause, and then something inside me clicks. I can’t really explain what, how or why, but it feels like an unspoken assurance passes between us. It is hot and cold, light and heavy, calm and exciting all at the same time. And as if someone is guiding me, I lie back, and relinquish myself – to the moment, or to Ean? – I don’t really care. For now, anyway.

Chapter 9

2006-09-03T14:33:00.000+08:00

You know those short questionnaire pages in the magazines where they ask famous people about what they are reading, what they are listening to, what they have in their bags…? How come I don’t get to answer such questions?

Well, yeah, obviously I’m not famous or anything… duh! ... But still? Wouldn’t it be fun? I mean, I know, no one out there in their right mind would probably be interested in what I have in my bag – except for a snatch thief, probably – but still, I bet even the most normal, boring, ratty looking old bag has a secret or two to share.

So, I have decided, that I will share. Call me whatever you want, but I will tell you what interesting (or boring) stuffs I have in my bag, and whatever other interesting things I can think of about me. And, you feel free to share too – interrupt anytime (in case I don’t have that many interesting stuffs in my bag…)! This little exercise will also give you something more about me to think about, apart from how flat my life’s been lately, or how sloppy I can get sometimes, and how clumsy and ga-ga I’ve been lately when I am around Ean… Ahem, right, lets not get sidetracked here. We all know what a distraction that subject can be!

So, enough small talk, let’s get started! (P/s: let’s pretend this is some absolutely glossy and glam magazine, like Cosmo or Vogue, ok? Well, it’s only pretend!)

What kind of bag are you carrying right now?

An army canvas bag, perfect for all occasion. … … Kidding! Gosh, I can’t afford a Coach or a Dior, and you know how I feel about spending three months pay on a bag which probably can only hold one miniscule hand phone and a tiny wallet and already have problem closing itself; but hey, I’m not that un-glam either!

For work, I’m using a large leather carry-all I bought from HOL during the recent Megasales. The quality is average, for I don’t need anything too expensive to bring to work. But I do love the design. The style is quite close to the super hot Balenciaga City Motorcycle bags; two toned, with funky rivets and buckles at the front, and a few long leather strings at each end of the bag to soften the look. I can fit everything I need in it.

What is the most interesting thing we will find in your bag?

Hm, that will have to be the so-called lucky charm Kaelyn gave me for X’mas last year. It’s a cross between a monster, a teddy bear and an octopus. It’s blue, and ugly as hell. But Lyn calls it cute. She also said that it has the powers of a guardian angel, “a guiding spirit who will show me the way, and bring me good fortune, enabling me to feel lucky, confident and contented.” I don’t know about luck, but I do think that anyone (or anything) would run the other way after one look at that ugly face!

What is the one thing you will splurge on?

Shoes shoes shoes! I always believe that you have to be comfortable on your feet. Nothing is worse than having blistered heels and squashed toes in the name of fashion. Comfort and style has to go hand in hand for me. I don’t believe in sacrificing my feet. Having said that, not all “comfortably fashionable” shoes come with a high price tag; not all expensive shoes are friendly to the feet either.

What is your favorite outfit of the moment?

Fortunately, or not, it’s not a smart looking corporate suit, though I do have quite a few nice ones hanging in the closet. But at this point in time, suits = stressful-times-at-work, so there’s no way they can be my favourite.

The combination I absolutely love at the moment is a turquoise baby doll dress I bought from Cats Whiskers. It is very girly, with lace trimmings along the neckline, short frilly sleeves and a flowy skirt which stops just above the knee.

For a laid back look, I team it with a pair of brown leather thong slippers and a large rattan shoulder bag. For a dressier ensemble, I wear it over jeans with strappy silver heels from Nine West, semi-precious green turquoise dangly earrings I got from the flea market at the Curve, silver bangles of various sizes, and a metallic turquoise clutch purse from Sg. Wang. I wore this to our department dinner a few weeks back and -

*ping*
You have an instant message from Kaelyn Yang:

Kaelyn *life’s an eternal wonder* says: helloooozzzz! wat u doing?

Tutu *Destination Redang ~ ooh, can’t wait!* says: hmm, not much, just replying some mails. u? (Lyn will laugh her head off if she finds off what I’ve been doing in the past half an hour, so of course I’m not telling her!)

Kaelyn *life’s an eternal wonder* says: i see you’re telling the whole world about your upcoming company trip to Redang

Tutu *Destination Redang ~ ooh, can’t wait!* says: *smile with tongue out* oh yeah! its definitely something worth shouting about!!

Kaelyn *life’s an eternal wonder* says: have you found your bikini yet? the trip is next week, isn’t it?

Tutu *Destination Redang ~ ooh, can’t wait!* says: NO!! i’ve NOT found my bikini yet because SOMEONE ditched me and our weekend shopping plans, and went for a date instead!!! *broken heart*

Kaelyn *life’s an eternal wonder* says: *embarrassed smile* well…

Tutu *Destination Redang ~ ooh, can’t wait!* says: btw how did it go? the date?

I sit back and wait for Lyn’s reply. This should be good. I am just about to click back to my “pretend interview” page when my hand phone starts to ring. Ean’s name blinks on the screen. Gawd, I hope this is not about the report I just threw on his desk before I rushed off. Today was one of the rare days where I left work on time.

“Hi Ean! What’s up?”

“I need to see you.” Just like that, no greeting; the usual teasing missing in his voice. He sounds all serious.

“Er, now?”

“Tu,” he pauses, and sighs, “I just – I don’t feel like being alone right now. Can we just talk? – as friends?”

What is he talking about? “Ean, we’ve always been friends, you know that! I –”

“I just signed the papers today, Tu. The divorce papers. It’s final now. It’s over, for real.”

“Oh Ean, are you ok?” What am I saying? Of course the poor guy is not ok! Duh!

“Is it alright if I drop by? Just for a while?” Then I hear a small smile in his voice. “I’ll bring supper?”
I smile, and hear myself agreeing. “Sure, come on over.”

Kaelyn *life’s an eternal wonder* says: oi! where u been? have i been chatting with myself the past hour?

Tutu *Destination Redang ~ ooh, can’t wait!* says: don’t b such a drama, lyn, i was on the phone for only 2 minutes there.

Kaelyn *life’s an eternal wonder* says: oh with ur mom?

Tutu *Destination Redang ~ ooh, can’t wait!* says: no it was ean.

Kaelyn *life’s an eternal wonder* says: wat he want?

Tutu *Destination Redang ~ ooh, can’t wait!* says: he’s coming over – NOW!

Kaelyn *life’s an eternal wonder* says: WAT?!!! its 11pm! r u crazy tu?

Tutu *Destination Redang ~ ooh, can’t wait!* says: his divorce just got finalized. he didn’t sound very good, lyn. he just didn’t want to b alone right now n i can understand that.

Kaelyn *life’s an eternal wonder* says: ok dun do anything stupid. i'm coming now.

Tutu *Destination Redang ~ ooh, can’t wait!* says: wat? wat for?

Tutu *Destination Redang ~ ooh, can’t wait!* says: lyn???

Kaelyn Yang has logged off.

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It is a very peaceful and quiet night. Even the wind has granted the city its gentle presence. The sky is clear, with a collection of stars competing against the brilliant glow of the metropolitan’s megawatt illumination.

In Mr and Mrs Sachiiya’s sweet scented garden, Ean, me and Kaelyn (in that order) sit on a large blanket over the grass, sipping lush, full-bodied Merlot, compliments of Ean (his idea of supper!) and munching on barbeque flavored chips (compliments of my tidbits collection). We talk about nothing, and everything. As cliché as it will sound, words are not important.

We are just three people linked to each other in some way or another, sharing bottles of wine, and exchanging silly stories which get sillier as more wine is consumed. Silently, as if by unspoken agreement, we seem to be also healing wounds, offering comfort and support, building bonds and coming to new understandings.

It’s quite beautiful, actually.

Even Lyn has stopped treating Ean like he is the enemy. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol at work?

Chapter 8

2006-07-31T22:30:00.000+08:00

From: julianne.npt@sd.com
To: tutu.t@sd.com
Sent: Tuesday, 25 July 2006
Subject: While I’m Away

Tutu,
Please look into and/or follow up on the followings while I’m away on vacation. Any problem just contact Ean or Mei Lin.

1. Meeting with Mr. Tan from BKL, Tuesday, 1 Aug, 10am @ BKL office – present proposed Investment Plan – the binder is on my table.
2. Meeting with Dr. Rosa-Mary, Tuesday, 1 Aug, 2pm @ her office on Jln. Ampang – hand over the merger documents.
3. Have discussion with Ean regarding the D&C case, and compile report.
4. Finalize the Lee & Partners report by Friday, 4 Aug.
5. Assist Mei Lin with MMP’s franchising licenset, to be submitted in by … … …
6. Start on … … …
7. Call … … …
8. …
9.
10.
…
…
…

Thanks sweets! I’ll get you some souvs from Bali! Will miss you!

Regards,
Julianne Ng
Senior Legal Assistant
SD & Co.

“You look lost.”

I look up from my monitor screen to find Ean perching at the edge of the desk opposite mine. The desk is unoccupied, and my files and binders have somehow spilled over to cover half of the surface. It’s no surprise, considering how much I have to do. It’s a wonder no one has sounded me yet about tidying up the mess. But I really should straighten up the mess a bit. What is that saying, about a neat work station leading to higher work productivity?

Agh, what-ever.

I turn back to Ean. He’s looking smart, as usual. Today’s combination is black trousers team with a lavender-colored shirt and purple and silver stripe tie. I don’t know many guys who look good in lavenders.

I glance down at my wrinkled grey Zara skirt. Ugh, let’s not go there.

“I have good reason to be lost.” I say to Ean while swiveling the monitor screen towards him. He scans through it thoughtfully before giving a short laugh, shakes his head and gives my hand a squeeze.

“Tu, relax! All of us received the same email! Jules probably just changed our names around and send it to each of us.” At my mouth-open stare, he squeezes my hand again. “C’mon, it’s lunch time. The others are going to Madam Kwan’s. Do you want to join them, or would you like to spend some quiet time with me?”

I look around to make sure no one heard his outrageous remark, before slapping him on the thigh. He didn’t even flinch, the insufferable flirt!

Pushing away from the desk, I reach for my bag and say to him. “I am grabbing a bite at O’briens, and then I’m going to browse the bookshop. You can spend your quiet time with anyone you choose.” And then I walk out the office without looking back.

I need a break. I know I keep saying that, but I really need a break. Why can’t I be the one flying off to Bali for two weeks, and do nothing but spend my days on the beach with a good book, and my nights with a good man (if they really do exist!). This past month, I feel myself perching at the edge. I can, and will, fall off very soon. The only thing holding me together now is – is…? What? I don’t even know. I truly am losing it!!

“Hey, wait, check this out!”

I didn’t realize Ean is following behind me until he grabs my arm and stops me from walking out the door.

“Wh- ?”

I almost lost my balance, being so absorbed in my going-over-the-edge thoughts and all. The tip of my heel slips off the polished granite of the reception area, and I feel myself starting my oh-so-ungraceful descend onto the cold hard floor, right there, at the entrance of our office, for all to see. Ta-da!!

But I never hit the floor.

As smoothly as only Ean is able to manage, he slips his arm around my waist and catches me even before I start calling “Mummy!” – something which sort of happens in auto-pilot mode, whenever I go into a sudden panic, like now. Hm, how girlish, I know, but really, it’s an unconscious habit; the remnants of my childhood, when, as a little girl, I would call out for my mom whenever there was a problem.

But mummy won’t be able to help me this time. Here I am, sort of at a 45 degree angle to the floor, with one leg in mid air (the one responsible for me slipping in the first place), my bag dangling lopsided off my shoulder, and my arms flaying at my side ‘cos I am not sure where to put them – to grab on to Ean’s muscular biceps, or wind themselves helplessly around his neck? Oh, I really am not trying to play “Gone with the Wind” at the office reception, but, boy, what a picture we must make!
And it is, without question, that there is the “eye thing” happening. You know, when a man and a woman end up in this unexpected position that they will spend a breathless hour or two staring into each others eyes. And the entire world disappears as they become aware only of each other, sinking into the depths…

What is happening!?

I quickly straighten myself, put my midair-hanging feet firmly back onto the ground, grab the straps of my bag and hold on to them with both hands (just to keep them busy), then take three big steps backwards, away from Rhett, I mean Ean. Oh god, why am I panting for air? Nothing happened! Nothing!

“You ok?”

Mm hm, I manage a nod.

“You sure?” Is that laughter in his eyes?

I nod again. That’s all I can do, stupidly enough.

Then he shrugs, oh so casually, and turns to the notice board next to the reception desk. It is then I finally notice the poster with the words “Annual Holiday” stamped across the top. Next to the text is the image of a coconut tree, white sand, a cruise ship, blue sky and even bluer water. Hey, that looks like my holiday!

“It says here that it’ll be taking place during National Day’s week, and it’s for all staffs from the ‘Corporate-Commercial’ and the ‘Finance-Property’ departments. That’s us! I heard some of the secretaries talking about it this morning, but didn’t realize it’s happening so soon.” He turns to me, who am still standing stupidly behind him, “something to look forward to, huh?”

I manage a smile. “Hm, yeah, definitely.”

Ean nods in agreement, and, after another glance at the poster, tilts his head towards the door.

“Shall we?”

“Huh?”

I receive a questioning look. “Lunch? You wanted to grab a sandwich on the way to the bookshop, right?”

“Oh ya. Of course. Sure.”

“Lets go then.”

“Ya. Ok.”

Ya. So Intelligent, Tutu!

Chapter 7

2006-07-08T13:01:00.000+08:00

Peach Gathered Waist Blouse, $580
Natural Leather Peep Toe Pump, $750
Grey Tailor Pants, $630
White Suede Bag and Matching Purse, $1,180

… $1,180 for a handbag and a matching purse! Amazing. I think I can get at least 5 sets of reasonably good quality and fashionable bags and purses with that price! And the price tags aren’t even in Ringgit! How many people will actually buy these stuffs? And for people who do, how often do you think they will want to be spotted in public wearing the same Peach Gathered Waist Blouse?

I guess you can probably tell by now that I’m not the runway fashion sort of girl. For one thing, it’s impossible to become a runway girl when living on the kind of salary that I have. If I get myself a pair of heels for $750 (whatever currency that may be), my car will be running on water, and you’ll see me chewing on leafs and dry barks. Hmm, yummm.

Also, I don’t believe in having to spend a million dollars in order look a million dollars. It’s all in the S.O.S. – “Sense of Style”. If you have it, you have it. If you don’t, well, too bad, babe.

When you walk on the streets, do you want people saying “She’s wearing the latest Gucci jeans”, or, “She’s so Gucci!”? Think about it. You are wearing the clothes, not the clothes wearing you. Ha! Spoken like a professional!

“For someone who’s about to surrender herself over to my pampering hands, you look awfully stressed.”

The voice comes from behind me. I look up from the magazine spread I’m reading and meet the gaze of my hairdresser in the mirror’s reflection. I smile my apologies.

“Hey Sam, sorry, I was just thinking about something.”

“Not about work, I hope. You know my rules; only happy thoughts allowed in my salon.”

“I don’t think she’s thinking about work. But she could be thinking about someone from work.”

Both Sam and I turn to look at Kaelyn, who is seated at the next station, her head decorated in shampoo suds. I shoot her a scowl. That girl talks too much. I can see interest and curiosity dawning on Sam’s face, but I say nothing.

Samuel Hansen, 35 years old, but looks more like 28 (or even 26, on his good days – darn it!). The mixed heritage is a bonus, of course. His mom is Chinese-Portuguese. His dad is English-Japanese-Spanish. Sam speaks over 8 different languages, not counting the dialects; it’s quite amazing to listen to him sometimes. And some of the girls would sigh and go all starry eyes when he serenades them with Spanish songs, even though they were actually only nursery rhymes.

Sam has jet black hair that never misbehaves, and eyes an odd mysterious shade of grey. He is tall, just an inch shy of 6 feet, though he swears he’s the shortest among his siblings. His tan is always even, and his skincare collection is probably more complicated than mine and Kaelyn’s combined together. Dressing wise, needless to say, he is always trendy and stylish. Sam always manages to look like he has thrown the look together carelessly, without much thought. He looks like he gets up in the morning and, wham, gorgeous male in the making. In short, he is the perfect example of today’s Metrosexual man.

Kaelyn, like the other girls, used to drool all over him. But I find myself wondering, how do you have a relationship with a man who spends more time in the bathroom than you do? However, having said that, no one can be exactly sure if Sam is really plain, straight heterosexual. And I know he likes to keep us all guessing.

Now, Sam runs his fingers through my limp, lifeless tresses, and he is frowning. I know what he will say even before he starts shaking his head.

“Baby Doll, what have you been doing with your hair?”

“Nothing,” I reply.

He purse his lips as he takes a step back, still staring at my hair. “Well, maybe that’s the problem.”

Beside us, Kaelyn giggles but hide her face behind the magazine she is reading.

After a while, Sam says, “Don’t worry, Baby Doll, I’ll make you beautiful again.”

That’s what I like about visiting Sam. It’s not just the posh set up of his salon, which is sleek but warm and open; or the plush arm chairs where you can curl up and get comfortable; or the great coffee they serve you instead of the standard lukewarm Chinese tea. Sam doesn’t overwhelm you with all the designer-talk or tries to make you feel like you’ve been living in some backward village where they’ve just discovered 2-in-1 shampoos. He definitely doesn’t overload you with all the must-haves of beauty products or talk you into signing up for a 10 session treatment course you don’t really need. Sam’s honest and sincere, and takes his job seriously. He shows you, rather than tell you, that you can trust him.

I sit back and prepare to let him do his magic.

But just as I close my eyes, my phone starts ringing. I should have turned the damn thing off. Please don’t let it be the office! I start chanting in my head as I reach for my bag. Please, please, please don’t let it be –

– Ean. It’s Ean.

“Hey, you,” he says immediately when I answer.

“Hey,” I reply, mimicking his casual tone.

“You busy?”

“I’m at the hair salon.”

“Ah,” he says knowingly, “is that a major makeover, or just a little modification?”

I have to smile at his words. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, if you ask me, you are gorgeous just the way you are.”

Ah – right… Now, how do one reply to that?!

I decide on a light-hearted response. After all, Ean’s forever flirting. I should be used to it by now. Never take the guy seriously, that’s what Mrs. Tay in HR always says. “Well, if you ask me, being gorgeous is not good enough.”

Ean laughs. “So what else do you need?”

“Why, brains of course! Ean Aw, don’t you know anything? Intelligence, wit and throw in some boldness – that’s the way to go!”

He laughs again, and it sounds good. “Obviously I don’t know enough. That’s why I need you, my intelligent Princess, to guide me. This world is too complicated for me!”

I ignore the flutter in my stomach. It means nothing, his words. Nothing.

“You don’t need me.”

“I need you,” Sam comes up from behind and speaks into the phone. He flashes me a playful grin when I wave at him to go away.

“Who was that?” Ean ask on the other end.

“Er, that was Sam, my –“

I didn’t get to finish my sentence. Sam fishes the phone out of my hold, and says to Ean, in his perfect British accent, “This is Samuel. I’m afraid Lady Tutu will be unavailable for the rest of the day. Thank you for calling, and have a nice day.”

Then he ends the call.

The reflection in the mirror shows a girl (me) with a turban wrap on her head and mouth open wide in totally speechlessness. Kaelyn, however, throws her head back and starts laughing, disregarding the foils in her hair which Sam’s assistant is fixing on.

“There you go,” Sam says as he returns the phone into my bag, “no more interruption.” Then he notices the shock on my face. “Ooops, sorry Baby Doll, was that someone important?”

Ah…

“No, no one important, Sam darling,” my busy body best friend comes to my rescue, or not. “Just the man.”

“Oh? Hm,” Sam puts his hands on my shoulders and lean forward so his head is level with mine. He winks at me in the mirror. “I thought I am the only man in your life, Baby Doll.”

The world is going mad; from out of no where I have two good looking men outrageously flirting with me. And I have no idea what to do with them.

“Ean’s just a colleague,” I finally manage to say, through gritted teeth, while throwing a dark glare in Kaelyn’s direction.

“And he’s married,” Kaelyn helpfully adds. Oh, I can just kill her sometimes!

“He’s separated.” I should keep my mouth shut, really I should.

“Oh please, everyone separates and gets back together again these days. It’s the trend!” My friend should shut up too.

I ignore Kaelyn. She gives me these lectures every other day. I seem to have formed some sort of opinion about Ean, and it doesn’t seem good. She’s not even met the guy yet! Probably just being protective. Kaelyn can be such a mother hen sometimes.

Sam starts working his scissors through my locks. His hands moving in a rhythm only he is in tune to. He has this look on his face when he is in total concentration, another one of those looks which gets the girls swooning. When he’s in this mode, he’s totally oblivious to whatever that goes on around him. I’m just thankful that he’s stop teasing me.

I close my eyes and lean back into the seat. It’s pampering time!

Chapter 6

2006-06-18T23:02:00.000+08:00

It’s been really hectic at work lately. My poor frail body (and soul) is just about to snap into two and get buried under the crazy amount of work load. I’ve been going to work at 7am and staying back till 9pm. That’s no way to live, I tell you. I hardly see the sun anymore, except for the rare moments when I pop out for a cup of frappucino – take away, of course.

The only way I’m surviving is by telling myself that this will not last. I’m seriously considering a change of career. I heard there’s a model search in town. Maybe they’ll discover me? Or not. Don’t think anyone notices me these days, with my hair bunched up in a tight ponytail because I have no time for any glamorous styling whatsoever, and its too dull and lifeless to have it down; I hardly have time for breakfast, so there’s no way you’ll catch me waking up at some insane hour just to put on make up; dark circles are permanently imprinted beneath my eyes, so I’ve been hiding behind my glasses. Well, guess I shouldn’t be too hopeful about becoming the next Amber Chia.

The other option would be to find a rich old man, preferably a fat and balding one, and marry him. Yeah right, Tutu, keep on dreaming, I can just see where this one is going.

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It’s Saturday afternoon, 4pm, and the sun is casting lazy shadows across the lawn. I’m putting out my second load of washing; I haven’t had the time or the energy to tackle them during the week.

Can you imagine hanging up your laundry within an English country-styled garden? I can tell you that it is immensely pleasurable. Every time I am out here, I feel so peaceful, and so away from the loud and demanding world. It’s really very amazing.

There are a couple of low trees in the garden on one side of my studio. Mr. Sachiiya told me they were lemon trees. How did he manage to grow lemons in this weather?

Mr. Sachiiya’s friendly face wrinkled with a smile when I threw him my question. “Shhh, that’s my little secret,” he said.

The trees are not bearing fruits yet, but the leaves are already giving out a sweet and tangy fresh perfume, and small buds are starting to sprout from between the greens. And right next to the trees is my laundry area. Despite the old fashion setting, Mr. Sachiiya made sure I had a proper and sturdy clothes line. And now, with my laundry flapping in the breeze among the trees within the picturesque garden (yes, there’s actually a real breeze!), this postcard image is complete! (“Wish you were here?”)

I picked up a pair of pants from the laundry pile and draped it over the line. As I bent down again, my fringe escaped from the clip which was holding them in place. With my hands busy, I blow out a breath which flutters my fringe, sending them temporarily in the air, before they settle back against my face. I probably should visit my hairdresser sometime soon, I can’t remember when my last visit was, which just goes to show how crazy and unorganized my life has been lately. Just thinking about it gets me frustrated. And the thing is I realize I am the only one who can make the changes. It won’t work just sitting around complaining about my environment.

Hm, am I starting to sound like one of Kaelyn’s horoscopes?

Just as I am putting up the last of my washing, which happens to be my new polka dot bra and panty set, I hear Mrs. Sachiiya calling for me.

“Tutu! Tutu, you have a visitor!”

I turn around to see the elderly lady coming down the garden path, and following closely behind her – Ean?! What is he doing here? Oh gosh, I am wearing my super worn out shorts the oldest t-shirt, which probably has stains all over it, and my hair is a mess, and my newly laundered bras and panties are flapping in the air – What is he doing here!?

I step forward and almost tripover my laundry basket. Klutz!

“Tutu, my dear, how are you?” Mrs. Sachiiya is forever warm and friendly. Then she noted my laundry. “Oh, you’re doing your laundry! I was telling my daughter in law about you. You work so hard, yet finds time to keep the place tidy and wash your own laundry. So disciplined. Such a good girl!”

“Erm…” What am I suppose to say to that? “Thank you, Mrs. Sachiiya. Erm… that’s too kind of you. Really, it’s nothing much, just erm, doing what I should…”

I trail off when I catch Ean’s eyes and he winks at me from behind Mrs. Sachiiya. I frown back.

“So sorry to bother you, Mrs. Sachiiya, I didn’t realize my friend was dropping by for a visit, or I would have met him at the gates.”

“Oh, not at all, my dear, not at all! In fact, your friend was just telling me how much he enjoys our garden, and even mentioned that he does a bit of gardening himself as well! That’s very rare among young people these days. My own grandson can’t tell the difference between African Lilies and Cornflowers.”

I can’t either, but I say nothing and just cock an eyebrow at Ean. Him, gardening? I can’t imagine.

“My father loves gardening,” Ean say as a way of explaining, “What I know, I learn from him.”

Mrs. Sachiiya beams at him, the approval on her face unmistakable. Then she gives my arm a pat. “Well, I’ll leave you two young people alone now.” She turns around to head back towards the main house. But after a few steps, she stop and call back to me. “Oh Tutu, I’m baking a banana cake for tea. I expect to see you in the kitchen in half an hour’s time, and make sure to bring your friend too, of course!”

“Oh Mrs. Sachiiya, that’s not necessary, he won’t be staying long –“

“Of course we’ll love to! Thank you very much for the invitation, Mrs. Sachiiya,” Ean cut me off before I could say anymore. “See you in a while!”

Satisfied, the elderly lady continue back to the house.

I stare at Ean with what could only be total astonishment plus a lot of curiosity plus some frustration. He catches my look, but only grins at me in return and says, “I drive a Ford and I have a condo in the outskirts. Am I rich enough for you?”

I look at him in absolute incomprehension. “What?”

His laughs, and I notice how the sides of his eyes crinkle when he do so. Then he tilts his head at my top, “Love your t-shirt.”

I follow his gaze and look down.

Ah. Now I see.

I’m wearing one of my crazy t-shirts, bought during the ancient ages when I thought wearing cheeky writings were cool. But I didn’t realize the message I was sending out wasn’t so appropriate for my age. I was only 15 then. And the message reads: “If you’re rich, I’m single”. In gold.

During the exchange with Mrs. Sachiiya, I have temporarily forgotten about my shabby attire! But I have to steel myself against Ean’s apparently innocent flirting. He is always doing it. I cross my arms over my chest, hiding most of the words, and look up at him.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, not sounding too friendly, but I don’t like to be taken my surprise, especially when I don’t recall giving him my new address. Not that I am not happy to see him, but that’s beside the point.

Ean shrugs very casually, in a fashion only he is able to deliver. “Just wanted to see you, Outside of the office, that is.”

I mentally draws in a breath, but outside, I appear cool.

He continues. “You know how hard we’ve been working lately, and we hardly have time to talk anymore. You remember how we used to talk, Tu?”

Yeah, but that was before I found out you have a wife, and you never even bothered to tell me!

But I didn’t say that. Instead, I imitates his casual shrug. “Yeah, well, like you said, we’ve both been caught up with work,” And then, because I just can’t resist, “Besides, I’m sure your wife is more than willing to talk to you when you gets home at the end of the day.”

“We’ve separated.”

Oh. Oh.

Chapter 5

2006-05-31T07:27:00.000+08:00

"Hey, Tu," It was Kaelyn on the phone.

"Yup, what’s up?"

"Just wondering what you're up to later tonight."

"Me? Hmmm..." I smiled to myself. "Not much. Just spending time in my new home, walking around the place and enjoying every piece of furniture, every wall, every window, every cabinet..."

My friend laughed. "You are crazy! I know you are gloriously happy with the new place and all that, but may I remind u that apart from the built in kitchen cabinet, the only other piece of furniture u have in that place is your new queen size bed. You’re gonna spend the entire night staring at it?"

I walked over to the kitchenette and ran my hand over the beautiful oak counter top. Then I pulled out the drawers one by one. There are nothing much in them yet, just a set of new cutleries n a couple of tea towels, but they are still nice to look at.

"Stop making fun of my new home. It’s a bit empty now, but I’m slowly furnishing it. This place has character; you can’t just plunk any old sort of furniture into it, you know?”

"Oh wow, now u sound like that designer on TV, what’s his name? That guy with curly hair and wears only leather pants?"

I reached up to open the cabinets above the counter. My new dining set from Ikea sat orderly on the shelf. 4 bowls, 4 small plates, 4 big plates, and a serving dish.

"Kaelyn Yang, you tease me some more and I won’t invite u over when Mrs. Sachiiya bakes her yummy scones."

Mrs. Sachiiya is my new land lady. Her husband, Mr. Sachiiya is in fact the “gardener” whom I met the day I inspected the studio and signed the contract. Apparently the Sachiiyas are different from the rich folks around the area. They do their own gardening. And their own baking too! Mrs Sachiiya has a live in maid as well as an elderly housekeeper, but she loves to cook, and bakes the most amazing scones, in all sorts of flavors! The day I moved in, she dropped by with a basket of aromatic lavender scones – with real lavender flowers, not the essence sort – still warm from the oven. Yumm! I totally feel like I was in the English country or something! Lyn complained that I always seem to manage to get myself really great landladies. I guess I’m lucky in that sense, but not when it comes to housemates or roommates. Bambi was just one bad experience, and I hope will be my last. I love this new place and I’m so not sharing it this time, irregardless of what anyone says. Yes, including Ean.

I took a last look at my gleaming new dishes before closing the cabinet, and walked over to the adjoining living area, still empty save for a couple of boxes which I have yet unpack. But my parents had said they would buy me a new TV and a sofa as house warming presents, so the space will be looking more like a home soon. Oh I’m so excited! As u can tell, I have yet gotten over the thrill of having a place of my own, even thou it is only rented. But I’m sure u would agree that this is by far the best place to rent. The coolest!

"Ok ok, no more teasing," Lyn said. "Anyway, I was calling to see if you feel like going out tonight.”
One thing you should know about Kaelyn, she never asks me out at the last minute unless she’s up to something. I wonder what it is this time.

“Why?” I asked, just to bait her a bit.

“Well, Jasmine, my project manager, is having a birthday party at this lounge in the city, and she'd invited the entire office.”

Lyn works at a small graphic design firm, and the entire office, including the tea lady and receptionist, amounts to only 7 people. All female. And I tried to remind her so. But she promptly brushed it off. Yup, this something’s up, that’s for sure.

“That’s beside the point,” she said. “Anyway she’s also bringing a few other friends.”

“And…?”

“And, so I thought, maybe it would be nice to go check it out, and hang out a bit. We can always leave if we don’t like it. But I heard that this place is like, the IT place at the moment, very chic and slick, I think you’d like it.”

“I would?” Haha, I know I wasn’t being very helpful there, but I just couldn’t resist! “But you know I don’t like noisy clubs, and I can’t stand the smoke.”

“Oh no, but this place is more a lounge than a club! And I hear they play a lot of jazz and chill music, the kind you like.”

“So…?”

“So?! So I thought, maybe, you know, we could go check it out!”

My friend’s getting frustrated, but she’s yet to tell me the real reason behind this sudden interest to attend Jasmine’s birthday party. She doesn’t even like the girl! She is always complaining how Jasmine is too thin, too arrogant, too bossy, too friendly, too fake, too pretty – yup, you get the idea. And as for the rest of the group, they gossips too much, laughs too loud, talks about nothing except how to find the right man, how to make the man your boyfriend, how to get your boyfriend to look at no one else but you, how to turn your boyfriend into your husband, how to get your husband to buy you whatever you want, and on and on and on… Gosh, it’s exhausting just thinking about it.

I got tired with the game and decided to ask her right out. “So, is your horoscope guide telling you to attend some social activities because it will help in some way?”

No answer from the other end. I can just see her in my head, her mouth clamped up and tilted to the side as she adopts the defensive air. She had stopped explaining her obsession with the horoscope to me, because she knows that even though I refuse to understand why she allows the prediction to navigate the way she tackle her life, I have sort of come to terms with it. Sort of.

“I – it said that – well, not that I’m hoping to – it’s just that – I,” Lyn stopped, and I heard her taking a deep breath, “I’ll just read out the prediction. Make of it whatever you want.”

“Uh huh.”

“Take advantage of a chance to mix business with pleasure, which pays off professionally and romantically. This is also the time of enhanced beauty, confidence and charisma, resulting in the ego trip of everyone wanting a piece of you. However, try not be swept away by this sudden wave. Remember to always be cautious and patient, and try to keep at least one foot firmly on the ground.”

I was quiet for a moment, trying to digest the information. To be fair, I can imagine Lyn’s eagerness to go out tonight, if only just to test out the truth behind the prediction. But I am really beginning to get worried; this astro-celestial-cosmic-horoscope stuff is beginning to run her life! But it wasn’t worth arguing with her over this, as we’ve been through it so many times we are both exhausted with the topic already. I guess, as her bestest friend, it is my responsibility to look out for her and make sure she doesn’t fall too deep into the mumbo-jumbos (if she hasn’t already!).

“So,” I said, “what’s the dress code?”

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

10pm:
We’ve just arrived at the lounge. The place wasn’t very big, but well designed, in tones of deep browns and various shades of violets, accented with strips of silvers and steel. The bar was situated at the far wall, facing a small dance platform. The walls were lined with sheer curtains in silver and purple, and groups of low plush sofas and armchairs scattered across the floor. The atmosphere was stylish, and the music was good.

But too bad I can’t say the same for Lyn’s colleagues and friends. As Lyn introduced me around, most of them threw a half hearted greeting in my general direction and then went straight back to their own conversations. One girl made a feeble attempt to chat, but someone else pulled her away before we could even shake hands and exchange names.
Yup, it’s going to be a very long night.

11pm:
We’ve been at the lounge for about an hour or so, and I am so ready to fall asleep. Not from the alcohol, mind you. More like the lack of it, in fact. Apparently these people’s idea of drinking was to mix light beer with Sprite. Hello? They are probably better off having the party at home; it’s such a waste of money!

And yet the girls were making such a big deal out of it, trying to look sophisticated and nonchalant in their white-on-white outfits and absurdly high sandals. They actually managed to daintily sip on their beer-Sprite concoction while huddling together at one end of the sofa, talking softly and then giggling loudly. Kaelyn, who’s been sitting at the edge of the group since we arrived, has been ignored most of the time. How is this turning out to be an advantage for her professionally and romantically, I seriously have no idea.

As for yours truly, I’ve been by myself for the best part of the hour but I think I am really better off alone than to be part of the group who are now discussing about whether or not they’ll be having a hang over after the second glass of Speer (my new name for the beer-Sprite mixture); whether the cute bar tender is stealing glances their way and who he’s really looking at; and whether their g-strings are showing through their low-cut white pants.

12.30am:
Lyn and I are in the ladies.
“So, found yourself a professional opportunity yet?”
Lyn shot me a look in the mirror, and I know better than to say anymore.

1:00am:
Lyn and I are on our way home.

2:00am:
Lyn and I collapsed on my new queen size bed.
Two empty bottles of very good Cabernet Sauvignon sat on the floor.
“So, wha-s the mo-raw of the ss-story?” I am not drunk, not really, but somehow my facial muscles aren’t working very well, and I think I have a very silly grin on my face.
“Hahaha – very funny, Tu! The moral of thes store-ry, ish of coursh, never hang outs wif peoples who drinks beer with Sh-pright!”

11.30am, next day:
Gawd, I have such a headache! Has to be the stupid Speer I had last night!

Chapter 4

2006-05-14T01:16:00.000+08:00

This afternoon, when Kaelyn and I were browsing through Mt. Kiara’s Bazaar, we got stopped by this high school boy who wanted to do a survey for his school project. Before I could say anything, Kaelyn started, “Yes! This jie jie (big sister) will help you.” And then she left me to look at some wooden beads necklaces.

And so I did the survey (like I had a choice?). Thankfully, it was an uncomplicated one, asking about my internet usage at home, at work, what sites I visit most and stuffs like that. The boy read out the questions, and all I had to do was point out the answer: A, B, C or D. Everything went well, until we came to the last page, when I had to give my personal details: age, gender, occupation, income bracket, the usual. And then we got to “Marital Status” column, and without looking at me for confirmation of any sort, the boy put a tick in the “Single” box with such great show of confidence, I really didn’t know what to say.

I was still in the state of stunned astonishment when I joined Kaelyn at the accessory stall, where she was paying for a set of purple bead necklace and matching bracelet.

“So how did it go?” Kaelyn asked.

“Single.”

“Huh?” Kaelyn stuffed the package into her bag and looked at me.

“Single.” I repeated. “The boy ticked “Single” for my marital status.”

Now my friend was giving me The Look. “And that’s a problem because?”

“He ticked “Single” without even asking me! I mean, do I have like “I Am Single” stamped on my face or something?”

I never got an answer, because Kaelyn started laughing, and laughing. And laughing. Yup, and she calls herself my “bestest” friend. Some friend. It was embarrassing standing next to her; I walked off towards a stall selling black and white photographs.

And there I spotted the most beautiful picture, ever! It was a black and white image of a man, in sweat pants and singlet, after a hard work out, wiping sweat off the side of his face. It was so sexy! He was so sexy. But at the same time, the composition was also very very beautiful. The man was so unself-conscious, so natural. Light bounced off his strong, gleaming biceps, and his face was slightly in the shadow – the mysterious look, always works, doesn’t it?

After Kaelyn finally got over her hysteria, she joined me. And when she saw the picture all she could say was “Yumm.”

I grabbed the picture and quickly paid for it. Kaelyn is so jealous! She even suggested that we took turns hanging it in our rooms.

Yeah, right.

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

As we were walking back towards the car, Kaelyn said something about some things find their way to us, without us having to go search for it. At first I thought she was doing another one of her astrology talk, and I sort of zoned out a bit. (I know I should be paying more attention when Lyn talks, but I really can’t bring myself to listen to another one of her astro lectures.) But later, when I got home and was admiring my handsome-sweaty man, it struck me how true her word were. But it has nothing to do with Astrology or Cosmic-whatever.

I’m sure you’ve experienced this some time or other – when you set out to specifically shop for something, a skirt, a blouse, a pair of jeans, you end up not finding what you are looking for. But on days when you are totally not planning to buy anything, when your purse is dry and you are “just looking” into the shop windows from a distance, there it is!

Well, that was what happened to me, which led me to finding a new place to move into.

Last weekend, I got so so fed up with the room hunting business that I trashed half of my neatly packed cardboard boxes, slammed out of the house, got into my trusty old Mini and drove out of the car park complete with the sound effects of squealing tyres – just like in the movies.

Forget it! I had told Lyn over the phone. I was just going to set up camp across the road from Plaza Damas, among the small jungle of trees, and play Tarzan and Jane or something. I was so frustrated it was not funny! I’d shopped through the amount of rented rooms advertised in the Star and the Straits Times and the Malay Mail and whatever else my friends and family dished up, and still was unable to find something marginally satisfactory; the areas I preferred didn’t have anything available within my (humble) budget, and the places where I could afford were smack in the middle of no man’s land, miles and miles away from civilization; and the due date to move out was pounding down, and my “used-to-be-good-friends-landlady” was no longer speaking to me (ok, Tutu, take a deep breath) – breathe. Wouldn’t you have felt defeated too?

People say you have to suffer a little before you could appreciate what you have. But hello? – I sincerely appreciated being where I was, having such a fantastic landlady-friend, and pretending to smell the coffee and the fresh baked bread in the morning! I did not take it one bit for granted!

So there I was, days from being a homeless squatter, driving around like a mad woman, and I turned into this road in TTDI where all the bungalow houses were quietly tucked in, with their tall tall gates, long driveways with designated car park lots for expensive European cars; immaculately landscaped gardens with swimming pools or water features, lots of mirrored glass windows, and not a soul around. Lyn and I like to drive by here once in a while, just so we could wow and drool over the perfect posh-ness of it all.

The road was always so quiet and peaceful, lined with tall shady trees; there were no cars haphazardly parked in front of houses, no bags of trash left by the side of the road, and definitely no stray cats wondering about.

I slowed down to admire a particularly house, quite quaint in its design, architecturally different from the other modern structures. Behind the black wrought iron gate was a very pretty garden filled with brightly colored flowers, some in low bushes, some tall and swaying softly while some others creeping upwards against the seasoned brick wall of an English cottage styled building. It even had a chimney at one end of the thatched roof!

It was then the sign caught my eye:

Studio-room for rent. Price negotiable. Open for inspection daily 2-4pm.

Later, when I thought back about the likeliness of these rich folks putting up a homemade sign advertising a room for rent, I couldn’t help wondering a bit about Lyn’s cosmic-astro stuffs. But at that very moment, it never once crossed my mind to question. I got out of my Mini, walked up to the gate and rang the bell. Moments later, an elderly man wearing a hat and gardening gloves appeared on the garden path from the side of the house. I assumed he was the gardener. These rich folks always have their own personal landscaper and housekeeper and nanny and all that. Anyway, when I informed the man that I was interested in looking at the room for rent, he just nodded and let me in through the side door beside the gate. And then he asked me to follow him.

We walked through the beautiful garden, and I could smell the faint scent of roses and jasmine and something else I couldn’t identify, but it was very calming and pleasant. My earlier aggravations disappeared.

We rounded the back of the house, and there, set among a couple of trees, was a small replica of the main building, with the same distressed brick walls, thatched roof, and a small chimney too! If this were the olden days, it could have been the staff’s quarters, or the gardener’s shed! It was as if I had taken a step back in time, and leaped across a couple of continents too!

The elderly man must have noticed my wonderment, which is probably the normal expression everyone has when they see the place for the first time.

“The studio is separate from the main house, but it has its own bathroom and a kitchenette equipped with a small cook top. You will have complete privacy, and we’ll even offer you a car park space so you don’t have to worry about leaving your car outside.” He opened the door and we stepped in. “As you can see, this is the kitchenette and a counter where you can have your meals. Over here is a small seating area, not very big, but you can easily fit in a two seater, and the TV can go against this wall. Through here is the bedroom, and the wardrobe and bathroom is behind that door. Everything is in working order as we just got a contractor in to do some renovation and give the place a fresh coat of paint.” The man stopped in the middle of the bedroom, and turned to me. He didn’t sound at all out of breath from the long speech, while I was feeling slightly breathless for an entire different reason. His smile was very warm. “So, how do you like it?”

How do I like it? I loved it! How could I not? But I immediately knew that the rental would be way over my league. Given the state of the place, and its location, I could probably be better off paying mortgage for my own unit. I smiled back at the man, hoping that it looked as warm as his was, and pretended to look the place over.

“We are thinking of RM650 a month, but of course that’s negotiable.”

I thought maybe I’ve heard wrongly, I mean, everything was beginning to feel like some sort of dream, so I politely asked him to repeat again.

“RM650, but that’s excluding electricity and water. I understand if you need some time to consider. You can always call back, or drop by again?”

An hour later, I walked out of the English Cottage through the side door, rental agreement in one hand, and the keys to my new studio in the other.

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

You want to talk about coincidences and cosmic energies, talk to Kaelyn.

I got a new home, surrounded by a beautiful garden and situated on the streets where people drove only BMWs, Mercedes-Benzs, Porsches and lots of other names I don’t recognize. (My Mini look out of place, but at least it’s a classic.)

I am beyond thankful, and at the moment, that’s all I am focusing on.

Chapter 3

2006-05-01T10:56:00.000+08:00

I had the best lunch today! Ms. Read’s Banoffee Pie was – oh, just divine! A bit pricey at RM10, but it was worth it to have such yummy toffee rolling on your tongue! And if you shared it with two other people, you won’t feel so guilty – both calories and cash wise. Hmmm, just thinking about the pastry makes me melt! And the chunky chips, and the mysteriously yummy salad dressing, and the –

Sigh, ok ok, I was supposed to tell you about this guy.

Well, I think I mentioned that Bambi is the cousin of a friend of the wife of my colleague – Ean, that’s his name. Well, Ean is, how should I put it, a very nice guy. Ok, a very nice and charming guy. And charismatic, funny, sensitive, smart – and drop dead hunky! I know! How can anyone be so perfect? But he is – well, he was – erm, I’ll explain later.

Ean and I are a team. We started at SD & Co. about the same time, and slaved our way through many late nights and early mornings at the office, working on projects which mostly didn’t go anywhere, or took a long time to get somewhere, and some which disappeared so quickly we weren’t sure if we actually did work on them at all. Anyway, Ean and I supported each other, and kept one another sane when either one of us was about to lose it – and this happens often when you are working at SD & Co. Believe me, I know.

Ean hugged me and made me laugh when I was crying in frustration and about to throw the P&P case plus half the content on my desk out the window. We were on the 17th floor, it wouldn’t look very pretty.

I baked him a tray of his favorite chocolate chips muffins when we had to work through Christmas weekend, and we spent 2 hours sitting on the carpet with our back against the wall, swapping Santa Claus stories.

He finished my JT's report for me when I collapsed on the office sofa, and that was after he had completed his own presentation and had been on his feet for 40 hours straight. I woke up to find myself tucked under his Nike fleece pullover, and my report sitting on my desk, printed and bound.

Ean’s favorite color is dark green, and he looks gorgeous wearing it. He takes his coffee after lunch, but he makes me a cup every morning when I get in, with milk and one sugar. Yes, he can be so sweet.

I can go on and on about Ean, but I don’t think his wife will appreciate it. Yup, that’s the one flaw about him – he’s married.

And I didn’t find that out till one rare night when we managed to leave work on time, and a group of us were trying to decide if we should have dinner at Friday’s or Jake’s, when a black gleaming BMW 325i drove up to the building entrance and a Caucasian woman with long hair and even longer legs stepped out and threw herself into Ean’s arms. The rest of us gawked on while she kissed him long and hard, right there at the front entrance of SD & Co.

Funny thing was, Ean never mention about his wife, before or after the incident we witnessed, and I didn’t know how to ask him about it, and so it was left at that. By then, we’ve worked together for a year, through 8 projects, slept over at the office almost 30 times, and shared countless meals and thousand cups of coffee. Yet the subject of his marriage never came up, not once.

I guess you could say that I had a crush on him. But I’m all over it now, really!! The moment Long Legs stepped out from that black BMW, I knew it was all over. It was a good thing I never did anything foolish like profess my undying love for Ean to the world or something. It was a pure and simple infatuation, led on by all those hours we spent working together. It could happen to anyone, even the tea lady, if she had to work under insane pressure during even more insane hours making two thousand cups of coffee or something. She could vent and bitch and share her frustration with, say, the janitor, and anything could happen, right?

Anyway, like I said, I’m all over my crush now, and now Ean and I are good friends. And good friends help each other. So when he told me about a poor girl who was homeless and desperately looking for a place to stay, I was only too happy to help. But – sigh – look what being nice got me into now?

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Bambi is 5’ 2”, slightly plump but in a cute sort of way, pixie-cut hair styled funkily with lots of wax and clay, and she wears nothing but 4 inch high heels – I mean, shoes wise, not that she walks around in the nude save for a pair of heels – please, what were you thinking? (wink wink) Yes, Bambi doesn’t own slippers or flats of any kind.

She arrived at our place – Elsa’s place – with one large suitcase, and a plastic bag full of cosmetics. That was all. Half the suitcase was filled with 4 inch heels of all colors. I didn’t snoop, I just happened to be in the room when she unpacked.

Bambi speaks very good English – surprisingly – but is not very talkative, not around me and Elsa, anyway. She mentioned that she works in some PR company in the city, but PR-ing who, where and what, we never found out. She was still in bed every morning when I left for work, and I was asleep before she returned.

One early Saturday morning, when I stumbled home after submitting a report at 4am, her bed was empty except for the snake soft toy she kept coiled around the bed post. She calls the toy snake Dory, after the fish in Finding Nemo.

At least she is reasonably neat, though her choice of color is quite – erm, let’s just call it different, shall we? She loves black on her furniture. She had black sheets, black pillows, black lamp by the bed, and she almost painted her side of our shared shelf black too! Where she got all these black stuffs I really don’t know. You sure don’t see them at Aussino.

It would have been fine if Bambi is only non-communicative, sleeps at weird hours, owns toy snakes with fish names and decorates in black. After all, she is only a room mate. But of course, it’s never as simple, is it?

The first time I noticed something missing from my wardrobe, I thought maybe Elsa’s took it by mistake as we sometimes do laundry together to save time and water. But of course it wasn’t with Elsa. The following week, the same piece of clothing reappeared, with a missing button. This happened a few more times and I didn’t have time to be puzzled over the mystery as I was too busy at work and too exhausted when I get home.

Then my Thierry Mugler perfume started diminishing fast. My cousin Shauna brought it back for me when she went holidaying in UK. It was a limited edition and you can’t find it in Malaysia. I was very precious about it and only wear it on special occasion – like that time when Ean and I attended a launch dinner at the Westin on behalf of the company.

Then one day, while window shopping with Kaelyn at KLCC, I spotted a familiar figure, wearing an even more familiar Levi’s limited edition black tee over butt-hugging narrow-leg black jeans and, of course, 4 inch heels in black patent. It was slutty-punk, according to Kaelyn, who had wasted no time in pointing out that it was my t-shirt Bambi was wearing, stretching tightly across her 34Ds (yes, D!). Bambi, forever playing cool and indifferent, just shrugged and said she will return in washed and pressed, and I won’t know the difference.

“You never did, anyway.” She added softly, before walking off. Yes, Bambi has a way of leaving people speechless at her wake, I’m sure you’re beginning to realize.

I tried talking to her calmly and rationally, explaining that I really don’t enjoy sharing clothes like some roommies might, and if she really liked something, maybe she could ask first before borrowing?
Her reply was: “its ok, your collection really isn’t very interesting anyway. I’m tired of always wearing the same black MNG. It’s very last year, you know? White is IT this season, in case you missed the announcement.”

Again, one of those flabbergasted moments.

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

In a way, it’s good that we are being kicked out from Elsa’s. It means that I won’t have to put up with Bambi anymore. But I really liked staying at Plaze Damas!! Despite the fact that I don’t wake up to the smell of coffee every morning (except the ones Elsa occasionally brewed in her own kitchen), and no one but Elsa and her staffs at Art Café greets me by name; it still is a nice place to live, and Elsa has been a terrific friend and landlady. It’s sad that things turned out the way it did.

I have been checking the papers for a place to rent, and even visited a few places with Kaelyn last week. The horoscope prediction she sent me about new beginnings and new contracts had nothing to show for itself. The only new thing I received were two new projects at work. At least Ean and I are working on them together.

I’ll be meeting Kaelyn again later. She called earlier but was in a hurry and I could hardly make out what she was saying. All I caught was “… found somewhere… you’ll love it… pick up… 3… you’ll love it! … run!…” – and the line went dead.

If I didn’t know Kaelyn better, I would have thought she was being kidnapped or something. But according to her, since we are each other’s bestest friends since 10 years old, we should practically be able to read the other person’s mind by now. The only time she speaks properly these days is when she’s reading me my horoscope.

You see what I have to put up with?

Chapter 2

2006-04-15T12:45:00.000+08:00

I first met Elsa two years ago, while I was at the Art Cafe having coffee and waiting for Kaelyn to finish “visiting” with her boyfriend, Dean (now her ex).

Dean lived with his mother and two brothers at Plaza Damas’s service apartments. Very posh, very comfortable. The moment I saw the place, I told Kaelyn that my dream would be to stay at a place just like that – where there are quaint cafes and shops just downstairs from my unit, like in France, or Italy; where you wake up to the smell of newly-baked bread and fresh coffee, and everyone will greet you by your name, and when you walk into the cafes all you have to say is “the usual, please!”. And Kaelyn, being the silly girl that she is, told me that Dean has an older brother, and maybe if I got together with him, I could, eventually, be enjoying just the sort of life I was dreaming about. Yeah right, why do I need to depend on a man to achieve my own dreams? Like I said, Kaelyn can be quite silly at times.

"Kaelyn, are you done yet? I'll be gaining weight if you take any longer! Gosh, the
baguette looks yum!"

Anyway, I was just sitting there, sipping my coffee and reading some messages on the café’s notice board, when someone spoke from behind me.

“Do you stay around the area?”

I turned around to find a woman in her late 30s, dressed like most of the tai-tais around the area, in stylish Capri pants, a designer top and Tiffany’s earrings. I remember thinking that she had a very good figure too.

“Oh, erm, no, I’m just, erm, waiting for a friend. She’s visiting a friend of hers who’s staying around here.” I was babbling like an idiot, I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was being around these posh people, it felt like I needed a different set of social skills just to be in the same room with them.

“Oh, is that right? Well, I just thought maybe you were from the area too, cos I recall seeing you here a few times, reading magazines and having coffee with your friends.”

I’d only been there twice, but I didn’t realize I made such a notable and memorable impression! Oh wow! Maybe it was my new mascara; it really pumped up and lengthened my lashes, making my eyes look huge! Hmmm, or maybe the woman had mistaken me for someone else? Yeah, that seemed more likely, and I politely told her so. But she smiled and shook her head.

“Oh no, my dear, I never forget a face! I always remember a face even when I don’t remember the name. That’s why my customers always come back. People like to be remembered, they like to feel special.” Then she offered me her hand. “I’m Elsa, by the way. I own this place.”

From then on, I was more than happy to accompany Kaelyn on her “visits” to Dean’s place (please don’t ask me what she and Dean did during their visiting, because I don’t know, and you shouldn’t be such a busy body either!). I hung out at the Art Cafe, drinking coffee, flipping through fashion magazines other tai-tais left behind, and chatted with Elsa.

I found out that Elsa had an apartment on the block above her shop, and her nephew stayed with her as he was studying at a college nearby. She found out how much I envied the residences at the plaza, and wouldn’t stop laughing when I told her about waking up to the smell of coffee and fresh bread.

“You can’t smell the coffee when you’re up on the 10th floor, silly!”

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I stopped visiting Plaza Damas and the Art Cafe when Kaelyn and Dean broke up. At the same time, I joined Shearn Delamore & Co. as a Junior Lawyer, and my social life became as exciting as chewing on granola muesli bars – dry and tasteless. I had breakfast with law journals, lunch with my faithful laptop, and my weekends – what weekends? Yup, I know, my life is so sad.

Then one morning, as I dragged my poor exhausted body out of bed after a miserable 5 hours of sleep, I received an sms from Elsa.

Hey stranger wat u been up 2? Miss u.
Btw how would u like to wake up to the
smell of coffee and fresh bread @ the price
of $500 a month?

.......................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I moved in to Elsa’s by Christmas that year. Apparently Elsa’s nephew had left for London to finish his studies, and the place felt a little too quiet, and Elsa thought of me (and my silly ‘wake-up-to-the-smell-of-coffee-and-fresh-bread’)! How cool was that? She even asked what color walls I would like, since she was repainting the room to cover up her nephew’s creative graffiti expression. I forgot what her nephew was studying, but it was definitely not art.

Now, I looked around the room, not exactly sure what to feel. Since Bambi moved in, this place hasn’t felt as comfortable as compared to when I had the whole room to myself. But that was to be expected. I also know that I can’t be staying here forever, however much I like the place, but I never expected to have to leave just yet.

I have just a bit over four weeks! Four weeks to find a new place, pack everything up and move in, unpack and settle down and make new friends with new neighbors… It’s a wonder I’m not having a panic attack yet!

Sigh… I could blame Bambi, but I know I need to take some responsibility for what happened too. Elsa’s privacy was compromised, and that shouldn’t have been the case. Worse of all, it wasn’t the first time Elsa had caught Bambi bringing a man home, and I didn’t even know about that!

I really don’t know exactly what made me take in Bambi without asking too much questions. Ok, maybe I do know why, just a bit, but I don’t have to tell you about it, do I? I mean, it’s no biggy, really, just that this guy at work –

Oh hang on, this just came in.

(You have received a new email message from Kaelyn Yang.)

To: Tutu
From: Kaelyn
Subject: Aquarius this week

Hey Tu! I know I know, you’re probably going to send me another screaming email about flooding your inbox with horoscope predictions and stuffs, but I found this one which sounded really really relevant to your current situation! It looks like you’ll probably find a new place to move in to as soon as Wednesday!

Aquarius (January 21 ~ February 19)
Money, money, money may be coming your way, if you can set a few plans in motion. The New Moon in Pisces is your chance of a fresh new beginning. You have two weeks to get sorted out and do your stuff. But there is a word of warning. You have until Wednesday to sign any new contracts, but after that it is best to wait until Mercury turns direct once again in a few weeks, otherwise there will be a number of changes to any agreements that have been made, and more obstacles than usual.

I’ve also mentioned to my family and a few people at work, and they agreed to help keep a look out for any rooms to rent. I’m sure something will come up soon! Call me if you need to chat, ya?

Luv, Lyn

Chapter 1

2006-04-01T23:40:00.000+08:00

Two things are bothering me today.

One, Kaelyn, my bestest friend since we were 10 years old, has been flooding my Inbox as well as my hand phone with horoscope predictions. Yes! The crazy woman has finally ditched her Tarots obsession, only to pick up Astrology!

Here’s what the psychics are saying about me today:

(My email prediction)
Aquarius (January 21 ~ February 19)
April 2, 2006
This is the start of something very important for you, Tutu.
You’re in the thick of it as the Sun and Mercury join Neptune in your sign, making with Mars in Taurus, Jupiter in Scorpio and Saturn in Leo, a cross in the fixed signs. You will be challenged on all fronts — at home, at work and in your relationships — and you’re probably more determined than ever to win through, so this is a time when you can actually make considerable headway in your life, despite the obstacles.
Tutu, you’ll be the stronger for it!

(And, from my sms prediction)
Aquarius (21/01 ~ 19/02)
April 2, 2006
With so much favorable celestial energy right now, you are able to see something you couldn't see before. You have the power of insight and this is especially true in relationships with friends. In some ways, you may be greatly disappointed, but not to worry, for it is in fact for the better. In time, you will see.

The way I see it, though there was no obvious contradiction between the two predictions, they do not relate or coincide, or have much in common either. And further more, as I have explained to Kaelyn many many times in the past week, I am not interested in horoscopes! Having said that, I will, however, support her enthusiastic interest in it – seeing that she is my bestest friend since when we were 10 and all – but I do not need to know what the Sun and Mercury, Mars, Saturn and all the other stars in the solar system are up to, really. But does the woman listens? Of course not! So I’ll have to endure the emails and sms for a while more, until when she decides to move on to something else. I hope it’s not Voodoo – oh please, no.

........................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥..................................................

The second thing, or person, that is bothering me, is my roommie, Bambi. Actually, I should call her my room mate, not roommie, as roommie refers to someone whom I am close and friendly with. Unfortunately, Bambi and I are not very close, and only marginally friendly.

But hey, before you start having thoughts about me being the hostile and bossy room mate, let me tell you that I did attempt to be friendly, but she wasn’t interested. So don’t say I didn’t try, ok!? ‘Cos I did, and I tried pretty hard too! Most people who know me will tell you that I’m a very warm and friendly person; unless when there’s a cat within 10 meters of my radius, then that’s a different story – but we’ll talk about that later.

Back to Bambi. We became room mates about three months ago. Actually, I do not have the habit of sharing rooms with people, especially people whom I don’t know very well. But she was desperate, and like I said, I’m a nice person. Bambi is the cousin of a friend of the wife of my colleague – I know, it’s complicated! Anyway, like I said, she was desperate, and since my landlady, Elsa, was agreeable as long as there was a contract as per standard, plus I get to save on rent, so Bambi moved in.

Till today, I have no idea why Bambi was desperate, nor do I know anything really significant about her, like where she was from originally, where she works, or what she works as (though there are speculations). I’m beginning to question my own sanity and judgment. She could be a drug smuggler, or a terrorist, or a serial killer.

But then again, I don’t think a terrorist or a serial killer would be stupid enough to borrow my lip gloss and hair brush, wear my clothes, and steal from my coin jar. Her DNAs are everywhere! Ok, you can probably tell I’ve been watching too much CSI.

Anyway, it’s bad enough that my favorite MNG dress has stains down the front and a broken zipper, my Stila lip gloss is permanently MIA, and my coin jar is half empty. At least they are material goods and are replaceable.

Yesterday, I took half a day off work due to a monster headache, and was really looking forward to a quiet afternoon in bed with two aspirins and a nice hot cup of lavender tea. But when I got home, I heard noises coming from the kitchen. Elsa was at work, and I recalled Bambi mentioning something about a full day appointment and will be back late.

Could someone have broken in? I didn’t have any weapon on hand, and even if I did, I wasn’t sure I knew what to do with it. What if he had a gun? What if there was a group of them? I was about to turn around and walk back out, go somewhere safe where I could call the police, when I spotted a red bra lying in the hallway next to a pair of hastily kicked-off Vinccis.

Then someone giggled.

Giggles!? Had the thieves found something hilarious in the kitchen?

And then came a rather loud groan, “Oh Bambi, yes baby... oh yessss!”

I know what you’re thinking at this point, and you will be absolutely right!

As soon as I realized what was going on, I headed for the front door. I have no intention of hearing what comes after “oh yessss”. But just as I reached it, the door was flung open with such force that I lost my balance and fell backwards onto the floor. Needless to say, there was quite a bit of noise. I yelped when my butt hit the ground, and my bag went flying across the hall, missing an Egyptian vase by millimeters. My landlady, Elsa, stood at the entrance and stared down at me in shock.

“Tutu, what –“

“Shhh!” I told her, but it was too late.

There was a moment of silence, followed by the sounds of scrambling, and more giggling, from the kitchen.

“Who’s in there? “

I guess Elsa didn’t feel the need to be quiet in her own house. Without waiting for my reply, she headed for the kitchen. I didn’t know how to warn her, so I just kept quiet and remained on the floor, looking down at my NineWest pumps.

“What – you again?” I heard Elsa saying, and she sounded quite pissed. “I think I made it quite clear the last time, if I catch you bringing men back to the house again, I will call the police and have you both arrested!”

Men? Again? The police?

My curiosity got the better of me. Praying that Bambi and her partner in crime (or lust) were decently dressed, I finally got up and made my way towards the scene of the crime.

They were both sitting on the dining table. Bambi had on a short skirt – my skirt! And I had only worn it twice! And her top was front to back and inside out. The man, looking to be in his early thirties, was zipping up his pants. Other items of clothing were strewn around the kitchen. There was a wad of something on the stove, and it did not look like a dishtowel.

But neither Bambi nor the man appeared to be embarrassed at being caught. They also did not apologize nor pleaded to Elsa about reporting them to the police. Instead, after calmly collecting the remaining clothing, Bambi led the man out of the kitchen, and headed not for the front door, but into the room – my room!

Elsa and I were dumbfounded for an entire minute. I’m sure my mouth was hanging to my knees. And during the silence, I swear I heard more giggling, more fumbling, and, oh help me, more lustful moaning!

“You’ve, erm, caught her doing – this - before?” I asked Elsa haltingly.

She was silent for a long moment. I thought maybe she was still trying to collect herself, the poor lady. But then, her answer left me speechless. “I trusted your judgment about that girl, Tutu, but I’m really disappointed.”

“I’m – I never knew – I’m sorry –“

“I’m sorry too, but I think its better if both of you moved out.”

........................................................................♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥..................................................

I think the horoscope prediction about me facing challenges at home was an understatement – not that I believe in that nonsense.

By the way, did I say there were two things bothering me? Actually, there are three, and the third being: I’m homeless!