Chapter 5

"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?”

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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

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.

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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.

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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

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?

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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.

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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?