Consumed with emotion trying to put the act of the Israelis into a decent composition, I stumbled upon a scribble on my moleskine dated exactly a year ago.
Here’s a peep at it in verbatim:
“Shell, will I find love again?” Suria demanded the answer from yours truly. Her piercing brown eyes looked straight at me, a sure sign of trouble, if I were to answer this one thoughtlessly.
Her favourite bowl of tom yam noodle remained untouched in front of her. She twirled the teaspoon around the coffee cup without purpose.
“Of course you will, don’t be silly.” I cordially dismissed her question after taking more minutes than it is allowed to answer one’s question.
Basil buzzed with activity at lunch hour. Patrons were eating and laughing but the ambience at our usual corner table was somber. Torn and maimed from the war of love, hope was fast leaving every inch of her body.
“How do you know? You are afraid yourself!” She retorted back in frustration. Her cheeks flushed with annoyance she could hardly concealed.
Silence reigned over us. My wit was defied by the honesty of her question.
Her anger was so palpable I could almost touch it in the air. Sparkles in her eyes were no longer the colour of midnight stars – post her bitter divorce.
I heaved a long sigh. My gaze fell onto the woolen shawl around her lithe figure. Suria has always been a beauty; she has an uncanny ability to look nice in whatever she wears; she has the softest voice and sweet disposition. To me, she is a quintessential Malay lady. Men worship the ground she walks on until today – and that is to put it mildly.
“I don’t know, girl…but you will find love again someday.” I tried to reason with her. When it comes to love, I can’t even convince myself let alone some else.
“If that’s the case, when is someday?”
Wasn’t she just so relentless?
“When you are not looking. That’s when!” My voice went an octave higher (told you I was a born cynic,duh!).
“Is that how you found Jefree?”
Yes Suria, that’s how I found him. The man of few words but all these years of knowing him, he has never given up on me and my idiosyncrasies.
“Yes, I did. When I thought all men are scumbags, backstabbing, useless creatures of the universe, he walked into my life and criticised my reading choice!” Sorry, couldn’t help myself there.
“It’s painful, you know?” The look on her face forlorn, as grey as December sky.
“I know Ya…and I’m sorry.” I wish I could uplift her pain with a wave of magical wand if I had any.
But that was a year ago. Last Christmas eve, Suria’s fingers were the colours of the summer red with henna before she walked into the mosque for the akad nikah. She did find love again when she wasn’t looking for it.
A thousand time goodnights, folks.