Therapy?

There is a time frame for everything. This is one lesson I have vehemently learnt again and again. It is subjective, as time can both heal and tear us apart. Whenever there comes a chapter in your life that is best left forgotten, time will work its magic and soon we would be laughing about it over coffee. Like the time when I was in Standard 1 and my teacher asked me if I had a wife, and I thought she meant great-grandmother. Like the time when I argued with my best friend, spent recess alone and wondered whether my stand was worth it. Like when I was 5 years old and asked dad whether charsiew had eyes. Thank goodness most forms of embarassment and guilt have sell-by dates.

But only most. Some things that happened, you could never laugh about. Where everytime you revisit the moment, time stands still, and the wound is still as fresh as if it was inflicted just minutes ago. The emotional equivalent of a bare-knuckle shot to the cheekbones.

Be that as it may, what I’m about to write about… I’m not sure which category this falls into. Sure I can laugh about some things, like how I was literally played the fool sometimes and how that has forced me to grow in many ways. These things I can look back with a certain pride, in awe of the changes that have occured in me, for the better. But some instances… I will use this analogy. An orange is sweet, and sometimes sour, but if you’re not careful, with one mistake, it could end bitterly… and the residual bitterness lingers like the unpleasant orange rind that catches you by surprise.

Let’s go back… 3 years ago.

I was settling into university monotony in IMU in semester 2, glad not to be called a freshie anymore. Still a relative unknown in my batch of 120, I did what I could to move myself up the social ladder. And then I found my chance in my one constant. Relationship books would always remind guys that what attracts girls the most was confidence in truckloads. That time I could vary from an insecure bundle of nerves to a man’s man, but like the movie "Little Voice", whenever I sang, that was it… my constant, my element. No one could touch me. In April 2003 I signed up for an intra-uni singing contest, hoping to take a shortcut up the social ladder.

Naturally, there was an audition process to go through. That night, with more than 30 entrants packed together in a lecture hall, each reciting their best (and worst) lines at the same time… I’ll let you think of the punchline for this one. But through interacting with the other contestants when we were not torturing our larynxes… I learnt that the singing contest had almost a forgone conclusion way before the actual night.

Because of her.

By reputation alone, she packed a punch. She was a freshie, but where she came from, she was part of a group of amateur singers who competed in karaoke contests on a nearly monthly basis. They competed so often that they expected to see each other everytime a contest nears, and they were all very good friends. She has done multiple showcases for wedding dinners, ceremonies… and she has accepted fees for them. She had a section of her wardrobe specifically reserved for performances. And to top it all off… she has been on television. I wondered what on earth was this person doing in a medical school, not off recording albums.

The night of auditioning settled down to a more relaxed mood. I hung around with my batchmates and eagerly watched and listened to their performances. We were casually dressed and deep in conversation… until she came on stage. In 10 seconds, she shattered to pieces any notion I had that she was just hype. She was the real deal; a powerful, soaring voice she kept on a leesh, knew when to use, and never let overcome her; television-standard expressions that earmarked and further accentuated her performance; and my God, she was a stunner. My lips quivered as I sat in silence, absorbing her every move, every syllable. I have heard magnificent performances before, but never this up close. Could I say I was mesmerised? Maybe.

After gripping everyone by the throat for a good 5 minutes, she descended the stage, demure and unassuming, while the rest of us were convinced that we were just there to make up the numbers.

The night went on, 11pm with about 10 contestants left to audition. One of my batchmates would be the last to go up, so we wanted to stay on until she sang her part. The long evening did wear some of us down, and around then I went back to my apartment to freshen up. I had a quick bath, and darted out of my apartment towards the university again, determined not to miss anymore staggering performances.

Along the way, in the most unimaginable of settings, just outside the apartment car parks, right below the staircase that lead to the swimming pools and grocery store, there she was… walking back towards the apartment. After what I had just heard and witnessed from her onstage, I could not resist… but smile at her. She smiled back. It was simple, and it was sweet.

That was how we first met.

But remember, remember, the lesson we learn today. Time can heal, but time can also tear us apart.