Therapy?

Her birthday is around the corner… I can’t help but think of her for a moment, even after all we’ve been through. We haven’t talked for six months, maybe she’s busy on her own, and maybe I’m too caught up by the things that are happening on my front… it’s nobody’s fault, but still.

6 months without a word is a long time without.

I could blame myself for not establishing contact more often, even though we have said it’s all right to be friends. I could blame her for not updating me or telling me about her problems like she did so many times in the past. Assigning blame was never part of our faded relationship, and when we were together it was rarely painful. Maybe I should let it rest. But yeah, I do dream about simpler times.

Ti amo means I love you. When you want to convey something simple yet in a special way, you use a foreign language everyone is easily impressed by. French, Italian, Japanese, whatever. Like the intro to a Jay Chou song we all love but have no inkling what language is he muttering in… we just know it sounds good. It’s never in what you say, but in how you say it.

Say it loud and there’s music playing, say it soft and it’s almost like praying… "ti amo".

I remember our first date.

This was a month after we first met at the singing contest… which she easily won. We exchanged numbers that night, but went our own ways after that. I guess it was because I was still too in awe of her to actually approach her for anything, and she was still finding her footing in the university in light of her newfound fame. A month passed… nothing.

I had a weekly ritual traversing Petaling Street back in first year, when that place was still worth visiting. Most times I travel alone and anonymously, content with blending in with the background, and heck, thriving in it. And it was in one of these solo evening flights that I received a message. Her.

"Could you please accompany me to Pyramid for awhile? My exam is next week and all my batchmates are busy."

Like any guy who was ever asked out by a girl for the first time I said yes, and I told her to come to where I was (Puduraya bus station) by LRT so we could go from there. The wait was daunting… 5, 10, 15, 20 minutes. Half an hour… something was amiss. I called. And as sure as sunshine, every newcomer to KL is bound to be confused with the Pudu and Plaza Rakyat transit stations. In short, she was stuck in a station she wasn’t supposed to be in. After giving some hurried instructions I waited some more.

In a while, she arrived. And like any fool who has an irrational crush on someone I thought she looked like an angel. She came in her house clothes though… so much for romance.

It was awkward walking alone with her for the first time, especially after nearly a month of no contact, and then suddenly this. My face was somewhere in between confusion and joy, and I had trouble masking that. She had a nervous giggle in as well. "Thanks for coming out with me, I didn’t know who else to ask."

We were on the lookout for the nearest bus to Pyramid, and there was a small crowd gathering at the busstop. We would have to fight our way through the unforgiving KL commuting crowd if we were to make it there by closing time. The bus came eventually, and the crowd moved like a swift stampede edging into it. I signalled to her to come closer before we get swept away, and unexpectedly… she held my hand.

I did not tell her then, and I don’t think she knows it now, this was the first time ever I held anyone’s hand. Before the nervous sweats, impending facial flush and severe palpitations took over my consciousness, I garnered enough common sense to pull her up the bus with me. In the bus, we held on for another few seconds before shyness took over us and we let go, looking away from each other.

The rest of the night was a blur until after I sent her back home safe and sound, and I found myself back in my own bed. I could not sleep a wink… well, not with that silly grin hanging off my face.

Aishteru. Je’taime. Ti amo.

My phone rings… and I am once again back in the present. It’s her birthday today and I sent her a message, not knowing if there would be any reply. I didn’t even know if she changed numbers again. But luck is with me this time. It is a message from her. She replied… my goodness. Six months of ice melted away. And I wonder what the six months of silence was exactly for.

The night is far from young, and the road is arrow-straight, pindrop-quiet, with only the chill of twilight and the amber glows of streetlamps as my company. The road drifts on til forever, no beginning nor end for the weary, lines layered upon lines on it directing me to follow them, to the final destination. I am driving home alone. Thy kingdom come, thy kingdom come.

I turn on the radio, tuned it to 104.6FM, listened as I traversed, and began to dream. Oh why does this song seem so familiar… oh why does it bring a tear to my eye…

"Heavenly shades of night are falling, it’s twilight time
Out of the mist your voice is calling, ’tis twilight time"

The road comes to a sudden end, with only the darkness, and a fall, beyond. I drive on, unperturbed, not content with any shift from my current sleep-dream state. And my car begins to float, as if it has silent wings from underneath. I close my eyes.

"When purple-colored curtains mark the end of day
I’ll hear you, my dear, at twilight time"

And whence I open my eyes again, I am no longer floating in the clouds nor sinking into the deep… I stand perfectly still, at a place that once more burned a deep gash of familiarity into my subconscious. It had a strange warmth, and of securedness, like nothing I have felt in a long, long time… a lifetime ago. A place I once called home. The song keeps playing…

"Deepening shadows gather splendor as day is done
Fingers of night will soon surrender the setting sun"

Of course, I think to myself, it’s "Twilight Time" by the Platters. My parents used to play this all the time, right after "Only You"… it’s all coming back to me. Taking a few steps around my home, I see a few artifacts my home used to have, the aquarium, the rattan furniture, and the Sansui stereo backed into the corner… I thought we had gotten rid of them after much misuse, but there they were. I walk towards the stereo, and a figure is standing before it. She turns around.

Mother… she smiles at me.

It really is a lifetime ago. Way back when, back in primary school, when I knew there was only one other man my mother’s life besides my father… but he was such a gentle soul even my father did not mind. He was Rizal Abdullah, the voice and gracious host behind "Sentimental Moods" every Sunday night from 8 til midnight, on Radio 4. Mother listened to his show religiously, every week without fail. And everytime she did, she thought of why today’s music cannot ever come close to her precious oldies, and never will. She liked it that way… every time she listened to the show a part of her past came back to sweeten her life once more.

"I count the moments darling till you’re here with me
Together at last at twilight time"

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look behind and see my father. Oh he has aged well. Still the strong figure I grew up with, still the gentleman I wish to become. He nodded at me and walked past me, into the arms of my mother. And they danced and waltzed before the song could end.

"Deep in the dark your kiss will thrill me like days of old
Lighting the spark of love that fills me with dreams untold"

I know I have many tales to tell them, and precious little time to do so, but for now, just for this song, I think my parents want to be alone. I walk away as they danced at twilight time.

"Each day I pray for evening just to be with you
Together at last at twilight time"

I open my eyes, and once more I am behind the wheels in the still quiet of night, with only 104.6FM, Light and Easy radio, breaking the silence. The Platters song has ended, and another oldie is playing in the background. 5 minutes from home…

Whether by voluntary or subconscious persuasion I do not know, but since 2001, every time I had a good evening out, whether it was an outing with friends, meeting family, or after a date I don’t want to forget… on the long drive back home, I tune to Light and Easy, and dream away. Rizal Abdullah’s show might have long ended since my parents’ time, but every now and again Light and Easy does the trick. And on the long drive home alone, in essence, I never really am.

"Each day I pray for evening just to be with you
Together at last at twilight time"

I miss mom, dad, my sister, and all my old friends. It’s December… it’s the sentimental month, after all. Happy holidays.