EAST OF THE HEART: CHAPTER ONE

EAST OF THE HEART

Chapter One: The Departure

1925 – Fujian, China

The rain had subsided into a light drizzle. One could hardly see the tiny drops of water, trickling down the roof tiles and onto the muddy grounds. Outside was as silent as the interior of the small courtyard house, with its somber grey bricks and red faded tiles. The rain had left the unattended clothes pegged on the lines soiled and dreary. All the flowers appeared limp and melancholy. It was morning, but with the dark over-cast sky, it could have been mistaken for evening. In the middle of the room, a nervous seventeen-year-old girl knelt before her mother with her head bowed down. She dared not speak nor look up. Her mother was explaining to her that the situation had turned out to be for the best. 

“You are the lucky one, because you get to leave this place.” The elderly lady said, as her voice hid an undercurrent of sadness.

Was she really lucky to leave, the young girl wondered? Had she been born a man, she would not have to leave at all. She could have continued living in her home, and not be evicted from the village. However, fate had not been as kind and she was born a female child. Therefore from birth, she was already condemned as a liability, and not valued as an asset to the family. In a household blessed with five sons, she was the daughter that every family in the village shunned.  Her mother had taken the liberty to remind her several times a week that she was more fortunate than others. For every baby girl that was allowed to live, many more had perished without a trace, and without anyone knowing of its very existence. From the second these babies were delivered unto this world, they were bundled quietly into the night, and drowned in the river that ran through the village. Over the centuries, the river had consumed countless baby girls. Yet, life continued as it always had - as if nothing was lost or missed.  One might even think that it was the most natural act to perform – to have one’s daughter submerged into oblivion.   

“Mei Yee, we have made a grave mistake by allowing you to study with your brothers. This has filled your head with ideas that will not be of any use to you at all - at least, not in this lifetime.  Therefore, this is the best solution for all of us, and you.” Her mother added solemnly.

As a woman was regarded ONLY to be useful as a reproductive vessel in her village, an educated woman was a design against nature. Women with any amount of education were regarded with suspicion in their village because they were corrupted and damaged by all accounts. There was no real glory attached to a woman's intelligence, only shame. Every ounce of acquired knowledge would have rendered her most unfitting to obey any man, especially her husband. Hence, she would be branded as ghastly unsuitable for marriage. And if a woman were not of “marriageable material”, then she would be totally worthless. However, Mei Yee’s education happened merely by accident. She was allowed to study along with her brothers in order to help them with their homework. All her brothers had made her stay in-doors every single day to finish all their work before their next lesson, while they went out for some mischief. Invariably, it made Mei Yee the most cultivated among them all. She had not asked to be educated in the first place. She was educated by default.

“Now, I have nothing to give you except this jade bracelet. It was given to me by my own mother when I left my village to marry your father. So, I give it to you as you leave us today to marry someone in Malaya.” The elderly lady said, as she took out the jade bracelet from the silken pouch and placed it in her daughter’s hand.

“They do not know that you are educated and they do not mind if you are. So, you are very lucky indeed.” Her mother assured her.

Again, the word: “lucky” appeared in the mother-to-daughter dialogue. No matter how many times her mother had told her how fortunate she was, Mei Yee knew the truth. Luck was never on her side since the day she was born. Even as she knelt before her mother, she knew that "luck" would not come to rescue her from the situation. She was just another female-child, and undeserving of all the trouble that "luck" would have to recruit in order to help her. 

"Listen carefully, I want you to forget about all the books and everything you have studied. They are of no use once you are married. When you are married, your most important task is to serve your husband. And the second most important task is to give your husband and his family, many sons.” Her mother said grimly. 

Mei Yee wondered if this was the same reason that kept her mother from showering her with much affection as she was growing up. At the end of the day, it seemed that her mother would not truly own her. Her mother’s job was simply to deliver her into this world. When Mei Yee had come of age, she was to be married off and would never be welcomed home again. In this respect, her family and home were a place of transit. Mei Yee was never meant to stay with them for long. Thus, why would her mother lavish her with so much love and attention when she already knew that she would have to give Mei Yee away eventually? It was beginning to make sense. It would have been easier for her mother to feel less pain when the time came to let Mei Yee go. Finally, Mei Yee understood her mother, and forgave her for the seventeen years that she was denied of any real warmth and tenderness from her mother. 

Without allowing her emotions to spill, Mei Yee looked up at her mother’s face. She wished her mother long life and good health, as it was customary for a child to say such things to her parents upon parting. Her father had not bothered coming out of his library to see her off. Then again, he never did while she was living in the house. Mei Yee knew in her heart that it was to be the last time she would see her mother, or any of her family. She knew she would not be returning to the village ever again. With her small suitcase, she left the house for the pier.  She was to take a boat from her village to the city of Shanghai. From there, she will board a large ship that would take her to a place called, Penang, in Malaya.

With her right hand, she clasped onto the jade bracelet tightly. With her left, she held her baggage uneasily. Everything she had owned in the world was inside that bag. Hidden neatly in a secret compartment, laid all her shattered sensibilities.

(To be continued….in Chapter 2: The Arrival)

Part Three of Story Eleven from "A Symphony of Short Stories" - The Conclusion

Story Eleven: THE BIG CRUISE PART THREE OF THREE

Sandra had escorted the Stamp sisters – Pandora, Paloma, Patisse and Paris to the Canyon Ranch Spa Club on deck 7, to ensure that the ladies were formally introduced to the Spa Manager, Denise. The ladies would be pampering themselves to a full day’s spa program - starting with the Canyon Ranch’s signature Rasul Ceremony, and concluding with a mani and pedi each. Also, a special spa lunch would be prepared for the ladies as well.

During the first three days aboard QM 2, the sisters had chosen to stay indoors as Paloma Stamp was not feeling well. As it turned out, Paloma had always been prone to seasickness. The ship’s doctor was summoned, and Paloma was prescribed with some medication. None of the sisters wished to leave their suite for it meant leaving Paloma behind. So, they insisted that all the food and fun were served in their suite instead. This way, they could be together and have a wonderful time. They ordered light meals, board games, card games and movies to be delivered to their suites. Most of all, lavender scented candles were lit, as these were Paloma’s favourite. Such was their brand of sisterhood – “one for all and all for one”.

Being an only child, Sandra did not have any idea what it would be like growing up with sisters or brothers. However, looking at the Stamp sisters and the way they interacted with one another, she could not help but feel a pang of envy. All four of them were unreservedly at ease in making fun of one another - to the point of playing pranks on each other. Furthermore, they were just as comfortable in poking fun at themselves. There was no shortage of devotion, nor a hint of shyness in the way the sisters communicated with one another. This led Sandra to believe that only siblings who truly shared a deep bond could be that accustomed to each other’s eccentricities, as well as, comedy. Before Sandra left the ladies in the capable hands of Denise, she reminded them of Captain Benjamin’s personal invitation to dinner at the Queens Grill Restaurant.

It was customary for Captain Benjamin to host dinners with a selected group of guests onboard QM 2. In this way, the Captain would get the opportunity to meet with some of his passengers, as well as, to introduce them to others. On that very night, Captain Benjamin had invited the Stamp sisters, Ms. Mabel Shaw and the “Reunion Party” guests.

On the previous night, the Captain had hosted a dinner with Richard and Amanda Tan, Edward and Josephine Lone, Douglas and Samantha Ferhad, Ms. Melissa Ranter and Mr. William Tent. Sandra was glad that Mr. Tent had made the effort to get out of his suite to join that dinner. She had arranged for him to be seated with Edward and Josephine. Their positive outlook on life must have rubbed off on Mr. Tent, as he seemed to have abandoned his dark somber moods. On the very next day, Mr. William was seen spending some time out of his suite. He even had lunch with Edward and Josephine, went to the gym and played at some tables at the Empire Casino. To Sandra, that was progress!

By 8pm, all of the Captain’s invited guests had arrived at the table reserved for them - except Ms. Mable Shaw. The Stamp sisters and Ms. Jennifer Li were seated together on one side of the long rectangular table located in a quiet corner of the Queens Grill Restaurant. Captain Benjamin was seated at the head of the table, being the perfect host – introducing everyone to one another and initiating conversations. The rest of the guests from the “Reunion Party” were seated on the opposite side of the table – Henry Park, Hanson Park, Harry Park and his wife, Sophia. The seat next to Hanson was empty, and awaiting for its rightful guest, Mabel Shaw.

Fifteen minutes after eight - Ms. Mable Shaw waltzed towards their table, while everyone was cheerfully conversing with each other. She was dressed in an alluring aquamarine long dress. For someone who was late, she did not quicken her steps nor rushed. Every movement she made was puctuated with relaxed grace. When she arrived at the table, she apologised for her tardiness and took the seat beside Hanson Park. She offered no explanation for her lateness, nor felt that she needed to. There was no air of arrogance about her, but a sense of regality. Hanson did not take his eyes off her from the moment he saw her. Although she was clearly much older than his 38 years of age, there was just something very captivating about her which he could not deny.

Once Mabel Shaw joined the table, their dinner dialogue escalated with witty humour, diversity and depth. She had a striking aptitude for entertaining the group with her travel stories. Each and everyone forgave her delayed arrival after that. Just before dessert was served, Captain Benjamin had to excuse himself. Ms. Austina came at the Captain’s side, and informed him that there was something urgent at hand. Their mystery guest of the Sandringham Suite had arrived. It was a he, and he wanted to speak with the Captain immediately. After the Captain had left, his dinner guests continued in their revelry. Sandra realized that an excellent host would be one that was no longer needed nor missed at his or her own party.

Mabel further shared that her home was now in Tuscany, and that she had partnered with an Italian designer to produce her own line of leather products – such as hand bags, shoes and clutches. Then, she presented the clutch bag that she was carrying for the evening on the dining table. Naturally, all the ladies at the table fell in love with it at first sight. Before the night was over, every person at the table had become well-acquainted friends. Hanson Park would not have minded to be much more familiar with the enchanting Mabel Shaw. However, he kept very silent throughout the dinner. After their coffee, tea, pralines and dessert, most of them decided to try their luck at the Empire Casino on deck 2. Mabel politely declined to join them and left. After everybody started to depart from the Queens Grill Restaurant and made their way towards the gambling club, Hanson Park trailed Mabel’s steps. He finally found her on deck 13, sitting alone at the sun deck with her cigarillos.

There were no moon or stars in sight - just a delicious cool breeze and the sound of the crushing waves amid an air of electricity between two people. Mabel was about to light one of her small cigars, when Hanson came forward to ignite it for her. As the tip of the rolled tobacco sparked brightly with red heat, Mabel drew in a long slow breath.  Her dark eyes did not leave Hanson’s face. Then gradually, she turned away as she exhaled into the bewitching night. Without saying a word, she left Hanson’s side and moved towards the railings of the balcony that wrapped around the sun deck. Undeterred, Hanson joined her.

“Is there something you need from me?” She asked when Hanson appeared by her side.

Hanson replied casually - “I am still deciding.”

Mabel did not turn to look at him, but maintained her gaze into the vast darkness, “Deciding on what?”

Hanson said - “Deciding on whether it is something I need from you, or something I want to give to you.”

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Part Two of Story Eleven from "A Symphony of Short Stories"

Story Eleven: THE BIG CRUISE PART TWO OF THREE

Both Richard and Amanda were thrilled when they were being escorted into their “surprise” upgraded suite. It was decked out with bridal floral arrangements, a bottle of champagne, a box of truffles and a basket of exotic fruits. The main highlight was the bed and bathroom. They were both decorated with scented candles and plenty of rose petals that formed the shape of a heart. They thanked Sandra and Adrian, their Personal Butler, profusely. As Sandra was walking away from their suite, she could still hear Amanda squealing with delight.

“If they are this excited now, wait till they see what’s in store for them at the evening turndown service!”  Adrian remarked as he and Sandra walked towards the stairs to Deck 9. That would be one very happy couple checked off from her list, Sandra thought.

Inside the Queen Anne suite, the euphoria continued but Richard feared that his new wife might misunderstand. So, he tried to explain, “I did not plan for any of this. In fact, I only booked us a normal suite and arranged for a bouquet of lilies. I hope you know that I am just NOT capable of being romantic at THIS KIND OF LEVEL. This is HUGE – way beyond my league. You do know that I had a lot of help with that airport flash mob thing - mostly from both of our sisters. I could not have done it alone. You know what a really simple guy I am, right?”

Amanda laughed and cuddled the husband of her dreams, “Oh, you are safe! I know just exactly what level of romantic you ARE capable of. Don’t ever forget that I’ve known you for over 9 years. I haven’t forgotten who you really are just because we’re married now.” She pulled him closer to her.

“Well, I certainly hope so because I would be deeply distraught if the day ever came that we can’t be completely honest with each other. I don’t want to hide anything from you and I wish for you to do the same.” Richard spoke seriously.

Amanda looked at Richard and said gently, “I know you have been very concerned that our friendship will change after we’re married. It’s going to be fine, my dear husband. We will be fine.”  

“More than anything else, I worry that the way we communicate with one another could change in the course of our marriage. And I would hate that, because you’re my very dearest darling friend. Who would I be able to talk to about anything at all, if not you? Who could I share all my darkest secrets with, if not you? No one understands me like you, and I don’t want that to ever change. You’re the root of my life.” Richard said solemnly.

The newly weds held each other tightly as if to dispel any remaining fears and doubts.

“I can’t promise you that I’m going to be perfectly understanding at all times, or that I would be able to take on everything without losing it. But what I can promise you is this – I will not let you go into the battlefields of life alone. I will not abandon you even when I am pushed to renouncing myself. Above all, I will still love you and care for you even when we are forced to fight on opposing views. This is my vow to you.” Amanda smiled, as she held Richard’s face to hers.

Richard buried his head in the warmth of Amanda’s embrace. It was the assurance he needed to hear again. Amanda had always been and will always be his everything.

Amanda added, “You, my darling, will not be able to get rid of me even if you try.”

Richard looked up with joy, “That’s exactly what I have been waiting to hear!”

They laughed and kissed ever so tenderly - completely obviously to the little drama unfolding beyond their suite. They were completely enamored in their own bliss.

In the hallway, Jeremy approached Sandra and reported that Mr. William Tent seemed worse for wear. Mr. Tent had put up the “DND” sign from the minute he walked into his suite, and had only asked for more ice to be delivered. Sandra decided to leave Mr. Tent alone for the moment, and proceeded in the direction of the Stamp sisters’ duplex apartments. She had a long list of guests to get through before she would be mentally equipped to tackle an emotionally decrepit male.

Nestled in the Balmoral Grand Duplex, William Tent got up to close all the curtains in the room so that not a shred of light could invade. Darkness was his only companion, coupled with the bottles of whisky laid out neatly on the bar counter. He knew that he could no longer attribute the failure of all the relationships he has ever had with women, especially his ex-wife, to entirely being the woman’s fault.

In the past, it was convenient and even comforting to consign the blame on the women in his life – from his mother who held an influential role in molding him to the man he is today, to the girlfriends in between, then onto the wife he had married for over 11 years, and finally, to the three girlfriends after his divorce. The only ones spared from responsibility were his ladies of one-night dalliances. They did not count at all, for none of them had the power to hurt him in any way. However, his ex-wife and ex-girlfriends could. And to him, they atrociously did - at least it was established as so inside the labyrinth of his mind.

All the three relationships he has had after his divorce began with such promise and passion, but quickly disintegrated into an ugly break-up. None of them lasted for more than 2 months. William Tent had been so talented in holding the women accountable for the mess in his life that it became an effortless habit. Sitting in the dark, he had no choice but to take a long harsh look at himself for a change.

After the curtains were drawn and the leading ladies have long forsaken the stage, William’s layers of self-deceit would finally shed like autumn leaves. There was no one else left by his side that he could pass on the culpability to. He was singularly alone at last. The time was ripe for him to face himself, without prejudice or the need for justification.

THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK: "LIFE IS A JOURNEY - A SYMPHONY OF SHORT STORIES".

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Part One of Story Eleven from "A Symphony of Short Stories"

Story Eleven: THE BIG CRUISE PART ONE OF THREE

Cunard’s flagship, the Queen Mary 2, is nothing short of a floating city. She is a resplendent dame whose 13 decks accommodate duplex apartments, suites, staterooms, various dining rooms, ballrooms, bars, lounges, swimming pools, state of the art fitness gym, a casino, a theatre, a planetarium, a spa, a kids club and many more. Being an English lady, she must naturally have “Harrods” onboard as well. Though by today’s standards QM 2, as she is affectionately called, is not the largest of cruise ships – she is, however, one of the most opulent. The mahogany wood finishing, the cascading chandeliers and the signature white glove service with a dashing smile could almost transport one back into that luxurious era of ocean travel. As you glide through the hallways, you might feel obliged to dress the part and not walk around in shorts or fit-flops. When, in the presence of royalty, we must be respectful. So, do not be alarmed when you see tuxedo-clad men and women in their splendid evening gowns cruising down the grand staircase at dinner. 

With her magnificent size of grandeur, every head would turn in awe whenever QM 2 arrived at each port of call. In 2004, the year she was unveiled to the world, crowds would gather excitedly just to catch a glimpse of her. Children would gesture their hands with such animation that one half expects QM 2 to reciprocate with a smile. As always, it is the most extraordinary feeling to be standing amongst the many fortunate passengers at the ship’s balcony, while waving at the many more below, as her majesty pushes out to sea. The sound of her horns would trumpet through the air inviting yet another journey of adventure and discovery for all her passengers.

This was the very reason why Sandra Chan chose to join the crew of Queen Mary 2.  

On this particular voyage of May 2012, QM 2 would be departing from her “home” port of call: Southampton and sail across to Paris. From Paris, she would waltz through the seas to visit Madrid, Barcelona, Cannes, Florence, Rome, Venice, Amsterdam, and then finally return home to England.

Captain Benjamin was very glad to have Sandra onboard as a special “Guest Liaisons Officer”. She would only be handling a list of very important guests.

“These are the ones we must pay a close attention to. I refrain from using the word, special. Not all the guests on this list are VIPs. The Director of Guest Services will be going through the list with you. If you come across any difficulty in handling a guest from this list, you may speak with the Director or see me directly. I am delighted to have you join our family at sea. I am sure Dr. Khan is celebrating the fact that you are travelling again.” Captain said and patted her on the shoulder.

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Story Ten from "A Symphony of Short Stories"

Story Ten: The Reluctant Traveler

Fear has held Sandra hostage because she had allowed it to. She thought it was safer to be locked within her own boundaries. She knows that she had given terror the absolute authority to make her invalid to the world, and to herself. It has been 25 years, 8 months and 10 days since she lost her entire family in a horrific plane crash. To this day, it is recorded as the worst single aircraft disaster in history.

Sandra can still hear the newscaster’s voice in her head, as if it was just yesterday. It was an August evening of the 12^th in the year 1985. She had came home early from work. As usual, she would switch on the television to catch the day’s headlines and make herself a cup of tea. The local news channel was broadcasting the top stories of the day. Then the words: “BREAKING NEWS - Japan Airlines Flight 123 has crashed near Mount Osutaka.” splintered across her kitchen table, and gutted her heart.

Sandra’s mug fell onto the floor, and shattered to pieces. She could not move, and stay glued to the television set. They were showing a live aerial transmission of the crash site.

“At around 6pm today, the Japan Airlines 747 Boeing flight had taken off from Tokyo International Airport 12 minutes behind schedule. It was a domestic flight from Tokyo to Osaka. However, due to severe mechanical failure the plane crashed into the mountains about 100 kilometers from Tokyo. There are only four confirmed survivors. The death toll stands at 520. ” The newscaster added.

Sandra’s husband and son were on that flight. Her husband was taking their son to visit his parents in Osaka, as it was the Obon holiday week in Japan. It was customary for all practicing Japanese Buddhists to go back to their hometowns during Obon to honour the dead, specifically the spirits of their ancestors. Sandra would have never imagined that her family’s first trip back to Osaka without her would be their last. In that one day, Sandra’s world came undone. She had lost everything that was important and dear to her. 

The weeks that followed went by like a haze. Sandra had to fly out to Japan to identify her family’s bodies. She went to the morgue together with her in-laws. They had decided to bury their remains in Osaka, where her husband was born. After the small and private funeral procession was over, Sandra made her way back to Malaysia. She truly dreaded coming back. There was nothing for her to return to.

The first month was pure hell. She had never felt more abandoned. Although many friends and relatives came by to visit or called her, it was never going to be the same. She was completely and utterly alone. As she was an only child and her parents had already passed, her husband and son were all she had in the world. She thought of joining them in the after-life, as there seemed pointless in pretending that she still had a life. It became her routine. From the very second, she opened her eyes to face another depressing day, to the final minutes before she gave herself over to exhaustion and slept through another lonely night – all she could think about was how to end her life. Even breathing in and out was becoming a chore. Day by day, she felt more drained. She had no energy to do anything else, but grieved. Her house was turning into a dumpsite of sorts.

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Story Nine from "A Symphony of Short Stories"

Story Nine: THE HOLIDAY ANGELS

Once upon a time, there were four very different little girls, who grew up to be four very different women.

But they had four things in common – they’re brilliant, they’re beautiful, they’re sassy and they are sisters.

Meet Pandora, Paloma, Patisse and Paris.

Pandora was always the “bohemian” in the family. She goes to great lengths just to experience life. If she didn’t work with the Discovery Channel, she would have become a professional beach bum. Getting her to settle down in one place is as impossible as getting a pig to windsurf. Her father had to entice every man in any land, reachable without a space shuttle, to marry her by offering them a handsome financial reward. Unfortunately, all suitors ran for their lives (and well-being) after spending one week with her. None of them could be reached for any comment at this time.

Paloma was the first to be married. She lives in San Francisco with her husband, three kids, two maids, and one dog. She cooks, bakes, paints and runs the family business. She is a Martha Stewart that looks like a Nigella Lawson. Everything in her life runs on the schedule. Her most prized possession is her house in the Hamptons.

Patisse was the second to be married. She has two girls, and she insisted it was enough. Her daily life revolves around her family from both sides – hers and her husband’s. Whatever time she has left to spare will be spent on home décor. She just enjoys decorating and fixing up her house. She lives in a beautiful large Victorian house in San Francisco with her husband and her in-laws.

Paris jet sets around the world for a living, and is engaged to a famous football star. She commutes between London and San Francisco. London is where she works as a fashion stylist and San Francisco is where her family resides. With the amount of travelling she has to do, she is contemplating on buying a G6.

Every two years the four sisters would decide on a destination to meet and stay for a week - without their other halves, children or parents. This was a tradition that they had decided to create when Paris moved to London, and Pandora moved every other week. They thought it would be a wonderful way for them to bond, catch up and to get a respite from their demanding every day lives.

In 2001, it was Pandora’s turn to organize their sisterly vacation. Although the other sisters were rather apprehensive at what Pandora might pull out of her ‘box of ideas’, they kept silent. Secretly, they were bracing for the worst. Each and every one had their fingers and toes crossed. Finally, Pandora announced that they were going to Bali. It would be the first for all of them.

Pandora had chosen a secluded boutique resort, tucked into the mountains of Ubud. It was to be a week of yoga, aryuveda, organic cuisine with the usual temple visits and shopping. When the sisters arrived into the “Island of the Gods”, they were picked up by a van. It was not the Bentley of vans, but its air-conditioning worked. However, none of the windows in the van could open. Calmly and with stealth, Paloma took out her small bottle of Lavender scented mist and sprayed on the seats of the van. It was much agreeable after that.

Their trip to the resort in Ubud took almost 3 hours from the airport. The traffic was murder. The sisters wanted to wrangle the driver’s neck for his devil-may-care driving. As they approached a steep hill before reaching the resort, the van started choking and hyperventilating. It sounded like the van was about to spit out its engine and die in the middle of the road. The sisters were united in muffled prayer and fear. The driver assured them that it was normal and smiled. Thankfully, they did arrive at the resort in one piece – including the van.

After the girls settled into their four-bedroom pool villa, it started to rain. It didn’t stop until the next morning. Hence, the temperature started to drop to about 16 degrees Celsius. It became much more chilly with the howling wind. It was beginning to feel a lot like Seattle, and less like a tropical island.

The sisters refused to allow the rain to dampen their spirits. Paloma started spraying their villa with her Lavender mist, and Patisse lighted up some scented candles she had brought along. Then all of them took out the hair dryers from each room and started blowing the beds. They wanted to make their beds warm and snug. They had to call for in-villa dining, as it was just too wet to venture out to the resort’s one and only restaurant. After dinner, they started updating one another on what they had missed – the highlights of their lives, the lows, their challenges and their achievements. They were each other’s confidants and advisors. The ladies kept on chatting until 2am. As it got colder, they had to use the hair dryers to warm up their beds again. The sisters ended up snuggling together in one bed and slept. They were like teenagers all over again.

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Story Eight from "A Symphony of Short Stories"

Story Eight: THE REALIZATION GAME

It took Richard 7 days, after receiving that fateful text from Amanda, to realize that he was losing his “best buddy in the world”.

She had not returned any of his calls or text messages. Her email had been programmed for an auto reply. It kept bouncing back to him with the following message –

“I am off to a long and well-deserved holiday. I may or may not check my emails because I would be having too fun for once in my life. I’ll probably be back in a month or three! We shall see!

Amanda”

By day 8, Amanda’s mobile had been permanently switched off. It went straight into her voicemail every time Richard tried to call. And he really tried, several times each day.

By day 9, her mailbox was full. He could no longer leave her any voice messages.

From day 10 through day 15, Richard felt most uneasy. Even Simone could not cheer him up. Something was just not right, but he could not put his finger on it. He was becoming less and less excited about his impending wedding to Simone. In fact, he was beginning to dread it altogether.

Day 18, Richard and Simone had their first full-blown fight. Nothing had been going right between them. It was Simone who laid down the “bombshell” for Richard.

“You are the idiot! Can’t you see that you have not been the same ever since you could not find Amanda? Every day and night, I have to hear you talk about her – where is she, what is she doing, who is she with, is she ok, why is she not returning my calls or emails! Look at you! You are a mess!”

“What are you really saying, Simone?” Richard stared at her.

“I am saying you are a stupid idiot man for not realizing that the person you love is your best buddy and not me! The wedding is off. Everything is off! Mange de la merde!” Simone yelled and stormed out of his apartment.

Richard did not even bother getting up to run after Simone. He had let her leave. But did she just tell him to ‘eat shit’ in French?

In any case, he did not care. He wanted her to leave him alone with his thoughts. He was too busy thinking about Amanda.

WHERE IN THE WORLD IS AMANDA KIM?!

Day by day, Richard was getting more agitated. It was becoming a challenge to concentrate on the last few weeks of his baking course.

Then the question started to trickle into his mind.

Could it really be true? Whatever Simone had said began to take root.

THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK: "LIFE IS A JOURNEY - A SYMPHONY OF SHORT STORIES".

THE BOOK IS BEING PUBLISHED AS WE SPEAK, BOTH IN HARD COPY AND E-FORMAT. 

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Story Seven from "A Symphony of Short Stories"

Story Seven: "WE WILL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS"

From the Diary of Jennifer Li

I will NEVER go on a cheap tour EVER again. EVER!!!!

Do you know what I am talking about here?

You would have to wake up at an un-holy hour to catch an early bus ride.

You could barely think straight, and none of your eyelids would be working at that time.

Your mind would still be lingering in that warm comfy bed, along with a dream that you were enjoying before that annoying phone rang to make sure that you were REALLY AND TRULY AWAKE. Or else, they would just keep ringing every 5 minutes.

People tell me that the worst thing about getting up from bed IS actually getting out of bed. But once you are out from bed, you’ll be fine. So NOT true!

But you know what’s the worst thing about getting up THIS KIND of early? It’s that bloody cold shower you know you MUST take, because it was too early for the hot water to be fully conscious and running!

And to top it all off, YOU ARE ON A FUCKING HOLIDAY!

Never again.

NEVER AGAIN.

That’s what I keep telling myself. I don’t care how cheap it is. I am not falling for it ever!

There is a GOOD reason why it is so bloody cheap!

All basic human sensibilities would be stripped and tattered by the time you’re dragged through their crammed itinerary of cities, sights and monuments. Some of which you would not be able to remember, because you are still too jet lagged coming in from the last city.

And please do not even get me started on the food, or hotels!

What is it with these tour companies? Do they like have a special deal with the worst restaurants in every city of each country? They are like a natural magnet for the worst restaurants and hotels on the entire planet. Thankfully, I had brought along my own biscuits and cup noodles on that “wonderful” (hiss, hiss) tour of Switzerland.

On that particular trip, I had the utter bad luck of getting the rooms with the “best” (hiss, hiss, hiss) view. Allow me to recount the ways  -

1) In Lucerne, my hotel room window opened to a brick fucking wall!

2) In Zurich, it faced the alley of the hotel’s back entrance!

3) In Lausanne, there was no fucking window – just a picture of a painted landscape. And it was moldy.

4) In Basel, I could only see the greasy neighbour who lived next to the hotel. From my window to his, we could have shook hands. But he was far from a Swiss stud muffin – more like an over-aged Swiss cheese.

Finally, saving the best for last…at our final stop in the picturesque country of Switzerland – Geneva, I managed to get a room that has a view of the famous lake. I could only actually see the lake, IF I had a pair of binoculars! Just fucking great, I thought.

To this day, I have strong suspicions that the tour guide had deliberately chucked me into the worst room in all the hotels throughout that Swiss tour. I am certain it was because at that time, I was the youngest traveler in the group and I was single. I had no pressing demands of a spouse, or screaming kids. Most of all, I did not have the audacity to bribe him into giving me a better room - like everyone else did in the group! So, I was assigned the nightmare of rooms in every city we had visited.

  

THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK: "LIFE IS A JOURNEY - A SYMPHONY OF SHORT STORIES".

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Story Six from "A Symphony of Short Stories"

Story Six: OVER RIVER KWAI

In January 2000, my marriage of 12 years had finally collapsed and died a painful death.

All the cherished illusions about love and marriage that I used to believe in withered into ashes, along with the identity of who I used to be. My only consolation was that we did not have any children - one less person to be caught in the web of our despair. Or rather, my despair.

When being the “faithful wives” are no longer enough for our husbands, it does support the idea that all women carry a ‘use by date’. And there's nothing that we could do about it. But the men - they could easily remedy the situation by replacing us with a younger and more eager version. With all of these and more, how could one expect a woman to regain her self-esteem, much less the remains of herself?

However, I have to admit – I was luckier than most women. I was still young and I could choose. And choose - I courageously did.

I didn’t have to remain in a marriage that was held together by farce and convenience. I did not have to pretend that we were still a couple. I had the means and financial independence to change my disposition. Above all, I did not have any children to think of. I understand that a lot of women remained in their unfulfilled marriages for the sake of their children. But I had the means to break free. So, in that respect, I was very fortunate.

In October of that same year, after the ink on the divorce papers had dried out, and the court had granted my freedom, I decided to give myself a ‘divorce present’. I felt that going away was a perfect start to my healing.

I have always adored trains but had no opportunity to travel in one. Most of the time, I would fly in order to save time. So, I decided to book myself on the Eastern and Orient Express – from Singapore to Bangkok. It was a 3 days/2 nights journey. It would be slow, scenic and quaint. And to truly reward myself, I took the highest category of cabins – The Presidential Cabin. It had more space and a complimentary bar (of which I did put to good use).

All the passengers would normally board this classic train at the Woodlands train station in Singapore. However, I was somehow caught up in Malaysia at that time because I had to finalize the sale of a house that my ex-husband and I used to own in Kuala Lumpur. So, E&O was kind enough to allow me to board the train from Kuala Lumpur. They were very generous in providing me with some additional benefits. I was allowed to relax in style at the Ritz Carlton lounge in Kuala Lumpur, while waiting for the train to arrive from Singapore. I was served refreshments and snacks with a scented cold towel. When it was time to leave the Ritz and go over to the Moorish Kuala Lumpur train station, a gleaming black Mercedes Benz came to pick me up. I guess, having reserved the Presidential Cabin had its perks. (By the way, there were only two Presidential Cabins in the entire train.)

I remembered how my heart fluttered upon seeing the train for the first time. And against the backdrop of the Kuala Lumpur heritage Moorish styled train station, it was truly a “Kodak moment”. The Eastern & Orient train was truly a sight to behold. The signature gold and green colours that cloaked the whole train was just magnificent. If nothing else, it projected a nostalgic glimpse into the golden age of travelling.

Agatha Christie once wrote, “Trains are wonderful.... To travel by train is to see nature and human beings, towns and churches and rivers…in fact, to see life”.

I couldn’t agree more. And I truly recommend it to everyone, if you have not tried it.

THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK: "LIFE IS A JOURNEY - A SYMPHONY OF SHORT STORIES".

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Story Five from "A Symphony of Short Stories"

Story Five: THE BLACK SAMSONITE

Samantha sped-walked from the sky bridge to the baggage reclaim area. She hated this part of travelling the most – getting through the immigration and collecting her black Samsonite bag from the carousel. 

As usual, she was among the first to arrive at the baggage carousel. And as usual, she arrived before any of the luggages did. Nervously, she looked at her watch. She was running late. Her plane had been delayed from Manila to Tokyo. That was something she had not planned. She hated being late, especially for an interview with an important celebrity.

Suddenly, the buzzer rang and the carousel began to move. Samantha was watching closely. She wanted to spot her luggage as quickly as possible in order to get out of the airport. Much to her relief, she saw her black samsonite bag emerge from the tunnel and onto the carousel. She was very surprised. Usually, the First and Business Class passengers’ luggages would get priority delivery onto the carousel. The Economy Class passengers would always be the last to receive their baggages. 

Samantha did not want to waste anymore time. She just grabbed hold of her black bag and sprinted towards the “NOTHING TO DECLARE” lane. In less than 15 minutes, she was in the limousine provided by the magazine she worked for. She did not even have the time to be civil to the limo driver. The second she saw her name on the board the driver was holding, she grabbed his arm and said, “Me, Samantha. You, driver. Car, let’s go. Chop! Chop!”

While in the sleek Lexus sedan, Samantha tried to bribe the driver to go faster and break all the speed limits. Unfortunately for her, the driver would have none of it. Shaking his head politely, saying – “No, no, no…cannot.”

Although the driver would not go beyond the speed limit, he did however transport Samantha safely to her interview just in time. This was an impromptu interview set up by the magazine to cover the press release for Ken Watanabe’s upcoming movie, “Memoirs of A Geisha”. Samantha was the closest journalist at that time, being in Manila. She was wrapping up an interview with the famous Filipino fashion designer, Monique Lhuillier. Her magazine did not want to incur additional costs of sending out another journalist to cover the Ken Watanabe’s interview in Tokyo. So, it had to be her.

When Samantha reached the Park Hyatt hotel, there was a long line of media personnel waiting for their turn to interview Mr. Watanabe. She was glad that her turn was not called upon just yet. Within a span of 10 minutes, her interview with the famous star was over. All the manic rush and dash for that precious few moments – such was the life of a journalist.

Now, Samantha could go back to the hotel which the magazine had booked for her, and get some well deserved rest. It had been a long crazy one-month of travelling and non-stop interviews within Asia. She was very grateful to arrive at her hotel in Shinjuku before midnight. That meant a few small restaurants nearby the hotel would still be open for her to grab a bite. Any form of Japanese food would agree with Samantha. She just loved it all – cold, raw, grilled or deep-fried. It was a very good thing that she had extended her stay in Tokyo. That way, she could enjoy a brief break before flying back to Singapore.

When Samantha finally got into her hotel room, she realized that there had been five missed calls on her mobile. It was from a number that she did not recognize. Hence, she did not bother calling back. Instead, she took hold of her bag and placed it on the luggage rack. It was then she noticed that something was different about her bag.

For one, there was a first class tag clasped around the handle of her bag. How could this be? She had travelled on economy, as she has always done. She could never afford a first class ticket even in her dreams. 

Secondly, upon closer inspection the bag seemed slightly larger than how she remembered it to be. It looked exactly the same, but just a little bigger. Surely, the bag could not have grown in size from Manila to Tokyo.

Lastly, her pink flower sticker was missing from the bag.

Samantha proceeded to open her bag by turning at the combination of numbers. Nothing happened. She tried again and again. The bag just did not open, or could not open. She stared at the bag for sometime, wondering if the combination mechanics of the bag had gone cranky.

Then it finally dawned upon her – perhaps this bag was not hers. Had she taken someone else’s bag instead?  

Holy Fuck!

What could she do now? Where could her bag be now?

Suddenly, her mobile rang. Quickly, Samantha answered it.

“Miss Samantha Wee please?” A female voice spoke on the other line.

“Yes, this is Samantha Wee. Whom am I speaking with?” Samantha enquired.

“This is the department of Lost and Found baggage from Narita Airport. You have taken one of the First Class passenger’s bag from the Manila to Tokyo flight. The First Class passenger is very upset that he could not find his bag. Now, he has your bag. So, we have given him your mobile number. If you could please return Mr. Douglas’s bag to him, I am sure he will be very happy to give your bag to you.” The lady on the other line explained in her Japanese-English accent.

THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK: "LIFE IS A JOURNEY - A SYMPHONY OF SHORT STORIES".

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Story Four from "A Symphony of Short Stories"

Story Four: THE CATTLE CLASS

From the Diary of Melissa Ranter

Can I just say it again – I really can’t stand travelling long haul flights on economy class. I call them ‘cattle class’.

I hate it even more when the airlines started bringing their prices down, so that 'now everyone can fly’. No, seriously – some people should not be allowed to fly. In fact, they should not even be allowed to leave their house!

I’ll tell you why I have such deep contempt for the cattle class.

For starters, the seats are the size of peanuts. I mean, come on! Have they seriously not seen the sizes of our ass or what? Squeezing us all into the pathetic contrapment they call a seat would not make our ass stay that small, ok. In fact, most of us are just bulging out of our seams and leaking onto the next wretched seat.

Secondly, what’s with that rigid metal piece plunked in between each seat? That should not even be called an armrest. It should be called, a steel divider to keep everyone in their place. No two passengers can place their arms on these things. Have you tried? It only accommodates barely half an arm from each passenger. And the one who gets stuck in the middle seat will always have my sincere sympathy.

Thirdly, do you ever notice how there is NEVER enough overhead cabin storage in Cattle Class? I mean, there are so many more of us in the back, and yet we have to squash all our allowed number of carry-on items into that miserable shared space. Surely, they must know by now that it is simply not working! Those passengers in the front have more storage space but they hardly carry anything onboard. They should just re-distribute the storage space – seriously! Every time I try to open the over-head cabin, it’s like opening a jack in the box. Only, it’s not a funny surprise I get. It’s a collage of wreckage. 

Oh how I hate smelly people in the plane and more than anything else, smelly feet! For the life of me, I cannot comprehend why the people in cattle class never take showers. Well, they don’t smell like they take any showers at all! Do they like deliberately not shower for 3 days and then get into the plane just to aggravate people like me who have a high regard for personal hygiene? Try sitting over 5 hours being sandwiched by two very un-attractive and smelly passengers. You’ll learn a new meaning of pain very quickly.

THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK: "LIFE IS A JOURNEY - A SYMPHONY OF SHORT STORIES".

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THANKS :)