What a strange way to begin two thousand and three.

New Year’s Eve 2002: Late afternoon. I drove into the city, traffic was bad. I parked my car at an LRT station and took the transit train to KLCC (Kuala Lumpur City Centre, at the base of the KL Twin Towers). It was slow, or at least it felt slow to me.

I called up Shwugirl. She was gonna be late, sorry, and thanks for being okay with having her brother along. Her little brother, Khai, was my junior in high school. I was his captain when we were prefects. I feel protective of him still. The kid’s cool but a bit quiet. His sis worries, and tonight we’re bringing him out. Phui San’s having a poolside party at her German boyfriend Patrick’s apartment and invited Shwugirl and I. Perferct opportunity to bring Khai out.

After reassuring Shwugirl it’s okay, I could wait, I made my way to the topmost floor where the Kinokuniya bookstore was located. I hit the comics section and after rummaging a bit, spot Neil Gaiman’s ‘Harlequin Valentine’, illustrations by John Bolton. It’s classic Gaiman, a story that lulls and satisifies in its telling. Let’s just say it takes the concept of giving your heart to your love seriously and rather graphically.

I bought it, of course.

Then I settled down in the literature section and read a good third or more of Jim Crace’s ‘Quarantine’, a precise and carefully written book about how Jesus could not have survived 40 days without food or water in the Judea desert, or did he? This is a bad description of a good book, but let’s say it inspires me to write better, or at least, try to reread my stories and not balk at editing them.

Hours passed. I grew hungry. Finally I called Shwugirl and got confirmation that they were finally on their way. Traffic was bad, but it was the last day of the year. What should one expect? Down at the underground, I waited for them, along with other people, strangers wringing their hands in aticipation, then waving and whooping in delight when their loved ones appeared.

Shwugirl wore a black top with dark gems littered across her shoulder and tight blue jeans. Lovely. It took awhile before I recognised Khai, whom I have not seen since he was fifteen. The kid’s grown, much taller now, but fortunately for him, not as tall as me. My ego is fragile, you see. I gave him a hug and beamed. Now we would have dinner together.

KLCC thronged. Berlin was much worse last year, but this was bad as well. I could not converese properly with Shwugirl or Khai, one in front of me, the other behind. We made our way to Burger King, cuz Khai likes their Whopper. Apparently he listens to gangsta rap too, and this worries me. We wait and wait, and are finally allowed to make our orders. Shwugirl chooses to have nothing cuz of a late lunch. I am unsure if I believe her.

Khai’s opionated, which is good, but withdrawn as well. I talk too much, as always, but try my best to listen too. Shwugirl smiles at the two of us.

We decide to head to Patrick’s apartment sans instructions cuz Shwugirl’s fascinated by my backpacking tales. The world outside the towers is ablaze with colour and life. So many people. Traffic’s at a standstill. We walk and we talk, Khai and I poking fun at his sister in unison.

Eventually, we reach the apartment and the pool. Phui San looks adorable and gets a hug from me. Bill’s there, drunk and wet from a dip in the pool, and Erik too. I recognise Patrick but the rest are strangers. We don’t mingle well nor do they. I feel ill and stay and chat with Khai, who looks worse. Bill comes over and tells Khai nasty, true things about me. The Brother of the Date must be a horror film somewhere.

Music asks to dance. Bill tells everyone what a danceslut I was in Melbourne but I tell them I’m retired now. They play “Las Ketchup” and other horrible, current popradiofare. Finally, something good comes on, Kylie I think, and I drag Phui San to dance while her boyfriend’s away. We discuss secret things and she tells me she wishes me luck. Gawd, I hope so.

Then we miss the countdown by several secs, as we are surprised by the fireworks. They are loud and beautiful. The sky lit up. Phoenix flares against a black sky and the two towers. We are mesmerised. Kisses and hugs and drinks some more. I do not drink. I have to drive them home tonight.

When we finally leave the party it is late but the traffic’s still unmoving. Down underground, the crowd’s massive. The door closes after Khai gets in, before Shwugirl and I have a chance of entering the train. He goes off, leaving us alone for the first time that night. (We won’t see him for another hour or more.) Alone, alone at last, in a sea of people. We talk and we share and we feel better.

It’s two thousand and three, I realised, and things look good.

.

Copyright © 2003 Kenny Mah Ying Fye.