I saw the door handle twitch. Then heard the lock click. Saw the knob turn. It swung open. HE’d returned. Damn.
It’d begun like my usual Sunday mornings; a 37 year old me lounging around at home in my fab new Bambini sweats, flipping through all sorts of channels while texting my bestie; Alicia, whom I hadn’t seen in absolutely the longest time. We chatted about almost everything including the pair of must-have Louboutins in Pavilion, the pink, cute but subtle officey shirt from Zara, drop-dead gorgeous black leather bags from Charles and Keith which were big enough to smuggle babies in, darling little prams from Kids R Us for Zane and Tara; my kids, which brand of Cod Liver Oil was better to nourish the kids brains, the healing effects of yoga for women who’ve just delivered and difficult, tyrant mother-in-laws. We didn’t even once touch on HIM. She didn’t even once steer the conversation in that direction. This was why I loved Alicia, she understood me better than I understood myself or better than HE ever did. To calm you and to remove the furrow from your brow, I would like to tell you that HE/HIM/HIS is not the big boss sitting up there (God) but HE/HIM/HIS is actually my ex-husband. HE is a forbidden topic between even my closest family and friends. After we’d said our goodbyes and had gone over the details of tomorrow’s lunch in Chilis, Bangsar, I put the phone down. The channel had been on National Geographic. At the moment we were ‘being taken on a journey through the eyes of the savannah’s most feared predator’ as the narrator with the Aussie accent called it. It then showed a gazelle’s head being ripped off. I took pleasure in imagine its head to be HIS, then feeling foolish and guilty; I managed to locate the remote from under my butt and turn it off. Without the children to keep the house full of life and noise, I’d become quite lonely and in my opinion, disturbed.
HE wasn’t here either. HE had packed his stuff and paid his bills by 3AM and was gone by 3:15AM. I’d been too groggy to try to stop him. It would’ve been useless anyways, it was too late. It was one of the things I’d most admired about him, his determination and passion in something he believed in. This had gotten him his job as Managing Editor in The Star newspaper. This had also gotten him out of the house. The kids couldn’t cope and so I’d done the only thing I could think of, I sent them to live with their grandparents in Subang for a month while I sorted everything out here. And now, HE’s coming back to wreck it all again but this time, I’m ready.
