会呼吸的痛
He called much earlier from his office than expected to say he was tired of working and would be on his way to fetch me. As I heaved my two cloth bags of barang barang to the porch to wait for the familiar white car, I told myself sternly it’s strictly an exercise of labour and utility that I was seeing him and there’s really nothing to get excited about. And the two new beanie toys on his car ledge were good reminders of how he has already pledged his allegiance to another.
想念是会呼吸的痛
它活在我身上所有角落
哼你爱的歌会痛
看你的信会痛 连沉默也痛
To an outsider in Lau Pa Sat, we would look like any other office lovebirds who had worked late and were looking for dinner. Dressed alike in blue, with him in a striped long-sleeved shirt and me in a retro Japanese frock, we are the pseudo comfortable couple. We talked easily like an old couple: him indignantly of his work and me of my impending happiness, weighing in each other’s opinions. Except that this is now someone else’s dream. I am merely borrowing for a night.
He suddenly blurted out our time in PanPac hotel together and once again I was pleasantly surprised by what he remembered, of our many conversations and what happened. But really, I am no fool. Eventually, I felt better after I had laughed in his face that he is the typical boring engineer with no life and even his girlfriend is a boring Math teacher. He actually agreed, and gave me an embarrassed and weak smile. I felt I had gone too far and added brightly that at least he studied in UK, that should count for something.
His phone rang. I looked away as he spoke. He said a series of no to the person on the phone, and that he would call later when he’s back around 11pm, that he hoped teachers didn’t sleep that early before hanging up. Now I do feel like the evil third party exhorting my friend to sin. I looked at him quizzically and he said no, it’s not her. And then he asked me a stupid question: Do I think he would talk like that to her? Duh. How would I know. I don’t want to know and I don’t care.
I stood up. It’s time to go.
We spoke of whether we were of high or low maintenance in a relationship as we strolled back to his car, and some other light-hearted nonsense. And then he grabbed my arm – to stop me in my tracks and presumably not because he was scared - apparently there was a cockroach in front. And I do apologise for the trivial documenting but such is life and my pathetic stream of consciousness that has nowhere else to channel towards.
He parked at my place and carried my barang barang into the lift. I waved goodbye and was horrified when he attempted to see me to my house door (my place is a mess and it definitely bans male visitors). This is good enough, I said. And emphasised that even males who volunteered to clean my aircon and cook are not allowed in. Even? He raised an eyebrow, are you downplaying my gesture and actually thinking males who clean aircon and cook are better?
Whatever. You don’t belong to me anyway.
遗憾是会呼吸的痛
它流在血液中来回滚动
后悔不贴心会痛
恨不懂你会痛 想见不能见最痛
While writing this entry, I received an sms from him: I delegated a job today. So happy!
This is in reference to our conversation the night before, when he said he found it hard to delegate and redistribute responsibilities, preferring to undertake everything himself.
I wonder if he tells her the same thing on sms.
I wonder if I am the first person he wanted to say it to.
And I know, that it shouldn’t matter.
And I dreamt of him and her (whom I have yet to meet) and me sitting at the same table last night.
我发誓不再说谎了
多爱你就会抱你多紧的
我的微笑都假了
灵魂像飘浮着
你在就好了 能重来那就好了
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