unseen

by martin bradley

Starbucks IOI Mall, Puchong, Selangor, Malaysia. The Saturday afternoon was traditionally hot and humid for an equatorial city. The heat and the humidity were rising again, indicating times of rain to come, soon. This day, there were no obvious clouds in the sky, only blue. 'You are Andrew Goodchild. You used to host 'Perak People', the readings sessions, right? I am right, aren't I? I know it was, ooh what, ten years ago but…'

She stopped, waiting for Andrew's interjection. When none came, she continued. 'I've lost a bit of weight since then.'

Grey bearded and overweight, Andrew Goodchild, wearing a Marks & Spencer combination of blue cotton shirt and black Marks & Spencer (Active Waistband Flat Front Crease Resistant) Trousers, lifted his venti cappuccino in the American coffee-house and was wondering why the staff had decided to write Andrew with a ‘Y’ at the end instead of a double-u on his decidedly hot,white, disposable paper cup. He was about to return to his seat when... Weight. That was it, weight. She was a little older now and certainly still very good looking. Now he remembered her.

'I don't think that I ever knew your name, but yes. You always had such lovely sarees, I seem to remember.

'Thank you. I thought that was you. How are you? How's life treating you? What are you doing in Puchong? You lived in Kampar didn't you?'

'Well, I could ask you the very same question.''Andrew. Andrew Goodchild. It is, isn't it?' Someone said, next to him.

'Hmm, yes', Andrew was a bit cautious, puzzled. Did he know this woman?

'Haven't seen you for ages.' 'No, you first. I'm curious. You're married to a Chinese artist, isn't it? You left Perak. I know because you closed Perak People. We were all a bit disappointed. Missed those monthly meetings, that lovely old black and white venue too. Heavenly.'

Have I ever seen you, thought sceptical Andrew. 'I've a seat over there, join me.'

'Preeti. Preeti Kaur.' Preeti, letting her long black hair, ever so slightly threaded with silver, as if in a fashion statement, drape her shoulders and fall to her waist,\. She was wearing a small sized men's orange Fabindia cotton ‘Dobby Long Kurta’ and a pair of tight fitting slacks, both of which suited her new found figure. 'K'

They squeezed through the slim isle left by Mac book, Lenovo ThinkPad, HP Spectre et al interneters, pushchairs containing miniature human beings and chairs with lounging business people too arrogant to shift their legs. Andrew plonked himself down, a little ungraciously as it happened. He took a sip of his very hot beverage

'Well, I'm not married any more.'

Preeti' s face reacted, but she stayed silent.

' She, er, my, that is to say my now ex, left me.'

'I am sorry’

'Thanks. I'm still getting used to it.'

'But you're…'

'Yes, no longer young. I'm 71.'

'Wow, I'd have put you at 50 maybe.'

'Thank you. No it's 71 alright. There's no doubting that, sadly.'

'But how could she? I mean at your age and all, no offence.'

'None taken. That’s something that goes round and around my head too. It's been well over a year and a half now, and I'm slowly getting used to the idea.'

'Andrew, I am so sorry. What happened? How long were you together?’ 'A workaholic. Addicted to working. For her it was a seven day week. I'm not joking, she would work seven days a week. We had little time together. I thought it'd improve, but it got worse, not better. She'd wake up late. No breakfast. We might have lunch together then she would work on her MacBook pro. After, she would go teaching at the place she rented, until reaching home about 11pm. I would be in bed by then.'

'Poor you.'

'I think that we both realised that it wasn't working. But I never dreamed she’d leave me.'

'Oh, Andrew, but at least you had the nights together.'

'Hmmm, not really.'

'Huh!’

'No. Some time back we had a row about her coming home at night and then using the laptop in bed. She stormed out. Went to our sofa bed in the spare room. She never did return to our marriage bed. Instead, she bought furniture, including a ‘Queen size’ bed, for the spare room and made that room into her bedroom. So, when she got home after work she would go to her room. '

'That's too sad.'

'For a while she would come back, visit with me in what was our bedroom. But that soon stopped. I don't want to be too personal but, well, you know, other things stopped to….'

'Nine years. Like most, it wasn't a perfect marriage by any means. There were ups and downs. But we were always so proud that we could fight and then kiss and make up. We're both very strong characters you see. But we were managing, or so I thought.'

'Was she, you know, younger.'

'Yes, by 22 years. But it never seemed to matter until, of course, it did.'

Nodding to herself Preeti said 'Sorry, go on.'

'I guess the greatest difference was our outlooks. Our views on living. She's a workaholic and I try a work/ life balance.' 'She's a what?’ 'Oh, yes, well, I get you. Sorry, it must have been difficult.'

'It wasn't ideal. But we rubbed along. I kept hoping that we could put it right between us. Because it was good, once, before. I was still in love with her you see. I probably still am. I didn't realise, didn't know what was in her head. How could I! We barely spoke.'

There was a burring sound. Preeti began fidgeting in her seat, reaching in her handbag for

‘My sister’, Preeti said nodding towards her hand phone. ‘Sorry Andrew. I need to get off’ She finished her sparkling, unsweetened, ‘Peach Nectarine Green Tea’ and put the receptacle onto the small oval table..

‘It was lovely meeting you, and I am sorry about your relationship.’ They both stood.

‘That’s okay. Are you living in Puchong now?’ Ventured Andrew, slightly saddened after opening up to Preeti.

“No, actually, I live in Ipoh. I’m visiting my sister and her husband.’

‘Oh! How long for?’

‘Just a few days.’

‘Would you be free for breakfast tomorrow? I know this great place for dosai.’ It was out of Andrew’s mouth before he could think. On reflection it did sound a little desperate.

‘Tomorrow. Breakfast.’ Preeti needed to think. Well, what’s the harm? She eventually said to herself, to Andrew she said ‘Yes okay, 8.30(am), where should I meet you?’

‘Aksrha Curry House, Puchong. 8.30, a Grab cab should know where it is. It's not far from Tesco’s sorry, I mean Lotus’s.’

As she was leaving, Preeti turned at the door and gave a small wave, to which Andrew responded. Feeling a fool after. He looked around. Walked back to his table. No one was looking. He sighed.

Since he had been, most reluctantly, forced to live on his own, Andrew had gotten into a routine. In the evening he would shower, then around 10pm he would read a digital book in bed, until 11pm (or thereabouts), then lay his hand phone He would awake somewhere around 5.30am to 6am to the sounds of birds and the general brightening of the day. He would hand wash clothes from the previous day then hang them out on his balcony so that they would dry by the afternoon. He would mop, or just sweep the apartment floor and, after showering, would take a cup of coffee, made with boiled milk, Nescafe Red Cup and a spoonful of sugar while at his computer, checking his mail, Facebook etc. Breakfast would be later.

This Sunday morning, Andrew awoke in his two bedroomed apartment in Kenanga Apartments at 6am. The sun was just up as he looked out over the rooftops towards IOI Mall, remembering his breakfast appointment.

In truth, since the breakup of his relationship with Sugar Khoo, Andrew didn’t get out much. His previous day’s trip to Starbucks, at the IOI Mall, was an exception. He had felt a distinct urge for company, but didn’t want the screaming kids at Tesco McDonald’s or at Kentucky Fried Chicken at the other end, and so walked to IOI Mall instead. It was hot, but his ageing homburg kept the sun off, and the exercise was good. The traffic fumes not so much.

Since returning to Malaysia Andrew felt different. Things were familiar but not the same. Tescos had a name change to Lotuss, several small businesses had closed down for good during the times of the Covid 19 pandemic and, after the loss of Sugar’s company, no matter how annoying it had been at time, Andrew could not relate to life in the same way again. He had finally gotten over that disturbing sense of a phantom limb, but there continued to be a Sugar-shaped hole in heart.

Was it his age? Maybe. So much had happened in the two years he was absent. He ha lost Sugar, turned 70, then 71,and spent a considerable amount of time mourning that loss in Cambodia. That was followed by a very lonely time near the

In her final WhatsApp Sugar had, very callously, written ‘move on’. Move on yes, but to what? It was okay for her, she was still young, attractive at forty nine. But a man at 71, with a paunch, and just scraping by on his meagre pension was not what women want. Though, to be honest, Andrew would always scratch his head and wonder ‘just what did women want’.

Younger women in Cambodia called him ‘Papa’ (meaning granddad) and were all very sweet, but sweet in the way that girls are sweet to their granddads. To women in England, Andrew was invisible, just as he had been to the expat white women in Cambodia. Now, in Malaysia, he had been seen by one person, but she would be the exception to the rule and would, soon enough, return to Perak.

For a long period Andrew had thought of suicide, especially soon after the break up, sitting alone in his one bedroom apartment, in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Somehow it had never quite happened. He never seemed to have the means to hand. May 1st, the day he had planned to take his own life, came and went. Time moved on and Andrew had returned, briefly, to England waiting for Malaysia to re-open to foreign tourists.

Now, back in Malaysia, the place that he had (for 17 years) considered his home, the thought of another ten years of loneliness was again daunting. Frightening even.

‘Andrew, you eat with your finger!’

‘So do you.’ ‘Where?’

‘India.’

‘You’ve been to India?’

Though it was technically a question, Preeti’s words came out as more of an exclamation. Andrew and Preeti were in Aksrha Curry House where Andrew had ordered his favourite Indian pancake - Masala Dosai which he had discovered in ‘Old Woodlands’ (Chennai) some eighteen years previously. As they were now hard to find, he also ordered a (crispy and soft in the middle) paal appam, which comes with sweetened coconut milk, to follow. Andrew proceeded to reel out all the names of the places he had visited in India.

‘You’ve seen more of India than I have.’

‘Well I am older than you.’

‘Yes, but you, you’re..’

‘White?’

‘Hmm, well, yes I suppose.’

They both laughed so hard that all the other customers turned to look at them.

‘Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh’ they both said together and started laughing again.

‘I haven’t asked about you. How is your life?’ Enquired Andrew.

‘Oh, I’m okay, nothing much really. I work as a legal secretary in Ipoh, divorced, two children who have grown now and one has moved to Penang, the other is moving to KL soon. That’s it really. Oh I was seeing someone, but he wasn’t serious.’

‘Yes, but I'm Malaysian Indian.’ ‘Well, I guess you are young enough to find someone.’ 'Young! Well you’ve made my day. Thank you

‘Never.’

‘Ha,ha, ha.’

‘So you’re going back to Ipoh soon.’

‘Actually tomorrow. My son, Aarsh, the one I said was coming to KL, needs me to sort some things out for him. They always need their Mamī, the pair of them, his brother Aditya too.’

‘Ah’ Andrew was wrestling with all kinds of ideas and emotions, but he didn’t really know this woman, could barely remember her from ten years past. So he just sighed inwardly.

Preeti smiled. It reached her big, brown, eyes. Then.

‘You must come to Ipoh. I’ll take you there, to Esther’s.’

Mentally Andrew screamed 'YES' like an avid soccer fan witnessing his team score.

'Give me your phone number', she said and brought up the 'Contacts' app on her hand phone. Andrew did as requested, received her missed call and saved her number too.

'Don't forget that's Preeti Kaur spelled P. R. E. E. T. I K. A. U. R. Okay?'

Today she was wearing an electric blue sari, the colour offsetting the brown of her flesh wonderfully. Or at least that’s what Andrew was thinking. Her bindi (chandlo) was a bright blue on her forehead, matching her sari. She looked as beautiful as Deepika Padukone, or some other actress from out of an Indian popular film, all glamorous and more than a little regal. And it was okay. In fact it was more than okay, it was stupendous. Amazing. Wonderful. As was the hug Preeti gave him just before saying goodbye.

There was a decided spring to his gait as Andrew exited the restaurant, walked over the Setia Walk bridge and through Setia Walk itself, past the ever changing restaurants, the pharmacy and started up the slope towards his apartment block.

It just felt good to be seen.‘I haven’t been to Ipoh for a long time.’ Andrew ventured. ‘I used to when I lived in Kampar, then later I’d pass by on the way to Penang, but I’ve not stayed there for a few years. There was a really good eatery which made wonderful paal appam.’ He said as he scooped the last of the spongy substance dripping with coconut milk, and popped it into his mouth. ‘It was quite famous but looked like a shack. Somewhere between a Police Station and a Caltex station.’

‘Oh my god, that’s Esther's Appam Stall. It’s my favourite place to go. How on earth did you know about there?’

Andrew smiled.

There was a tangible silence, you could count the beats.