EW3

Disclaimer: please read this series of posts starting from EW29, then backwards.

I remember when you first came. When, for the first time in years, family and relationship intertwined on a positive note. I grew up rebellious, sure, but the shelter from my parents contributed to that. Mention a boy when I was sixteen and they'd have a fit.

I barely even talked about you, but they knew I was dating someone: the boy who made me pregnant, to be exact. Your shyness was nothing new, but add that to the fact that my entire family knew what happened in 2015. It made you so much more nervous, maybe a little scared, at finally meeting them for Raya.

You and your best friend were the first guests to arrive, leaving enough time and space for them to interrogate you. My grandma especially, wondering where in Johor you lived, what were you working as, where did you graduate from? It was just as well your best friend wore black, because he was just your shadow.

That wouldn't be the first time your name floated around my grandmother's mouth. Sometimes she mixed you and my cousin-in-law up, most of the time actually. Armar balik Johor hari ni? Eh, Armar pulak, 'Aamir!, her most frequent question, possibly even her biggest concern. She didn't like that I was always sending you to Woodlands, being one of those people who think north and east are worlds apart.

You came again in August that year, when you followed me to yet another book sale. I bought a whole box of books which you had to carry, and we Grabbed/Ubered (could never tell the difference) to my place where I could settle them down so we could go out again. My mom was home, and she made you come in and ate the nasi lemak she just made.

Shy again you were, but welcoming again she was. Ambik nasi lagi ni, 'Aamir!, she ushered from the kitchen, while you were just blowing at each spoonful because the rice was still burning hot. She asked what our plans were, and you said we were gonna watch a movie; Train To Busan, to be exact. I went home to Paya Lebar that night, and my grandma was already teasing me, Tengok wayang ke?

You were gone for a year, though your name never became a stranger in both households. From their disappointment at you leaving to 'date other people', to our shots from the photobooth at Causeway Point. Your existence never quite left, right until the day you came over for my niece's birthday party.

Again, you were centre of attention, even more so than me. My grandmother just loved fussing over you, knowing every nook and cranny of your life and routine. Maybe she just gave up on getting to know me, with the way I constantly shut her out. Sometimes I loved that you were my direct opposite, that you could fill the holes that I left behind in my own family.

I remember you sitting next to me, stabbing at your burning hot chicken wing. When my father finally arrived after work, and the way my mother pointed you out to him. The way you countered their enthusiasm by offering to get more ice and walking out to the Fairprice with me to get four bottles of syrup.

You were there for one last birthday celebration, for the two other boys in my family that I still cared about: younger brother and nephew. You took control despite the chaos, putting down everybody's orders in your phone notes so we could order easier. But the biggest deal was you having to go home to Johor late because of us. You sacrificed time with your own family to be with mine. I know, I saw it, and I appreciate it.

Maybe you forget time and again the way I always gave you chances after each departure. Maybe you think nothing of that, but surely the way they constantly accepted you rings a few bells. Which other family would ignore your flaws and mistakes you did on their daughter?

But you're right. All this happened two stations down. What's it got to do with this one?

That last birthday dinner was actually a belated celebration, because my mother was hospitalised on the actual plan. She had some kind of diarrhoea on our staycation to Johor the week before. Stayed in for a few days, making you miss both our dinner and a trip to Malacca with your own family.

You wanted to see her down in Changi General Hospital, but my grandmother's shallowness and old fashioned mind stopped you. You just sent me to the MRT station here and went back home, letting me walk alone and hearing my mom nagging to call you to come back. My parents were both on your side, mad at my grandmother for her selfishness.

They all thought you would stay in the picture, as did I. They closed an eye on your mistakes, already loving you like their own son. I'm tearing up right now writing this; as proud as I have been my whole life, sometimes they are still my weakness. It pains me more to admit this, that they have imagined having you in the family more than I did.

You can say whatever you want, you can let your pride take over and say that they just wanted to exploit you of your great son-in-law qualities. But the way they talked about and to you is worlds away from your own mother's perception of me.

My mother never cared about how much you earned, despite the way she kept joking about the fifteen thousand, because she knew I wasn't worth that much. So different from your mother, labelling me from the clothes I wear and don't wear. Not knowing how imperfect her own son is.

Simei, the mid-point of your old house and ours. Where the middle-aged couple defended you, insisted on calling you to come back, talked shit about their mother/mother-in-law being so shallow. I'd like to think it was your loss, not mine. You escaped a family that already loved you despite everything, while I escaped one that already looked down on me for my exterior.