Duck & Goose

The phone screen flashed up, a text message. My left hand grabbed the phone and right thumb pressed the white button to make the screen flash again. Let’s call it off tonight. My shoulders dropped. My mouth pressed to a line and curled. I placed the phone back in the corner. My head leaned to the right and my palm was on my forehead, supporting the weight. I felt myself picking up the phone again. Okay.

That night, I had walked to Students’ Union canteen alone. I tried to observe the environment. Just what I expected, sort of. Few people passing by. The lights were on, lighting up the orange-brown brick wall and floor. The sky was dark but the skyscrapers had lights shining through, making out faint lines of tall buildings. I spent an entire afternoon in the music library on the 11th floor.

The canteen had fewer people than I expected. This was good. About twenty people were talking. Their non-matching voices somehow fused together. Unison of bass. Metal-clinking soprano joined in occasionally.

If I focused on a particular person, I could understand what he was saying. The man with scarce hair, wearing a blue-and-white striped shirt, was talking to the woman with a black back, “The washing machine will arrive tomorrow.” His mouth ended in an O and closed immediately. No more words. This lady in white T-shirt and denim shorts was watching a video ,on a rectangle slightly larger than her palm. A thread was pulled out, to her ears. The lady focused, with her mouth opening to food her right hand brought in.

I walked pass the lady to the kitchen. Sounds echoed and reflected between the metal stands in the kitchen. Someone filled a cup of water and placed the cup on the table with a clear “u-p”.

I picked a table beside an exit where no people sat. I sat with a plate of minced pork rice with yellow corn and my Cath Kidston pink floral backpack to the left. I connected my mobile phone and earphones. Winter Song navigated in. I do not normally do this but I did.

picture perfect skyline
cast away the weight of time

it’s the same old Winter Song
it’s the fine line that makes us whole
when the world turns into ice
will we hold on to the faint light
kept inside?

I ate with my body dancing along with the rhythm.

Staring at what I had just sent to Irene at a study table in music library. Why did I send the invitation out? Why didn’t I consider a bit more? What was here to lose?

Irene agreed to have dinner together. I would not be eating alone. I wished to go somewhere special. The venue should not be too far, for she needed to teach a tutorial afterwards. I had to go back to school for a Spanish lesson after dinner. I sent out suggestions of restaurants before she could possibly tell me to go eat in the school canteen again. Instead of Let’s do the canteen, this time I got Let’s call it off tonight.

I put aside my phone on the left corner of the study table, focused back on the pile of papers. Now, it’s the same old Winter Song.

Last winter in Korea, I travelled with Irene.

We were in a shopping district in Daegu.

Irene was enjoying shopping while I idled along, encouraging her to purchase.

“You aren’t in a shopping mood, are you?” “No, I am not.”

The floral pink, aqua blue and brownish yellow clothes did not have my favour. All the shops sold the same things.

I walked to accompany Irene. She enjoyed.

“Hey, we should probably leave now. It takes some time to go to the park.” The park I had suggested going to.

She did not really want to go. But this was a trip of me and her. I could go where I wanted to, right? She got what she wanted too.

“Here, one more street. Let’s finish this first.”

“Alright”

In the park. Dark. Black stuff only. Trees, grass and flowers were black.

“What are you doing here?” Irene sounded like teasing. “It’s all dark. I don’t understand why you wanted to come so much.”

“We are late now. Look, this tree is huge, must be beautiful under the Sun.” I tried, defending the park, my choice.

“Help me take a photo, please.”

“It’s all dark, what can you see?” Irene laughed and took the photo.

I pretended to enjoy and walked around for two more minutes.

“Okay.” We left the park.

when the world turns into ice
will we hold on to the faint light
kept inside?

7 years ago. Past 10pm. I was heading to my grandma’s home on bus 592. A text message. What are you doing? Well, I just finished practising music in church, now was heading back to sleep. I replied. Tonight could be another night of chatting with Nat, perhaps even a phone call. Bright white light illuminated the bus. Passengers were few. When would the passengers of the next stop get on board? Call me when you arrive. I smiled. Yes! I was having a night-chat with him on a weekend. Let’s shower quickly tonight.

I pressed the doorbell. My aunt came to greet me. I greeted back, stepped inside and greeted my brother. Grandma was already asleep. My aunt told me immediately to shower and get sleep. I messaged Nat that I was going to take a shower and would call him afterwards.

Going into the bathroom, into the shower. I rubbed my hand with shampoo first then body wash and I rinsed them off.

Coming out of the shower, I put on a white t-shirt and floral shorts. Looking at the mirror, a person was smiling at me. Put the clothes on, finished the shower rituals, then I could call.

As soon as I walked out of the bathroom, I grabbed the black home phone and dialled the number which I knew by heart. “Hey” I said as the call was picked up. Nat paused for two seconds before answering, “Hey? Aren’t you home?” “No, I am in my grandma’s place tonight.” “Oh.”

I was rolling on the double bed of my aunt’s. My aunt was showering. White light illuminated the room. I kept rolling to avoid staring straight into the light bulb. On my left were drawers and books. Only a little part of the window was showing. Dark outside, midnight should have passed.

“What are you doing now?” Nat asked.

“Lying on bed, talking with you. What about you?”

“Nothing in my room.” I kept rolling.

“Listen. Should I play you a song from the computer?”

A piano bass note introduced the song. A thin male voice came in. Eason Chan? I had not heard the song before.

I tried to catch the lyrics.

共你隔著空在秘密通電
Conversing with you secretly over the phone

My first time listening to it. A warm current ran through my legs.

The music break came. I focused still. The musical arrangement was fine. Nat had a taste for music. It was by Eason Chan, Nat told me.

但我想跟你亂纏
But I want to have connections with you

The coda came.

不想說明 只想反應
No more explaining Just react

Aishiteru

My aunt finished showering. I walked to the living room with the phone. My brother was sound asleep on the sofa. Lights were all out. I can see everything clearly: the dark brown shoe cupboard, the television, the short aisle, the rectangular glass dining table. The window on the left held a scene of tall rectangular boxes. Random lights hit the evenly distributed squares. Between the two boxes the dark sea offered slow waves. A shining moon hung on the top of the picture. The seawater reflected the moon. I could see things now, by its sharp light.

The waves and a cargo ship sailed across the two buildings. My phone chimed. Now, it is your turn. Tell me you love me. I folded my right arm around my legs on the black box chair. I leaned to the left, the wall of the shoe cabinet. It’s your turn. The voice announced again.

I love you. I murmured in less than a second.

Huh?

I L-O-V-EEE U. I pronounced each word with two seconds while I rose up from the black box chair. I walked to the right into the kitchen. The whole phrase took at least 6 seconds to come out. The stoves and a tiny square window opened out. I love you, I said again.

The phone was silent for a minute. I listened to the thump of heartbeat.

I’m going to take a shower now.

Shower, yes. Ah! Haven’t you showered? I inquired.

No. I’m going now.

Right. Um goodnight.

Goodnight.

I pressed the button, put the phone back and sat back on the box. My body sweated like I had just performed a speech in front of thousands of people. I lifted my head to check the clock. 3am. A very late night and a very early morning.

I went and lay down beside my aunt. I could stare into the bulb now. No light was coming out. I lay with the same position an hour before, when I was listening to the song. We just made our confessions, didn’t we? Were we boyfriend and girlfriend now? Were we gonna start dating? Was I dreaming?

The next day, I headed to Tsim Sha Tsui with my family after church. I checked my phone message. A text message from Nat read “END”. My whole body went cold.

I looked again and again at these three block letters “END”.

I called. No answer.

“???” I wrote back.

What were there before God created the world? Where was my mind before I was born? And after I die?

I cannot think of how I would not have a brain to think. What if God did not create the world? What if God was not present? What if “I” didn’t exist at all?

I am just trying to feel. I have had these thoughts with me since I was small like 8. These thoughts usually come at night with me staring out at the window of my room, where two bare tress stand overlapped, surrounded by street lamps. Behind the trees are apartment blocks, stopping the wind, and the thoughts. Muscle tense and blood warms my body. I head straight to sleep.

In the citysuper market in Tsim Sha Tsui, people filled in every corner. My phone vibrated. Two or three sentences. He had to study. He had to focus. I forgot whether he wrote a sorry. My family wandered in the mall around. 200 meters ahead was a circular hole with a hand bar for people to rest from shopping. I walked straight ahead and typed “Okay”.

Wanted to belong here
But something felt so wrong here
So I pray
I could breakaway

Break

Away.

I enter the eatery next to my home. All tables are sat with at least a person but not all are occupied. In this round table for eight, only one man is sitting. I sit opposite to him and I move my chair to the left a bit, facing the entrance. I pick up menus and read. I stop at the menu with siu mei. Oil chicken, soy sauce chicken, char siu, roast pork, roast duck… There is no roast goose. Only roast duck. I re-read the menu. Oil chicken, soy sauce chicken, char siu, roast pork, roast duck. No roast goose, only roast duck. Okay. It should be roast duck I have been eating here. Both roast goose and roast duck have the same red tone on their skin and accompanied by the same sweet-and-sour dipping sauce. Okay. I wave my hand and order a roast duck with glass noodle soup and a hot lemon tea.

The bowl comes. Exactly what I have expected. The brown oily white radish soup with the rough glass noodle, colored by the roast duck skin. Steam is rising up from the bowl. I breathe in the smell of the bowl and pick up the chopstick and soup spoon.

Delicious.

Duck or goose, I am okay with it.

Bus 1A from Tsim Sha Tsui arrived home. I went to my room and shut the door.