Angela jumped out of bed and turned off her alarm clock: It was her birthday. Goodness, she couldn’t be late for school. She switched on the lights, skipped out to the bathroom, and as she brushed her teeth she made sure to smile as wide as she could. Her mom, Agnes, came through the door with a comb and hair pins.
“Good morning sweetheart. How old are you today?”
Angela gargled and spit out the toothpaste. “I’m nine years old. I was eight when I went to bed last night. Now, I’m nine. Did you get me a present?”
Agnes began to comb her hair. “Yes, I did. You will have to wait until you come back from school to open it.”
“Is it a kitten?”
“No…, you know your daddy doesn’t like cats? Anyway a cat will dirty the house.”
She parted Angela's hair in the middle and pinned the short bob to the side then sent her girl back to the bedroom to change into a freshly ironed white shirt and navy blue pinafore uniform.
Angela picked up her school-bag before trotting down the staircase. She left the bag in front of a wide double-panel front door then dashed to the kitchen. A plate of her favourite strawberry flavoured pancakes waited for her on the table.
She teased an orange cat-toy with one hand while the other puppet-ed it into a playful game around her fingers. Agnes switched on the living room lights, which made Angela squeal with delight at the sight of pink and red balloons hanging from the ceiling and flowing down the walls. It had taken the girl a week to coax her mom into doing a birthday party. Luckily her dad had come home over the weekend and sweet-talked her into agreeing.
“Can I wear daddy’s present to school today? The mermaid beads are really pretty. I can hide the necklace under my collars.”
“Those are pearls, and no, you can’t wear them to school.”
“But I can wear them for my birthday party right?”
“That’s nice dear.”
Her mom started clearing away the dishes. Angela hadn’t really finished her pancakes yet, but she let her mom take away the plate. She knew that her mom always said, ‘That’s nice dear,’ when she wasn’t listening anymore. But that morning, Angela didn’t want to wonder too much about her mood.
The wall clock chimed six. She scampered to the front door and pressed a switch to open the automatic gate. She pulled on white socks and slipped into white school shoes. With the bag slung on one shoulder, she was out of the gate in time to jump into a yellow school-van. Her mom didn’t come out to wave goodbye, but Angela was so excited about the day, she didn’t care.
She had been fantasizing about how perfect her birthday party would be for over a week. She picked her favourite colours, her favourite food; but the only thing she couldn’t fit in was her dad. He told her he has work to do. Then he gave her a string of pearls which he called mermaid beads.
Angela pressed her nose against the van window and stared at the early morning traffic which was slowing to a crawl. The traffic was so dense with parents and rented school buses that it took the driver ten minutes to manoeuvre to a stop in front of the school gate.
She waved to a few classmates, who were making their way into the school compound. That was when she noticed something strange. They all carried bright, eye-catching packages and she wondered why they couldn’t just bring the gifts over to her house for the party?
It was a very different girl that came home that day. She had two large plastic bagfuls of presents, but the most important thing of the day - her dream of the perfect birthday party - was shattered. One by one her classmates had told her that they couldn’t go.
“My mom wants me to nap this afternoon.”
“Daddy wants me to stay home.”
“Mommy wants me to finish my homework before dinner.”
Soon all she heard was, ‘No, I can’t go’.
Agnes met her at the door and said, “I told you nobody will come.”
Angela watched the glow behind her bedroom curtains dreamily from bed. The sun was up. Reminding herself that her favourite Saturday cartoon was showing, she jumped out of bed and came downstairs in her pyjamas. She halted at the bottom step on seeing her mom’s black sequined dress lying on the floor.
She held it up in front of her then slipped it over her clothes. The cocktail dress reached down to her ankles. After stepping into her mom’s black sandals, she clipped-clopped all the way to the full length mirror in the guest bathroom. She twisted and turned as she danced with her own reflection. When she looked up, she saw an image of her mom’s smiling face.
With a touch of playful seriousness in her voice, Agnes said, “So that is the angel who took my frock.”
Angela turned and curtsied, “Good morning mommy.”
Her father, Joseph, appeared at the doorway with his grey head tousled and his tummy bulging through the satin pyjamas.
He laughed as he picked her up, “Look at you. You are lovelier each time I see you.”
“Daddy! You didn’t tell me that you were coming home.”
“But I remember to get you a Kiwi doll.”
“Where did you go this time?”
“A place call New Zealand. It was very pretty there. I even went up on a hot-air balloon ride in Christchurch.”
“How come you never take me anywhere?”
“You can go wherever you want with your mom. Daddy will give you all the money you need.” Then he said, “You look like a princess in this dress… I have an idea. Why don’t you and mommy go to Singapore and buy more beautiful clothes.”
“Will you come with us?”
“I can meet you there,” he said with a laugh.
Agnes’s face broke into a wide smile. Over breakfast, Joseph promised to meet them in Raffles Hotel the following weekend then he left the house in a taxi cab.
Angela was so excited the rest of the week passed like a dream. They arrived in Changi close to noontime and took a city cab to the Hotel. Everything appeared shinier and newer in Singapore. There were people and cars everywhere.
The deluxe family room was large and airy. Mother and daughter went shopping after they had checked-in. In every boutique they entered, Agnes fussed over blouses and skirts and scarves. Finally they went into a store for child wear. A black velvet dress caught Angela’s eyes. It looked almost like her mom’s except that the sequins showed a blue butterfly and a large bow hung from the back.
“Look mommy. It’s just like your dress. Can I have this one?”
“Why would you want to wear a black dress? You are too young. Let’s get you a white or pink one instead.”
“But I want this one.”
“Sweetheart, it will make you look pale.”
“But daddy said I look like a princess in your dress. This one will make me look even better.”
Her mom reluctantly took the frock from her hands and led her to the changing room. The dress fitted Angela wonderfully. She twirled in front of the mirror and said, “See, now I look just like my mommy.”
Agnes didn’t return her smile.
#
At the hotel counter, a male receptionist passed Agnes a message. The woman’s face changed. She walked towards the elevator and said nothing all the way up. Her hand shook as she picked up a list next to the phone in their room.
“Angela. What do you want to have for dinner?”
“I thought we were going to eat downstairs.”
“Mommy has a headache right now sweetheart. Let’s eat here okay?” Her voice quivered.
“Oh, alright. I want a burger and some ice-cream.”
Agnes called room-service and ordered food for her daughter but nothing for herself. Her hand shook so badly, she spilled the contents of her handbag on the coffee table as she searched for her pills. A knock on the door made her jump. Angela ran to open it. A man in dark ornate uniform came in carrying a tray of food and passed Agnes a receipt. She signed her name and the man left.
Angela watched her mom stare out the window as she ate. She wanted so badly to talk but she could not think of anything to say. Her mom was looking outside, at the pretty bright lights, but her face was not smiling.
Climbing into bed right after dinner, the girl covered her face under the blanket. She didn’t bother to shower or brush her teeth. Maybe if she didn’t look, her mom would become normal again. She was scared. She wanted to call her dad, but she didn’t have his number.
Agnes woke her up early the following morning. Angela was surprised to see the bags packed and her mom all dressed up. She went into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. As she changed into a fresh shirt and pants, her eyes strayed to a piece of familiar velvet stuffed into the wastebasket. It was her new dress. Why did her mom throw the dress away?
Her little mind frantically tried to recall everything that happened in the last few days. What had she done? Hadn’t she tried hard enough to be good? She listened to everything her mom said. She studied extra hard in school to make her teachers like her. She even shared her color pencils and food in school. But nobody wanted to be nice to her back, nobody.
An urgent knock on the bathroom door startled Angela out of her thoughts. She rolled up the black frock in her yesterday clothes.
Agnes called out, “Be quick sweetheart. We need to catch the morning flight.”
“I thought we were staying until tomorrow.”
“There’s nothing for us here. You have everything you want, now let’s go home.”
Angela wiped her wet face on the bundle in her arms. She took a deep breath before coming out. Quickly she stuffed the clothes in her bag and zipped it shut. The bell-hop arrived and took down their luggage.
It was such a relief to be home. At least she didn’t have to be in the same room with her mom.
Joseph called that evening, a little after Angela’s lonely dinner.
“Is your mother home, Angela?”
“Yes, she is. Why didn’t you come and meet us daddy?”
“Let me talk to your mother.”
She called her mom down. Agnes looked pale and haggard as she took the phone from her hand. The girl returned to the living room and pretended to play with her doll while she watched from the corner of her eye. Agnes stayed motionless and wordless for so long Angela wondered if she had turned into a statue.
Finally she spoke, “You’ve been promising that since before Angela was born. She’s nine now Joseph. One day she’ll ask… she’ll want to know why.”
A few more minutes of silence was followed by, “Will you come over this Saturday? ... Friday night? Okay, we’ll talk then.” The phone clicked back on its handle.
Dinner was grand on Friday night: Duck in five spice, fried noodles, chicken fried in sweet sauce, fried vegetables with cashew nuts and a yam cake for dessert.
Angela went to the living room and left her parents to linger at the table. The shows were boring, so she changed the channel to Video and the TV turned mute while it waited for her to play a movie.
Joseph raised his voice, “What more do you want? I’ve given you a house, a car. You even have your own credit card. I spend more on you than I do on my wife.”
Angela held her breath; she didn’t like it when her dad got angry. He would stop coming for weeks and her mom would be a wreck during that time. Agnes would try to call him and that always made him angrier.
Joseph continued, “I let you have everything you wanted. Even Angela. I told you that she would complicate matters, but you wanted to play house, you wanted a living doll to play with…”
“That’s not true. You told me that you were leaving Margaret.”
“We separated and my sly father changed some of his investment in the business to her name. He said he did it to keep us together.”
“She had another child three months after Angela was born.”
“What are you saying? Are you implying that I am unfaithful to you? Isn’t that ironic… she is my wife. This isn’t one of those love dramas they show on TV you know. This is real life.”
“But it was not supposed to be like this.”
“Margaret is now a major partner in my business. Without her money, you won’t be able to afford a decent pair of shoes.”
“It won’t have mattered.”
“Hah… that’s what you say now, when you have everything you want.”
Agnes got up from the table and started clearing the plates. In a softer tone, Joseph said, “I’ve put in more money in your account. Everything is going to turn out fine. You know how much I care for you.”
Then he got up and held her hands, “Smile for me angel. Smile for me and make everything alright again,” and he kissed her.
Christmas Eve morning was always such a fun time to go shopping. Angela stared at the mountain of plush bears and shiny golden dolls. How was she ever going to choose just one? She ran down the rows, moving from one knick-knack to another. Looking behind her, she realized with a start that she had lost her mom. She ran to the main aisle and peered into every row with mounting panic.
Suddenly she stopped. She hadn’t found her mom, but there right in front of her was her dad. Was he buying a toy for her? Who was that young girl with him? Why was she holding his hand?
She called out “Daddy!”
He turned and saw her. Then he took a snowy, white bear from the shelf and walked away with the other girl in tow. Angela ran after him, calling, “Daddy!”
A hand grabbed her shoulder. It was her mother.
Agnes said, “That is not your daddy sweetheart. He just looks like daddy.”
“But it was him. He recognized me.”
“Would a real father run away from his little girl?”
Angela looked into her mom’s face: It was fever-red and her breathing was ragged. Taking the woman’s hand, she said, “Let’s go home mommy. There is nothing I want here.”
On reaching the house, Agnes began to fill two suitcases.
“Where are we going mommy?”
“We’re going home, sweetheart.”
“But this is home.”
“No, it is not.”
“But what if daddy comes. There will be no one waiting for him.”
“Daddy will always have someone waiting for him.” Agnes smiled through a curtain of tears and her voice choked as she said, “Don’t you want to meet your grandma?”
“I have a grandma?”
“Yes, sweetheart, you do.”
“How come I never meet her?”
“Because I love her so much, I don’t want her to be ashamed of me.”
“Will she like me?”
“She will love you”
“Will daddy visit us there?”
“No, he won’t. It doesn’t matter, because grandma will love you more.”
Angela did not want to leave. What if her mom was lying? If her grandma loved her then how come she never call or send a card?
Agnes called the cab, asking for one to come by in an hour’s time. Then she called another number and talked in a language that Angela couldn’t understand. She cried so hard and long in the phone, it frightened Angela. The young girl didn’t want to leave; she didn’t like to see her mom cry.
Agnes changed into a pair of jeans and shirt and made her daughter do the same. Then she left a bundle of keys and all her credit cards on the dining table. She never looked back once they got in the cab.
They drove up to a brightly lit wharf lined with rows of long, white, sleek boats. Most were so heavy with goods and people that the gunwale hovered only inches from the water. On the roof of each craft, a large sign showed the destination and alongside it a mock-up clock displayed the time of departure. People shouted in languages that Angela could only understand in snatches. Loud horns, that mingled with the roar of engines, blared and mobile snack sellers nimbly got off the crafts as the mooring ropes were released.
Agnes bought two tickets for a one-way trip to Sibu. Then she bought noodles, buns and packed sugarcane drinks from a hawker. They approached a boat that had just started its engines. A gruff old man squatted at the bow and reached down for their bags. He held their hands as they climbed the narrow gangplank. They went down a narrow, short stairwell into the boat and were greeted by benches lined up like bus seats. More passengers flocked in and a woman with two baskets of tit-bits walked down the aisle, selling her wares. The boat’s horn tooted its final call and she hurried out.
The noise was deafening, but the air-conditioning was cool. Angela started to feel drowsy. There wasn’t much to look at anyway, only dark water and darker banks. She sat up when the boat reached the mouth of the river and hit the surfs, but after half-an-hour, even the coastline of moonlit sandy beaches began to become a dull sight.
In Sibu they had breakfast at a hawker stall before the crack of dawn. Then Agnes bought two more tickets for a wooden, clunky passenger boat. Three hours later, as the sun blazed down from its apex, her mom walked to the front with their bags and waited at the entryway. The boat slowly approached an worn landing place. Little Chinese children in cheap printed cotton shirts and pants called out as they jumped and flapped their arms excitedly over their heads.
An old woman reached up and helped them down. Then she hugged and kissed Angela, all the while brushing the girl’s hair with hard, callused hands. The young girl gagged, for she smelled like the mothballs in her school toilet. Then she took Agnes in her arms and wailed as she rock her from side to side. Angela was embarrassed.
A year had passed since they moved in with grandma. Angela was quick to pick up the Foochow dialect from her playmates. Sometimes she would see a faraway look on her mom’s face, but it never lasted long. There was so much to do; weeds to pull, vegetables to grow, chickens to feed. And every morning, while it was still dark, her mom would carry down baskets of vegetables to the landing place and wait for a boat-trader.
In the evenings, Angela would think about her father. She missed her TV, her videos and her toys. Her pretty dresses had grown too tight and her mom had given some away to the younger kids. The clothes her grandma sewed were nice, but none made her look like a princess. She wondered about her black dress because it wasn’t in the bags they brought from Kuching. A cat mewed then jumped onto her mattress. It purred as she took it in her arms and they lay there together until her grandmother called her for dinner.
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