Tender Moments

Tender Moments

I lie reclined on the thick mattress with my elbow in an almost right angle, and my hand cradling the back of my head. My eyes crawl in a lazy trail from her quiet face to the stacks of boxes behind her. Our room is a maze of piles of clothes waiting to be organized in the wardrobe, which still has the strong scent of wood, of picture frames in their protective wraps begging to be released and displayed, of table lamps and other small furniture with their matching partners lost in one of the unopened boxes, of my books and her magazines, stacked into little towers threatening to topple at the slightest sneeze, and of her odds and ends, her makeups, her vanity affair. We don't even have a proper bed yet, just the mattress pushed against the wall with the window. The guys from IKEA promised us delivery of the rest of our furniture today. My eyes return to her, as they always do. Gentle morning light dances between the leaves of the tree outside our apartment block, peeking through the window, bathing her in a warm glow. The way her body moves with each breath reminds me of the quiet waves of the beach at sunrise. Her hair, usually a mystery of cascading silk, is sticking out everywhere, a stark contrast against her tranquil face. Her long, curved lashes catch the light of the sun, but still her eyes dart about behind closed lids, assuring me that she is still deeply asleep. Her full lips curve slightly. Maybe she is having a pleasant time in her secret dream world. Even asleep she takes my breath away. I long to caress her smooth cheek, to trace a line down her angular jaw, to the small scar at the base of her neck, a token of her spirited childhood. She always tries to hide the scar, but I always tell her that it makes her even more perfect. Of course, she doesn't believe me. But I love kissing the scar. It's slightly cooler than the rest of her warm skin, where I love to kiss as well. Heck, I love kissing her, period. But I also love watching her sleep, so I refrain from risking waking her up. She moves a fraction, and her hair floats down to rest on her lashes. Without thinking, I smooth the hair from her eye and tuck it behind her ear. My fingers caress her earlobe with the slightest pressure. "Hey," she whispers without opening her eyes. Her dimple burrows a deep impression on her cheek as she smiles. "Hey." "Watchadoin?" "Watching you sleep." She lets out a throaty groan and pulls the blanket to cover her face. My exposed feet suddenly feel cold from the air-conditioning. I intertwine my feet with hers to share warmth. "I'm ugly like this!" I smile even though she can't see me, with her face buried under the down cover. I wait a moment before pulling the blanket over my head to join her. "No matter what time of the day, no matter how you look, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on." She lifts the blanket enough to peer at my face. She narrows her eyes to slits. "Well…besides Angelina Jolie." Which earns me a hearty punch on the chest. "Oof! Ouch, that hurts!" And we both break into a fit of laughs and giggles. I feel a stitch on my ribs from laughing so much. Settling down, I caress her chin between my thumb and forefinger. "Well, I’m thankful you consented to share your life with me. I’m glad I’m able to wake up beside you every day, and to be able to look at you, to watch over you while you sleep."

She rolls her eyes. "Last I checked I didn't marry a poet." She lifts her hand and uses the back of her fingers to trace the contours of my face. "I love knowing you're watching over me. I love having our feet twisted together like this. But most of all, I love you."

And we kiss, a long, soft, and gentle kiss.

"Ugh," she mumbles between kisses. "Your breath stinks!"

"Yours too. But I’m not gonna stop kissing you!"

Tender Moments

I pluck the guitar strings together with my eyes closed. Picking up the discrepancy in sound, I turn the peghead and try again. I smile a fraction when the two strings sing as one. "What are you so smug about?" "Eh?" I crane my neck to the right and look at her looking at me. In her face I register honest curiosity. "Not smug. Why?" "You were smiling to yourself just now." "I wasn't even looking at you. How could you tell?" "Your dimple showed." "I thought you're reading?" With a sigh, followed by a shrug, she lifts her book off the grass and continues reading. Brother Odd by Dean Koontz. Not my genre, but then again, we disagree on so many things that I still can't believe she is sitting here beside me under the shade of this old tree, partially leaning against my back. I continue looking at her in silence, but I could've been a stump for all the attention she is giving me. Her eyes, half closed, dart about as she reads, her long lashes catching slivers of sunlight. Her lips are partially opened, and once in a while she would form soundless words.

Careful not to move too much, I give a shrug of my own. I love the feel of her weight on my back. Not too much pressure to make me exert a counterweight, but enough to assure me that she's really here. I turn my attention back to my guitar. Its once polished surface is now faded, and the original lighter color of wood grain shows where my callused fingers have been strumming all these years. I've changed the strings countless times, but the guitar still plays beautiful songs for me. I pluck the strings again, two at a time. This time the tuning is just about right.

I start plucking the opening chords of my favorite song. After playing the same chords twice, I start singing, just under my breath.

"And even though the moment passed me by, I still can't turn away..."

I must have drifted into my own world again, 'cause I don't feel her weight lifting off me. When I look up, she is already kneeling in front of me, her right hand resting on mine, effectively stopping me from plucking the strings. Her head is slightly cocked to the right, her expression a curious mixture that I can't quite figure out. That's one of the things I adore about her: I can never figure her out. Her book is on the grass beside her, closed.

"Wha?" I raise my eyebrows in a show of calm inquiry. Inside my heart is thumping madly against my chest. I give a quick prayer that she can't feel the slight trembling of my hands.

"Stop."

This is the first time I sing in front of her, for her. And she hates it. Goddamit! I knew this is a bad idea. I feel like shoving my guitar into its canvas bag before I do anything rash and stupid with it.

"I told you I can't sing that well. Hell, this is one of the only songs I can play."

"Liar."

"Which part?" I give her the most innocent look I can muster. "I can't sing well or I only know a few songs?"

"I know you can sing a lot of songs."

"Ouch."

"Well, you're not Johnny Rzeznik, obviously." It's a wonder her expression remains unreadable. My own must be changing like a tropical storm.

I look for the condemnation in her eyes. I find none. I watch her in nervous silence, my fingers frozen awkwardly on the fretboard. Without taking her eyes off me, she reaches into her jeans pocket and takes out her handphone. She then looks at her phone and fiddles with it.

"Start again. I'm recording this."

My fingers refuse to budge. "Why?" "Simply. Sing. Now." "Why?" She blows her wispy fringe off her long lashes in a loud huff. Sunlight dances in her dark brown eyes. A slow smile plays on her lips. "Because it's you, singing this song. Because I love your voice more than I'll ever love Johnny Rzeznik's. Because I want to hear this every day." A sudden wave warms my cheeks. "You'll get bored." "So sing me a new song when that happens. Sheesh. Now shut up and sing." I face down toward my guitar to hide my smile. I'm still smiling when I start singing Name.

Tender Moments

I thought I was over this, I was over her. I thought wrong. A single phone call was enough to send me racing toward the hospital. I couldn't even remember what I was doing before she called me. Maybe I was browsing through the channels. Maybe I was eating leftover pizza. Or maybe I was napping. It didn't seem to matter. "Amir," said a voice I didn't think I would ever hear again. "I don't know who else to call. My dad. Doctors are saying he's had a heart attack." "Where?" "General Hospital." I never thought five years could flash before my eyes within the span of ten minutes. Apparently it could. All my memories of her, the best ones as well as the worst, resurfaced even though I tried do drown them with the stereo. Hitz was playing I'm Yours. Switch. Mix was playing Truly Madly Deeply. Switch. Fly was playing Unfaithful. Off. The memories were louder with only the sounds of air-conditioning and the engine. Everything freakin reminded me of her. Back to Fly, full blast. I thought, after six months, the wounds had healed. But here I was, bleeding through every pore on my body. My heart hurt. My head throbbed. My knuckles were painful from gripping the steering wheel too hard. I could bleed myself dry for all I cared; I weaved through the traffic with a single minded purpose. She needed me. I needed to be there for her. I had to circle the hospital twice to find a parking spot. I wanted to do an illegal, but the guard flashed his light at me, yelling something I couldn't hear. When I reached the Emergency Zone, the staff there almost didn't let me in. "Kamarulzaman Idris. Heart attack." I tried my best impersonation of calm on the small, dark skinned man in white uniform. He certainly took his time typing the name on his keyboard. "Red Zone. Are you family?" I could have been. "I...ah --" "Amir!" I turned and saw her standing by the inner entrance. She was wearing a faded white T and dark sweats. Her long hair was sticking out in all direction. Her eyes were wide and wild, in fear, in distraught maybe. She was biting her lips. Even looking like this, she still took my breath away. I closed the gap between us in three wide steps. "Sorry I took so long. Parking was --" "I didn't think you would come. Not after what I --" "How's your dad?" "I don't know. They still wouldn't let us in. Mak is in the waiting room, with Pak Long." "You want to go back to them?" She gave the tiniest shake. "I need a breather." I walked beside her in silence, slowing my pace to match hers. My body was moving by reflex. We stopped across the road from the Emergency Zone. I took off my left shoe and she sat on it without saying a word. Just like she used to. I squatted next to her. For a few minutes we stayed there without saying a word. We listened to the sounds of siren, of cars whooshing by, of people crying in pain, of arguments. "We were having dinner," she finally said, barely audible above the noise. "He just collapsed, gasping, screaming. I've never seen him in so much pain." I looked straight ahead, even though what I wanted to do was put my arm around her, assuring her that her dad was going to be all right. It was no longer my place to do that. "Sorry I called you." "Don't be. I'm glad you called." At least I wasn't lying. "Where's whatshisname? Johan? Johar?" "Johar." a few moments of silence. "He didn't pick up the phone. He usually wakes up after midnight." I could only guess the amount of calls left unanswered before she had to resort to calling me. "I'm really sorry, Amir." "It's OK. No trouble." "For leaving you." "Oh." That stopped our conversation as surely as a red light, with a policeman by the side. We sat in awkward silence for I couldn't remember how long. Then I saw a familiar figure standing by the entrance. "Yana. Your mom." She bolted up and rushed across the road. I put on my flattened shoe and followed her at a slower pace. They were clasping each other's hands when I reached Yana's side. Aunty Zarah raised her eyebrows when she saw me. But she was smiling. "Amir." "Aunty." I took her hand and bowed down to kiss it. I felt her other hand brushing by hair back. "The doctor said we can go in to see Abah," said Aunty Zarah, looking at Yana. "Is he OK?" "He didn't say. I came out here to get you." Yana turned and touched my forearm. Lightning crackled where her skin met mine. "Amir, will you --" "I'll wait here for you. Go. See your dad. He needs both of you right now." "Thanks." I watched as they disappeared behind the swinging doors. Not knowing what else to do, I sat at the back row of the waiting area. I played with my phone, deleting old SMSes, changing my ringtone, then changing it back. I couldn't remember how long I was sitting there sweating when Yana came out. From the way she walked, from the look on her face, I knew what she would say. "He's gonna be OK," I said before she opened her mouth. I stood up to greet her. She nodded. Her eyes were wet. Before I could react, she wrapped her arms around me, burying her face in my chest. I responded the only way I could. I hugged her back, resting my chin on her head. The peach scent of her shampoo filled my senses, triggering memories of when we were still together. "He's going to be all right, Amir," she said between sobs. "He's going to be all right." I was the first to let go. We had our history, but I was no longer hers. "Hey. Go back to your dad. Tell him I wish he gets well soon. And no golfing for, I dunno, a year or so." She wiped her tears with her sleeves. She nodded again. "Amir. I'm sorry. Truly." She looked up to meet my eyes. The clarity in hers made me want to forget everything and take her in my arms again. "Letting you go was the worst mistake I ever did," she added in a whisper. "Shh. What's done is done. We moved on. Now go back to your parents. Update me, OK?" "All right. Thank you, Amir." I gave her a wide grin and ruffled her hair. I turned and walked away. Just outside the entrance, I turned back to face her. "For what it's worth, I've never stopped loving you." The doors slid closed between us.

Tender Moments

We walked side by side, not saying anything to each other for long minutes. I loved the silence between us; it was comfortable. As comfortable as her fingers intertwined with mine. The silver rings on her thumb and forefinger felt cool on my skin, enhancing her warmth in contrast. I loved how she swayed her arms when walking. Front, back. Front, back. Front, back. My right arm swung along with her left one. There was no awkwardness in the movement, despite the tip of her curly head not quite reaching my nose. All around us, their figures reflected on the polished marble floor of Pavilion, were people milling about with their own shopping trips. Most of them moved at a fast pace, their mannerisms reflecting the pace of Kuala Lumpur. But the two of us were in our own timeline. Our movements were deliberately slow, our arms going front, back, front, back, as our feet moved forward. Despite the surrounding noise, I could almost hear her heartbeat as I felt the pulse on her wrist. My own heart, usually beating fast, must have slowed down to match hers. Not intentionally; she had this effect on me without her realizing it. The music greeted us even before we came across the string quartet playing on a platform in front of Tangs. The tune was light, but the acoustics of the complex amplified the sounds. Without releasing my hand, she turned to face me and lay her free hand on my chest. I stopped walking with my right foot in midair. If her hand on my chest was causing my heart to flutter, the look on her slightly cocked head almost made it burst. "I know this song," she said behind her wide smile. Even with the slightly crooked canines, no one else could compare to that perfect smile. "I know this." "Endless love." She swatted my chest. I barely felt it, but my heart did a stumble. "Ouch." I winced, crinkling my nose for added dramatic effect. "Not fair. I wanted to say it first." Her voice was soft, a feather floating in the wind. I loved the silence between us, but more than that, I loved hearing her voice. "Sorry." From the smile on her face mirroring mine, I could tell she wasn't buying my apology. "Make it up to me." I groaned. My reaction this time was genuine. "Agh...you're not gonna make me try on women's hats again, are you?" "Tempting, but no." "Then?" "Dance with me." My jaw must have dropped, because she suddenly burst out laughing. I looked around us. The hallway was almost packed. A small crowd had gathered around the musicians, listening to their rendition of the beautiful song. "Dance? Here? Now?" "Why not? We're not breaking any laws." "Yeah right." "Come on. Dance with me." "You know I can't dance." "I can't dance too but that's not stopping me." Her smile was fading fast. I could see disappointment forming on her face from her furrowing eyebrows. "I mean..." I started, not knowing exactly how to react. "I'm not so sure it's a good idea." She sighed. She didn't pout; this light of my life never pouted, and only rarely allowed her anger or disappointment to surface. "You're right. It's a bad idea." She turned and started walking. I saw her shoulders slumping a fraction. My eyes trailed down to her left hand, which was still holding mine. With a sigh of my own, I jerked my hand back, pulling hers in the process. She turned with a high-pitched yelp. I caught her before she could straighten her legs, and encircled my left forearm around the small of her back. My feet started moving with the beat of the music. I was moving at the same spot, one foot lifting after the other. Before I knew it, she was resting her face on my shoulder, moving in perfect rhythm with me. I didn't have to look at her to feel her smiling. People were looking at us, some even pointing their fingers. Maybe there was approval in some faces. Maybe there was disapproval too. I drowned it all by closing my eyes. In that moment, there was only me, her, and the music. In that moment, our hearts were beating as one.