Tender Moments

That Saturday afternoon was perfect for postcards -- brilliant sky, clouds scattered like streaks of white paint, and the sun beaming down with all its glory. I hated it. In postcards you don't get to feel the heat coming from the sky, from the streets, and reflected off buildings. My T-shirt slurped with every movement, and beads of sweat trickled down the small of my back.

"Min, c'mon." Jin-Wei beckoned me to cross the street, where the pedestrian light had just turned green.

I hated the heat, but I loved hanging out with Jin-Wei more. There was no contest. I took his hand and we ran like children, laughing, even though there was ample time left for us to cross. People turned and gave us a funny look. Both of us were sixteen; we had a right to act like children whenever we felt like it.

Jin-Wei didn't let go of my hand even after we made it across the street. God, his skin was so much fairer than mine, almost pale, and I'm fair for a Malay girl. Such contrast to the leather bands he wore around his wrist. He had a firm grip, but gentle at the same time. I could feel the calluses at his fingertips, but the rest of his palm was soft. The checkered shirt he wore, it was my birthday gift to him. He shouldn't have worn it in this heat, but somehow he loved the shirt.

"What?"

"What what?" I asked him back.

Jin-Wei grinned. "You were staring at my head."

"I like your new haircut." It suited him. Short at the sides, messy on top.

"Twelve ringgit. Not bad, huh?" He was still grinning.

"Where are we going? Please tell me there's air-conditioning."

"You're cute when you whine, you know that?"

I stopped and stuck my tongue out.

"C'mon. It's not that far."

We weaved through a throng of humanity along Petaling Street. I couldn't figure out why people wanted to walk about in this heat. Those who didn't wear shades narrowed their eyes to slits. The streets were no less busy. Honks blared, motorcycles sped by, and buses spluttered black exhaust clouds. I kept close to Jin-Wei and kept my own grip firm. I didn't want to lose him in this forest of strangers.

Jin-Wei stopped in front of a shop that must have been built long before Malaysia got its independence. The white paint had peeled off in patches. Guitars covered most of the walls, from shades of brown to colorful ones (there was even a pink guitar). As if the place wasn't crowded enough, I saw at least four pianos crammed at the back.

Jin-Wei raised his free hand to greet a bald man with thick glasses sitting behind the counter. His Pagoda T-shirt looked worn. "Hi, Uncle."

"Aiyah, you said you'd come last week." He looked more like a grandpa than an uncle, even though I was pretty sure he and Jin-Wei weren't related, their exchange told me Jin-Wei frequented this shop. "Who's this leng loi?"

I knew enough Cantonese to understand "pretty girl". I must have blushed, because both the old man and Jin-Wei grinned.

"Min, this is Uncle Chan. Uncle, this is my girlfriend. You replaced the tuning keys?"

"Long time ago. You sure you don't want a new guitar?"

"Nah. They don't sound right."

I suddenly felt out of place. This was Jin-Wei's private world, and I felt like an intruder. I didn't belong here. "I'm going to wait outside."

My anxiety must have shown because Jin-Wei immediately stepped behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. "Don't. I want to show you something. Uncle, like usual?"

The old man returned to reading his newspaper and gave a lazy wave.

"C'mon." Jin-Wei led me toward the back of the shop. He stopped in front of an upright piano. He pointed at the bench with his chin. I could make out a shadow of a stubble on his otherwise smooth face. "Sit down."

I did as he asked, not knowing what was happening, and he plopped down beside me. He flexed his fingers and spread them on the keyboard.

"I thought you play the guitar?" I hooked my hair with my fingers and let it rest in front of my right shoulder.

"I like it when you do that."

"What?"

"Play with your hair when you're nervous."

"I don't--" Then I realized I was still combing my hair with my fingers.

"Anyway, I'm the only child in a Chinese family. Of course I play more than one instrument." Somehow he didn't sound cocky when he said this. "Promise me you won't laugh." Jin-Wei closed his eyes, bit his bottom lip, and launched into a song that I immediately recognized.

What I didn't expect was his voice.

 

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand

Jin-Wei's voice was light and pure. He pulled me in and held me in a thrall.

I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete

Nothing else existed, only his voice, his dimpled cheeks, and his endless lashes. I stopped moving. The world stopped moving. Only the song existed.

Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?

Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
So why don't we go

This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know

This could be the end of everything,
So why don't we go,
Somewhere only we know,
Somewhere only we know,
Somewhere only we know.

He sang the last two lines without playing the piano, his voice a soft whisper, his eyes closed. Only after he finished did I realize I had been crying.

"That was--"

Jin-Wei bit his bottom lip again. "I wanted to play you the song at a fancy restaurant somewhere, but--"

"That was perfect." And it was. Jin-Wei had brought me to his secret place, and he had sung for my ears alone. I could not have asked for more.

He took my hand and held it close to his lips. "I'm glad you like it." He smiled and kissed the back of my hand.

I saw myself reflected in his eyes, and he must have seen himself reflected in mine, because his dimples deepened.

 

 

 

Comments

[John Ling]

Great story, Fadz. What inspired you to write this?

[Fadzlishah Johanabas]

Thanks, John <3.

Tender Moments are romantic slices of life. To me they're not full stories, as they don't have the conventional 'beginning-middle-end'.

I always find people singing for their loved ones highly romantic. And even though I can't play the piano, I sometimes imagine doing just that :P.

Well, that's how this story took shape.