Beautiful Sunset

Been doing some reading online during my free time, and mainly because a friend introduced me to books by this author Low Kay Hwa, a Singapore author.

He has created 7 books and each book narrates stories in Singapore, although it may be fictional books, but it really touches my heart, every book of it.

An extract from "Journey", a story about a mother and her daughter,

When I was fifteen, my mother increased my daily allowance to three dollars and fifty cents a day.

That was still not enough. I would go clubbing every fortnight and it was embarrassing to have only ten bucks in my wallet. Sometimes, some guys would treat me to a drink. I would accept and, then, when they requested for my phone number, I gave them Joyce’s number. Joyce was one of my nemeses in school and I hated her to the core. She had to be one of the fattest human beings in the world.

I had a fling with one of the guys in the club. His name is John. All we did was to hold hands. He smoked and rode a sports bike, which I thought was cool. I did not dare sit on his bike, but whenever I saw him riding, I was immersed by his coolness.

We broke off two weeks later when I refused to let him kiss my lips. I, then, started to tell my friends that I had just dumped a guy who smoked and rode. The enviousness in their eyes was priceless.

“Why do I smell smoke on your top?” one of the weekend evenings, my mother asked me. She, then, shoved a top to me.

The top was pink and branded. I held it close to my nose and inhaled. It did reek of cigarette smoke. It must be John’s smoke.

“My friend smoked. I didn’t.”“Stay away from those idiots, I’m telling you.” My mother glared at me and snatched the top from me. The top nearly tore. “You hear me? Stay away from those idiots. I want you to be home by eight every night, from now on. You understand?”

I grasped the top from her and examined it for tears. This top was an expensive gift from Teresa and, according to my other friend, Clare, it costs over fifty dollars!

“You hear me?” my mother shouted.I did not care about her shouting. I continued to comb for any tears in my top. She would have to pay me fifty dollars if I find any tears!

“Ah girl!” my mother grabbed the top from me. I did not let go. We struggled and when I heard some tearing sound, I released my grip. My mother stepped back and nearly lost her footing. There was a tear at the shoulder of the top.

“Mama, you spoil my top! I want you to pay!”My mother tossed the top away. It landed on the floor. “I want you to stay away from-”

“You only give me three dollars and fifty cents a day and you want to control me?”

My mother glared at me wordlessly.

“My friends’ mothers gave them one hundred dollars a week! Twenty dollars a day! And, they gave them freedom-”

“Don’t compare those idiots with you! Don’t compare those idiots with me! We’re all different! You and I!”

“You’re not fit to be a mother! Go serve coffee! Go! You earn what? A thousand a month? Teresa’s mother earned eight thousand a month! You lazy bum!” I turned off and walked towards my room in big steps.

“Stop right there!”

I hesitated. She might be increasing my allowance. I halted and waited.

“Why will you need more money? Huh? Listen well. I earn a thousand dollars a month. One hundred goes to the bills. One hundred goes to your insurance. One hundred goes to the household expenses. Four hundred for the housing loan to HDB. One hundred for you. One hundred for our transport and other things. You see? You get one hundred dollars every month just for your lunch. I, myself, get one hundred dollars every month for my breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

I shook my head. She was not going to increase my allowance. I snored, “You’d better give me fifty dollars tomorrow for tearing my branded top. If not…” I thought for a while. “I’ll move out.” I said, went into my room and slammed the door. The door nearly broke.

After a few more chapters, the next extract that continues the story,

A fifteen-year old girl’s wardrobe will usually consist of clothes that cost less than twenty dollars. When I was fifteen, I had only one branded top. It was a Guess pink top that Teresa, my primary-to-secondary school buddy, had bought for me as my birthday gift. However, during one quarrel with my mother, she accidentally tore it and I did not speak to her for more than a week.

One of the days, during recess time, I told Teresa about it. “My mother accidentally tore the Guess top that you bought for me last month. That bloody hell bitch. Anyway, don’t buy Guess top anymore. They tear easily.”

“Oh, that?” Teresa said and then stroked her chin. “That’s not a real Guess top! I bought it at Bangkok for only five dollars! Come on, you should know, right? Look at the label at the back of the top. It wrote “Guess Jean”. An authentic Guess top will have the wording “Guess Jeans”! With the ‘s’!”

I did not know what to say. Teresa bought a non-authentic top for me and she seemed indifferent to it? The bell rang after that. I did not speak to Teresa for the rest of the day. But, on the next day, when Teresa helped me buy drinks during our recess time, I broke my cold war with her and forgot about the non-authentic top that she had bought for me.

A few days later, when I went home, I saw a pink Guess top lying neatly on my bed. I felt the texture. There was no more tear near the shoulder area. My mother managed to sew the top back? But, it looked so new.

Then, I looked at the wordings on the label at the back of the top. “Guess Jeans”. With the ‘s’.

“Tell me if it doesn’t fit. It is exchangeable. But, the transport there is very expensive. No buses stop there; I can only reach there by MRT. By the way, it’s seventy-five dollars, not fifty dollars. That idiot just won’t give me any discount, no matter how hard I bargained. Very, very stubborn.”

I wheeled. My mother was standing at the threshold of my room door with her arms folded. I just nodded and held up the top. It looked perfect.

When my mother went off, I just stared, stared and stared at the top for more than ten minutes.

Now, I understood why my mother, for the past few days, had been skipping dinner. I did not know if I should cry or laugh.

Doesn't this really touch your heart, I mean after reading this, I could totally feel like I'm the daughter in the story, being rude and not showing any LOVE to my mum at all......

Extracted from: Low Kay Hwa's "Journey"

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