Finally, lunch break came and that was the most awkward moment as we always had our lunch together. I bought my own food and sat alone, wondering if he would still join me. One of my classmates sat beside me and I glared at her. She stared at me and walked off.
Jacky was at the drinks stall. Will he buy me my drink? I eyed my food, trying to stop myself from looking at him. Then, a familiar deep voice: “Here’s your drink. Soya bean milk.”
I looked up. There he was, Jacky Wu, sitting beside me. I just stared at him, dumbfounded. He smiled and then ate his food. I did the same thing. A few awkward minutes passed.
“I’ll pick you up next Tuesday morning. I’ve planned my application for an official break from the school.”
“Okay.”
Okay? What was I thinking? Landy, help me. Landy, I’m mad. Landy…
“Good. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the morning sun from an angle other than from the school on a weekday. I’m so excited.”
I nodded. I must have been crazy. I felt so much like overturning the table and giving him a tight slap on his face. Yet, I just sat there, agreeing and nodding to everything he said. It was like I had lost control of myself. I must have been mad. I must be!
“Great,” he said. “You received my SMSes yesterday?”
I nodded again.
“All of them? There’s a hidden message. Can you decode it?”
I shrugged. What is he talking about?
“Have you deleted the SMSes?”
I nodded. If I said otherwise, he might get the idea that I had stored every SMS that he sent me.
“Oh, okay,” he said and then continued with his food. “Read some of Dan Brown’s books. The Da Vinci Code, Deception Point and Angels & Demons. Most importantly, read Digital Fortress. It’s a novel about breaking codes.” He smiled and then suddenly laughed for no reason. “However, reading them won’t help you break the code.”
Was that a joke? If so, it was just so not funny.
* * *
Hidden message?” Landy was saying, looking at the SMSes. “Has he read The Da Vinci Code too many times?”
“Beats me.” I had written down all the SMSes on a sheet of paper. “Maybe he’s just trying to be funny. He’s always funny. But his jokes are not funny.”
“Yeah, maybe that’s why you like him.”
I ignored her and stared at all the SMSes again.
“I’m sorrie if I say anything wrong…you will still come for the appointment, won’t you? Let me fetch you on that day, okie? Only you can help yourself. come on, reply a yes… Vent your thoughts to others please…it’s the only way out. Ease your illusions! let me help… You’ve gotta go for it! Only you…yourself can help yourself… Understanding yourself is most important…”
Hidden message? Crap. But still, I spent an hour reading and rereading the SMSes. It did not make sense. If he had wanted to start a conversation, he should have thought of a better idea than saying that there was a hidden message in his SMSes. So silly.
8
I inspected the bright waiting area. There were many sofas along with some tables, and a few stacks of parenting magazines were resting on the tables.
Jacky approached me with two cups of plain water. A few parents were with their young children (most of them below five years old). “It’s so empty here,” I whispered, taking a sip of the water. If I had spoken in my normal voice, my voice would have carried throughout the entire waiting area.
The nurses at the counter were chatting with each other. A few doctors holding folders shuffled in and out of their room. I wondered which one of them would I be allocated to. The nurse had said “Dr Ong”.
“Joanna Fung?” I looked up. Out of nowhere, a tall young man was standing in front of me. He looked like a decent chap with his thick glasses and neatly gelled hairstyle. I stood up instantly and offered my hand for a handshake. “Come with me, would you?” He smiled. I turned and looked at Jacky. He winked at me and then relaxed on the sofa.
I was led into Room 15, with the name “Dr Ong Kim Leng” tagged on the door. The room had a sofa, a table with toys, a big whiteboard and a desk with a computer. Dr Ong motioned me to sit down. I looked around and realized that I should sit on the sofa. I had never sat on a sofa when I visited a general practitioner.
“Okay, Joanna, seventeen years old. Junior college student. National Junior College. Not bad.” He rolled his chair in front of me and pulled out a file with a pen. “Now, it’s only you and me. Just you, Joanna Fung, and me, Dr Ong.”
I nodded.
“So, whatever we say here, no one else is going to know. Okay? So we have a pact.”
I nodded again, this time nervous.
“I just want to let you know that coming here is the right choice. You know something is wrong, and you’re admitting it. Finally.”
I did not want to nod; but still, I did. He was very naggy.
“Okay then, let’s not waste time. So, come on, tell me what’s bothering you.”
Finally, I got to talk. I told him everything that I had told Jacky: the curse. Dr Ong was amazingly attentive: He kept on listening, and, while listening, he would write something on the file. Sometimes, he would draw something and ask me irrelevant questions.
“Tell me frankly, do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Are you happy while chatting with your best friend, Landy?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel if I tell you that you’re a very creative thinker?”
“I don’t know.”
Finally, after an hour, he closed his file. “Do you have any question for me?” he asked. I shook my head. “Okay then. What you’re suffering from is a mental illness called obsessive compulsive disorder, or OCD for short.”
I shrugged. I had never heard of that before.
“Before I go on to tell you what OCD is, I’ll give you a simple example. Have you seen people in toilets washing their hands almost every few minutes, rubbing their hands with soap till they tear their skin?”
I nodded. I had known someone like that during my secondary school days. She just kept on going to the toilet to wash her hands. I had always thought that she was just paying more attention to hygiene than us.
“You see, they’re also suffering from OCD. They feel that their hands are always dirty, so they have the urge to wash them again and again. They’re obsessed with the thought of dirty hands. And they wash their hands to make them feel better. That’s their compulsion.”
“And?”
“You’re also suffering from OCD. Your case is a bit different. You’re obsessed with the thought that you’re ‘cursed’; hence, you have the compulsion of not talking to others. It will make you feel better.”
Crap, I thought.
“You see, we’re always in a cycle of thoughts, feelings and behaviour. You have the thought of fear when talking to others, fearing that you might curse them. The fear is the feeling. So, your behaviour will be to avoid talking to them.”
I toyed with my fingers; I was not paying attention. He stood up and began to draw the cycle for me to see.
“We can’t drill a hole through your skull to change your thoughts. And, your feelings, your fears, are created by your thoughts. What you do, that is, your behaviour, is based on your feelings. So, we can only help to change your behaviour. Through a change in your behaviour, your thoughts and feelings will change as well. We’ll go through a therapy called cognitive behavioural therapy to change your behaviour. In other words, to be happy, you have to change the world or change your thinking. We can’t change the world for you. We’re here to change your thinking through changing the way you behave. When your behaviour—”
“Okay, so when can we start?”
Dr Ong stared at me, his eyes and mouth wide open. I must have been the first patient to accept his diagnosis and treatment so readily.
* * *
“Obsession disordering of…computing,??
? I explained to Jacky. “Eh, wait. OCD. Obsession computer disordering? I forgot the name. The short form is OCD.”
“Sounds like the company in RoboCop, OCP. And what is it all about?”
“I am obsessed with the ‘curse’. And I’m controlled by it. So, they’re trying to change my thinking—eh, no. Not thinking. They’re trying to change my behaviour. So that my thinking will change. And my feelings will change.”
“The thoughts-feelings-behaviour cycle. I’ve heard of it before.”
“Whatever,” I blurted. “And I’m supposed to meet this Mr Kam later. He’ll do a therapy on me. Change my behaviour. Change my thoughts. Change my feelings. Crap.”
I was prescribed with medication that cost about ten dollars. It was Fluoxetine, some sort of SSRI (as mentioned by Dr Ong) or, simply, an antidepressant.
We waited for another half an hour before Mr Kam came forward to greet me. He was in his forties with a lean build. He led me to another room, leaving Jacky alone again.
This time, the room was smaller. There were two small chairs, a small table and a desk. The walls were adorned with drawings by children less than ten years old. I sat on one of the chairs. “I’ve read your file. I know about your condition, but I would like to hear the whole story again from you.”
And once again, I revealed my curse. Amazingly, I had told three people about my curse within two weeks.
“Alright. OCD.” Mr Kam was not as friendly as Dr Ong. “This therapy involves doing something that you might find uncomfortable. We’ll, however, do it progressively. You think you can curse someone. So, come on. Curse me.”
I cupped my mouth, my eyes so wide open that I felt that the eyeballs would roll out. He is insane. He must be. I had never expected that the fourth person I had confided my secret to would ask me to curse him.
“Go on, curse me.”
“I really have the curse,” I said. “Don’t play these games.”
He pointed at his forehead. “It’s all in the mind, Joanna. Your thoughts. Your thoughts are telling you it’s wrong. But I want to prove your mind wrong instead. Curse me. When your behaviour changes, so will your thoughts and, eventually, your feelings. And then, you’ll be cured. Come on.”
I was thinking of Jacky. I wondered how he would react.
“No,” I said.
“Do you want to be cured?”
“I’m not sick. I’m cursed.”
“Trust me. Just this once. Just say that sentence. Prove me wrong.”
“I don’t want to ruin you!”
“You won’t. Curse me leniently then. We’ll do it slowly.”
“No, please…”
“Oh, come on! Don’t make me lure you with candies. You’re already seventeen.”
“Please don’t force me…”
“Come on!”
“Stop it…”
“Curse me!”
I could no longer take it. I stared at him, thought for a while, then said softly, “You’ll break your arm within this week.”
Mr Kam smiled. He must be sick in the mind. He is the sick one, not me. That sicko! Trouble-seeker. “Good, Joanna. How are you feeling now?”
I kept quiet for a while. “Guilty. I just want to say sorry in advance to you. I hope you’ve bought insurance.”
“Don’t worry, I’m insured. From a scale of one to one hundred, one being least anxious, one hundred being most anxious, how anxious are you feeling now?”
“Hundred,” I said. He showed me a sheet of paper with a table drawn on it and wrote something.
We chatted about irrelevant things for the next ten minutes. He told me the various kinds of obsessions or fears people had, like the fear of using a fork and the fear of crossing the road. I was kind of amused, yet at the same time amazed by these real-life stories. Mine did not seem serious compared to someone who was afraid of seeing anything that was green. After fifteen minutes, he asked me how anxious I was again. I said hundred once more. An hour later, he asked again and I said hundred. Mr Kam did not look pleased.
He got me another date to come back for the next therapy session. “I believe by then it won’t be one hundred.”
“Maybe more,” I said and went out to meet Jacky.
When I told him what I had done, he just smiled. He did not believe in my curse either. I will show him. I will show them just how powerful my curse is.
Gosh, can’t they understand me?
9
Sometimes, I thought, strange things happen.
After Mum’s death, I had not celebrated my birthday. I would spend the day daydreaming or watching television. Landy did know when my birthday was; but strangely, she never once made an effort to celebrate it with me.
However, that year, it was special. I had gone to school as usual; absorbed in the tutor’s voice, immersed in the countless tutorials and listening to Jacky’s snores. When school ended, Jacky approached me. He was half smiling and not looking into my eyes. That was the first time I saw embarrassment in him.
“Hi, Joanna, well…” He opened his bag and took out a wrapped box. It was rather small and the wrapping was done exquisitely. It was tied with a red ribbon. “Happy…happy bird—bird-day,” he said and held the box with both his hands towards me.
I took a step back, inspected the box and then eyed him. A long silence took over. Jacky’s head was still hanging low. After a few seconds, he bit his teeth and whispered, “Take it, quick! I’m going to pee if you don’t take it!”
Finally, I took the present. “Thanks,” I said. It was light and the box was hard. It had to be plastic.
“I’ve got to go,” he said and went off, leaving me alone with the box. “I’m not embarrassed! I’m really not embarrassed! I just need to pee! Just, just wear it every day lah!” he yelled as he was far away from me.
Hey, idiot, the toilet is not that direction.
I went home and, with Landy, we opened the present. It was a branded watch. From then on, I wore the watch almost every time I went out. It became part of my life.
That silly guy. What’s there to be embarrassed about?
* * *
Jacky accompanied me when I went for my next appointment with Dr Ong.
“How was the therapy with Mr Kam?” Dr Ong asked.
“I cursed him.”
Dr Ong did not seem worried. He wrote something on his file. “Good. Okay, I remember you once said you’ve got a best friend called Landy who is ‘immune’ to your curse?”
I nodded.
“Can you get her to meet me on your next appointment?”
“I don’t think there’s a need—”
“Doctor’s order. It will help a lot. Okay?”
I nodded reluctantly. When I told Jacky about it, he said he was eager about meeting Landy too. And I felt something. Like some minor anger, with Landy’s image.
Is that feeling…jealousy?
* * *
When more strange things happened, I knew my life had changed.
On one of the days, I woke up very early in the morning. Having nothing to do, I took out almost every food in the fridge. Then I took three slices of wholemeal bread and began to make a sandwich with all the fillings.
I completed my ten-centimetre-tall sandwich after fifteen minutes and packed it into a box. Before lunch break that day, I had intended to pass Jacky the sandwich. But Jacky, as usual, ran to his favourite stall the moment we were released, so as to be first in the queue. After we had finished our meal, I passed him the sandwich.
“You made it?”
I nodded, not looking at him. But I was curious to see his expression, so I stole a quick look at him, and I saw the most beautiful expression ever.
His eyes were red. He was munching the sandwich as if he had not eaten for days—when he had just finished a large bowl of noodles. He kept looking at me.
“Is it nice?” I asked.
“Too nice,” he said, and suddenly I could hear his breathing. He was blinking a lot f
aster, as if to fight any tear. Maybe from eating too much. “Too nice. Just too bloody nice.”
* * *
“You made a sandwich for him? But you’re such a lousy cook! I meant, two months ago, you tried cooking instant noodles with egg and you didn’t even bother to crack open the egg. Wait a moment.” Landy leaned forward to me. I could not tell whether she was serious or not. “Did you actually use bread to make the sandwich? Or did you use sand?”
I pushed her away and laughed. “Bread. And yeah, by the way, Dr Ong wants to see you.”
“Me?” Landy crossed and uncrossed her legs a few times. “Why me?”
“I don’t know. You’re my best friend. My only friend. Maybe that’s why.”
“Can I…not go?”
“Come on, go. You’ll be able to see Jacky.”
“Oh, I know it now,” Landy said, throwing a few Mentos sweets into her mouth. “Jacky here, Jacky there. Okay then, I’ll go for you. Tell me, is that Dr Ong handsome? Is he married?”
“I didn’t see a ring, so I think he’s single and available. He has a body of steel and a nuclear-powered mind. But be careful: He spent his campus life learning how to read people’s mind. You won’t wanna play with his heart.”
“I love challenges.”
* * *
I was having my breakfast that day in school with Jacky beside me when my handphone rang. It was a nurse from CGC. After confirming my identity, she said, “You’ve got an appointment with Mr Kam this afternoon, right?”
“Yes,” I said and looked at Jacky. He had stopped eating and was staring at me. Mr Kam was the therapist I had cursed not too long ago.
“Mr Kam is on sick leave. He’ll be back next month. I’ve checked with Dr Ong, your doctor. He said he’d appoint another therapist for you. You’ve an appointment with Dr Ong tomorrow, right? He’ll brief you more on that. Therefore, your appointment with Mr Kam for this afternoon is cancelled.”
I nodded; I had been expecting that. Jacky’s mouth was wide open, trying to read something from my expression. I must have been frowning.
“And yes, Dr Ong reminds you to bring your friends along.”
“Friends?” I asked. I thought it was just Landy?
“Yes, that’ll be…Miss Landy and Mr Jacky.”
Oh. Jacky is just a friend.
“I will. Will do. Thanks.”
After I had told Jacky everything, he shrugged and then smiled. “Dr Kam must have a very high fever.”