I was lost for words. Sometimes, I wondered if everything had been a plot. How could he still be so jovial when he knew he would be dying soon?
“Go for the surgery,” I advised.
“Curse me then.”
“Go for the—”
“Curse me. You can do it. Curse me, and I’ll go for it.”
What could I say? It was like he asking me to kill him. But if I don’t curse him, and he doesn’t go for the surgery, the chance of his survival is zero. However, if I cursed him…
“I’m going to wake up. Trust me. I’m going to prove to you that your curses are nothing but a simple mental illness. I’m going to prove you that. Come on, curse me. If not, I’ve only got a few more months to live.”
You’ll die with my curse! My curses are curses, not a simple mental illness!
I was put in the most difficult position in my life. Both decisions, to curse or not to curse, would kill Jacky. I felt like running around the room, screaming at the top of my voice.
“You don’t fuck around with my curse,” I said softly and took out my pack of Marlboro, but it was empty. Throwing it to a side, I whipped out my lighter and tossed it away as well. I needed a puff of nicotine desperately. “Would you really wake up?” I asked. What a stupid question. I must have lost control of myself. My lips were shaking and I felt like jumping onto Jacky and slapping his face a million times.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I did not let out my breath, staying in that position for a long period. When I finally exhaled, I began to say something.
“Then, you bastard, you fucking bastard, you’re not going to wake up once you have undergone the surgery. You’re going to get into a deep coma, and then you will die.”
I said that.
I had just cursed Jacky to death.
Oh, fuck you, Joanna Fung Wai Gwan.
17
I washed away my tears at the sink. I did not dare look in the mirror, for in the reflection stood a murderer.
Jacky is dying.
I suddenly wanted to talk to someone, but whom could I talk to? I had only Grandma to talk to, but I did not feel that it was appropriate to talk to her about this. She, too, believed that it was a mental illness.
In the end, with my eyes still swollen from the crying, I went back to the room. Jacky smiled when he saw me, waving the book Destiny’s Cries. “Nice book, isn’t it?”
I said nothing. I sat beside him, confused over what I had done. My curses always come true, right? Always …
“Look at you. You’ve cried so much that your eyes are like tomatoes. Come, let me tell you a joke. Remember that day?”
Which day is he referring to? He spoke as if I could remember every day.
“You know, that day, when I went on stage and said a joke, and you didn’t laugh?”
Oh. That silly day.
“You weren’t listening to me that day, right? Okay, I’m going to do an encore of it. You remain seated.” He pushed his blanket away. I was blinking fast, feeling an unusual pain in my eyes. Before I knew it, he was standing on his bed. His legs were trembling.
“What the—” I pushed my chair away. “Come down! What are you doing? It’s dangerous!”
“Miss Joanna Fung, sit down, if not, I’ll stand here till you sit down. Now, I’m going to repeat my performance on 27 March 2001!”
I sank into my seat. He still remembers the exact date? Gosh. He’s…amazing.
“There was once a matchstick that scratched its head. Then it died.”
I could not believe he was doing all this. The joke was funny—in fact, very funny—but I was in no mood to laugh. Before I could say anything, he pointed at me and said, “Someone didn’t laugh. That girl didn’t laugh.” Then he jumped a step, lowered his eyebrows and raised his voice’s pitch. “Which girl?” Again, he jumped a step and said in his normal voice, “That girl with glasses and long hair.” In a high-pitched voice: “You mean the girl with tied hair?” His voice: “Yeah, that’s the one. She never laughs!” High-pitched voice: “Joanna! You didn’t laugh?”
Finally, he jumped one more step and clapped. He seemed to be more energetic, but he was panting softly. He stared intently at me, and this time he said very softly, “Joanna, can you please wake up from your dreams and laugh at my joke? I beg you.”
I lay back on my seat and started shaking with an uncontrollable laugh. He was replaying that day so brilliantly, as if we had taken a trip back in time. Suddenly, I could smell the scent on that very day: the laughter of my classmates, my anger when he pointed at me and the embarrassment when I “laughed” sarcastically. It all came back like a beautifully preserved memory.
Jacky seemed exhausted. He beamed weakly and, slowly, lay back on the bed. Beads of sweat were escaping from his forehead.
“You laughed,” he said, almost breathlessly. “You laughed. That’s nice. It’s been so long since I heard you laughing. Can you do me a favour?”
Actually, I knew exactly what he was going to say next. Still, I asked, “What?”
“Laugh more often.”
“I want you to hear my laugh,” I said. I was shaking my head, biting my teeth. That bastard. If he survives, I’m willing to do even a hundred favours for him. “So, just…survive.”
“Okay, I promise. You promise as well, okay?” He whipped out his last finger. “Promise me you’ll laugh so often that people will think you’re crazy?”
We entwined our little fingers. “I promise.”
You silly boy, just survive.
* * *
On Saturday, I went to the hospital early in the morning. As I had expected, Jacky was sleeping. So I peeled an apple for my breakfast and before I could take a bite, I heard his voice.
“Ah, an apple for breakfast. How nice.” He held out his hand, as if waiting for me to pass him the apple.
I gave it to him. Soon after that, we started chatting. I tried not to talk about the surgery, but somehow, in the midst of the chat, I still blurted it out.
“It’s an easy operation,” he told me, his face beaming with confidence. “They’ll just drill a hole in my head, pull out the rock and sew my head back.”
I said nothing and so he reached for the drawer. I helped him open it and saw a familiar watch inside. “Can you take out the watch?” His hand was shaking. Gosh oh gosh. I suddenly remembered what the doctor once said.
“He’s slowly losing his ability to coordinate his movements due to the cancer cells in his cerebellum. Just don’t let him do strenuous movements.”
I held the watch. It was the watch that he had given me for my birthday: the watch that I had thrown away in anger. Yet, it still looked so new, as if it had just been cleaned.
“I really needed to pee that day. That’s why I ran off in such a hurry. I wasn’t embarrassed!”
“Okay, I believe you.”
“And, er…remember the twenty dollars that I owe you?”
“Twenty dollars?”
“Yeah. That day when I needed a taxi to go home. Look, my wallet is—”
“Can you return it to me after your surgery?” I interrupted. “Please.”
He shrugged, laughing. “Okay. Gosh, I’ll wake up with many debts.”
“Just one.”
“I also promised my mother that I’ll return her with a lifetime of love after I’ve woken up.”
“Oh.”
Can you also return me with a lifetime of love after you’ve woken up?
* * *
Someone once told me the longest wait is not created by the amount of time passed, but by your mind.
I was sitting beside Jacky, peeling another apple. He could not eat, for he would be undergoing the surgery in an hour’s time. I took a bite out of my apple and understood why he was so keen on eating these apples: The taste was a balanced combination of sweet and sour. So it was not because of the fact that I was the one who peeled it. Shit.
Shit?
Jacky was an obvious victim of cancer: His eyelids drooped as if he had not slept for days. He must have lost at least three kilogrammes within a week.
“One more hour,” he whispered. Or, maybe, he was shouting. That was his loudest voice.
“One more hour,” I replied.
And so, we spent the next thirty minutes chatting about anything and everything. He told me about his mother, and I thanked him for bringing Grandma back into my life.
“I didn’t do much. She was always beside you. You just didn’t notice her till now.”
As usual, he was that modest. Suddenly, he asked, “Can I hold your hand?”
I blushed and did not reply. However, my right hand automatically reached for him.
“Wait for me, okay?”
I nodded.
“I’ll be back. So, don’t you run off! I’m still the sun, shining on you, the flower. I’ll be back once the cloud moves away. Wait, just wait, okay?”
I turned my head to prevent him from seeing my teary eyes. A nurse came in, and for that moment I wanted to spew expletives at the nurse. But I stopped myself and turned to Jacky.
“Hello, you silly bastard, you better come back. Even if you’re in hell or heaven, or any other place, you better come back here. Because I’ll…” I could not continue. I paused, gave myself a breather, and whispered sincerely, “I’ll be here, waiting for you.”
He let go of my hand and used a finger to poke my hand. It was his last finger, urging me to shake it. I held out my last finger as well and, once again, our little fingers entwined.
“I promise.”
“I promise, too.”
After he was wheeled off, I experienced the longest wait in my life.
18
I tried to kill time by counting my breaths, but it was the dumbest thing to do. I gave up after my hundredth breath.
I was waiting backstage, looking at plays staged by other classes. One of the classes did so well that the audience gave a standing ovation at the end of their performance. I wondered if ours would also cause such a stir.
The wait was finally over. The emcee announced my class name, and the front curtain was lowered. AVA crew rushed onto the stage out of nowhere to position the microphones and other props to our desired positions. I was expecting the break to last for more than two minutes; but before I knew it, two AVA members raised the front curtain and a round of applause rang across the hall.
Johnny said something on stage, and when I heard a loud thump, I took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage. A few people in the audience oohed and aahed. I continued strolling forward until I was just in front of Johnny. His eyes were closed.
Slowly, I knelt beside him and held his head.
“I want Joanna to be Juliet. J for Joanna.”
* * *
Everyone sat outside the operating room, just like the scenes from those melodramatic Channel 8 drama serials.
Jacky’s mother, with her arms folded, sat closest to the door. My classmates were all close to a vending machine. I was sitting farthest from the door. I had told them to leave me alone, for I knew that words could no longer calm my burning soul.
Memories of Jacky lingered in my mind. I imagined what would happen five hours later: Would I be dancing with happiness, or would I be crying in depression?
Half an hour passed, but it felt like half a century. The lobby was so quiet and scary that nurses dared not walk past us unless there was a real need to. I took out my pack of Marlboro—to the surprise of my classmates—and began to unwrap it. I did not smoke there, of course.
Another fifteen minutes passed. I clasped my hands, my mind defeated by fear. For the last seventeen years, I had not believed in the man above us. My gaze ascended to the door. With my body stiff, I closed my eyes and prayed.
God, if you’re up there, do me a favour. Just this favour, please.
* * *
The song played loudly in the background. Someone on the stage was singing along, but her voice sucked, compared to Trademark’s melodic voices. I stared at Johnny’s closed eyes.
“Wake up,” I whispered, my voice amplified by the microphone clipped on my collar. “Wake up, wake up, please. I beg you, just wake up. You’ve made so many promises. So many. You remember? The day we held hands. The day our fingers entwined. Don’t die on me, Romeo. Don’t leave me alone here! Please!”
Johnny had no response. I snapped my fingers, and the song played again. Beside me was a glass of green tea that I had drunk for more than fifty times during rehearsals.
Jacky, where’s my soya bean milk?
“Please. Stay with me. I love you. That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me, isn’t it? I love you…”
* * *
After an hour passed, I read the SMSes Jacky had sent me 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…
He said that there was a hidden message in it. What message? I read it again, and again, and again. It did not make sense until I wrote it down on a piece of paper once more.
Gosh. I dropped the phone and the pen. I dropped my head, and I nearly dropped on the floor. It was then that I realized what he had been trying to say. It all made so much sense. So much sense! You idiot…you better wake up!
I jumped up and dashed towards the door of the operating room, my heart pounding wildly. A few of my classmates caught me by my arms and shoulders. I continued to struggle towards the door, but they held me back.
“What’re you doing?” they demanded.
I tried to wrench myself free, but their combined strength was too great for me. Eventually, I gave up to the wrath of reality and went to my knees. Jacky’s mother was still holding on to a calm expression.
I looked at my watch: the watch that Jacky had given me. An hour more before the surgery ends. I looked around the lobby, and surprised faces were all staring at me. I kept my feelings in check and went back to my seat, clasping my hands again, praying for him again.
Jacky, you’d better wake up. I’ve decoded your message. Silly you!
* * *
“Come on, wake up. Everyone wants a happy ending. Wake up, wake up…” My face was peppered with real tears. I could hear a few soft sobs in the audience, followed by a few “wows”. My performance must have been very impressive.
I grabbed the cup of green tea. “Poison…” I said, staring at it as if it would change colour. “Poison. What for I live if you’re not around? I live because of you. Now that you’re gone…” I suddenly remembered that I should add in some Singlish discourse particles to inject humour into the play. Comedians, I later realized, were the bravest people in the world. “No use liao. I’ll die then!”
No one laughed. Instead, I heard more people crying.
I downed the green tea in one smooth feat. Soon after that, I was lying beside Johnny. A few seconds later, Johnny stirred, and I felt him holding my head gently. I did not concentrate on what he said, for my part was already over. When he screamed, he lay on my back and the song was played again.
“But only love can say
Try again or walk away
But I believe
For you and me
The sun will shine one day
So I’ll just play my part
And pray you’ll have a change of heart
But I can’t make you see it through
That’s something only love can do…”
Is there something only love can do? When everything fails, should I turn to love?
* * *
I did not pick up my handphone, nor did I pick up the sheet of paper on the floor. I was rooted to my seat and, when I looked at
my hand, I realized I was trembling non-stop.
When my first tear splashed onto the paper, I clutched my hand. At my tenth tear, the door opened, and almost everyone stood up except me. I lifted my head slowly and stared at the scene in front of me. This was the moment I had been waiting for, yet I suddenly did not feel like knowing the truth. It was better to hold on to a hope than to know the truth.
The doctor came out first. There were dark rings around his eyes—a victim of lack of sleep. As he talked to Jacky’s mother, he shook his head once. Then Jacky’s mother cupped her face, and the doctor tapped her shoulder softly.
I dropped my head backwards and felt a sharp pain on my skull.
Fuck. No...you bastard, you promised! You fucking promised me that you’ll wake up! You promised!
The doctor whispered something to her and then pointed to the room. I was trying to read his lips, but he was too fast. Jacky’s mother then revealed her face—the fierce woman was crying. She stared at the doctor, then shook her head softly, mumbling something. A few minutes later, the doctor pointed to a nurse and walked off.
The nurse said something to Jacky’s mother. My classmates all crowded around, their expressions a fusion of fear. I ruffled my hair and closed my eyes. I had never felt my heart beating so fast before.
“Jacky,” I whispered, so soft and beautiful that I wondered if anything came out from my mouth.
* * *
“Jacky is not only a classmate, not only a friend. He’s a role model, a leader’s leader, a mediator and the best person I’ve ever seen in my life,” Michael was saying. He put the sheet of paper he had been reading into his breast pocket and continued, “I only remember myself crying twice. Once was when I watched Titanic. And, the second time…”
The audience was so quiet that no one dared to cough. Michael finally squeezed a tear out from his left eye, and as he muttered softly into the microphone, he shut his eyes and did not open them for minutes.
“This is the third time.”
* * *
When I saw Michael stepping back, collapsing onto the nearest seat, I knew it was something really bad.
He cupped his face with his large hands and, when he jerked a few times, I knew the big man was crying. I confirmed it when tears seeped down his wrist. Michael was crying. Jacky’s mother was crying. All my classmates started to cry as well. The weaklings, the machos. It did not matter, because no one gave a damn when that could mean a brave man leaving us.