I Need a Lesson

I could have sworn that that was the worst thing that had ever happened in my life. Nothing is more terrifying and dangerous than meeting a drunk racist who did not stop calling you a ‘dog’ while you were walking passed a shabby little bar. It was the biggest mistake of my life, ever. I should have waited for that number ‘19’ bus to come and fetch me instead of following my friend to her house.

That night, it was cold. Dense spiralling water vapour escaped from my mouth as my chapped lips opened to utter the word ‘thank you’ at the young bus driver. He nodded the nod that no one could see but him. Focus. Cold night air touched my face again. I gulped a lungful of the cold air. It tasted sorrow and fear. My numb fingers traced the hard surface of the fabric as I zipped up my windcheater jacket. Here I was standing in the middle of a dead town when five means the closing time for every shop at every nook and cranny. Only two shops were still illuminated with pale fluorescent lamps – a liquor shop and what appeared to be a 24/7 convenience store. My second autumn yet the verb ‘adapt’ seemed so alien to my life dictionary. This was how it started and this will be exactly how it will end. I shall never ever be able to fathom the British’s life.

Fingers counting as I waited for my friend to come out from the bus. A girl in pale grey sweater emerged with bags from Topshop and River Island.  Jane gave me that smile of knowing, that smile of familiarity, that certain smile that said it all.

‘Do you always do that?’ I asked and my tone was sour.

‘Do what? This?’ She beamed and this time it was followed by laughter. ‘Oh, come on. Get over it. Why don’t you just drop by at my house? The next bus won’t come not until 30 minutes to 8,’ she continued and placed an assuring pat on my shoulder.

My faces sullen and stiffened as two hooded guys walked pass us.

‘I think we better get going and hey, I never blame you for missing the bus. I’m just tired…you know that p-thing?’ I lied but she knew too well that I was not being honest. Four years of friendship that had taught her so much about me.

She coughed and followed me slowly as we made our way to her house. Silently and almost like a whisper she asked me a rhetorical question, ‘Don’t tell me that you still can’t get over that fear? Honey, just spit it out.’

‘I can’t Jane. I can’t forget what they did to us. Can’t you just understand what I’d been through? They almost kill my friend with a huge stone!’

‘He’s my friend too but…’

‘But what? That his life was meaningless and he doesn’t deserve to live because he’s Chinese? That’s so funny! I thought we’re best friends and you never see me differently.’

‘I am not. Hold on. You guys just at the wrong place and at the wrong time. They’re completely drunk. Lala, please listen to me,’ she tried to grab my hand and she pulled me into her warm embrace. Warm tears pelted on my cheeks as they rolled down and formed two thin lines before disappearing. I cried the pain in my chest. Gush of emotions floated and filled the air with flavours.

‘I am sorry. It’s my entire fault…’ we walked slowly and I avoided my gaze from looking at the red-haired girl. Her hair was donned into perfect French plait. I felt guilty for my sudden outburst. I was selfish and an ingrate. Flustered, I quickened my pace and left her behind.

‘Anjing!’ a shaky voice trailed me.

I turned in disbelief. That means a dog in Malay. That was impossible. Cloaked in utter confusion and hatred, a man in his late sixties glared at me. ‘Anjing,’ strong smell of whisky filled the air. He was clad in khaki shirt and his hair was dishevelled. What a poor guy.

I ignored him as a little thought that he was just another sad product of a community crept into my mind. I did not blame him for being so pathetic. Jane finally caught up with me and breathed heavily.

‘Don’t look behind’ she said in panic. I turned my head. ‘Just don’t.’ but it was too late. This was like a deja-vu. I felt sick as my stomach lurched forward. This must not be happening. ‘Fuck.’

‘Flee or fight?’ Jane asked me.

‘Do we have to? I choose the third.’

‘And what’s the third choice?’

I smiled. I must face my fear. After all, everybody is racist.