LI | Picnic
❦
Today
is going to be
a bad day.
It’s Sunday afternoon.
I just woke up.
Rowan’s been awake for six hours,
gone to church,
eaten both breakfast and lunch,
sat through a sermon,
sang christian karaoke,
smiled at many people.
My mother
is the only person
I’ve seen so far
(and only her backside),
she was leaving my room
after shaking me awake
saying she won’t be
home
tonight.
I close my eyes,
try to go back to sleep
so I don’t have to
go for the stupid church picnic.
Why did I agree to it
in the heat of the moment?
So sly.
Rowan is so sly.
My text to Rowan:
I’LL BE LATE.
Her reply:
DON’T BE.
KUMAR’S GOING CUZ HE’S HELPING MY DAD
WITH THE CHICKEN RICE.
I’m not grinning
at my phone
on the train
because of this message.
I’m just stretching
my mouth muscles
because I’ll have to make
meet people I don’t want to see.
KUMAR CAN TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF.
DUN WORRY ABOUT HIM
N JUST THINK BOUT ME.
BUS LEAVES AT 3PM
SHARP.
UR SECOND DATE SUGGESTION WILL OSO BE
FORFEIT AT 3PM.
My idea
for our next date
excites me.
At the mention
of it,
I continue
stretching my mouth muscles.
IT WON’T BE.
UR SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO IT.
A pause.
Then, a quick reply.
YES I AM.
SO DON’T BE LATE.
❦
Rowan’s church
is no different
from the one
I was brought to
as a kid
by some obsessively religious friend.
Everyone’s smiling,
the air is light
(definitely fake),
too many white-haired folk.
These are the kind of people
who’ll ask
uncomfortable
questions.
Little children
run around
like cockroaches that scream.
There’s people my age,
(Rowan’s talking to a group of guys)
but looking at them
from afar
seems good enough.
I’m aware
that compared to them
I’m not good
for Rowan.
But she’s still
running
across the corridor
at me.
Her face flushed,
sweat along
her hairline,
matted her baby hairs
on her forehead.
I rub her head with a grin.
She winces,
closing one eye,
pushing my hand
away.
‘People are watching.’
‘You’re flirting with other people.’
‘You’re late.’
There’s affection in her eyes.
‘The bus isn’t here yet leh.’
It’s gone now.
That affection.
She drags me along
to be introduced
to her church friends.
I don’t remember any of the names.
I won’t be seeing them again.
Her church is
nothing
fantastic.
A shoddy version
of a condo’s clubhouse
with too many chairs.
One boy in particular,
wearing
a long-sleeved jersey
and knee-high socks,
randomly starts asking me
about school
other compulsory life questions.
I’m saved
when Kumar appears,
then doomed
when he begins
talking to them like he’s known them
all his life.
Somehow I drag Kumar away
from his ‘new friends’
(by reminding him he’s
supposed to be working)
and we look for Rowan,
surrounded by many plastic containers
of chicken rice.
‘So much chicken rice!’
Rowan’s brother grins.
‘Eh, Clyde! You really came!’
Great.
Another annoying pest.
I check my phone.
It’s only 3.14pm.
The picnic ends at 7pm.
Still
a
long
way
to
go.
❦
