Win

by Kasturi Siva

"The possibilities are endless," he thought. He just needed one or two more "wins". Tonight maybe, if he was lucky. It was pasar malam night in one of the housing estates in the small town nearby, about thirty kilometres away from where he lived. There would be an endless number of makciks, mamis and ah pos weaving their way in and out of the stalls, clutching purses. Better yet were the ones who carried handbags, awkwardly, as if forced to use them to please their children who may have given it to them on their last birthday. He preferred handbags to purses. Strap ... that’s what he looked out for. Always made the job easier.

Later, after a "win", it always amused him how he would attempt to dispose of these bags. He thought about that stupid guy who was caught snatching handbags and was splashed all over the papers, the one who kept all the women’s identity cards. "What an idiot," he thought. "Did he think they were mementos of his skills, like headhunters keeping the heads of the enemies they had beheaded?"

He, on the other hand, prided himself on leaving no evidence. He usually tried to rip the bag into pieces and place them in separate plastic bags in the trash. Once though, he was lucky enough to "win" a Ferragamo. He recognized the brand– he had educated himself by observing logos and expensive items while sauntering in the shopping malls. He had always been interested in what the rich did with themselves. He knew he was not meant to be an ignorant low class guy. He had told himself this repeatedly, even in his sleep. He would teach himself what the government and his parents lack of money could not.

The Ferragamo handbag was a dark brown leather one. Leather so soft and sensous that when he buried his nose in it, he smelt cows and remembered growing up amongst herds of them in a small village in Bukit Mertajam. He became sentimental about the bag and on a whim, presented it to a sweet young thing he was going out with at the time. If she was surprised how he had obtained it, she didn’t show it. With a satisfied sigh, he remembered how he had been amply rewarded for that gift. Yes, once in a while, it was a good thing to do something differently from what he would normally do. Consistency may make perfect sense but deviation often brings unexpected pleasures.

Glancing at the old table clock in his room, he realized he had better have a bath soon. It was the same ritual before he ventured out to seek a "win". He entered the tiny bathroom with the cracked blue floor tiles and turned on the water tap full. When the pail was almost filled to the brim, he dipped into it with the plastic dipper and doused himself in cool water. He scrubbed at himself vigorously with a bar of Lux soap. At this point in his bath, he almost always thought about his mother. Back in the estates of Bukit Mertajam, his mother too had bathed with Lux soap. It was one of the few luxuries his family could afford and certainly the only one his mother allowed herself. Everything else in their home lives was ordinary or even less so. In a wooden longhouse shared with fifty other families, a bar of soap in a shiny packaging, adorned with the smiling fair face of some woman seemed like a slice of heaven, even if the woman on it looked nothing like any of the women who lived there.

His mind wandered back to his mother. She would emerge from the bathroom, after her evening bath, with her slightly damp faded batik sarong and a floral printed cotton blouse. Her hair would smell faintly of jasmine scented Tata hair oil. She would go straight to the small altar they had in a corner of the main hall and perform her prayers to the many different faced Gods, always begging them for mercy and protection. "You must pray everyday Kanna, God must never be forgotten, no matter what you do", she would instruct him and his siblings. At least, he had not failed her there, he thought wryly.

After his shower, he went to the small side table at the corner of his room where there was a picture of the genial elephant-headed Hindu god, Ganesha. He dusted off the table quickly and lit the incense stick and oil lamp. He closed his eyes and prayed. He prayed to the Remover of Obstacles to clear his path to a safe and bountiful "win" tonight. And as always, he prayed for the soul of his mother to rest in peace. He smeared the holy ash on his forehead and smiled. Feeling clean and blessed, he was ready to take on the world now.

The table clock showed 7.30pm. Dark enough to be safe and yet early enough to anticipate full purses and bags with money not yet spent. These days, even vegetables and meat cost so much that people were forced to carry so much more money with them, even to the unassuming pasar malam. He heard the shouting above his flat start up again. Damn Chinese bugger, always yelling at his kid. He knew the man beat the boy too. He heard the sounds of flesh connecting with flesh. He had seen the boy around. A thin pale fellow of about nine or ten with short spiky hair, a sorrowful face and sometimes bruises of various hues on his arms and face. He had a birthmark the size of a twenty sen coin on his left cheek. It did not stand out, amidst the bruises he usually wore on his face. Still, he noticed it. One of these days, he decided, he would go up there, bang on the door and demand to know what was going on. Then he would rescue that child from all the abuse he suffered. He would be his hero. He himself never had a hero to rescue him from his own darkness. He had waited and waited all those years after his mother had died and left him and his five siblings to survive the wrath of their drunken father alone. He had waited to be rescued but nobody came. He knew how difficult it was to fill his heart with hope although all it had trapped inside it was a torrent of venom and anger. He sighed loudly. He had no time for that now. Besides, listening to the yelling only made him feel less cleansed, somehow. As if the effect of his bath and prayers were eroding with each curse he overheard.

He quickly left his room, locking it behind him, carrying his motorcycle helmet and keys in his hand. There was no one else around tonight. The other two guys seemed to be out. The flat was quiet and dark. He didn’t bother to switch on the light in the hall. He let himself out quietly and went in search of his motorcycle. In his mind, he concentrated on winning. “It is all up to God Kanna, it is our fate what happens in our lives. But the brain is not there for nothing”, his mother had told him one day while feeding him some rice mixed with boiled lentils and shaped into uneven balls in her dark calloused hands. "If you eat all your rice, you will grow very good brains and then you can be a big man one day", she assured him. "You wont have to live like this," she said as she indicated with her head, the cramped and noisy long house they had lived in all their lives in the estate. As he sat astride his motorcycle and strapped on his helmet, he thought to himself, "Yes Amma, I will be a big man one day. And I wont have to do this anymore. Just a few more big "wins" and I can start something on my own", he assured his dead mother and himself, as he pulled down the dark visor over his face.

As he cruised slowly towards the pasar malam area, he kept his eyes open for possible victims and his body alert for snoopy policemen. He spotted a matronly Makcik walking alone with a fat purse in her hand. He contemplated her purse with some hope until he spotted her big black umbrella swinging from her other hand. "Too risky," he sighed to himself. His dark watchful eyes roved over the crowd as he pretended to fiddle about his motorcycle and helmet. Suddenly, he spotted her. A Chinese lady of about 50 or so, with a blue flowered blouse and black pants and more importantly, a big handbag swinging carelessly from her right elbow. She was not on the main pasar malam road yet. If he was going to do this successfully, he would have to act fast while she was on this road, which was perpendicular to the main one and not crowded with stalls and that many people. He decided to go for it. This was something he had learnt in this business; one had to be swift, fearless and practical.

He took a deep breath, pictured the Ganesha in his room and revved hard on his motorcycle accelerator. As he neared the Chinese lady, he stuck out his long left arm toward her. She, perhaps sensing something, suddenly turned her head in time for his arm to knock at it hard on the right. As she lost her balance, he jerked at the handbag strap and wrenched it off her elbow. It came off easily. He usually made it a point never to turn back and look. This time though, he felt his head, almost of its own volition, turn around. He saw the lady crashing to the ground and rolling toward the large monsoon drain. He took in her startled look, the open-mouthed but silent scream and noticed how she tumbled in head first into the drain, like the Olympic divers he saw on television who dived into twinkling blue pools with their sleek wet heads first. The lady however went in with far less grace. With all his might, he jerked his gaze back to the front and concentrated on making a quick escape. As he maneuvered his motorcycle through the shocked and thankfully inert passers by and turned on to the main road, he saw the lady’s face in his mind. Although he knew she could not have seen his face through the visor, he felt her startled eyes bore a hole in his back. He sped down a labyrinth of roads which he knew like the back of his hand. When he finally pulled over at the fringes of a secondary jungle about ten kilometres away and switched off his engine, his heart was thumping wildly in his ribcage and his breath was still coming in shorts spurts.

Like a child opening a much anticipated present, his hands shook as he opened the handbag and searched inside. "Ganesha, Ganesha, help me please," he prayed fervently. He found a pack of tissues, a hair clip and a half bottle full of "minyak angin cap kapak". These he tossed aside impatiently while cursing in disgust. Then he spotted a smaller embroidered purse, bulging with coins and a wad of bank notes tied with a rubber band. He yanked at the rubber band and quickly counted the notes – there was two thousand ringgit in total. He leaned back on his motorcycle, feeling dizzy and not believing his luck. He wanted to shout out loud, whoop in joy and laugh madly. This would be a great boost to the growing pile under his mattress, his entry into starting his own car wash business. Who would have thought that old lady would be carrying this much cash on her, he wondered with a shake of his head. Anyway, he wasn’t complaining. "Amma, I’m almost there. Almost there ...", he whispered.

He looked down at the handbag, still in his hand and searched for anything else it may contain. He pulled out a bunch of papers folded in half. He squinted in the fading light and realized it was some official document with a government stamp on it. "Lembaga Kebajikan Negeri Selangor" it said. He read the first few lines. He couldn’t understand why his eyes remained riveted to the words when he would have ordinarily just thrown the papers away. He continued to squint at it and tried to make sense of the print.

It was an official approval from the state Welfare Department for a certain Chan Ah Moy to adopt and take custody of her grandchild, Lim Wee Siong. The administrative and legal fees of RM1800 was to be paid in full by a certain date, which he realized was the day after this, without which the approval would be revoked. A police report attached to the approval document came loose from its paper clip and fell to the ground. He picked it up. The report was against a Mr Lim Ah Leng for physical abuse of and neglect of his only child, Lim Wee Siong. There were pictures of the boy, showing various marks of abuse, taken from different angles. He stared at the photos. The face of the boy stared back at him with vacant eyes, eyes that looked like they had been waiting a long time to be rescued. He crumpled the papers and slid to the ground. He closed his eyes but all he could see was the birthmark the size of a twenty sen coin on the boy’s left cheek. Who would rescue Wee Siong now?

Angry

by Catalina Rembuyan

Anna knew that she should not have brought her children past the chocolate store, but she took her chances and decided to walk past it anyway because she was in a hurry. They would miss the train and wait for another fifteen more minutes, and Anna was feeling tired, hungry, and uncomfortable. Dried perspiration made the bangs of her hair cling together hideously. Samuel had finished a bawling session twenty minutes ago and his head was upon her shoulder, fast asleep. Trailing close to her side was Samantha.

They had only a few more minutes to go and after juggling Samuel and her card wallet at the ATM machine, Anna told Samantha to move faster. As they headed towards the ticket counter, she heard Samantha's tiny rubber soles squeak on the beige ceramic floor. "Hurry up, hurry up, we don't want to miss the train dear!" Anna said, attempting to sound as jovial as possible. Anna fended off a drop of sweat falling on her nose from her forehead.

They walked out into a small marketplace of candies, toys and fashion accessories. There were crowds of people moving to-and-fro from station to station. A large television screen was repeating advertisements over and over again, filling the station with the same jingle over and over. A small stall bore what seemed to be ten huge manila cards all emblazoned with the word 'SALE!' '20%' and '50%, like giant battle flags, as though challenging a larger store -- a warehouse store, it said - boasting the same bargains. A Chinese man played around with the buttons of a cell phone he was trying to sell to a young lady in a hijab. A child not much older than Samantha bounced in an electronic ride that was stationary, and not too far away from him a mamak stood beside a shelf selling magazines and newspapers. In the middle of the station some people were setting up a small wooden platform for an unidentifiable promotional event. Small stalls littered the area selling cheap knock-offs for twenty ringgit, even less. Some of them were dominated by real estate agents advertising homes yet to be built. Anna felt hot, uncomfortable, and impatient.

Anna saw the chocolate shop. It was a very small shop, but it had all of the richest and the tastiest chocolates that could be found in the Klang Valley: chocolates coating raisin jelly, chocolates coating more layers of chocolate coating nuts, chocolates white and sweet, and chocolates hidden in caramel shells. She felt an urge to grab one rise in her, and thought of stopping for a minute or two - which, she reminded herself; she had no time for, and marched straight on towards the ticket counter. Then she heard Samantha yowl.

"I want a chocolate!"

Anna did not reply.

"I want a chocolate mommy!"

I wanT a chOc-a-lEt mOmmee! Anna could never admit that, despite her pride in Samantha, she had often felt insulted when she realized how staccato her accent was compared to the smoothness Samantha's ending 't', which rolled off her tongue in perfect ease. Blame Spongebob Squarepants, Anna often laughed as friends, relatives and neighbours coo'ed over Samuel and Samantha. Once, a relative had been careless and slipped a truthful opinion: your daughter doesn't sound a bit like you, she sound so angmoh, you sound like… and then the relative paused a few seconds before saying you sound just like me lah. Hor hor.

"Mommy!"

A sense of revulsion rose in her as she thought of the thousands of three-year olds and four-year olds going Mommy! Mommy! in their high-pitched wailing accented voices, wailing and wailing and begging for chocolate and will you not ask for chocolates I want them to but we are going to be late for our train! Don't be so stupid you're so smart with your accent all brains no sense -

"Mommy I want a chocolate!" said Samantha and Anna could hear Samantha's squeaky rubber soles heading further away from her, towards the chocolate shop. Something inside Anna screamed: you spoiled child! You spoiled child! You have all the luxuries in the world! When I was young we had no accents and we listened! We listened!

Anna took two large steps, grabbed Samantha's tiny arm and dug her nails into her. Samantha screamed.

"You don't listen to me again! You don't listen to me again!" Anna breathed her threats through gritted teeth. Samantha screamed again. All around them people stopped and turned to look, gazing accusingly at Anna. Anna felt the weight of their accusation pile on her head: she doesn't know how to control her child! Look at her child, so noisy, turning this station into such an unpleasant place! A terrible mother! A terrible mother!

"You shout again I pinch you more!"

Samantha gave one last bitter howl, a howl Anna thought would never end, howling and howling and filling the air with thick shame, until the howl turned into a whimper and Anna heard a sob. Moments later Anna heard another howl on her shoulder. Samuel had woken up and was bawling his heart out, confused and frightened by the commotion, sensing the bitterness in his mother's voice. Samuel's tears sparked more tears from Samantha and a fresh flow of tears poured out of her eyes.

Just then, Anna heard a rumble beneath her. The train had arrived.

There was no way they would be able to catch it on time. Anna let go of Samantha's hand and looked at her weakly. Samantha's tears were streaming down her face and on her shoulder. Anna patted Samuel over and over, attempting to console him, escaping the wrath of Samantha's gaze. The tears that flowed from Samantha's eyes were tears of genuine pain and humiliation. Thousands of people were looking upon Samantha and accusing her: what a horrible child she was, what a horrible child she was. Even her mother does not love her. Her mother was horrible! Her mother was horrible! I hate you!

As Samuel's bawls ceased, Anna looked at the chocolate store, and then at Samantha's wrinkled, tiny, and wet face. I hate you! - Anna could hear those words ringing in Samantha's mind, and again: I hate you!

Anna could not bear those accusations anymore. "Please don't be angry at me," begged Anna, but it was an unspoken plea.

Instead, Anna patted Samantha's head and said, "Look, we've already missed the train. Ok lah," said Anna, wiping her daughter's tears with her hand, "I'll get you some chocolates. Don't cry."

A match made in Heaven

By James Ooi

I was just sitting at Starbucks on a rainy Sunday afternoon. It was drizzling softly, little raindrops just falling incessantly forming a translucent screen of water drops as I looked out at the quiet street outside.

For a place that's full of action in the evenings with people partying their guts out, Bangsar sure is quiet on a Sunday afternoon. Peaceful even. Across my table, there's this attractive Malay girl dressed in a beige dress that would have been demure if not for the plunging neckline which showed off her ample chest.

Quite a fair woman for a Malay lady, I must say. She highlighted her wavy shoulder-length hair in shades of brown and gold. Her face is serious as she types and peers in full concentration at her laptop screen, sipping occasionally from her steaming cup of coffee. She doesn’t smile much. Probably because she doesn't want to attract any unwanted male suitors.

But dressed as she is. How can any man resist talking to her, much less avoid looking at her. She bends down to collect a dropped pencil. I get an fortuitous eyeful of her full breasts. At that moment, I decided that I would try to get to know her and perhaps get her hand phone number as well.

What the heck man? The most I would get is a slap but that's provided if I am too forward. And the least I would get is, "Please go away." And what I hope for is a smile and the start of something new perhaps. Later on, a meeting for dinner. And who knows what else. My heart beats wildly in anticipation.

I look at her for a moment too long. She senses me looking at her. She looks up and our eyes meet. I smile at her. She smiles back at me. Irresistibly I wink at her. She blushes and that's my cue. I walk over to her table which is just five feet away from me.

Just five feet away from a relationship with her and God knows what else. It's now or never as Elvis used to sing. And for me, it was now. As I walked over to her table, I knew it was going to work.

This time.

We had been dating for the past year or so. Actually a year two months and eight days from the day we actually first met. I can still remember our first meeting, the smell of her scented hair and how she looked on that first day. Reading the first part of my tale here, you pretty much would have guessed it I must say.

In case I forgot to mention the fact, well I am Chinese and Maria my girl friend is a Malay girl. In Malaysia, well that's not a well-accepted thing and because of religious implications, well this kind of matches are by and large a rarity.

The first few months of our courtship was a very traumatic thing with our parents on both sides objecting strongly to the relationship. But we prevailed and after about nine months, plans were afoot for a wedding. So we had gotten engaged just after nine months of dating.

And I know that is was fast by any standards.

We weren't young. I was in my late thirties and she was in her early thirties and we were pretty sure and happy that we would be together for a lifetime if not more. Could we have been lovers in another lifetime? Could we have gotten to know each other previously? I don't really know. Just that we seem to click so well together.

Sometimes my brother Joe would kid around with me, "Koko, so now how? No more bak-kut-teh and your favorite pork sausages man? How about your daily char-siew-pau?"

I laughed and said, "Can still eat beef and other stuff wat. Also not forgetting my beef steak and thank God I can still eat roti canai and tosai man! If pork is something I gotta give up, I guess I can lah for Maria."

Then Peter my younger brother said, "Hey I heard you gotta sacrifice your foreskin to the butchers. You do already? Did it hurt?"

Grinning, I said, "During the circumcision, nah. After they sew you up, it kinda tingles a bit. But you better not get an erection because that could really hurt as the swelling can pull at the sutures and that’s when you can scream bloody murder."

Aside from the initial questions and stuff, everything kinda settled into the normal scheme of things. We got on with the plans for the wedding. Maria got along with my family and relatives well and they loved her and drew her into their hearts. As for me, things couldn't be better. My future in-laws warmed up to me after the initial objections and more than made up for it with the warmth and acceptance that came once they realized that Maria and I had decided to be together for life.

We went for the wedding photo shoot. A full day of posing and changing into different suits for the photo session. It was so tiring at the end of that day. You wouldn't believe how exhausting having a whole day photo session is. No wonder being an actor pays so well. It's a lot of hard work. And that also when you don't even say a single word.

Things were working so well that I was beginning to wonder. Did I do something right in previous life or what? I never felt so happy before in my life before. But I had this nagging feeling that one wasn't meant to be so happy.

I just couldn't understand why she didn't turn up at the wedding reception. She had been missing for the past few days. She must have changed her mind. At least she could have called me and told me about that. Rather than let me wait at the hotel with the crowd of guests there. I felt that it was a betrayal of the worst kind to me.

Groggy and in a state of vertigo, I looked up and there she was standing looking at me. She was standing there in her wedding dress. God, she never looked so beautiful to me. There were tears in her eyes as she tried to be brave and smiled at me.

"Honey, I am so sorry."

"Why? Why? Why? I don't understand."

"Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want it to. I had wanted so much to spend the rest of my life with you. I just want you to know that I love you with all my heart and I always will."

Reaching out to hold her, it was then that I woke up with a hangover in my apartment. Was it a dream? Did she actually come to see me? I couldn’t decide whether I had dreamed it or if it was figment of my imagination?

I had drunk myself silly the night before. I knew it was wrong to drink. I just couldn't help it. I was feeling depressed and broken-hearted. Lost and alone. I just couldn't cry anymore.

All cried out.

I heard someone at the door. Slipping the morning paper under my door. It was Maniam. He delivered newspapers from the mini market store of his, on the ground floor of the condominium. He was a very reliable guy and on time every morning.

Stumbling towards the door, I picked up the day's edition of The Star. Looking on the headlines, I suddenly sat down looking at front page. It just read, "Bride dies in Car Crash"

And outside the balcony the rain had started to drizzle again. Just like the first day I met her. It was raining then as it was now.

Kelly

By Zuraidah Omar

Sarah first saw him one morning when she was driving past the guard-house into the club-grounds. He was standing on the slope of the hill, oblivious to others, surveying the scene before him. She was mesmerised by his looks and the dignity with which he carried himself.

She saw him very often after that. He was usually at what must be his favourite place in the club, standing all alone by himself at the same spot on the hill-slope and looking as if he hadn't a care in the world. Who is he, she wondered.

It didn't take long for Sarah to find out. One day, she ran into one of her friends at the club's cafe. Ella was a longstanding member of the club and her level-headedness had made her the de facto counsellor in her circle. People turned to her for help, advice or just someone to talk to. Nothing went on in the club without Ella knowing about it. Sarah and Ella knew each other well enough not to stand on ceremony or indulge in small talk, so after ordering herself a teh tarik, Sarah joined Ella at her table and cut to the chase.

"Oh, him. That's Kelly," Ella said. "Why? You like him or what?"

"He's quite a looker," Sarah replied.

Ella smiled and squeezed Sarah's arm reassuringly. "I'm so happy to see you up and about again. I know that relationship of yours with Terence was a bit of a disaster."

Sarah grimaced, thinking of the rocky time she had with Terence, a trying time that stretched for almost a year. They had started off well enough when she first met Terence but it wasn't long before he showed his true colours. "I really did my best, you know," Sarah explained. "But he was so unpredictable and temperamental. I tried hard to love him. I think that he didn't trust me enough. I just couldn't cope in the end so I had no choice but to call it quits."

"It's like that sometimes," Ella consoled. "Some things work out and some don't. But don't let it get you down. Don't give up."

"I won't," sighed Sarah, thinking of yet another failed relationship after Terence. "There was Pancho, remember?"

"Oh yes, I remember. We thought you had a lot of guts-lah. First an Australian, and as soon as you pulled yourself together, an Argentinian. What happened with Pancho anyway? It was so short-lived. I thought you liked him."

"Yeah, one of those things. In Pancho's case, I got along fine with him but then someone else came into the picture and I didn't have a chance. I was quite miserable. That's why I stopped coming to the club for a while, and when I did, I saw you-know-who."

"Poor you but never mind, you will have better luck with Kelly. He's available but it won't be easy getting to know him. He's got a very protective mother and what she says, goes. She dotes on him like nobody's business. She's got to like you first before anything else."

"A mama's boy, eh?" Sarah became a bit unsure because that would just complicate things. But Kelly's magnificent image came into her mind and she knew what she had to do. "Never mind. I'll just go with the flow. Can you introduce me to his mum?" She asked Ella.

"No problem. She swims at the club-house very often. I'll call you when I see her. Just relax for now. He's not going to go anywhere."

Ella was true to her word. The next day, she called Sarah on her mobile phone. "Are you in the club? Kelly's mum is by the swimming pool. Come over quick." Fortunately, Sarah was nearby and she was by Ella's side in next to no time.

Ella pointed out to a petite lady with short hair sitting in one of the deck chairs. "She's quite a chilly padi, you know, so watch your step. Come on, let's go and meet her." The two of them sauntered over to the lady.

"Hi Sue," Ella called out. "How are you? Long time no see."

Sue looked up and countered, "What are you talking about? We just had lunch together not long ago."

Ella sat down on the deck chair beside Sue's. "Getting old already-lah. So many lunches, can't remember when or with who. Done your swimming?"

"Yeah, did a few laps. Got to go soon. What's up?"

"I want you to meet my friend Sarah," Ella said as she gestured to Sarah, who had been standing a little apart, to sit beside her. Sarah extended her hand to Sue and the two shook hands. "Pleased to meet you. Have you been a member here long?" Sue asked Sarah, who replied, "Quite some time but I don't swim much."

"Right! Let's not beat about the bush-lah," Ella interjected. "Sarah saw Kelly the other day and she has taken a liking to him." Sarah felt her face going red. Good grief, she thought. Doesn't Ella have any finesse? How could she just say it like that? She could just see Sue look at her in an appraising manner.

"He's quite good-looking and really tall," Sarah blurted, feeling more embarrassed and admonishing herself in her mind. What a stupid thing to say. That will really earn you points with Kelly's mama.

"That's what a lot of people tell me," Sue said.

"Just right for you-lah, Sarah," Ella cut in. "All your previous ones are rather short, if you ask me. Someone your size needs something bigger."

"Ella!" Sarah blushed again, feeling suddenly self-conscious about her weight.

Sue laughed. "Ella's quite a joker, isn't she? Anyway, Kelly has only just come to Malaysia, you know. He has been overseas all this while."

"Oh, no wonder I've not seen him around before," Sarah was still feeling tentative, not sure of what Sue was really thinking about Ella's sudden revelation.

Sue looked hard at Sarah. "I suppose Ella must have told you about Kelly and that I'm looking for someone for him," she said. "But he's very particular about people, you know. I am too. Ella and I have been friends a long time and I trust her judgement. So if she thinks you and Kelly suit one another, I'm okay with it. He's solid and steady. You'll feel very safe with him."

That's fast, Sarah thought. She hasn't gotten to know me well enough yet. "I think you will like Kelly," Sue continued. " But like I said, I'm very particular. I have to know that you're serious about him and that you'll take care of him the way I take care of him. He's very special to me."

The conversation was going too far and too fast for Sarah's liking. She just wanted to get to know Kelly and it was beginning to seem as if she was committing herself to a long relationship. Why is Sue in such a hurry to get Kelly out of her life? "Is there anything I need to know about Kelly?" Sarah asked carefully, hoping not to annoy Sue with her question.

Sue shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing really," she replied. "Being a big guy, he needs his space. But as long as you treat him right, he'll be good to you. I'm getting very busy with my business these days and don't have much time to spend with him. It's nice if he can have someone else in his life."

"I really should meet Kelly first, don't you think?" Sarah tried to bring the situation under control. "For all you know, he might not like me."

"Don't worry-lah," Ella assured Sarah. "I'm sure Kelly will like you. You are such a gentle person, with a lot of love to give." She then turned to Sue, "I fully recommend Sarah to you. You don't have to worry a thing about her. She's a very caring person."

"I'm sure you are, Sarah," Sue smiled and patted her on her arm. "But you're right. You must meet Kelly first. What about tomorrow at about 10am? I'll meet you at the cafe."

Sarah couldn't wait for the day to be over. That night, images of Kelly floated in her dreams. Sarah was sure that she and Kelly were kindred spirits, even soul-mates. She had sensed it when she first saw him. True, he had ignored her when she drove past him, standing on the hill-slope. Perhaps he had things on his mind. Well, they would be meeting one another very soon and he wouldn't be able to ignore her then.

Sarah was at the cafe well before 10am the next day, but when the appointed time came, there was no sign of Sue. Sarah wondered if Sue had changed her mind. She didn't want to order a cup of coffee in case Sue turned up, so she just sat at one of the tables, anxiously checking her watch every few minutes.

Sue walked into the cafe some time later to find an anxious-looking Sarah. "Really sorry, dear, to keep you waiting. Come on, let's go and meet Kelly. He's just outside." Sarah got up so quickly that she almost knocked the chair down. Sue laughed, "Don't worry, he won't run away."

And there he was, standing outside the cafe - the handsome hunk who had caught Sarah's eye. He looked even better at close range. He was tall but there was a calmness and steadfastness about him that was reassuring to Sarah. Kelly looked at her tentatively as she walked up to him. She reached out slowly and put her hand on his shoulder. His brown eyes softened.

"So Sarah," Sue asked. "Would you like to ride Kelly now or do you want to fix another time?"

Sarah nodded; she had met the horse of her dreams.