Rows and rows of earrings; big ones, dangly ones, sparkly ones & simple studs adorned an entire white washed wall. Lina was reminded of why exactly she didn’t like going shopping with the girls very much. It wasn’t the wasted minutes pondering if the black heels will go better with skinny jeans or green Havanas (the latest must-have this season) that she minded, but it was the apologetic smile and walk home empty-handed that killed her.
“Not buying anything, babe?” enquired Suzy congenially, cocking her head to one side as she studied Lina.
Lina quickly fastened her lips into a smile and shook her head. The same old song and dance.
“You almost never buy anything ah,” commented Mattie idly while casting a critical eye over a pretty jade bracelet, as her long locks swept over her shoulder.
“Aiya, she’s probably saving up for something REALLY glam like a Gucci handbag or something. That’s what my sister’s friend did.” Suzy quickly intervened.
Lina mumbled something about waiting outside and quickly stepped beyond the harsh glare of the bright shop lights. Her beautiful eyes strayed to the clutch she held in her hand. She had scrimped months of pocket money and endured foodless days for that damn thing. It wasn’t an Autumn fad or the latest Harajuku trend. She had liked it, wholly.
It was a desperate seduction really. Calling out to her from every thread of its gold interwoven splendour on the shelf. She had money in her purse that fine Saturday, but only bought it three weeks later on a return trip to Orchard. She had contemplated, convinced herself out of buying it, appealed to her senses to own it and settled mind over heart before finally cajoling her conscience away. After all, she hadn’t bought anything over $6 in months.
She had grown used to it. It wasn’t a question between Fish & Co or the hawker centre. Not eating wasn’t simply to be thin but more like to save money. She rarely bought things as she could never be sure that there was enough cash and couldn’t bear to risk embarrassment. Retail therapy was never a solution to anything. Many a glass showcase had been fogged up by her misty breath and cute nose pressed against it. Her eyes took in details of fine embroidery and the latest technology to sustain her nagging dissatisfaction, borne out of the knowledge that she would never be able to own it. Not to say it was easy - it had been hard. Petulant pouts for new board shorts or pretty school bags never graced her lips the moment her family had become poor.
Poor. Sounds almost like a sin, mused her cramped toes. Poor was like, Shut-Up-And-Move-On. Doing well in school wasn’t an option. It was for scholarships and any form of bursary awards. Her brain didn’t delight in integration not revel in devouring new poems and texts. It became bland compulsions. Her heart wasn’t in what she did. She felt guilty eating sometimes. Guilty for expecting rewards. Who could bloody hell afford it anymore? There are poorer people in the world. Everything is a want, not a need. It boiled down to willpower, she silenced her desire.
Sometimes, sometimes, she got confused. Like when her father bought the gleaming new vehicle. The neighbourhood basked in its brand new license plate glory. SFK. New. New. Expensive. COE? Road tax. Petrol consumption lower was the argument against her tentative questioning. She found it hard to swallow. But she understood. Or at least tried to. Who was she to question anyway? Just a bloody sixteen year old. Don’t be so rude.
But she couldn’t help it, you know. The underlying tears every time she held back or resisted buying something. Changing handphones was not an option. She quietly missed calls without caller ID, suffered from lagging SMSes and took less than 1.2 megapixel pictures with the bloody thing. Technology is temporary, she told her bleeding eyes.
The stabbing pain in her heart was harder to ignore. It wasn’t so much of jealousy. Just sadness. She felt frustrated that she had grown to accept the lifestyle she had moulded herself into. Don’t buy anything. Look, Touch, don’t bring home. She lived stifled. Praying helped. Sometimes. She liked to believe that God could hear, and he would pour holy water over her heart and hold her through those bouts of desires.
She sighed heavily and rested her chin on her hand as she let her eyes stray over the millions of people who were cramming Far East Plaza that Saturday. Who knows, whispered her heart, beneath that Mango top perhaps there’s another just like me.
Were these years not supposed to be the best ones of her life?
She sat like Patience on a wall with a sad & secret smile, praying some day it'll be okay.
__SMILE (:
|11:04 PM|