• euginia tan

 

• Owl

 

 

 

“Next station: Clementi.”

Rosli stirred at the familiar six syllable announcement. He removed his glasses, picked at small particles of eye dust, and then pinched the top of his nose bridge. He moved his thumb and index finger up and down, feeling the ridges of sore nasal bone. With his left hand, he hooked his glasses on the front of his collared shirt. The train sneered to a halt. You’ve got to work at this ungodly hour, it seemed to say. Rosli did a quick dry rub of his entire face before standing up from his seat. He swung his backpack from his paunch to his shoulders. A knot nipped at his left shoulder blade, and he ground the teeth in his left jaw. He would ask his sister to knead his muscles the next morning.

He stepped out of the train, hearing it cackle in its trail like a witchy gust of wind. He swallowed some saliva and rolled his shoulders back and forth. The knot in his left shoulder blade continued to nip. He lumbered to the escalator, leaning too much on his right hip. The sharp metal cleats on the escalator came into view as he put his glasses back on. He remembered falling on them once, in a rush, impaling his right knee.

It was just before another shift. He recalled the slow oozing, the torn flesh slowly spreading like a menacing grin. Thankfully, he was only five minutes late. In the locker room, he rolled up his pants, staring mutely at the bloody, drooling wound. Even if there were others to ask for help, he would not have wanted to trouble them. He balled up tissues and pressed them firmly against the wound. He waited for a few seconds before removing the ball. Some bits of tissue stuck to his knee.

He remembered the shape of the wound. Up close, it looked like an ominous gibbous moon, a monstrous eye about to open from deep slumber. He pressed it again, and more blood dribbled out. He thought about the curry puff he had packed for his break that night, stuffed with soft red potatoes and meat. How it would ooze out of its pastry shell in a propulsive stream. He studied the wound more carefully. A bit of bone seemed to wink from beneath the vivid blood, like a flash of teeth. He felt something rush to his throat.

 

He snapped out of memory as the escalator served him to hard ground. He looked around  the train platform, walking absent-mindedly to the gantry, tapping out. He exited the train station, the dark waiting to pounce. As he made his way to the building, he felt night ambush him between intervals of street lamps. He avoided looking into the drains because they never seemed to have a clear bottom. One or two vehicles would speed past. He took them as small comforts, sure signs of life before his graveyard shift.

 

He paused at the glinting sign of the office building, taking a breath to spell out his children’s names in his mind. First his daughter’s, then his son’s. He stretched each letter out like dough at the thought of seeing them for the first weekend that month. With each breath, familiar jabs nipped at the crannies of his neck, at the prospect of his ex-wife threatening a stop to the visits altogether. Her birthday is coming, he reasoned to himself. She might be in a better mood.

 

He let the breath go. He entered the building, a habitual quick nod to the receptionist, then the lift, his lanyard swinging lightly. As the lift doors were about to close, a hand reached between them. “Wait!” The forearm of the hand slithered into view, then the full form of Jimmy, working alongside him that night. “Just in time!” Jimmy grinned.

 

“Evening Jimmy.”

 

“Li, you lost weight ah?”

 

“Forgot you were working tonight.”

 

“Forgot? Forgot so fast ah?”

 

Rosli took a quick glance at Jimmy’s face. Jimmy was always grinning, always able to grin no matter what. The lift doors opened. Rosli held the door, gesturing for Jimmy to exit. For a moment, Jimmy looked ahead without stepping out.

 

“Jim, after you.”

Rosli cleared his throat. Jimmy turned to face him, unfazed. He took half a step towards Rosli, as though relishing in his discomfort.

 

“Thanks, Li.”

 

Rosli forced himself to look Jimmy in the face this time. Jimmy’s eyes never met fully in the middle. Both his pupils hung just a little off centre. Although he had a pair of wiry glasses on, they didn’t appear to improve his condition. Rosli mustered a smile. Jimmy swivelled his balding head away and ambled out spiritedly.

 

“See you at break, Li.”

 

“OK, Jim.”

 

The lift doors closed. Mampos, Rosli cursed. He could skip the lounge room and perhaps take his break in the lobby. Then again, the receptionist would ask him questions. OK, fine, he would eat with Jimmy later. He could just keep talking about food. It had worked a few times before.

Just tahan man. Break time was just forty five minutes. He could handle it. Just then, Rosli reached his floor. He headed straight to the locker room to put his things away and spruce up before his nightly patrol.

 

*

 

“Li! Rosli, Rosli, Rosli.”

 

“How are you, brother?”

 

“Good! How is your night?”

 

“Same same, brother.”

 

It had been a wonderfully uneventful first half of shift. The corridors were calm, the floors were clean. The toilets flushed smoothly. He’d managed to take a pause by the windows, taking in the view from the top floors. At that height, he retained a sense of belonging. His stomach bulged with the assurance of warm, home-cooked food, a quiet job. He could look into the horizon and see possibilities. Rosli feigned his second smile of the night to Jimmy, sitting down with a soft groan.

 

“Aching again ah, Li?”

 

“You know, at our age, Jim.”

 

“Oh! Ho ho, I know, I know.”

 

“What you eating tonight, Jim?”

 

Jimmy held up a McDonalds’ hamburger with unbridled glee. He took a large bite, chewing in his cheerful, energetic manner. Then, he downed the bite with a swig of what Rosli guessed was a fizzy drink, because Jimmy proceeded to burp unabashedly. Rosli tried to laugh it off. Jimmy plucked french fries, shoving them into his mouth, licking salt off his fingers.

 

“Want some, Li?”

 

This time, Rosli didn’t bother. He shook his head, looking at Jimmy’s fingers full with their awkward bouquet of fries, the same fingers he had licked salt off. Rosli opened his lunch box. His sister had packed three curry puffs, full of spicy stuffing. He thought back to his old wound again. His left palm lightly hovered, then landed on the knee where it now remained as a tea-hued scar. He turned slightly away, curry puff in right hand.

 

“You like eating that, Li?”

 

“OK-OK only, brother.”

 

“I always see you eating that.”

“You always eating fast food too, Jim.”

 

“Not good for me, right?”

 

Jimmy dragged himself closer to the table. He let out a peal of laughter.

 

“You shy, Rosli?”

 

“Ya, Jim.”

 

“You don’t like talking much…”

 

“Nothing to talk about, brother.”

 

Rosli ate, his mind going back to the flash of bone under his wound.

 

“You got kids, Li?”

 

“…Two. A girl and a boy.”

 

“Ah! How old?”

“My girl. Twelve…thirteen. My boy, eleven.”

 

“Always good to have family, Li.”

 

Rosli started on the other half of his curry puff. Jimmy’s sentences seemed to throb in the sterile lounge room.. Bodoh lah you, he doesn’t mean anything. Rosli squared his shoulders and looked bluntly at Jimmy.

 

“My children are my pride, brother.”

 

“Good! Good.”

 

Jimmy took a sip of his drink.

 

“Li, I got no family, you know that?”

 

“No, I don’t know, Jim. You always look happy, you know.”

 

“None. None at all.”

 

“You lonely, bro?”

 

“No, I have something else.”

 

Rosli glanced at his watch. Only eight minutes had passed.

 

“Oh, you got hobbies, Jim?”

 

“Yes, Li. Birds. I like birds.”

 

“Birds!”

 

He studied Jimmy properly this time. The ill fitting eyes still framed Rosli out of scope. His shirt was yellow at the collar. Stubble pebbled his upper and lower lip. Really nothing lah, Rosli you bodoh.

 

“Ya, birds. We…meaning me, and lots of old men like us. We go to the square every Sunday morning. If I’m not working. Then we put the birds up… You know like how they raise the flag? We hang our birds up…and listen to them sing.”

 

“Wow. Singing, man? You got a lot of birds that sing?”

 

“A lot, Rosli. My house is all birds. All birds. My kitchen is all bird food.”

 

“You good to them ah?”

 

“They sing…when they sing, Rosli, I tell you…”

 

Jimmy imitated the warbling of his various birds. He trilled and cooed, his notes in a jumble. His countenance was still, buoyant and rapt. But then… Rosli stared as Jimmy’s eyes began to align closer to centre. The more Jimmy hummed and whistled off-tune, the more his eyes settled on an uninterrupted, stationary zone, finally corrected.

 

“Jim! Jimmy…that…”

 

Rosli caught himself in time.

 

“That was cool, brother. You have a whole other side to you, eh?”

 

“Oooh! I tell you man…any of your favourite singers, man, woman, band or whatever…they can’t beat these birds. And who taught them? Who taught these buggers how to sing? Ha! Nobody!”

 

“Miracles, bro.”

 

Jimmy’s eyes started to teeter back away from the centre.

 

“Jim, you know a lot of birds?”

 

“Oh ho ho. Most. Most.”

 

“Which is your favourite, man?”

 

Rosli looked at his watch. Jimmy’s eyes were askew again. He had about fifteen minutes left.

 

“Good question.”

 

“Mm-hmm. I need to go toilet, bro. Nature calls.”

 

“Hooooo. Hooooooo.”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“You know that sound, Li?”

 

Jimmy’s throat moved and bobbed, like a lifebuoy at sea. His face was passive and unmoved. His eyes gradually aligned themselves again. As Jimmy hooted, his irises sparkled like clean golf balls, so snug in their sockets that Jimmy seemed to have become an owl himself.

 

“I…think so, Jimmy.”

 

“You ever seen an owl, Li?”

 

It was a forgotten sound. Yet there it was, dangling like a fresh worm in his memory. Worried about the night rain, he would park his motorcycle to find shelter, sometimes with a girlfriend. It was a sound he always heard, but never saw.

 

“I hear before, Jim.”

 

“Ah…but you’ve never seen one, have you?”

 

“…No.”

 

Jimmy’s grin transitioned into a smirk.

 

“It’s not easy to see one, Rosli.”

 

“Must not be, brother.”

 

“When you see one, oh. You know you’re truly, truly alone.”

 

Rosli’s tongue pressed the upper roof of his mouth.

 

“You really…you really sound like it, Jim.”

 

“Ha! Ha ha ha! I must have…”

 

Jimmy rose slowly from his seat, placing a hand cordially on Rosli’s shoulder-blade.

 

“…I must have really sounded like it, for you to stay behind.”

 

“I…you’re right, brother. I should…I should go soon.”

 

“They always let themselves be seen by me, you know, Li?”

 

Jimmy’s hand left Rosli’s shoulder. Jimmy started to trail towards the door, his crumpled McDonalds’ paper bag squeezed tight at the neck in the other hand.

 

“It must be because I’m truly, truly alone.”

 

“Jim…Jimmy.”

 

As Jimmy neared the door, he stood still, patiently waiting on what Rosli had to say.

 

“You’re not alone man, alright? You…if you need help, or what, I don’t know. You can call me, OK? Going to the doctor. Finding makan…err…maybe even bird watching. You…you don’t have to be alone, understand? Just…just call me, brother. When you free.”

 

“When I’m free, Rosli, I’ll bring you to hear the birds.”

 

At his parting words, Jimmy hobbled out. Rosli heard the door close. He pondered on the last curry puff in his lunch box. Ignoring it, he closed the lid and stood to regain his composure. The room engulfed him like a tunnel of hollow bird calls, deceptively near, but perpetually out of reach.

 

*

 

Rosli patrolled the corridors, holding up his flashlight to several corners. As the opal of light skimmed on each surface, images of Jimmy grinning and humming clouded his thoughts. Instead of his usual twinge of fear and repulsion, Rosli found himself submerged in pity. He pictured Jimmy’s crumbling house, brimming with birdshit. He imagined Jimmy confusing types of birdfeed while garnishing his dinner, peppering his instant noodles and processed snacks with specks of innocuous grain.

The more Rosli pitied Jimmy, the more he critiqued his own existence. He was coated in a shinier veneer of shame. His children would grow up without him. He would peter out of his family’s life. The friendships he had lost would never return, the few that remained would eventually wear thin. This is why Jimmy needs his birds. Rosli nodded. The birds don’t need him.

“Hooooo. Hooooooo.”

 

He swung his flashlight behind him. The light beamed onto an empty wall. He brandished it left and right. Cold grey paint glowered back.

 

“Jim? Jim, come on bro. Not at this hour, man.”

 

He knew it wouldn’t do him good to freeze on the spot, or he would simply be stuck, cowering. He kept on walking, patrolling diligently. Fear was something he knew how to drown callously. Be professional, man. He wheezed, pounding his chest lightly to thump out a cough.

 

“Hoooooo!!! Hoooooooo!!!!!”

 

“Hkkk, hkkk. Jimmy, get out. Stop being a bodoh lah, you.”

 

“Hoo-hoo-hooooo!!!”

 

“Not funny, bro…”

 

Above him, the ceiling rattled. His flashlight beam propelled upwards. A panel was loose, a creature unceremoniously captured inside. Two grim eyes slanted, then honed in on him. The outline of a hobbled nun’s habit came into view. Its mouth was agape, a totem of black.

 

“Hoo-hoo-hoooo!”

 

Except it wasn’t a mouth. Rosli watched as the totem broke formation, and a fluster of wings turned the creature’s mouth into a ruffled body. The creature screeched maniacally.

 

“Reeeeek! Reeeeek!”

 

Rosli kept his flashlight lit stubbornly onto the trapped bird. He was morbidly calm, a poised cannon of still light torturing the cornered owl.

 

“You see it now.”

 

The voice shattered Rosli’s enforced tranquillity. He dropped his flashlight, knees folding in, wracked by a rough avalanche of coughing. He coughed till his eyes watered. He coughed so hard that a stream of warm piss leaked out of him. A flashlight hit him between the eyes. Rosli placed a hand up as a visor, still panting from his violent cough.

 

“Ji…Jimmy?”

 

“Li.”

 

“What…”

 

“The owl, Li.”

 

“Jim…hkkk, hkkk. Call someone. We…we gotta let it out.”

 

“I know how to do it, Li.”

 

“Reeeeeeek! Reeeeeeeeek!”

 

“You heard that, Li?”

 

Rosli could see Jimmy grinning. Jimmy shifted his weight from foot to foot. His eyes roamed apart like stuck windscreen wipers.

 

“Ya, Jim, I’m not feeling good, man. OK.”

 

“You didn’t believe me just now, did you?”

 

“Brother, hkkk, hkkk, come on. Why you think that way?”

 

“Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaa!”

 

It was Jimmy who hooted, with virulent laughter this time. The owl stopped screeching, as though stunned by the man’s perfect imitation. It writhed desperately.

 

“You and I, Li, we’re alone.”

 

“Jim…”

 

“Alone! Glo-rious-ly alone! Nothing beats being alone, Rosli. You got kids? They grow up. You got a wife? She gets tired of you. You got parents? They die, leaving you without a cent to your bastard name. Don’t get me started on friends! Hah! I’d rather waste my own time!”

 

“Jim. OK. Ya, alone is good. Alone is…best. Let’s…let’s get the fella out first, can? It’s stuck there, look at it. It doesn’t deserve…being around us. It…”

 

Rosli heaved himself off the floor, straightening his knees. The stench of urine lingered around him. Just as he got to his feet, his spectacles slipped off his nose. He bent again to pick them up, but Jimmy’s foot shot out and kicked them aside.

 

“Jimmy!”

 

“Hoo! Hoo!”

 

“What the…what the fuck is your problem, man?”

 

“Oh, ho, ho! Language, Rosli, language…”

 

“Look, man. I’m a mess. Someone will check on us soon. We don’t wanna show them we are making trouble now. I need this job, man, OK? I…I need this job. Just like how you need your…goddamn birds.”

 

Up close, Rosli could see that Jimmy had stopped grinning. The owl sensed the pause and flapped its wings harder. The panel shifted with its frenzied movement and the bird rushed out.

 

“Reeeeeek! Reeeeeeeeeeeeeek!”

 

Swooping triumphantly down the owl circled the men, glided down the corridor, then burst out an open window. Jimmy’s breathing worked up. Rosli kept himself as still as he could.  

 

“What did you say about my birds, Li?”

 

“Damn…your…birds.”

 

Rosli decided to forgo looking for his spectacles. He would go to the lobby, report this whole thing to the receptionist. Alamak. He didn’t have a change of clothes. He would go as he was, soaked in piss. He would know how to drown her looks of disdain. He would put in a request to never work the same shift as Jimmy again.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Li?”

As Rosli sauntered away, Jimmy held up Rosli’s spectacles tauntingly. Like a crab with a torn limb, Rosli limped onward defiantly. Jimmy flanked by him, a persistent jester.

 

“Don’t you want them back, Li?”

“Keep them.”

“I’ll give them back to you, if you want.”

“Don’t want.”

“Tsk, tsk. Always so stubborn, aren’t you, Li?”

“Shut up.”

“You can see without them, Li? Or are you as blind as that goddamn owl, in the goddamn daylight?”

“Going…to….report you.”

“Hoooo! Hoo-haha-hooo-hooo-hahaha! Now if that isn’t the most ridiculous, genius idea I’ve ever heard! I’d like to see you try, Li. I’d like to see you in your filthy state, trying to tell them I’m…”

Rosli swung hard, his fist landing on gaunt cheek. Jimmy stopped. Rosli swung a second time. He was unsure at first, but the next punch arrived with acumen and certainty. If Jimmy had been rattled in any way, he was doing a stellar job of concealing it. Jimmy cracked a lopsided grin, a palm pressed against his battered face.

“Now you’re talking, Li.”

 

Rosli didn’t hold anything back. He punched Jimmy with abandon, howling like a virile youth in unbridled throes of pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to knock Jimmy’s eyes straight, for everyone to address him eye-to-eye, man-to-man, for a day where he could reap as he sowed.

The owl was hungry. It perched itself on a branch draped with lush foliage. It listened to the gears of insects, for an interruption in their clockwork rhythm. It didn’t have to wait long. The owl took to air, grabbing a hapless mouse by the neck with its claws, devouring its hunt whole and proud.

This story definitely smells a little. :)

 

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