I still remember Tyler and me, walking home from school in the rain. We had ditched the umbrella his mother had given us and jumped in puddles of muddy water all the way home. The next day, we both caught a cold and had to stay in our beds. We would laugh our little heads off, watching Saturday morning cartoons together, wearing nothing but matching Pokemon pyjamas. On Sunday afternoons, our parents would take us to our favourite ice kacang stall. I still remember coming home every Sunday, our shirts stained with sweet, red syrup and our fingers wet and sticky –not that we cared. I still remember everything. But Tyler doesn’t anymore.
Almost 20 years later, I’m 5 feet tall, successful but still single. I let out a sigh and pushed my trolley towards the breakfast cereals. A weak smile broke onto my pale face. “He hated these,” I thought, tilting my head a little. On the spur of the moment, I grabbed a large box of Corn Flakes and made my way to the cashier.
I knew Tyler ever since I was brought home from the hospital –according to mum. We lived next to each other. He was my first friend. And the first boy I…I like liked. But Tyler didn’t know that. And he would never know that.
I finished paying for my groceries and was determined to leave the shopping centre. GLEE was on that night. I grabbed my paper bag -careful not to break the eggs I had just purchased- and headed straight for the car park where my beautiful Passat awaited me. However, before I reached the parking lot, I saw something that made my jaw drop.
There, on display, was the most exquisite pair of stilettos I had ever seen. They were red, open-toed, about 6 inches high and I swear they were calling me. “Don’t we look cute, Hailey?” the left shoe asked. And then the right one said “Yeah Hailey. Come. Come try us on…”
I obeyed.
I reached out and grabbed the right shoe. I began to caress it. An older couple nearby stared at me, half expecting me to start making out with the shoe, but I ignore them. Slowly, I turned the shoe to its side to see how much it cost, but before I even got a glimpse of the price tag, a salesgirl grabbed the stiletto from my hands. She shoved it into a box along with the other pair and handed it over to a woman talking on the phone dressed in a tight, denim dress.
I just stood there, my hands clutching air. I was flabbergasted, bowled over, stunned. The woman ended the call and continued to stand there as if she was waiting for something. (For another pair of shoes to be snatched away from an innocent lady and handed over to her again, perhaps.) Then the unthinkable, the unimaginable happens.
Not a moment too soon, a young man, buffed, about 6 feet tall grabbed her waist from behind, catching her off guard. She giggled uncontrollably and wrapped her long arms around his neck, making my view of her lover clearer. Then it dawned on me.
The man was Tyler Lee Smith, the guy I’ve loved all my life.
And then they kissed.
I’m astonished, incredulous, taken aback. My groceries fell to the floor, as I lost my grip on the paper bag. The couple released each others' embrace to see where the sound had come from. The woman immediately expressed her disgust. "Ew...!" she said. “Who would do something like this?” Tyler asked. There, on the floor, they saw a paper bag, almost torn. They saw egg yolk everywhere. But they didn’t see me.
A security guard yelled from behind me, but I kept running. I sped past rows and rows of shops and there were tears on my face. No doubt, other shoppers were looking and pointing fingers at me, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to go home.
It was 7 p.m. I was sitting on a stool -in my shower. I stopped crying a while ago and found myself staring at my shampoo bottle as if it was some kind of magic mirror that would tell me what I saw an hour ago wasn’t real.
“She’s prettier than me,” I said softly, “She’s taller. She’s thinner. And she must be funny. Tyler likes funny girls, he told me once. I bet she has more money than I do…” I stopped for a moment. “Or she has no money at all and is using Tyler!” My eyes go back to their original size and I let out a sigh. “She sure has good taste though.”
The tears started to roll down my cheeks again, and breathing was getting harder and harder to do. I stepped out of the shower and cleaned the huge, foggy mirror with my hands. I stared at myself. The guy that has been in my life ever since day 1…the guy who I’ve shared my laughter and tears with…the guy that I thought, at the age of 4, was the guy I was going to marry someday…he was taken from me. And he didn’t even tell me. I thought I was special to him. But was I? Or was I just the girl he came to for advice? The girl he could make fun of without getting into any trouble because the second he looked into her eyes she’d melt like butter and they’d both start laughing?
All I knew was there wasn’t going to be any GLEE for me that night.
TO BE CONTINUED...
SUMITRA
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