Crimson Red: Unconditional Love

By Pichui

The word love has been defined and confined by society to a certain spectrum, basically involving man and woman. This book dares society to look outside the spectrum at love just as it is – unconditional. No caste, creed, gender, religion or beliefs determining the same. As one would love a pet regardless of the gender, as one would love a newborn regardless, so does this book take the reader on a relationship considered taboo especially in Asian countries. Post reading this book, readers are expected to have an open mind to relationships and not succumb to society’s bottle necked version of who should love whom or what sanctions a relationship. This book opens the dimension to another world where matter of the heart is concerned, taking the most commonly used word ‘love’ to the next level – a level where beliefs will crumble and minds will explode. This book will challenge you to step out of your cocoon, your garment and labels slapped on you by society from the time you were born and for many, even after they have gone to their graves. Prepare to be authentic to yourself. Not for the society or community but for yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Mar 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781543764222

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Copyright © 2021 by Pichui.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

CHAPTER 1

Bathing Rex in the front yard of my house on a hot Sunday afternoon wasn’t my idea of spending my weekend. My oversized shorts and T-shirt were drenched from his antics. Being on the heavy side, I find it an arduous task giving Rex his weekly bath. For obvious reasons, Rex thinks I am his beanbag.

My sister, Ana, who is 31, had gone out to fetch her boss home. He was coming for lunch. I had not seen him before but Mum had. Me? I am 34 and never had a boyfriend, for obvious reasons. Who would want Barney for a girlfriend? And Barney with curly hair? In anyone’s nightmare, maybe! I am about 5ʹ6ʺ tall. Though I weigh eighty kilograms, I am blessed with a pretty face (that’s what everyone says), fair skin, and curly hair. I know, it’s a shocker! My sister on the other hand is 5ʹ4ʺ, fair-skinned with long straight hair, and about fifty kilograms. So yes, she turns head wherever she goes. Well, I turn heads too—for the wrong reasons! During my teenage years, I was very uncomfortable with this, but as I grew older, I got immune to the remarks and stares from family, friends, and relatives.

From youth, I have been on the heavy side. I grew up literally hearing remarks like ‘Why are you so fat?’ ‘What are you going to do about your size?’ ‘You should star in Jurassic Park.’ ‘Be careful—that chair is going to break.’ ‘That dress is crying—have mercy on it.’ ‘Any guy who sees you will beat Usain Bolt ’cause he will run away from you.’ The list is endless. How is it my fault that food and I have a special relationship going? My sister has always been the opposite. She is a fitness freak and visits the gym four times a week. For me, the gym is a haunted place, so I keep away. My self-confidence took a nose dive from a very young age, thanks to my family, relatives, and friends who constantly ridiculed me because of my physique. Though girls my age would have taken this as the breaking point and sweated their life out, I didn’t give two hoots. In fact, the more they ridiculed me, the more I indulged.

I ran upstairs to have a quick shower before my sister and her boss arrived. I didn’t want her boss to see a round pouch bag drenched and looking like she had run 100 kilometres. As I was walking downstairs after my shower, I heard laughter and talking, and I knew they had arrived. I am a woman after all, so being conscious, I took one look in the mirror, confirming that her boss would not suffer cardiac arrest when he saw me. With that confidence, I walked downstairs.

‘This is my darling Barney sister.’ My sister introduced me. ‘Bunz, this is my boss, Joe.’

Bunz is a nickname given to me by my sister—short for Barney. Being immune to this comment, instead of being embarrassed, I flashed my thirty-two teeth at Joe. I expected a man at least in his fifties but was quite taken aback to see a handsome hunk.

‘Hi, Joe,’ I said as I sat beside my mother, instantly feeding my animalistic lust for chocolate chip cookies by taking one from the saucer on the tea table.

‘This is the main reason why she can’t lose weight.’ My sister sighed when I took my first bite.

‘Exactly,’ my mother added, shaking her head, looking at me.

I nearly choked on the cookie when I saw Joe looking at me, smiling. Joe was 6ʹ2ʺ tall, tanned, with a good physique. His hairstyle was a crew cut, and he had stubble, making him one of the most macho men I had ever come across. I could have sworn he wore Hugo Boss perfume—my all-time favourite. Joe worked as a director in his father’s company, a multinational organisation in Malaysia, so he earns a decent living. He drove a 7 series Beemer and lived in one of the luxury condominiums in the heart of Kuala Lumpur. He was the only child and his mother lived with him. His father expired three years ago, leaving Joe to take care of the business.

‘Your sister is younger than you, and she knows how to settle in life. Look at you.’ My mother started her number 1 hit song as I helped her set the table for lunch.

‘I am me. Stop irritating me,’ I snapped as I felt my temper rise.

Deep inside, I felt like a loser—I have always felt like a loser since I was a kid, but I did not exhibit it. We sat for lunch. I consciously chose to sit beside my sister, who sat beside Joe. It was my master plan so that he would not see me eating and think he was watching feeding time live at Jurassic Park.

Mum cooked her signature dish (fried wild-boar meat), chicken curry, rasam (Indian soup), stir-fried vegetables, and rice. I took a generous serving of rice and wild-boar meat and dug in.

‘Auntie, you cook better than my mother.’ Joe complimented Mum when he had taken the first mouthful.

My mother actually blushed. ‘No, Appu, it is just normal. Ana can cook just as well, but Bunz does the eating.’

I wished the earth would open up. I would have graciously walked into it. Why the hell does everyone have to make a mockery out of me? I thought as I just smiled (my smile has been my shield from arrows of mockery, sarcasm, and shame) and continued eating as if the conversation was about the weather outside.

‘Bunz is really cute,’ Joe said as he looked at me and smiled. I could have sworn my face was as red as a tomato and an egg could have been fried on my face because of the heat. I felt myself blushing, and before I could do anything, my sister did the courtesy for me.

‘Aww, Bunz! You are cute. Of course you are. I am sure this is the first guy telling you this, right?’ My sister smiled as she touched my face. Gosh! I wished I would just disappear.

‘Are you fuckin’ mad?’ I roared at Ana once Joe had left. ‘Why do you and Mum have to talk about me? Why can’t you talk about the wild-boar meat or the stove on which you cooked the meat or anything but me?’ I blurted out.

‘Hey, Bunz! Chill. Why so emo?’ my sister coolly scoffed, turning on the TV.

I stomped upstairs and plopped on my bed, and before I knew it, I was in slumberland, with wild-boar meat, chicken curry, and rice settling in my bottomless stomach.

CHAPTER 2

My sister’s uproar jolted me. Half dazed, I knocked on her room door and went in. I wish I didn’t. I shut the door as fast as I opened it. Ana has a horrible temper, and I didn’t want to be its victim, so I went back to my room, trying to figure out what went wrong. In the attempt to figure out what went wrong, I found my way again into slumberland, where I had been granted permanent residency for the longest time. I woke up about an hour later and went downstairs.

‘Ana, what the hell happened?’ I asked as I poured myself a glass of orange juice from the fridge.

‘He’s just being an asshole,’ she replied, staring blankly at the TV.

‘Hahaha, that’s why I am still single,’ I nonchalantly replied as I took the TV remote control from her.

‘That idiot fought with me ’cause of you,’ she retorted.

The glass of orange juice nearly slipped from my hand.

‘What? What the hell?’ I squeaked in disbelief, wondering what could have possibly happened.

‘Yeah, he says I should stop mocking you and respect you,’ she continued. Irritation was painted all over her face.

‘Hahahahahaha . . . serves you right.’ I laughed. For the first time in my life, I felt cared for, loved, and respected. ‘I am your elder sister, you know. Shame on you for having him remind you,’ I replied, feeling on cloud nine.

‘Well, if you didn’t look like a dugong and eat like a whale, we would not be ridiculing you, would we?’ she taunted as she got up and stomped upstairs. The sinking, useless feeling shrouded me once again. I paid no attention to it, although for some reason, that time, the shroud was thicker and warmer. I tilted my head, signalling Rex into the house. He willingly came and settled beside me while I kept switching the TV channels. I was heading for disaster when I found my mind wandering to Joe.

‘Bunz!’ I snapped out of my la-la land when I heard Ana call me.

‘Why are you howling?’ I snapped.

‘I have called you three times. What are you dreaming about?’ she asked, looking at the mirror and applying lipstick. Puckering her lips to ensure the lipstick was well spread, she closed the lipstick casing and slipped it into her handbag.

Guessing she was heading out, I asked, ‘Not coming back for dinner?’ to which she replied affirmatively.

After Ana left, I continued watching TV, chomping on the remaining chocolate chip cookies. At interim periods, I found my mind wandering back to Joe but brushed it aside, well aware that I am doomed to be single for the rest of my life. I went upstairs, had my shower, and stood in front of the mirror. Feeling appalled by what I saw, I hit the bed, knowing that I would definitely add to the spinsters’ statistics in Malaysia.

The next few days went on as normal: me going to work, coming home, playing with Rex for a while, and then snuggling with my cookies in front of the TV before calling it a night. ‘Please, God, make me just like the other women. Let me experience love too’ was my daily night prayer. I always had the impression that when it came to me, God would have his headphones on, chilling to some music, resulting in my prayers going unnoticed. Little did I know, or should I say, never in my wildest dreams did it dawn upon me that the day my life was going to do a somersault was just around the corner.

CHAPTER 3

It was the week before Deepavali. Both Ana and I had already applied for leave for ten days. We had a whole load of chores in front of us pre-Deepavali. I hated chores as they tested my physical ability to the core. Alas, there was no escaping it. Every year, we went through the tormenting chores. Mum would never sanction a maid. She is a staunch believer that maids only target her house to rob, so getting one to help was a taboo topic in our house. It has always got me wondering why people only do massive spring-cleaning pre-festivals. Why can’t the cleaning be done bit by bit all year through so as not to take a toll on the doers, pre-festive seasons?

‘Joe’s mum is going to London for a wedding, and she will be there for three weeks,’ Ana blurted out suddenly, interrupting my silent whining. We were hanging up the newly ordered curtains, which were custom-made to suit Mum’s taste.

‘Ohhh,’ I replied, fastening a hook on the railing. I wasn’t bothered if Joe’s mum was going to London or Timbuktu. The tasks at hand and the to-do list weaving their way in front of my eyes were a torture, so I had no time for small talk.

‘I am thinking of asking Mum if he could stay over as he will be alone at home,’ continued Ana. Sometimes, my sister does not understand my body language which screams ‘I am not interested in a conversation right now!’ I am not sure if she doesn’t or chooses not to understand.

‘Not a good idea and Mum will definitely not allow it. He is your boss and has no relation to us, so staying over is a big no-no.’ I voiced my opinion, convinced that Mum, being a conservative Ceylonese woman, would not permit the same.

‘It’s not a good idea for him to stay over, Ana. There is no man in this house, and it’s just improper. I am happy to have him over the whole day, but he can’t stay the night.’ Mum affirmed my earlier reply to Anna, over lunch that day. That was bad enough for me. Joe being here the whole day and me having to be conscious of my appearance and intake? I hated the idea. Wait! Why do I have to be self-conscious? I mentally questioned. Pin-drop silence was the answer. After washing the house, changing the curtains, and spring cleaning the rooms, I barely had enough energy to crawl into bed and go to where I rightfully belonged—slumberland.

Joe was over for breakfast the next morning. I didn’t really speak much and preferred to keep myself away from the limelight, so I pretended to be busy cleaning the kitchen or tending to Rex. A nasty howl from Ana sent me lumbering into the house. I found Ana slumped on the floor, holding her ankle and sobbing in pain. Tears were flowing down her cheeks.

‘I think it’s a hairline fracture,’ Joe said as he easily scooped her up and placed her gently on the couch. I just looked blankly at everything that was going on. My heart went out to Ana as I could feel her pain. Joe dialled his doctor friend, who came within fifteen minutes, confirmed it was just a nasty sprain, bandaged Ana’s ankle, and left.

‘Well, looks like someone needs crutches over Deepavali.’ Joe chuckled, looking at Ana. Ana sulked and I rolled my eyes.

What a drama! I thought to myself as I left the duo and went about my work. After tucking Ana into bed that night (given the fact that neither me nor Mum could carry Ana upstairs), Joe left. We hardly spoke, and I loved it that way so I didn’t have to be self-conscious. The next morning, Mum bulldozed her way into my room, teary eyed. That day was when my life started its never-ending somersault.

CHAPTER 4

‘Bunz, wake up. Uncle Chellam passed away this morning in a car accident.’

‘What?’ I squawked, sounding like a sick toad. Uncle Chellam was the only uncle who had my back all the time. He was the only one who would stick up for me when someone ridiculed my size or mocked me. I burst out crying and hugged my mum. I could not believe the news. Uncle Chellam was only 61 years old, and he was visiting his daughter in Australia when a drunk driver hit him while he was crossing the road. He had always been a father figure to me after my biological father expired. He was my confidant, my father, my friend, and my loved and respected uncle. Grasping the fact that now I was all alone hurt me more than words could describe. I hated living even more. Who was going to stick up for me? Who would I confide in? Who would I get genuine advice from without being mocked? Questions shot like stray arrows in a war zone, in my head.

After Mum composed herself, she told me that I needed to go to Australia for the funeral and that she could not come because of Ana’s condition.

‘Mum, how can I go alone? I have never even been on a flight,’ I stammered, but in my heart of hearts, I knew I wanted to be there to bid farewell to my beloved uncle.

‘Auntie, if you don’t mind, I could go with Bunz.’ Mum and I turned in shock, only to find Joe standing at the doorway of my room, his hands stuck in his jeans pockets. He looked like a charming teenager.

Shit! I mentally cursed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, with my oversized T-shirt, no bra, and my oversized shorts, I felt like crap.

‘Hi, Joe,’ I croaked, pulling the covers around me. ‘I think I can manage. It is only boarding the flight and—’

‘Joe, that is really nice of you.’ Mum cut me off.

I stared at her like she had two horns jutting from her head. I could not believe my ears. Was she insane? She consented to Joe, my sister’s boss, following me to a foreign land to attend the funeral of a person he had no clue of? I poked my mum with my index finger.

‘What? I don’t want you to go alone. You are not as capable as Ana,’ she continued as she wiped her tears dry.

I could have collapsed. Why the crap did she have to compare me with Ana all our lives?

‘Bunz, I promise you I will not bother you, and if you like, I could walk a few steps behind you so no one knows we’re affiliated,’ Joe said as he looked directly at me.

‘Hahaha . . . very funny, Joe.’ I sounded like a toad with severe tonsillitis. ‘I can manage on my own. Mum is just being overprotective,’ I said as I tried to offer him my best morning smile. Looking up from her phone, Mum said that there was a flight available that night and we were to board that flight.

‘I will speak to Ana about this, auntie. Just give me a minute,’ Joe said as he walked away.

Yeah, speak to Ana, or she will smack me, auntie, I mimicked in my head.

Ana was cool with the passing of Uncle Chellam as she wasn’t very close to him. He used to chide her whenever she mocked me and he, in turn, mocked her. While I was dressing up, Ana hobbled into my room.

‘You know, Bunz, Joe is my boss and he has exquisite taste. I am going to tell you something, but you promise me not to tell him or Mum,’ Ana said, sitting on the edge of my bed.

‘Uh-huh,’ I replied, combing my hair.

‘Bunz, since I joined the organisation three months ago and the moment I saw Joe, I really liked him. He is a very nice, caring, and considerate guy,’ Ana said, looking down at her feet as if seeing them for the first time. ‘Please . . . please don’t embarrass me by eating like a dinosaur or being clumsy in front of him,’ she said. I could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

‘Ana, just do me a favour and shut the fuck up!’ I snapped. ‘You must be very happy now that Uncle Chellam is gone and there is no one to reprimand you when you behave like an ape.’ I choked behind tears.

‘Aww . . . the crybaby has started, so I better leave now,’ Ana mocked, hobbling out of my room with her crutches. ‘But don’t forget what I said. Please behave and keep this between us,’ she said as she shut the door behind her.

I locked the room, sat on my bed, buried my face in my pillow, and sobbed for a good ten minutes. My eyes were red and puffy by the time I was done, and my pillow was wet. I wiped my tears and walked downstairs, pretending that my eyes were painful, lest anyone noticed.

‘Crap!’ I muttered loudly. ‘I think the Optrex has expired,’ I said as I blinked my eyes.

‘What happened?’ Mum asked as she set the table.

‘My eyes felt itchy, so I used the Optrex to wash my eyes and now they are smarting and painful,’ I said, stealing a glance to see if Ana and Joe were looking.

Ana was not bothered, but Joe looked directly at me. His look told me that he did not believe an ounce of what I said.

After a satisfying plate of nasi lemak (a well-known traditional Malaysian dish), which Mum had cooked for lunch, I went upstairs to pack my bags. Once again, Uncle Chellam’s loss got to me, and I sat on the stool in front of my mirror and just stared blankly. My mind went on a whirlpool of memories with Uncle Chellam. He used to toss me up in the air and catch me. I used to ride on his back, pretending he was my stallion. However, after my weight got the better of me and age took a toll on Uncle Chellam, all these stopped. Regardless, every visit from him came with my favourite chocolate chip cookies, a hug, and the most handsome smile a child could get from her father. Tears welled up in my eyes again as I looked through my phone and saw his photograph taken at the airport just before he left for Aussie a week ago. His arm was around my shoulder and mine around his waist. Both of us had our best smiles on. Why did I not foresee that this smile of his with me would be his last? Why couldn’t anyone I loved be with me for long? Thoughts kept reeling through my head as tears found their way down my cheeks.

CHAPTER 5

‘Bunz, the taxi will be here in about thirty minutes,’ Mum said after knocking on my door.

I looked at the time. It was 2 p.m. I had slept for 3.5 hours. Wiping the drool off my left cheek, I headed to the bathroom, freshened up, and walked downstairs with my luggage. The smell of Hugo Boss told me Joe had freshened up as well. My breath caught in my throat when I saw him in a black-and-red chequered long-sleeved shirt, which was unbuttoned. Inside, he had a white T-shirt tucked into his black slim-fit jeans. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. I must admit, Ana has wonderful taste. Joe looked absolutely stunning. I noticed he had not shaved, so his stubble was obvious, making him look as macho as ever. Tearing my gaze away from him, I thought about how uncomfortable the trip was going to be with me having to be so conscious of myself and hence not being able to be myself. Joe walked up to me, took my luggage, and placed them on the porch.

‘Please tell Auntie Mani what happened to Ana and tell her I am not able to make it because of this. Send her my condolences and tell her I will visit her once Ana is back on her feet. I will call her,’ Mum said as I was checking my sling bag if my passport and money were in.

‘Ma . . . er . . . I need some money. I only have AUD500. It may not be enough. My salary is only next week, so . . .’ I said, counting the five AUD100 notes in my hand.

‘Oh no! I don’t have any money here with me. I need to go to the bank, and it is closed today,’ Mum said, turning to look at Ana.

‘Don’t even ask me. I am broke too,’ Ana quipped even before Mum could ask her. Blowing on the nail polish she just applied on her fingernails, she was the least bothered.

‘Auntie, I have enough for both of us,’ Joe offered.

‘Mum!’ I gritted my teeth. It was already humiliating that like a little girl, I needed someone to follow me. A working adult and I had no money? Perfect icing on the cake, I thought to myself, feeling disgusted.

‘Appu, I’m so sorry daa. I did not foresee this, and I don’t keep much money with me at home. I will return your money when you come back,’ my mum said, smiling apologetically.

‘Don’t worry, auntie. We will sort it out later.’ Joe waved his hand as he reciprocated Mum’s smile.

A honk confirmed the taxi had arrived. Joe walked out and placed our luggage in the car.

‘Take care, Appu, and please take care of Bunz,’ Mum said as she closed the back door of the taxi. Joe sat in the front passenger seat.

‘Take care, boss,’ Ana said as she smiled the most irritating smile to Joe, who coolly raised his hand in acknowledgement.

The journey to the airport took almost an hour. Joe was busy texting. Not wanting to interrupt and knowing that I had nothing to talk to him about, I just laid my head on the headrest and thought of all the wonderful times I had with Uncle Chellam.

‘OK, all done!’ Joe proclaimed as he handed my passport to me after he had checked in our luggage and obtained our boarding passes. ‘Hungry?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I replied, feeling irritated that he had joined the group and assumed I was hungry all the time.

‘Too bad, so sad ’cause I am ravenous,’ he said as he walked ahead of me. Because he was 6′2″ tall, his one stride equals my two, so I was literally jogging behind him. He walked into New Town Black Coffee, an eatery, and sat himself down. By the time I reached him, sweat was dancing on my eyebrows and I was panting. He seemed to take no notice of it and was looking through the menu.

Mr Fit must be looking for salads, I thought as I sat myself down opposite him. After choosing what he wanted, he filled in the order form. ‘Sure you are not hungry?’ he asked while waiting for the waiter to come and get his order.

Not being able to reply as I was still catching my breath, I just shook my head.

‘So . . . you’re Tina, right?’ asked Joe as he watched the waiter walked away.

‘Yes, but you can call me Bunz like everyone else,’ I replied, looking over his shoulder at a Chinese couple who were arguing.

‘Tina . . . nice name. I prefer Tina, if you don’t mind. I don’t believe in nicks,’ he said, looking serious.

‘OK, Joe, suit yourself,’ I curtly replied, giving him all the body language in the world that I was not interested in talking to him. I could not understand why I was so cold towards Joe, but I slowly realised that my anger and bitterness towards Ana where her mocking was concerned were the main cause of it.

‘Tina, tell me about Uncle Chellam,’ Joe said as he took a sip of his drink and leaned back, making his chest muscles taut against his white shirt.

‘Joe, I don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t even know him so—’

‘Which is precisely why I wanna know.’ He cut me off.

‘I don’t feel like talking about mama now,’ I said, fighting hard to keep my tears from welling up in my eyes—wasted attempt.

‘Here.’ He offered me some tissues as tears flowed down my cheeks.

Before I knew it, Joe came around to my side and hugged me. I cried even more. I don’t know why, but I cried even more. It felt like Uncle Chellam was hugging me. I only realised I was making a scene when heads started turning. Joe signalled to the waiter who brought the bill, paid the same, and we walked to the boarding gate. Guilt washed over me that Joe did not even have the chance to eat, given the fact that he was famished. I brushed it aside and meekly followed Joe, whom I noticed had intentionally slowed down his pace under the pretext of looking at the shops as we passed them on the way to the boarding gate.

‘Joe, I am sorry for being such a jackass.’ I sounded like a sick Donald Duck with my stuffy nose. ‘I am just going to the ladies’,’ I said and walked to the restroom.

He must think I am a drama queen, I thought to myself as I blew my nose in the bathroom. A look at the mirror confirmed that I looked like a panda, with dark circles around my eyes, not to mention physically looking like one.

Screw it! He is not my boyfriend and I don’t have to look like anything but myself. I mentally convinced myself as I walked back to the waiting area at the boarding gate.

Joe had his nose buried in his phone. Not wanting to look like a lost brat, I took out my phone, cleared the RAM, deleted unwanted photos from my gallery, and rearranged the icons on the home screen.

‘I agree you were a jackass,’ suddenly Joe whispered in my ear.

I nearly jumped off my chair and dropped my phone. ‘What?’ I asked, not believing what I heard.

‘You heard me,’ he said, smiling.

‘So . . . to make up for that . . . friends?’ he asked, extending his hand.

Feeling silly, I shook his hand, muttering, ‘Friends.’

‘OK, to make me believe you, take this as the sign of the beginning of our friendship,’ Joe said, handing out my favourite Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies.

‘What? When? How?’

‘I am waiting,’ Joe said, obviously amused by my question tags.

‘Thank you, Joe,’ I said, taking the packet of cookies and making a beeline for the content. ‘Sharing is caring.’ I handed him two cookies, which he accepted.

‘All passengers boarding flight QA7020 are requested to proceed to the boarding gate. Business-class passengers are requested to proceed via gate 2.’ An announcement broke my concentration of chomping on the chocolate chip cookie.

‘Let’s go,’ Joe said as he got up and dusted the back of his jeans as if he had been sitting on sawdust.

‘Are you hard of hearing?’ I asked as I remained plopped on the seat.

‘They said business-class passengers.’ He did not wait for me to finish and started to walk towards gate 2.

My jaw dropped open when I saw my ticket. Written in bold letters were the words business class. I looked up, and Joe was nowhere to be seen. I stuffed the cookie packet in my baggy jeans’ pocket and walked towards gate 2 to find Joe standing at the gate, smiling at me.

‘Thank you, ma’am, and have a wonderful journey,’ the lady at the boarding gate said, handing me my passport and boarding pass.

‘You must be ashamed of yourself!’ I heard Ana’s voice in my head. ‘Joe had to book the business class simply ’cause your butt doesn’t fit in economy class.’

Tears of embarrassment and anger welled up in my eyes. I was furious with Joe for treating me like something different. Never mind how I would repay the money, but the embarrassment was simply overwhelming. I literally felt like everything that Ana had called me—a dugong, a whale, Barney, a panda, and the list went on.

Joe and I did not have any hand luggage, so we just sat ourselves on our designated seats.

‘Hey . . . what’s wrong?’ Joe asked when he turned to look at me.

I could feel my face was red and hot. I was fuming and felt disgusted at the same time. I was tired of speculation, so I turned to Joe and asked, ‘Why did you book business class? Why is it that Ana, Mum, and now you have got big issues with my size? It