We don't speak English

"Hello, care to join us for a drink?" , I asked.

The reply had me fumbling. The shorter woman spoke in Mandarin and state that they do not speak English.

It had me fumbling because my Mandarin is "half past six". Sure, I have an A for PSLE and B3 for O level, but the damage was done in Primary 5 where I had a terrible Chinese language teacher. I think he really relished the 15- 20 min that he took every week to cane and humilated me for failing the spelling test. I have fantastic Chinese language teachers for Primary 6 and secondary school (it is only after 19 years that I realised the good that they have done for me...) but when I left secondary school, I left hating the subject and the language.

So there I was, 18 years after my last Mandarin exam, the most important pop quiz of my life. My mind scrambled to find the words to piece together a sentence in Mandarin. I failed miserably. So rusty was my command of the language. Fortunately, the two ladies were lenient. They declined to join my table but accepted my company at theirs.

I learnt that they are from China. The shorter and older woman is already a Singaporean, having stayed here for 8 years. The younger and prettier lady is quieter. She is here for a holiday. "Great, I can show you around!", I blurted out. "But not for the next 2 weeks. I will be busy with work.", I quickly added. Duh! I was relieved when the conversation changed to other topic.

Suddenly I spied a colleague walking into the pub. I hailed him over, glad for the distraction. I was feeling very embarrassed at my stuttering Mandarin. My friend was immediately engaged in a lively conversation with the short woman. By then, I was feeling the effect of the Chivas Regal. The noisy din in Madam Wong was begining to be muffled and irritating.

Time for a quiet exit. Especially from the rowdy bunch whom I came out with. The ones who egged me on to approach the two ladies at the next table earlier.

It was raining cats and dogs. So much for the escape plan. I rejoined the party inside. Madam Wong was not really my scene. I preferred Siam Supper Club. Actually, I was begining to be weary of pubbing.
It has been a long party. 16 years till that date. Beginning with Subway at the Plaza hotel back in 1988, peaking with 7 nights a week at Music Underground, with all sort of places in between. All sort of action as well. Bar fights, cat fights, illicit affairs, big spenders. The stories that I can tell. Drinking tequila through the nose. Pretending to swallow estacsy pills in the company of a gangster chief (cornered when foolishly wandering into a off-limit disco in another country. ) A disco which only serves mineral water, imagine that (Estacsy apparently creates unquenchable thirst). But that's another story. I digressed.

Back in Madam Wong, the rain subsided enough for me to dash for a cab. The two ladies were on their way home as well. So I offered to see them home. We had exchanged numbers earlier but I did not expect to see them again. Like so many other women that I met. Some of whom are still very crossed at me for forgeting that we ever met, time and again. Well, I am not into dating at that of my life. Still nursing a hurt that lasted the past 12 years. Yup, that pathetic!

Anyway, I was soon buried in work. In the midst of getting a huge outdoor display ready for a VIP review, I received a call from the Chinese girl. How about supper tonight? She asked. Standing out in the open, with a thunderstorm 7 miles away, previous minutes ticking away, I really do not have time for this. But she melted my heart. "You don't like me?", she asked in plaintive voice.

I do like her. First impression is that she is dressed weirdly. A bit country pumpish with flowing dress and tresses. But I like her eyes. Sigh!~ It's always the eyes that get me hooked.

We had supper at Geylang. Pork belly soup. We talked and we talked. My brain rediscovering words and expressions in Mandarin that were buried for so long. Luckily, my teachers have taught me well. By the end of the night, I was seriously considering marriage. Little did I know that I would be dragged into a heart wrenching experience from China to Australia.

Fast forward to refocus on Gracie.

"Do you want to cut the imbilical cord?". That confirmed my impression that the doctor is indeed a bit nutty. I was wondering what I need to do. Raine seemed to have it well under control. No need for me to do the huffing and "push, push, push" thing that they always show on TV.

Thinking back, I remember she looked so small, lying by herself while the nurses tended to my wife. And wet. But she can sure scream.

Later, when the three of us were alone, I told Raine,"Let's remember this moment. No matter what may happen in the future. Especially when things all go wrong. Let's remember this moment."

Gracie is the bond that hold us together. Glueing a marriage that has at times been rocky. I am not sure whether Raine remembers what I said. I suspect not. But it is enough that I do.