Sydney's Song (24 page)

“But you didn't just walk out, Pete. You left a marvellous career you enjoyed and were proud of.”

“Very astute.”

“So why did you shun everything you ever cared about?”

“Actually, my career was the one thing
they
ever cared about, taking pride in my success. They were too close to my work. Too controlling. Music should be a joy, not a burden! By going backpacking I defied them. Thumbed my nose at them. You see honey, they aren't like you. You always make me feel appreciated.You set me free. I've never known my heart to feel so light, so elated. It's a tangible thing that you do when you love me. You understand me.”

“Darling… I
care
for you.” I was humbled by his willingness to open up to me. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Sure. Send me a picture of you in yesterday's LBD.”

“Pete! No!”

He laughed freely, dispelling the serious mood.

“Don't worry about me, my love,” he assured me breezily. “I'm now a proper adult. One without an inferiority complex. I don't crave for Mom's or my ex's acceptance.”

Just then the loud, insistent knocking started again at his door. We burst out laughing and we laughed until we hung up.

But his ex clung to him after the funeral. Pete couldn't shake her off because his mother—who loved her very much—had invited her over to their Boston home while she was “grieving”. His Mom insisted she was indeed grieving and needed all the pampering in the world.

Pete assured me his ex was using his married sister's old room.People might say he would tell me what I wanted to hear regardless of the truth because he was a man. But my Pete was not
that
kind of man. He had my unshakable trust.

Therefore I was incensed when a few days later I found some hate messages in my emails from his Mom and from his ex. They included photos. Lots and lots of photos.

There was a newspaper scan of the funeral. Of her clinging on to Pete's arm—her expression devastated and very grief-worthy—with the caption,
“Acclaimed Violinist Returns Specially to Console the Love of His Life.”
Pete's face was unreadable.

But his face was not unreadable in his wedding pictures. It radiated sunshine. Him, looking so young and handsome at 20 years old. And looking so much in love with his Kate-Winslet-look-alike beautiful bride. These came also with a society-page scan of the lavish romantic wedding.

“Ours is a love marriage, as you can clearly see,”
his ex wrote.

“Pete loves me. We're together and will stay together.”

“Go away,”
his Mom wrote.
“Pete loves his wife and they will be together for good.”

“Sydney,” reminded my tutor. “Have you finished your assignment? Another group need the PC.”

“A moment,” I replied.

I forwarded all the hate emails to Pete without any comment.There. Explain that.

As I left the computer room, striving to walk with dignity, my tutor—his name was Trevor—came walking beside me.

“How are you finding it?” he asked with an urbane smile. “Very exciting isn't it?” he answered his own question. Next he proceeded to tell me about his splendid animation projects. I was perfectly happy to “converse” with a male who was so full of himself that he really didn't need you to voice your opinion.

Trevor invited me for a coffee at the canteen because there was still half an hour before the next class. I accepted but refused to let him pay for mine. A few other students, who apparently thought the world of Trevor, approached us to question him on some projects and to praise him for his superb latest work.

I listened half-heartedly, my mind across the ocean.

Trevor went on his way after asking us not to hesitate to call on him for any assistance.

“Isn't he yummy,” commented one of the guys as we walked to our class. “A shame he's not gay.” Then he told me, “Lucky you.”

Pete phoned me immediately when I arrived home that evening.

“They must have hacked Lance's computer to get your email address, I used it yesterday,” he explained. “Love, I'm so sorry. You know the wedding photos belong in the past, don't you? The past is past and it's truly over.”

“What about the funeral?”

He sighed.

“You know I only attended it to pacify Mom. She threatened not to go if I didn't and she'd go on carping about it. But don't worry, honey. The press had it wrong. I love only you. It upsets me that they pull this on you. Could you please mark them as spam? You don't have to deal with their games.”

“But I don't like you living with them. D'you know what it feels like Pete? To have the love of your heart living with another?”

“I know, darling, I know the hurt. I've been through it all. I should know what it's like more than anybody else. Trust me. I'm all yours, even when you can't see me. I won't hurt you.”

“All mine? Pete, I can't even call you, I'm afraid they'll pick up the phone.” So far my phone would ring thrice as his all-clear signal before I could dial their home landline using my phone card. I so chafed at this restriction. “I want full access to you any time I want.Are you really mine?”

“Of course, darling.”

“So move out!” I bullied him.

“I am. One good thing did come out of the funeral. I told you I met many fellow musicians. I've had a few offers to play as a guest musician in some concerts, here in Boston and a few other cities. So I shouldn't be strapped for cash. I've been scanning ads for short-lease apartments and shared accommodation. I'll check a few out this morning.”

Pete woke me the next morning.

“Guess what? I'm in the new place already. Write down the phone number.”

Sleepily I took it down and called him back.

“It's a humble apartment, near MIT. I share it with a student.”

“Will you be comfortable there?”

“Sure. Trained myself backpacking before, didn't I? This is marvellous and very civilized compared to some of the places I've crashed. The other guy, Mario, isn't a slob either. I'll do splendidly here.”

“You sound like Sinead.”

“Famously, she'd say. How's she? Had any news from her?”

“A postcard from Noosa, Queensland,” I told him. “She's waiting tables and having the time of her life.”

“Good for her.”

“Good on her.”

He laughed. And we chatted and we laughed and life was beautiful again, although we badly missed each other. If anything, the separation and troubles had enhanced our closeness and bonds.

I received more harassing emails. Pete's ex and his mother venomously attacked me. For causing Pete to move out from his family home when they were doing their best to get him to a marriage counsellor. It seemed his ex now realised Pete had grown up to be a wonderful man who was too marvellous to let go. They accused me of being a home wrecker and warned me away. Right. I marked both of them as spam and clicked them away.

Mostly Pete was in Boston. A few times he flew to Chicago and to LA to perform as a guest musician, and to New York to attend the court. By having a girlfriend his ex's lawyers sought to discredit his character, accusing him of wife neglect during his travels.

During all this time, I attended uni.

“I went out with uni friends again,” I told Pete in an email. “Most can't get it that I don't drink, but they're nice because I drive them home afterwards.”

Again,
“Saw a play at Enmore theatre with Monica, Sandra, Trevor, Ethan, and Stefan. Trevor is a senior student who helps tutoring new kids. Monica is a very pretty Chinese girl. She came over yesterday and taught me how to make dumplings.”

Another one,
“Monica is a lesb, but don't worry, she respects that I'm straight. She's also close to Trevor. That is, even though she proclaims she's a lesb, she says now and then they casually fall into bed together after drinks.

I'm finding that uni life is a real eye opener. It wakes me up and makes me realise how rare it is to find a decent man like you.
Darling, you're an endangered species. Very precious.”

Out of sight, Pete and I now used more words to communicate. The more I knew him, the more I learnt. During this time we started to discuss ideas and philosophy. I told him I did not have enough knowledge to form an opinion.

“In my family, we didn't discuss God,” I explained. “My parents respect religious people. Each time they had friends over for dinner, when the guests happened to be Jews, Hindus, or Muslims, my parents were very respectful and meticulous about their dietary requirements. But we ourselves didn't get involved or practise religion. We had chocolates at Easter. We swapped presents at Christmas. That's about it.”

“I've met several amazing religious people,” he reasoned. “I've read extensively about several very spiritual people too. Their works and their insights. So it's hard for me to say God doesn't exist. But I'm not gonna patronize you, darling. The initiative should be from you. You're the one who must decide if you want to search.”

“There are so many things out there, though.”

“Honey, the theists claim spirituality is important ‘cause while this life is transient, the next one is forever. We know that with material things there are always distinct qualities to differentiate genuine objects from fakes. Like, if you visit a jewellery shop, they have valuation methods to appraise diamonds. Suppose there's a god. This god creates diamonds with key characteristics to separate them from fake stones. If He goes to such trouble for the identification of material objects, won't He do the same for the spiritual?

“Supposing there's a god, it stands to reason that He also provides distinguishing qualities to differentiate His genuine ideas from trash, or His messengers from impostors. In this case,
my
first criterion in discerning a rubbish idea from truth is if it teaches hatred.”

I mulled this over and planned to gradually ask him about the other criteria. Pete believed in one God belonging to everybody without exclusivity. He had churchie friends as well as followers of other faiths. He also sympathised with some atheist friends because,“Many are intellectuals disappointed in religion for valid reasons, honey. Fraud and deceit can't remain hidden in this era of science, reason, and wise people.” And he said, “When people search with pure hearts without prejudice and arrogance, someday they'll find conclusive answers.”

I went to see a girlie flick with uni friends after class at the Glebe cinema. When we came out, Trevor hailed us from a nearby pub. The girls headed towards him, but I said goodbye and walked to the bus stop. The buses were full. It was peak hour and Friday evening too, so I started walking down Glebe Point Rd towards Railway Square.

A car honked nearby. It was that guy Trevor again. I waved at him and continued walking. But he tailed me. The car behind him beeped noisily. I shooed Trevor off. But he opened the door on the passenger side and urged, “Get in.”

“No, thanks. I'm only going down the road.”

“Get in,” he insisted. “You're holding up the traffic.”

I wanted to say “Not me, you are”, but the car behind him was very loud and impatient. What the heck, I didn't like to be a pain for the other road users. I slid in.

“Thanks for this, but I'm only going—”

“I'll take you,” he cut me off, pulling out into the traffic.

“Thanks. You can drop me this side of George Street at Railway Square. I'll cross the road to the station.”

“You're such a public-transport queen. I'll drop you home. Which way is it?” he smiled charmingly.

“Too far,” I was worrying about the practically static traffic jam.“Let me off here so I can catch a train. The traffic isn't moving. It'll take too long. I need to attend to my dog.”

“You have a dog? I have one too. A shih-tzu. I call him ‘Li'l Shiht'” and he laughed at his own joke.

My phone rang. Pete. I answered it as I opened the car door—we had stopped too long in the traffic—and stepped out.

“No!” Trevor shouted, “Do you think I'll let you go when I've just got you in my car?”

“Bye,” I waved to him and joined the crowd crossing the road towards Central Station. Cold autumn wind blew the street, whipping strongly at my hair and shirt.

“Darling, who was that?” Pete questioned me amid the din of traffic and the throng of pedestrians.

“A senior student. He helps the lecturer tutoring us new kids.”

“I don't like his way of talking.” I could hear the scowl in his voice.

“Just now? I don't like it either. But he's normally very helpful.Dunno what's got into him.”

“Was he threatening you?”

“Trying to coerce me into going home in his car.”