It was a late weekend afternoon. Indie and I were walking in the along the aisle. I picked up an orange and rotated it about. Indie looked on, smiling. We were shopping for dinner that night. We were growing up faster than we had wanted and tonight is to be the first of many dinners to come. Dinners that would one day replace our maddening nights out. Yes, it was time for us to bow out of the clubbing circuit. Soon. I am not ready yet for the bowing out though.

I arched my eyebrows. He shook his head and smiled.

“You smile at everything.” I said. “Even when you disagree with me.”

He walked on, packed a bag of bananas and another bag of lemons an placed them in his trolley. I walked on the other side of the aisle, with the crates of fruits separating the two of us. I could see his newly cropped hair, his eyes and part of his ears and nose. His shoulder length hair was trimmed and given a lease of life last week at Toni and Guy. Now he’s a “hair raiser”. He acquired a new skill of tweaking and twisting strands of hair so it would stand on its ends. Looked rather grunge, befitting of his masculine body and tanned skin.

I swung my green Aldo bag as I walked down the aisle; pass the oranges, pears, apples and dragon fruits. A little further on were wooden crates with mangoes, jackfruits and soursops. I turned around to look for Indie but he was no longer walking along the aisle. He must have walked at a quicker pace. I hastened my pace and I saw him at the end of the fruit section, where he was waiting in line to weigh his bags of fruits. Walked towards him and stopped when he was standing right in front of me.

“Certain things in life can be quantified. Like sugar cubes in a hot cup of tea in late afternoons with my father. Like these two bags of bananas and lemons.” I said. “But how do you quantify an abstract emotion called love?”

Indie smiled again. The lady took the first bag of bananas, placed it on the weighing machine, pressed a button, then another and proceeded to place the printed sticker on the bag. She did all this without looking at the machine for a second, not one. She was numbed by the daily repetitions of weighing fruits in our local hypermarket and by now, she weighed accurately without even taking a peek. She was like a lifeless machine, going through the motions.

The lady instinctively weighed and measured all the bags that came across her workstation. Maybe she can tell me how to measure love?


***
Dear readers, have you ever thought about this volatile emotion called love? Love is so fleeting, that it might last a moment or a lifetime.

When I was a child, I loved like a child. Loving my parents was natural. It was simple to love and be loved. My parents loved me and I never questioned their loyalty and love for me. They never failed me, ever and they were nothing but a hug away whenever I needed them both.

When I was 10, I had puppy love and I felt love for a boy riding on the same bus to school. We corresponded by letters and we professed our love for each other when I was ten years old and he two years older. The most amazing thing happened when I read through my diary, written then recording every thought I had for my twelve year old love.

Apparently my then love’s monthly test scores were the precondition for my love as a ten years old. I recorded many moments in the diary when I felt disappointed that he scored poorly in his exams and my love for him was quantified by how much he scored. It sounds silly to you now, my dear readers, but it made full sense to a ten year old me then.

Is it not wonderful when life is so simple and test scores were the only preconditions for our love for a person? Then at least most of us could redeem ourselves by studying hard each month and trying to score well. At least we could do gain more love by having the initiative to study harder.

Alas now I am grown and now love is no longer measured by test scores.


***
The first time I met Indie, he was drunk. So was the second, the third and probably the fourth. He was drunk for most part of the nights and sometimes even at 0800 hours in the morning when he was supposed to be up and ready for work. When he introduced himself to me, he said his name was Indie. He then smiled. He made no mention that he was broken by love. But he was.

“And she left me to marry another man.” He said. We were sitting under the blue night sky. I am not aware if there were stars but I would like to imagine there were. I liked to imagine that because I would like to think that a star could help guide Indie to a place where his heart would be mended and he felt no pain anymore.

And so he drank. He drank to forget how it felt to sleep next to her. He drank to stop himself from thinking how wonderful she smelled. He drank to remember how her legs would rub against his, as they curled in bed together, how she would nuzzle in his outstretched left arm, how he would hug her as they closed their eyes to sleep each night. He had slept with her for more than ten years and now it was too painful to be awake alone at night.

I spent many night saying good byes to him and watched him stumble out my car, fumbled as he looked for his keys, tripped as he tried to find his way upstairs to his first floor apartment. I carried him home a few times as I listened to him mumble her name. I tucked him in bed, next to his many photos of her. Switched off the lights, locked the door and went home.


***
Dear readers, emotional scars, unlike a cigarette scar, cannot be seen. Moments when we are hurt, abused and betrayed are etched into our souls, deeper than any physical scars can. And unlike a cigarette burn which can be soothed by running it under cold water, who can soothe the soul of a broken person?

How could she not see that Indie missed her? Why did not she see that he loved her dearly? Was his love for her greater than her love for him? Was this new man’s 3 months of courtship stronger than Indie’s ten years? What were her thoughts when she had to decide who loved her most?


***
Our very first dinner consisted of eight friends, both old and new. Each of us – Eve, Arif, Indie and I – brought a new friend to be introduced to the group during dinner. It was a simple meal in the garden, surrounded by lush clumps of Canna Lilies and palms. Arif laid out the table earlier that evening, dressed by candles and fresh cut orchids. Eve, being the perfect companion assisted him and I could see both of them laughing as they did.


“Tuck in, my friends.” I said, “Here’s a toast to good health and great friendships.”

“To good health and great friendships.” Everyone said. Glasses clinked and soon conversations flowed smoothly, like the three bottles of red wine freely flowing on the table.

Conversation soon revolved around popular dinner topics such as the lunar eclipse in the coming weekend, the current state of politics in Malaysia, some mundane comments on Book of Revelation and its relation to the end of the world. Somehow it flowed to jokes and each of us had a turn sharing a joke we enjoyed. Everyone laughed and gigled, sipped on glasses of red wine and soon the bottles were empty.

We proceeded into the living room. Indie switched on the TV and everyone sat around the sofa as they chatted and watched The Amazing Race. Indie’s living room was simple but extremely comfortable. Painted in light blue (all boys like blue, isn’t it?) with the feature wall in deep blue, scattered pillows on the carpet, a small coffee table and a fabric sofa of a complimentary colour.

I leaned over to Indie’s and whispered, “Who do you think loves me the most?” I slipped my hands between his left and tucked in closely to him as we sat on the sofa. Some family members were squabbling on the TV, and everyone watching the episode laughed.

He closed his eyes, blew smoke upawards away from the group of sitting around. He then tapped his cigarette on the ashtray three times. Indie opened his eyes.

“You mean between everyone like Seven, Adidas Boy, David etc etc?” He asked, just to be sure of the people involved.

“Well everyone…” I said, then looking confused, wondering who I should categorize as “everyone”. I pondered on the thought for a few minutes.

“You want to know who loves you the most?” Indie asked again.

I nodded. He got that question right. Indie lit another cigarette and took a deep breathe. He smiled again. He blew a cloud of smoke upwards, tilted his head towards me and looked into my eyes. He smiled again.

“Well I love you the most.” Indie replied.

I arched my eyebrows and squinted my right eye, looked at him suspiciously. I was not too sure Indie was part of the “everyone” catergory. He knew I felt confused for a second, so he patted my hand and smiled. He leaned against the pillows, relaxed in his seat.

“I love you the most, do you know why?” He asked.

I shook my head. I was very curious of what Indie would say. Indie has been my best friend and loyal companion for more than two years by then. Indie was around right from the start. Boyfriends came and went but Indie stood firm, next to me since our first hello.

“I love you the most because you can go out and make a mistake, come back to me and I will still love you.” Indie said.

He snuffed out his cigarette butt in an ashtray. He looked at me and smiled. He always smiled.

“You see, Otto. Love frees you to be who you are and that's how you know.”