I nominated yesterday as a girlie day out, a reward for myself. It was refreshing to be able to go out alone and just feel free to roam aimlessly in a shopping mall, with no agenda other than to walk and yearn for all the beautiful things in the window displays. I had a grand plan by lunch time and texted the number in my phone book: “Am in One Utama. Can have lunch or tea, if you are free.”

My third reply read: “If you busy, then never mind lah. Can meet when we are old.”

His reply: “Pls dont sulk. We catch a movie aft I finish work in Mid Valley, want? Can also make movie together, if you want :P”

I did not bother replying. Damn bloody pissed, I tell you. To invite Seven out for coffee felt like the most arduous task. Probably it was for the better, just not meeting. I walked for a bit and bought a lime green suede bag from Aldo. It felt instantly better. Who needs a therapist when you can just buy happiness on a shelf?

Obviously being the softie that I am (such a sucker, I tell you) I called him just as I drove from One Utama; the obligatory guilt inducing “I am tired and pissed at you for not coming” call.

Less than 15 minutes later, he hopped into my car.

“Why your car like this?” he asked.

He tried to pull the safety belt across his chest but the strap was not long enough. I laughed when he tried fiddling with the safety belt. “How? Cannot strap.” He kept saying, as he tried to pull the belt across his belly.


***
I remember the first day Seven walked into my life, quite literally. I was sitting in the middle section on the left side of the church aisle. Everyone was seated after the worship session. The pastor asked everyone to bow their heads to pray.

I lowered my head. Closed my eyes. Clasped my hands together. Just waiting for the pastor to begin the opening prayer. I heard the door open. I turned to the right, leaned myself forward, opened one eye and saw the most beautiful thing.

A young man walked in. He wore a white hooded Benetton t-shirt and a pair of black slacks. While all eyes were closed, hands clasped and the pastor saying a prayer, my eyes were glued on this alien being in the church. I cannot remember what the sermon was about or who the pastor was. All I can recall more than ten years ago is, he was beautiful.


***
We were sat opposite each other in Chilli’s, Mid Valley. He wore a white shirt with blue stripes. He had a faint moustache. His eyes were as beautiful as the first day I laid eyes on him. He had less hair, just as he mentioned whenever we talked on Yahoo Messenger. He even put on some weight. But in my eyes, he was beautiful.

“So what is this?” He asked.

Our conversations through the years often revolved around philosophizing even the most trivial of things. And last night while sitting in Chilli’s, Seven pointed at the promotion placed on the table. There was a picture of something that resembled a sunflower.

“Potato.” I replied. Gave a smirk, almost smelt victory.

“Nope, close. Try again.”

“Carrots? Beetroot? Turnips?” I tried.

“Nope, but close. Grows in the earth. Try.”

Four or five times later, I gave up.

“Give up.” I said.

“Come on, you can do it. Try, verrrrrrrrry close already.”

“Dunno ler.” I said.

“On-“ he said, trying to tempt me.

“Onion?” I asked.

“Yup, it’s a big Mexican onion. Cut it, then fry. Dig out the heart and you’ll get this.” He said, punctuated by a warm smile.

“By now, you owe me three kisses.” He added, a sly grin on his face.

“HA?”

“Ya, you guessed three times and didn’t guess it right. So you owe me three kisses.”

I changed topic, I think. I can’t remember now. It was likely that I laughed myself out of that topic. He asked me a rhetoric question: “Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to chit chat with your love every night on bed? Talk about beautiful things?”

I said that everyone wishes to be able to chit chat about their day with their loved ones. He corrected me, citing that he wanted someone to share his passion and his ministry among the disadvantaged residing in KL. He always had his heart for the poor and the desolate. This was especially true for his people, the Kadazans.

He always wanted to help others gain an education, the same way he was offered. Since the moment I met him, I knew that he had wanted to offer companionship and spiritual guidance to the young and needy. He wanted to be motivate young people of today, to plough in his time and energy to serve the people who needed him.

He had that sort of heart right from the start and I loved him for that and more.

“Won’t it be nice if I could talk to my wife and we share about our work among the poor? Kan kan kan?” He asked.

"Ikan..." I added quickly. This "Kan kan kan? Ikan." quote was something that we shared, a joke we created when we were very young, sitting on a church pew. Something that we shared when I attended ballet classes with my soft pink leather ballet slippers and he played on the church kapok guitar as a song leader in the Bahasa Melayu ministry.

I smiled meekly. He was talking about me. I knew he was talking about me. He knew that I knew that he was talking about me. We both knew it. What we both did not know is where that girl he was talking about has disappeared to. I think this is the main reason why we are no longer together. I am no longer that innocent dove and he was no longer my protector.

Life was no longer just a simple play of words, "Kan kan kan? Ikan."

Conversation with him was at times awkward.

“I love you very much. You know that. I came back, hoping to be with you again. But you were with him.”

“He loved me very much and he was there for me. You left me for the second time. All alone AGAIN, Seven. AGAIN!” I said.

“You know why I left. My sister needed me. She was pregnant, you know that. I came back and I hoped so much we can be together. And you broke my heart.” Seven said.

“And you broke mine.” I lowered my eyes.

Silence.

The same conversation. Again and again. We have had this conversation for years, with each new boyfriend I found and lost. He criticized far more than my father did. At the end of the day, the conclusion is the same. No one else would have been the perfect one.

Dear readers, the numeric number 7 is considered the perfect number in the Bible. Everything that had to do with perfection or completion is illustrated by a 7. For example, “On the 7th day, God rested.” The seventh day was the completion of God’s creation in the book of Genesis.

And in my world Seven was perfect.


***
“Who am I?” He asked. “Look at me in the eye and tell me who am I to you.”

Our eyes met. I was not fiddling with the coasters. I stopped biting on the straw. His eyes were light brown.

“You are someone whom I loved when we were both innocent.”

Those words shocked me. I did not see those words coming out. But they did. It must have shocked him too; at least a little. It had to be.

“Then let us go back to the way things were. Everything simple, everything innocent. Just you, just me.” Seven said.

“But I am no longer that person……… I am no longer innocent. You are no longer innocent.”


***
I was lost but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.

~ an excerpt from a famous church hymn "Amazing Grace"