Debbie Purdy - It’s Not Because I Want to Die

He may have been the responsible one, the father figure of the Cuban Boys, but it didn’t stop him messing around on stage. One night not long after I’d met Omar, he introduced the band – ‘Juan Carlos on conga, Julio on drum kit…’ – and then he pointed to me in the audience, making everyone turn to look, and said, ‘All ì tienes a la mujer que tiene mi corazón encadenado.’

‘What did he just say?’ I pestered a friend, who was laughing by my side.

He translated: ‘There’s the woman who has my heart in chains.’

I went crimson (something I was to do a lot with Omar). I liked the fact that he was so public about trying to win me over. It was flattering…but still I had my reservations. Latin men and all that.

It’s difficult forming an impression of someone at the best of times, even more so when you don’t speak the same language and you can’t have a conversation, but while watching Omar perform I felt I was getting to know the man. Of all instruments, I think the violin is closest to a voice and I believe you can get a sense of who a person is by the way that they play. Omar’s character came across in his music, and what I saw was someone who was witty and intelligent and caring. It would have taken me years to work that out based on our staccato verbal communications, but his violin-playing told me who he was.

For two and a half weeks I saw Omar nearly every night at Fabrice’s or, earlier in the evening, at one of Singapore’s other music venues (of which there were many). As soon as I arrived, he would stride across the room to kiss me hello and stand by my side, warning off competitors. He’d play his set on stage, then walk straight over the raised area that adjoined the stage to come back and stand by me. He seemed devoted, but still all my friends were saying, ‘Latin musicians? You don’t want to go near one.’

On Valentine’s Day I went for dinner with another man, an engineer who was a friend of the manager of Fabrice’s. We’d known each other for a couple of months and he was very attractive, so when he’d asked me out I’d thought, Great.

He was charming and attentive, and we had a lively conversation over our meal. Then, at midnight, we drifted along to Fabrice’s, because that’s where everyone went in the early hours. As soon as we walked in, though, I spotted Omar and felt uncomfortable. I didn’t want him to see me with another man. He got up on stage to play his set and I led my date over to join a group of friends, making sure I sat at the opposite side of the table from him.

My date was puzzled by my hot–cold attitude and asked, ‘Do you want to dance, Debbie?’

‘No, not really. I’m fine, thanks.’ I realised I didn’t want Omar to see me on a date. I had been proclaiming disinterest

for a couple of weeks, but my reluctance to let him see me with another man spoke volumes and I had to admit, to myself at least, that this charming enigma was burrowing his way under my skin.

My date came over to sit beside me and slipped his arm around my shoulders. Immediately I jumped up. ‘Must go and chat to someone,’ I gabbled. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

The poor man didn’t know what was going on. Every time he tried to lay a finger on me, I’d quickly check whether we were in Omar’s line of sight from the stage, and if we were I’d jump up manically and find someone else to talk to. I made sure we weren’t alone, inviting everyone I knew to join us at our table. By the end of the evening my poor date had certainly got the message that I wasn’t interested in him romantically – either that or he had concluded that I was deeply neurotic.

I didn’t talk to Omar that night because he was working and we’d left by the time he came off stage, but several times I saw him watching me with a confused expression. For my part, that was the night I finally accepted that I was hugely attracted to him. Latin musician or not, I was going to have to go out with this man. It didn’t look as though I had a choice.

The next day when I got home from work at the adventure travel company, Belinda said to me, ‘You’ll never guess what! He called. Several times.’

‘Omar? He called here? What did he say?’ Belinda didn’t speak any Spanish either, so I knew it couldn’t have been a long chat.

‘He said, “Party. Tonight,” and he left the address. That was all.’

A mutual friend of ours was having a party that evening and Omar had phoned to make sure I would be there. I think I blushed I was so pleased. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘Oh, Debbie, for goodness’ sake, just go for it and save us all the hassle. Please.’

I grinned. That’s exactly what I planned to do.

The party was at the home of an American guy and he’d set up a barbecue on his balcony. It was late when I got there and the main room was heaving with people. I stood in the entrance, peering around to see who I knew, and locked eyes with someone staring straight back at me: Omar. He hurried over.

‘You came,’ he said in English. ‘That’s good.’

He got me a drink and Rolando came over to translate for a while so we could have a slightly more sophisticated conversation than our usual monosyllables. When Omar went to the barbecue to get some food, I took the opportunity to ask Rolando a question that had been on my mind: was Omar married? I pointed at Rolando’s wedding finger and motioned a ring. He shook his head, but I wanted to double-check, given my distrust of Latinos, musicians and men in general, so I asked Rolando directly.

He frowned and scratched his cheek before saying, ‘I’m not sure. He’s never mentioned anything about a wife. We just play together. We aren’t close. Sorry – I can’t help you there.’

I later found out that Omar and Rolando had been best friends for fifteen years and knew all there was to know about each other. Rolando hadn’t wanted to answer my question in case he contradicted something that Omar had told me, so he’d just avoided it. It was the same for all the band members: they would have laid down their lives for each other. They were a long way from home, and they depended on each other, so economy with the truth over romantic interludes was second nature. It was behaviour like this that gave Latin musicians their reputation (but they also have a reputation for steadfast loyalty, and that’s true as well).

I circulated, chatting to people I knew, while Omar hovered by my side doing his bodyguard impression. As the party broke up, we went back to Harry’s Bar and I knew that I was happy with Omar beside me. Everyone was watching us and wondering, Will they? Won’t they? because his pursuit of me was good gossip in our orbit.

In the early hours of the morning he walked me home to my flat and I was amused because he did that gentlemanly thing of constantly moving so that he was between me and the road. I tried to explain to him that the tradition derived from days when ladies didn’t want their beautiful gowns to get splashed by passing carriages, which was hardly likely to be a problem in modern-day Singapore. First of all, I had left my beautiful gown at home, and secondly, the roads were bonedry. I’m not sure he understood my explanation, delivered in a mixture of French, English and sign language, like an elaborate game of charades.

Shortly after that he kissed me for the first time, which was nice. More than nice. He remained a perfect gentleman, though, dropping me back at the flat I shared with Belinda and Tetsu, and asking if he could see me the next evening. He gave me his phone number and taught me how to greet the person who answered the phone: ‘Quiero hablar con mi mulato lindo.’ I repeated the phrase until I could say it to his satisfaction, and we kissed one last time before he headed off down the road, turning to give me a wave as he left my sight.