Cheryl Tan - Sarong Party Girls

I took out my wallet and left eighty dollars on the table, looked around at the girls and pretended to cough. “Sorry, Keira,” I said. “But I’d better not make your baby sick anyway. You take care ah?”

Keira just nodded, so I fasterly got up and left. I looked back once as I was leaving—the three girls on one side, back to oohing and aahing over the baby. Sher was the only one looking at me as I walked away. I bet she was wondering whether she should chase after me to make sure I could get home OK or just talk a bit.

I just pretended I didn’t see her and quickly turned around.

Once I left the restaurant I started to feel a bit better. But still not OK. Every time I closed my eyes or felt distracted, I could see Louis’s face on top of me, feel Louis in me, hear Louis talking to me. And the more it happened, the more I thought that I really was a damn shit friend to Imo. At least I know that’s what Sher would say. And I know that yes, I’m not friends with Sher anymore. But still, of all the people I know who truly understand any situation, she is the best. So, yes, I really was a damn shit friend.

It’s not that I wanted to fuck Louis, you know. The exact opposite! But hallo, even if Sher was the one in that situation, I think she confirm would have said yes to him. You know how Louis is. No one is allowed to say no. No one. I mean, you can. But the consequences—confirm is not fun. And I felt I couldn’t just think of myself in that moment, I had to think about the good of the group. You know, harmony, free drinks and all that shit.

There was suddenly some music in the lobby—soft, so it didn’t seem to be coming from within the lobby. I followed it outside and saw white ribbons and big bows all over the gazebo in the center of the garden. On one side there were these old Chinese guys in tuxedos, sitting up straight and playing violins or some shit. On the other side was a few rows of chairs. People were still talking talking among themselves so I guess the bride and groom weren’t coming down so soon yet.

Quickly, I snuck over toward the side of the courtyard where I knew there were a few benches and picked one that confirm had a good view of the gazebo. The Shang’s garden is damn atas—I mean, most hotels that charge these kinds of prices surely have atas gardens but this one was damn super atas. Each bush, each tree—their gardeners spend every day trimming them until all perfectly round or oval type. Sometimes they might even make special shapes and all—one time for Chinese New Year, there was even one with a giant dragon shape. Don’t anyhow play!

Guniang was quietly sitting there, looking at the guests, trying to see who was wearing what, carrying what handbag, when all of a sudden someone was talking to me.

“Jazzy?”

Kani nah. Of course it was Sher. I didn’t say anything.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” she said, sitting down next to me. Of course she would have figured out that I might come here. The first few times we came to the Shang, we always came to this garden. If there was a wedding happening, we would come and sit for a bit and stare, imagining. The thought of that made me feel a twinge. At least for me, now, I still have a chance to imagine. For Sher, her SPG life and dreams were over.

“Jazzy, I think we need to talk,” Sher said, leaning out now, like she was trying to block my view. Babi.

“Talk? About what?” I said. “Please, everything is OK. We have nothing to say.”

Sher opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something more. But then she closed it again. I didn’t want to look at her, but from the side of my eyes I could see her smoothing down her skirt over her knees—walao, guniang married for such a short time only already started wearing these long auntie skirts, covering knees and all. If I didn’t already feel like throwing up, then now I confirm would start to feel it.

I was considering getting up to leave, even though the wedding hadn’t even started yet. But then a waiter came up to us, holding a tray.

“Ladies,” he said, bowing a bit and smiling. “Would you like a glass of champagne?”

Aiyoh, maybe he thinks we’re here for the wedding! OK, maybe Sher’s auntie-length skirt at least had some use. Sher just smiled at him and took two glasses off the tray, handing me one.

“Cheers!” I said to the waiter as he bowed and walked away.

I looked at Sher and Sher looked at me. Then we both clinked our glasses and laughed.

After we stopped laughing—and after a few sips—Sher leaned back and crossed her legs.

“Jazz,” she said. I could feel her watching me so I tried to keep smiling, even though I didn’t really want to anymore. I don’t know what she was about to say. But hallo, today the gardens were so nice, there was an atas wedding about to happen, the two of us had just laughed together for the first time in god knows how long, why did she have to ruin it?

“Remember Eugene?” she said.

Yah, Eugene. Once I thought of him I couldn’t help but smile a bit bigger. Who didn’t like Eugene? That guy—my god, that guy—he really was one of the best. We all knew him when we were quite young. I think, twelve or thirteen? He was a few years older—I think fifteen or something at the time. And even though we—and all the girls in the neighborhood—were all damn steam for him, we were all so young, we all confirm had no chance with him. You know how it is when you’re that age lah—even a year or two age difference feels like five or ten years sometimes.

But we all lived in the same area, hung out in the same community center, went to the same kopitiam, and on Saturday, Sunday we would see each other with our mothers in the same wet market, that type of thing. So Eugene knew who we were. (He knew that we existed, anyway.) We actually even became friends. Sometimes if Sher and me were alone in the kopitiam he might ask us to join him and his friends, maybe even buy us a plate of chicken rice if we were feeling hungry.

The funny thing about Eugene was that he was the biggest tough guy Ah Beng around. Not the hard-core kind though—just slightly enough of an Ah Beng that he was still cool. He was big on skateboarding then—but since he was quite Ah Beng, he was part of Ah Beng skateboarding group, not the cool ang moh skateboarding teenagers we sometimes saw near Holland Village. And when he was with his gang, he would always be damn act tough—throwing third finger and kani nah around all the time and shouting “Oi, brudder!” to his fellow Ah Bengs a lot. But when he was alone with me and Sher, buying us ice Milo or kaya toast at the kopitiam, he was totally different—sweet sweet one. He always asked us how was school, which boys were trying to chase us, tell us toot jokes to make us smile, sometimes bringing us small boxes of those cute Japanese chocolate cookies shaped like pandas and shit like that. We all knew—even though he’s a smelly Ah Beng, whoever ended up marrying Eugene is confirm win lottery one. This guy maybe to the outside world is a tough asshole but at home, no matter what, he will always treat you like a princess.

At that time, Sher and I hoped one of us would end up being the lucky one. We were so young—not SPGs yet. But then after Eugene went to the army, we never saw him again. I don’t know why.

“Yeah,” I said. “That Eugene really was number one.”

Sher smiled, but just a little bit. “Well,” she said. “I don’t expect you to understand, but Jazzy, Ah Huat is really my Eugene.”

Wah, guniang here—stunned. I guess I never really thought about it. In fact, I hadn’t thought about Eugene in many donkey’s years. And when I thought about it now, I guess I could understand. Back when we first became SPGs, Sher and I would discuss Ah Bengs and we always said yes, Ah Bengs are Ah Bengs but a guy like Eugene, is actually a sexy Ah Beng. He has the best of the Ah Beng qualities—that swagger that makes him act tough to the rest of the world but at home, with people he really cares about? He’s just a big cuddly teddy bear. And the sexiest thing though is that you know that whoever he cares about, he cares about fiercely—he’ll do anything to defend and protect them. When you think about it, that really is damn bloody sexy.