Cheryl Tan - Sarong Party Girls

So, by the time my taxi reached Sean’s house—a really nice one near Bukit Timah Hill and all—guniang was in a bloody good mood.

“Jazeline—ah, you’re here!” Sean said when he came out to open the tall iron gate. Things felt a little funny right away—Sean was wearing shorts! Nice shorts lah—one of those knee-length tailored berms, maybe even a branded pair, and his button-down work shirt was still on, though it was untucked and his sleeves were rolled up. I guess when he said the party was not formal, he really meant it. I suddenly felt quite shy.

“I suppose I’m overdressed!” I said, laughing a bit. My god—my laugh was so high, surely Sean could hear that I was nervous.

“No, not at all,” he said, leaning down to give me an air kiss. “You look just perfect.”

After thanking me for the wine, he said, “Well come in, come in—everyone’s inside already.” So I followed him down the short driveway, squeezing a bit past the big silver Lexus parked right in the middle, kicked off my heels and stepped into his house. It was quite an atas place—a very big corner townhouse surrounded by a large bushy garden on all three sides. Damn quiet, since it’s so near Bukit Timah Hill and all those parks that old people like to do qigong in. I guess some people like that kind of thing—for me, once I get married, I’ll prefer to live in a house in Holland Village. You still get the good schools there and some parks and playgrounds lah—but at least nearby you have all those ang moh restaurants, bars and shops so even though you’re married, you at least still can be happening. Not dead yet.

“Jazeline, I think you probably know everyone—Serene, Su Fen and Vidya are all on the news desk, Shamini’s over in sports and that’s Lydia, my wife,” Sean said, pointing at the women one by one around the room. The news desk girls were squeezed together on one sofa; the other two were half-lounging on fat glossy beanbags on the floor, loudly cracking peanuts and melon seeds open and throwing the shells into a bowl on the glass coffee table. At least they were getting most of them in. Only one or two women bothered to wave “Hallo” at me.

I knew who they were—everyone except Lydia, that is. I had seen them all in the newsroom before—not Shamini so much because sports is on a different floor. But the other girls, I often see them purposely waving their backsides all over the newsroom when they walk so everyone can steam over them. Yah lah—that’s the kind of girls they were. Their work is so-so—from what I hear; guniang here doesn’t read the newspaper, so how am I supposed to know? — but even so, somehow they always get assigned to cover the front-page stories.

I was quite surprised to see what Sean’s wife looked like though. He never brings her to office functions and his desk at work is very empty and clean, so I’d never seen her or her photo before. Because he was Eurasian I always thought his wife confirm was Eurasian—that’s how they are. The Eurasian boys will sometimes date Chinese or Indian girls for fun, maybe even keep them as “serious” girlfriends for a few years. But when it comes to marrying, they confirm will prefer to marry other Eurasians one.

“We are such a small, unique race,” one of them explained to me a long time ago. This was after we hooked up, when he was explaining why we can be fuck buddies but he can never bring me home. “We really owe it to our ancestors, to Singapore history and identity, to try and preserve the purity of it. Otherwise the Eurasians will just gradually disappear!”

When he explained it like that, I guess I had to understand. Tradition, of course, is very important. So we were quite happy fuck buddies for four and a half months until he started getting serious with a Eurasian girl from church that he ended up marrying.

Lydia, though, was not Eurasian. Not only was she Chinese-Singaporean, but she was not a good-looking Chinese! Aiyoh. I really hope they don’t have kids, man—otherwise not only is Sean going to have non-pure Eurasian kids, but he’s also going to have backside-face kids. Lydia was one of those slightly chubby face, wear glasses, small flat nose Chinese ladies. No matter how good her personality was, it confirm must not be enough for someone like Sean to marry a face like that. I guessed that she must be very clever, have a lot of money, or come from name-brand family.

“What would you like to drink?” Sean asked. “I’ve sent the maid off to sleep so I’m afraid I’ll have to be the one making your drink.”

“Well,” I said, quickly looking at what was on the coffee table. I couldn’t quite see what they had been drinking but it was obvious that they had been doing it for a while—not only were there peanut shells and half-cracked melon seeds all over the table but there were also a dozen shot glasses and a few larger ones filled with clear drinks. “I guess I’ll just have what everyone’s drinking?”

“Good!” he said. “Another gin and tonic, then.”

Looking at how mabuk some of the girls looked—the two girls on the edges of the sofa were so tipsy they were leaning their heads on the shoulder of Su Fen in the middle—I was starting to wonder when they actually started drinking. Also, I was wondering—where is the rest of the party? I thought this was an official party, with different editors, their friends, maybe even some potential ang mohs to date, that kind of thing. Walao—guniang here even wore nice nice clothes and all! But this just looked like one of those sit around with your old secondary school friends, drink until mabuk and tell cock stories and sex jokes kind of party. Bloody hell! Never mind lah—maybe I could just have a quick drink and say I have to leave. Tomorrow we must work, after all.

“Here you go,” Sean said, handing me a big cold glass. “Come, Jazeline—sit next to me.”

So I followed behind him as he walked to the other side of the sofa and sat on a wide armchair, patting his hand on the arm of his chair. Aiyoh—there?

Sean must have seen me pause and think a bit because he said, “Well don’t just stand there—come on?” he said, patting the arm again. So, no choice.

Of course it was uncomfortable because it was quite high and I’m not that tall, so even though my backside was resting on the arm, it was almost as if I was half-standing.

“Good girl,” Sean said, tapping my backside a bit. Walao! Guniang here was so shocked I almost spilled my drink! Some more, after Sean finished tapping my backside he kept his hand there. And his wife was just one meter away, sitting on the beanbag! At least she wasn’t looking over at us, though. Thank god. But my goodness—this one was really too much. I squirmed my backside to give Sean a hint but he didn’t move his hand.

There was nothing more I could do so I just sipped my drink. But the first sip I took—kani nah, I almost spat it out. So bloody strong! Su Fen must have noticed my face, because she started laughing.

“Sean dear, did you make a really strong G and T for—what’s your name again?” she said, nudging Mabuk One and Mabuk Two next to her and pointing at me. “Look at her face! Priceless.”

Sean also laughed. “Jazeline—you have to catch up, my dear,” he said. “We’ve been drinking since after work. Now go on—drink it all!”

Su Fen started clapping and the Mabuk Twins started staring so aiyah, OK lah—bottoms up. Plus, if I finish my drink quickly, maybe that would give me an opening to make an excuse and leave faster.

The drink was so strong, this was not easy—my throat was burning, my eyes were wet, so wet I had to close them for a bit. But I did it. When I opened my eyes, I could see Su Fen had gotten up and was making another drink.

“Um—no more, no more! I can’t stay long,” I said.