By Vimal Palasekaran (UnR1).
Benji, a beloved four-legged pet, keeps it together even when his people can't.
“Did you give it a thought?”
Big Master bites down his lip while adjusting his blue tie in front of the small cloudy mirror, awaiting a reply.
“You already know my answer.”
Hunched over his art school textbooks on the rickety table, Little Master doesn’t look up to answer. Big Master’s chiselled jawline, meanwhile, becomes tighter as he intensely combs his hair in silence. Looks like we’re up for another round this morning. Ugh.
Picking up his bag off of the lumpy mattress, Big Master walks over me as I lie among the unwashed clothes strewn across the room, trying hard to stop this itching in my right ear. He halts right before walking out, heaves a hefty sigh and continues his stride.
Past tattered curtains and decrepit bedroom windows, golden sunrays start to stream in unhindered as cheerful sparrows twitter to each other their morning wishes. Why can they fly but not me? Do they all smell the same up close? How about the taste? Hmmm..
“Think about it okay? It’s the best thing for us to do.”
With a quick peck on Little Master’s forehead, the workaholic heads out. He puts on my favourite pair of leather shoes which fuzzily reflect the funny faces I sometimes make at them, covering the big toe jutting out of his sock. Walking up to the door, he unfastens the large padlock on the feeble front door. The lock that keeps us safe at night. And also daytime for that matter.
I weave past the scuffed table legs running up to say goodbye, my tongue hanging out and short tail wagging frantically on its own. Sometimes, I have no control over the things I do. Like my indescribable love for fried chicken. Yummm fried chicken...
“Oh man! Someone stole my surau slippers again!”
The sudden cry booms in the narrow hallways, echoes bouncing off the vandalised walls – an undeniable threat to the guilty who might be cowering behind one of the many numbered doors.
Muttering curse words under his breath, Big Master tries to look around the compound, behind the cracked pot of a dying plant and under the ragged rug that says ‘Welcome’, but in vain. I volunteer to look too, in the hope of finding my lost friend, Chewy Ball. The poor thing must already be cold and hungry. Where in this flat could it be?
As I peek behind the neighbour’s ravaged shell of a refrigerator, an extended family of cockroaches greet me with contempt. Talk about being both gross and selfish. Ditching the infested appliance, I get closer to the shut door instead, listening in for any movement on the other side. Silence. The smell of cotton candy and oranges, however, pierce my nose. Yes, it’s inside.
Dear Vile Cat, don't you want to come out and play?
Sighing in defeat, Big Master props up his head on his arm and leans on the corridor wall while absently staring at something down below. Elsewhere in the block, hurried voices and quick footsteps permeate the damp air all around us; the morning crowd heading to fulfil their daytime obligations while the nocturnal ones return home after a long night. I jump up to reach – I want to see what he's looking at too!
“Aren't you forgetting something?”
Little Master is leaning at the door frame with his hands folded neatly across his shirtless chest, his coquettish grin revealing a flawless set of teeth. Big Master turns in a flash, his wide eyes betraying his glee while his deep dimples join in. Faster children, before she comes for us.
And so it happens. First comes the clicking sound of the latch, followed by the piercing creak of the metal gate, the pungent smell of mothballs on ancient tapestry and finally, appears the owner of the cockroach residence – the Nosy Lady. Standing outside her entrance, she pretends to look around as her sinewy fingers stroke Vile Cat in her arms. I jinxed it.
Little Master quickly jerks back and Big Master turns to leave, securing the strap of the messenger bag on his shoulder. At the slight sound of heels squeaking on smooth cement, Nosy Lady’s theatrical gaze immediately falls on the three of us. The air instantly turns uneasy; her silvery eyes burning holes in the blissful canvas painted seconds earlier.
The hair on my back ramrod straight, I vehemently snarl at the witch and her animal, ready to pounce if necessary. Enough is enough. Why does she have to do this every morning?
“Benji! Go inside!”
Big Master's order catches me off guard. I look up at him in shock, only to find his really angry eyes. What did I do wrong? Dropping my head, I slowly pad into the house, catching a glimpse of Vile Cat’s leer. Bam!
The door closed in his face, Little Master turns to lean on it. He runs the aglets of his drawstring shorts between his fingers, his eyes blank, gazing out into the sunny side of the open room window. Beads of sweat start to form on his forehead and neck, glistening as he stands there bathed in the sunlight. Instinctively, his hand reaches for the loose switch beside the door, turning it on.
Outside, Nosy Lady creeps back into her cave, the creak of the metal gateway sealing her departure. Big Master’s footsteps, meanwhile, resonate further and further away until they finally disappear. He should be going past the elevator that never works right about now, down the five floors of stairs and out into the morning air that would be fresh if not for the stench from the overflowing garbage shaft.
Little Master continues to stay rooted behind the front door when suddenly, his eyes widen and with a lurch, he hustles to the table, digging deep under his heavy books. He fishes out a piece of folded paper and elatedly spreads it open, eyes skimming through the words. It is the same letter that caused a commotion in the house a day earlier.
The rusty ceiling fan in the house starts to emit a sorrowful screech in every spin, a cry for help from its unending toil under the tropical heat. Below it, Little Master is back hitting his books while I go into hiding under the peeling couch, licking my superficial wounds.
The morning swelter is just picking up and the birds have now gone to be in shade, leaving the building and me in peace and quiet. My eyelids getting heavier by the minute, I catch Little Master peering above his books, smiling at me. Next thing I know, I'm falling and falling, past a whirlpool of faces, some I love, some I hate and some I do not recognise. Wait, is that you mother?
His eyes light up as he talks about school with Big Master, both of them intertwined on the battered couch after the most filling of dinners. Their little discussion seems to go on for hours and hours as the artist’s nimble hands animatedly paint ideas in the air, while the listener admires the intangible portraiture with profundity as deep as his unending dimples. And after, they fall asleep right there while I remain under it, trying to recall the many different tastes of crayons and colour pencils.
I'm in an open field under a cloudless sky, running as free as I want to. I'm so fast my tongue is out, slobbering my face as the wind whisks my short fur. I don't remember when was the last time I ran as fast as I could, let alone be on a field. Oh look at that colourful disk! I know what it's called, it's a frisbee! I run after the lithe disk as it cuts through the air, gliding further and further away from me into a dark tunnel. I am now rooted to the ground, deciding whether to enter the tunnel when something heavy drops on my head. Ouch! Argh! Is that you.. Chewy Ball?
“Benji hey wake up. Stop trying to bite my face off. It's just a dream.”
Little Master's smiling face greets me as I wring my eyes open, instead of my best friend in the whole word. With a quick pat on my head, Little Master gets up to check on his vibrating mobile phone, its pulses sending loud tremors across the table. A quick glance of the screen and a subsequent panicked expression. Someone’s running late.
Putting it down, he runs into the mouldy bathroom and turns on the cold shower – the only shower we have anyway. Meanwhile, I commit myself to making the difficult decision of what’s for brunch – ground beef or chicken slice cuts. Little Master returns minutes later, all dressed up in his Lady Gaga t-shirt and ripped jeans ready for school, while I still can’t make a decision. I crawl out from my hideout, again tongue out and tail wagging, to get my food and bid adieu.
Ignoring me, he proceeds to shove in as many books as he can inside his backpack while munching on some wholemeal Massimo bread. Settling the backpack on his shoulders, he puts on his chucks before grabbing the key from its holder and undoing the lock. All of these so far have happened in almost the speed of lightning and he turns to me with the same momentum.
“Okay Benji, you know the drill. I’ll be going to the coffee house for my shift right after class. Your other daddy is in charge of cooking today so help him out. Okay, I’m off. Come here now.”
He beckons me closer, undoubtedly to pat me on the head and scratch me under the neck. Calling upon every inch of my determination to not fall for such simple pleasures in life, I steel myself to sit tight and put on the most charming pair of eyes I can muster.
He tries to look away, at the bedroom's open window across the room, at the blank TV in front of the antique couch and at his many paintings hung on the yellowing walls, spending a few seconds on each before his gaze finally lands on a small framed photo of the three of us right above the old faithful table. It was taken almost a year ago by a stranger at a park – Little Master holding the five-month old me tight while Big Master has his arm around his lover’s waist. I'm nothing but a fluffy furball but their broad smiles are worth a thousand watts each.
“Okay fine. I'll get you some fried chicken on the way back.”
Yes! The eyes work every time.
Locking the door from the outside, Little Master's footsteps dart past the entrance to Vile Cat’s lair, leaving me all alone in the house. It's going to take some time before Big Master comes back. Damn! I forgot to make Little Master turn on the TV! Or open the can of food for me! Fine then, Massimo it is. Jumping onto the table, I pounce on the loaf, dragging it back to my refuge. Halfway through ravaging the poor slab of trapped bread, a light bulb flashes. Why not leave breadcrumbs and improvised plastic bits all around the house for my missing ball to come find me?
Vile Cat stands on top of the infested refrigerator, looking down on the rest of us, its long fur billowing in the cold breeze. My eyes instantly grow large – under its front paw is my precious – my Chewy Ball!
I am at the crucially satisfying moment where I am about to snap Vile Cat's head when as always the villain manages to escape, aided by an unexpected ally.
“Benji! What have you done?!” Frozen at the door with two large grocery bags and a mouth hanging open is Big Master. His livid eyes dart between the floor strewn with the important clues and me, who's confused. I mean I know I'm not supposed to scatter things around but can't he see this is for a noble cause?
The sunny sky from earlier is now dark and gloomy, the rain pouring as heavy as it pleases with sporadic lightning flashes and thunder gnashes to spice up the evening. A few pesky flying ants hover around the fluorescent bulb, once in a while coming down close enough. Crunchy.
A disappointed Big Master is just about done collecting the last of the plastic wrappers when an abrupt loud knock is dealt on the frail front door. I look up at Big Master, who looks at me, appearing just as confused.
“Who's that?,” he asks me.
I try my best to shrug. I really don't know who's at the door. Big Master quickly strides to take a peek through the keyhole, before turning to me with a stricken expression I somehow understand. At once I scamper off into the only room in the house but keep my head close to the door to listen in.
“Mama! What a pleasant surprise!” Big Master's voice is a pitch too high.
“Mama was just in the neighbourhood. Badrul okay?” The signature jingles of her bangles ring.
“Okay je Mama. Duduklah. Nak minum anything? Papa knows Mama datang sini?
“Tak Badrul, he doesn’t. The thing is... Mama datang sini untuk jumpa anak Mama seorang, untuk cuba faham...”
A pause.
“Honestly Badrul, bagitau Mama. What do you even see in this filthy building and that man over your parents?” A sniffle, a snort. Warning signals of the impending waterworks.
Silence.
“Badrul, please come back. Mama tak tau mana nak letak muka dah. Parents Aishah dah mula tanya bila tarikh nie. Leave all of this behind for good. Kalau orang tau malu Badrul!” She is now sniffling profusely; no doubt tears have begun flowing.
“Mama! I didn’t leave Papa and you. Papa threw me out of the house. He disowned me!” Big Master’s sudden raise in voice startles me as it thunders through the air. “Besides, I already told you I need more time Mama. I will be home with you soon. Please trust me.”
“Stop playing games with us! It’s been more than a year. Papa already gave you a second chance. You agreed to everything over the phone but here you are, still in this place.” A tiny whimper. “What you're doing are all sins. Tolonglah taubat Badrul...”
No more self-control – she is weeping.
“Sudahlah Mama. I think it’s time for you to leave.”
More jingles of the bangles, more sniffling and she is gone. Slowly I come out from hiding as the rain continues to throw a tantrum outside. Big Master has his head hung, covering his face with both of his palms, the way he always does in one of those days when Little Master storms out of the house. Now, if only I could somehow get him to switch on the TV...
Two episodes of Wendy Williams later, Big Master sets the table for two, with plates and spoons while a pot of his 'famous' soup sits in the middle. Now on TV, the weird little person called Honey Boo Boo is putting on a lot of products on her face and body, just like Masters do every time after shower. She’s getting ready to go out somewhere.
Again, another knock on the door. This, however, is a familiar knock.
I abandon Honey Boo Boo and her great trip into the City, catching up with Big Master who unlocks the front door like I tear through the plastic on Fried Chicken Fridays. Little Master's warm smiling face greets us at the other side, a radiant sun in the middle of a thunderstorm. He lets the water from his umbrella drip outside our entrance, just as the next door creaks opens. Big Master quickly pulls Little Master inside and shuts the door, but not before I catch the poisonously sweet smell of Vile Cat.
Even after dinner I am still mad at Big Master for pushing me in. As I lie under the couch, Big Master is spread on the callous couch stroking his full stomach while Little Master returns after doing the dishes.
“Come here you.”
At the invitation, with a mischievous smile, Little Master cannonballs onto the couch, landing right on top of Big Master’s broad chest.
“Ufff.”
“Sorry! Wait, actually I’m not. Stop it, stop it!!”
Little Master laughs hysterically as strong fingers mercilessly tickle his ribs.
A few more frenetic tickling sessions later, they cosy up on the couch, silently watching the Kardashians having their routine family meetings. I’m still lying where I was before, as I tend to when romance suddenly blossoms in the air, for fear of any movement causing it all to be sucked into a black hole of altercations and accusations. The urge to bite on the fried chicken leftover bones from dinner, however, is now proving to be quite a formidable opponent against my willpower.
“Yang can I ask you something?” Big Master continues running his fingers through Little Master’s hair, not missing a beat even to match his unexpected serious tone.
“Hmph?”
“Why don't you want to think about it? It’s perfectly normal for people like us to live like that these days. A lot out there are doing it already.”
Jaws suddenly clenched, Little Master grabs hold of the stray hand playing with his mane, stopping it in mid-motion.
“It's disgusting, that's why.” Rolling his eyes, he heaves a deep gust of breath. “Besides, you are taking the scholarship right? I’ve already bought stamps for the reply envelope. All you have to do is complete the forms and we can finally leave this stupid place.”
“Are we still talking about that? I thought I already said no.” Big Master wrenches his hand free, pushing Little Master off of him.
Both of them now sitting up, Little Master looks perplexed and distraught, feelings I've come to understand very well.
“But it’s a chance for us to move out of here. I can get my credits transferred and also get a job while you go to grad school. It’s the perfect plan.” Little Master bores deep into Big Master’s eyes, without taking a second to even blink.
“It’s a foolish plan, that’s what it is. You think it’s that easy to uproot yourself and move to another place? I did that once. I’m not doing that again.”
Uh-oh. This is not headed in the right direction. Time for an intervention! I run out from under the couch and perform the most heartfelt rendition of my signature dance move, well the only move I know of anyway. The two of them unfortunately, continue hurling verbal daggers at each other.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Little Master is now up, shutting Kris Jenner down mid-scream before staring down the figure on the couch.
It’s Big Master’s turn to stand up.
“I left everything for you. Everything to live here and slave away as a plain accountant when I could be running my own company. All for a boy I met at a coffee house. And you still want more?” Big Master’s accusatory tone pierces the humid air like an arrow as sharp as his tongue. The silence immediately becomes deafening; not even echoes from the persistent leak of the kitchen tap are able to diffuse it.
“Just because of your sacrifice you expect me to stoop so low?! Did you ever think about how she would feel if she finds out you’re sneaking behind her back to fuck a man? Don’t you feel guilty?”
“No I don't! All I care about is us. I just want our life together to be comfortable and I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’m tired of living like this. We’re barely paying the rent!”
“I’m sorry. But I just can’t be that man.”
Wait, did Honey Boo Boo make it to the City in time for her party just now? I hope she did. She spent so much time putting on her makeup and her dress it’ll all be wasted if she got stuck in something like a traffic jam or the lift. I wonder how the City looks like in the flesh. Hopefully I can see it with my missing best friend. Maybe Masters will take us there one day?
This story was workshopped in the first edition of the UnRepresented: KL writing programme. Check out more writings from our alumni in the Past Works section and make sure to follow UnRepresented: KL on Facebook.
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