Up there, the midday sun gave out a sharp oppressive heat. The saturated humidity made of the air her queasy. Her body had surrendered and was determined to drain her.
But it wasn’t all that bad. For the clear deep blue sky pleased her and the breeze passing her face as the scooter stirred up the still air relieved certain discomforts. What Lemon was experiencing typified the love-hate relation people hold towards the ambience of the tropics. It was unclear whether she was aware of this general consensus.
Lemon did not ask where she was being taken for she had full trust in the rider. It must have been Liang, or it could have been Yu, Lemon thought to herself later. Whoever the rider was, she was someone Lemon felt comfortable with. She had no thread of fear or doubt about this journey. This sense of security and affirmation was not common to her.
They past over a bridge and a vast area of wasteland was waiting ahead of them. In the furthest distance was a water tower, it’s distinct figure standing against the horizon. Buildings that once symbolised the modern new era lay tarnished in the foreground. Lemon could not tell whether any creature, let alone human beings, still occupied this terrain.
As they drew closer, it suddenly dawned on Lemon that this was an open market. The signs were crystal clear: the chicken caged beside a stall that was to be chosen by the customers, then to be slaughtered and prepared on the spot; the undesirable leaves of a day old vegetable that were tossed and piled around a corner. The bloodstains of certain meat products infiltrated the gaps of the pavement and left a layer of grease that would forever rest on the top of the road.
The past events were all there written into the landscape where no living creature stood now. To some, it would bring up a sense of horror but for Lemon, she deciphered the remnants with fascination.
Before reaching the water tower, the rider took a turn towards a concrete block, typical of seventies creation. Its original creamy white façade was now marred by the long trails of water stain. The scooter continued into the ground floor of the building. This sudden change of light caused Lemon to lose eyesight for a moment. Since she could not see, she absorbed the pungent fishy smell with a certain curiosity.
When Lemon opened her eyes again, she was in the gallery of a manor house. An extravagant chandelier dangled from the high ceiling and portraits of dead rich nobles lingered on the walls. This gallery had been transformed into a coffee shop and there in the corner waiting for her was Mother.
Mother was here to discuss educational issues. Lemon did not know this but Mother had gone back to primary school. However, she was not entirely happy with the teaching and was about to write to the Minister of Education.
“How do they decide what to learn in a certain age?” This was Mother’s first question followed by “when would we start learning about abstract concepts?”
Lemon did not know whether Mother wanted her to engage in a discussion or would prefer her to provide a definitive answer, so she reminded quiet.
“I saw your tutor the other night.” Mother said.
“Which one?”
“The one from when you were 14 years old. She was a single mother.”
“Oh, her.” Lemon acknowledged, remembering her, but she did not follow up with a question for she had no interest in this tutor.
But Mother did not notice her lack of enthusiasm and carried on speaking: “She is in a lesbian band now and was rumoured to be seeing a paper-cut rabbit, also a band member.” Mother sipped tea from her cup, Lemon noticed that she had started to use nail varnish. “And,” Mother lowered her voice and leaned towards Lemon, “I was that told her son had regressed into a huge, giant baby, a fat one.”
Mother was waiting to see her reaction but Lemon refused to let her expression betray her thoughts. In fact, Lemon was delighted to find out that she had no comment to make on other people’s lives.
Her indifference certainly irritated Mother, for her face now turned stern and showed a trace of contempt, “What are you studying at the moment then? My sister wouldn’t let me off if you don’t explain properly this time what kind of subject you are engaged in.”
This was the question Lemon dreaded to hear and the reason she had avoided contact with Mother for such a long time.
She would like to leave the conversation as it was and go away again with the rider, out of this overbearing line of enquiry and out of the grandeur of this mansion in disguise. Out to the open space where the odour of dead fish lingered and out while it was still possible to reach the water tower before the sun went down.
However, the trustworthy rider was nowhere to be seen.
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