Short Stories: Wan Sum Fuk

“Oi, do you think he’ll like it?”

“Spare me leh Tommy, we’ve been at this for weeks, you ask me how many times already. Just march up to his office and ask him” came the muffled reply from under a mountain of pamphlets in the middle of my tiny room. I had worked hard getting those and now it’s become the camouflage for an unwilling partner-in-crime. Beneath that mass of sentient paper was Joshua, whom I ferociously coerced into assisting me with the mammoth task of asking the moon of my life, my sun and stars, my one and only Oliver to spend the rest of life with me in (un)holy matrimony. When I say furiously coerced, I mean I promised to let him be my maid-of-honour. Joshua sometimes went by MaLaDaLa when he worked the night shift at Taboo.

I was camped out in the crevice of my room, nibbling the fleshy edge of my thumb. With a laptop perched on my knees, I was huddled directly beneath the air-con and surrounded by balled-up wads of rejected ideas. My glasses were slipping off the bridge of my nose as I leaned in to squint at the exorbitant offerings of marching bands and flash mobs. No, Oliver isn’t the sort, he wants the drama but not the noise. Romantic skywriting at Sentosa? Pretty sure that isn’t legal. (Well, neither was our relationship, according to my Pa anyway.) Skydiving proposal? Singapore meiyou. Asking him to BTO with me at the peak of Mt. Everest? We’re statistically more likely to make it up there than getting married in Singapore while 377A is still around. I couldn’t believe myself, eight long years of courtship and I had been reduced to a quivering mess beneath swaddles of blankets, wondering how to stage the perfect proposal when I didn’t even dare to even hold his hand in public.

“Cannot la, must be perfect!” I whined back at the frankly intimidating mass of shifting pamphlets. “I don’t want some lame boring proposal, that one anyone can do.” Still burrowed in my blankets, I scooted my butt across the cool marble floor at a remarkable pace, knocking out a few empty cup noodle containers. “Eh, eh, Josh get up--Oi, GET UP!”, I shoved the laptop in the vague direction of what I hoped was Joshua’s face. “I think I found the perfect one.”

The mass of pamphlets launched itself into the air, streaming down like blushing petals on a wedding aisle. Cheap and fake ones but nonetheless held themselves with an air of celebration. “What, what where lemme see.” Rubbing his eyes, Josh finally emerged only to hunch over the glaringly bright screen.

His eyes widened. “Dude, this is the one. This is finally the one. If you don’t do this, I’ll hijack your proposal idea and marry your boyfriend myself.” We grinned maniacally at each other, faces distorted by the sheen of light emanating from beneath our chins. “He’s going to kill us, you know that right?” Josh whispered.

“That’s why he loves me okay. If he doesn’t love me after this, then you can try to marry him and I’ll be your maid-of-honour.”

I met Oliver when I was young, much too young to know what love was, much less to care what love was beyond undulating bodies and warm skin against mine. He held my hand in the dark riverside of Clarke Quay at 3am, sipping bottles of Corona. Even then, we were too aloof for Tiger. I remember the gurgling of the water and the calluses of his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand. I remember shaking off his grasp when we heard our names being called from afar and pretending I didn’t hear his sigh. I remember the tightness in my chest that ached till dawn. I met him when I was young, much too young to know what love was but found it in him anyways. Even if I took a while longer to realise.

“You want to talk about what happened last night?”

“No, not really. Can we just forget about it?”

I was cruel back then by virtue of my ignorance. I had a frantic desire to tear up my paper heart into little pieces and scatter them into the river. I had hopes that it would carry so far out to sea and I would never have to look at Oliver’s hands and wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around my cock. Would Ma cry and look away? Would Pa kick me out if he found out? I had all this shame folded up like origami in my chest.

It did not stop me from seeking Oliver out, only to press my palms against the nape of his neck, tangle my fingers in his short dark curls to clutch him closer as his body slid in tandem with mine. Hot, sweaty and fast in the dark, I repeatedly found sharp and bright release bracketed in the warmth of his thighs. It was all cock, balls and ass in those days.

The sun rose alongside my shame and the light dimmed in his eyes when I hurriedly scuffled out without so much as a glance backwards. I knew that each time I loved and left him, the hands that gripped mine so tightly the night before would pull at cold semen-stained sheets, folding them up like the shame I kept buried in my chest.

“I thought you wanted to forget.”

“Yeah, can we forget about forgetting?” We were by the river again. I quietly passed him an origami heart. It was wonky and creased from me countlessly folding and refolding it. He slipped the heart into his shirt pocket and slipped his hand into mine. For a moment, we held our secret fragile precious world between our fingers.

“You’re not the only one who’s scared you know.”

“Yeah, I know. We can humji together until we aren’t anymore.” I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed mine tighter.

We were deep in the throes of preparing for the proposal, Joshua was somehow already covered in glitter when we were only supposed to piece together the banner once the logistics were confirmed. “I know but in front of so many people? Even I don’t dare.” Joshua shuddered dramatically. I continued scrolling through the list of contacts and the staggering amount of coordination this proposal will require.

Joshua asked again for the fourth time, “You sure you wanna do this, it’s really damn gay sia.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I am gay. I am going to be proposing to a very gorgeous man whose dick I've been sucking for a while now. And in case you haven’t realised, you’re also pretty gay yourself.” I replied dryly, eyeing the closet full of sparkly leotards and drawers of cosmetics. “And yes, of course, I want to do this! He pretend-pretend but actually he loves this kind of thing!” Oliver tries to act like he’s too cool for mushy and romantic stuff, but I know for a fact that he tucked the heart I gave him so many years ago in his wallet. I caught him once unfolding and refolding it with a small smile. I think about that smile far too often these days.

“People have done crazier things.” I mused.

“If you're thinking about that Josef Ng guy who decided to trim his bush in front of everyone, it didn't end very well…”

“Not at first, but at least now people know it’s artistic!” I exclaimed. “And I am nothing if not creative. Plus, it won’t be that many people, just whoever is lucky or unlucky enough to be passing by Clarke Quay that evening.”

“Creative your head la, you just want attention. Just make sure that it isn’t too much for Oliver, alright? Or for the government for that matter…” Funny coming from a drag queen, but Josh was right. What if we really did get kicked out of Singapore? Eloping sounds romantic but deportation just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Maybe we could just tell people that we got a government-sponsored honeymoon to Thailand.

I licked my lips and let my gaze wander to the jar of origami hearts that sat on my bedside table. I’ve folded one for every month we’ve been together, to remind myself of the days when I had so much fear bottled up in my throat. I’ve folded one for everytime I could not tell him how much I loved him. The jar was overflowing. Oliver deserved all my crumpled heart had to offer and more.

I remember him shouting at me frustratedly one night, after I wrestled myself out of his embrace yet again. “I thought you said you wanted to be scared together! But you keep pushing me away, you think this is easy for me? I’m so scared some days Tommy, so scared you’re sitting right there but you seem to disappear. You keep thinking you are the only one with something to lose. ” It was the first time Oliver got upset with me. I had stayed silent then, I had not realised what he had meant. He later sheepishly admitted that he felt so guilty about losing his temper than he did not sleep that night. In a moment of unwavering clarity, I found that I really was in love with him.

I shook myself out of the memory. “It’ll be fine la, it is the proposal he deserves after putting up with my nonsense for so many years,” I reassured Josh for what hopefully would be the last time, all his questioning was making me more unsure. Did I really want to do this? Does he even want to marry me? Maybe this was why I was proposing, to convince him (and myself) that he never had to be scared that I was what he had to lose.

“I’ve put up with your sorry ass for at least the same number of years and more, but do I get anything? No, it’s always ‘Oh Oliver baby, sweep me into your big strong manly arms and let me gaze lovingly into your eyes beneath the pale moonlight. Who cares if everyone else is uncomfortable when we furiously snog on the couch while a perfectly good show is playing!’” Joshua muttered darkly.

Joshua might make a name for himself as a romance novelist someday, I can already picture the shirtless men flexing for the covers of his steamy erotica books already. “Hey, that was one time and you guys were watching Mean Girls--again! You can quote it by heart and so can I at this point.” I retorted while rolling my eyes.

“Mean Girls is a work of Art and you know it. I won’t tolerate your flagrant disrespect just because you and Oliver only think wanna make kissy faces at each other all the time! Now tell me how many stupid white birds you want for this damn proposal, I swear you are damn lucky to have me…”

I snickered and told him to get at least fifty birds as I continued to paste my folded origami hearts onto a large sheet of rose pink paper in the formations of letters I hoped would be legible from overhead. Joshua was right, this indeed would be extremely gay. Well, it’s a good thing, I wanna make headlines with this proposal so I can frame it up and point to it next time Oli complains that I am only affectionate when it’s convenient. Also I want to wave it in my Ma and Pa’s face the next time they come over.

Much of the success of my proposal was dependent on a few birds being able to fly while carrying a banner that spelled my intentions. I had a great mistrust of pigeons, disease-riddled things. But since getting hold of doves in Singapore proved to be even more challenging than prying my own toenails off, I had to make do with those dastardly creatures. Hopefully Oliver would not notice and still think of me as a swoon-worthy romantic, which I definitely am.

My phone rang. It was Oliver, he’d just returned from a work trip in Boston. I was anxious to see him again, but more still about whether I could pull this proposal off, I was terrible at keeping secrets. I quickly scuffled out of the room to pick up the call, leaping over the mess we made on the floor.

“Hey baobei, you’re back? I was just wondering when you would call.” I was not. In fact I was hoping that he would not, just until the proposal. I am a filthy, filthy liar and please don’t hear the shakiness of my voice and think I’m doing something dubious like drugs--or worse, cheating on you.

“Yeah, I missed you at the airport. Too busy with your new lover to come pick me up, huh?” I suppose he thought he was teasing me but in that moment all I could come up with was a bunch of inelegant squawks. Great cover, Thomas, now he definitely won’t suspect a thing.

“Pfffft, lover? Me? Whaaaat no, how could I even---pfft noooooo, I am too busy for a lover anyway--wait no, that came out wrong. I mean, I only love you and only have eyes for you and--and how could you even accuse me of such a thing! Maybe you have a lover and you’re just trying to pin this on me, I swear to all the deities I don’t believe in, Oliver Teoh you better not have brought back some twink from America…” I trailed off, realising there was nothing but muffled laughter on the other end of the line.

His deep baritone voice finally crackled through, “Shall we meet this weekend? I have something for you, I think you’d really love it.”

“Hmm, I do too,” Little does this poor man know, I’m gonna marry him six ways from Sunday. “Back at our lao di fang?”

Oliver and I agreed to meet at Clarke Quay in the late afternoon. It was a special place for us and was about to become even more special as soon as I could get down on bended knee to proclaim my undying love. That’s right, I got you right where I want you Oliver. I patted my breast pocket, safely tucked above my heart was the ring.

When I got to Clarke Quay, Oliver was already standing by the river and pacing. He was wearing my favourite shade of blue, his hair slightly messy in the breeze. His large hands were folded, resting on his lower back. Strange, he only did that when he was feeling anxious. I strode up to him and the words come tumbling out of my mouth, “Okay for the next minute I need you to stare at exactly this spot and not ask any questions.”

He glanced at me oddly, a crease forming between his eyes. “Wha--?”

“Shhh just trust me.”

I tugged at his shoulders and shushed him again. In about three seconds, the beautiful banner strapped up to fifty odd pigeons was to fly overhead and in large pink lettering read: WAN SUM FUK? I had also tasked Joshua to play Celine Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’ at my cue. I really hope we would not be arrested.

Sure enough, as certain as the sun setting, the banner sailed across the skyline and all around us heads swivelled up to gawk at the flapping swarm of monstrous birds cutting a jagged line past the sunset. It was glorious. Romance was a great and terrible thing indeed.

I nervously cleared my throat and fished out the ring in my pocket, preparing to go on one knee. “Oliver Teoh, years ago by this river I gave you my heart. I did not know what that meant at the time, and I did not for a long time to come. I promised that we would be scared together but all I did was make you scared to lose me. But I don’t want us to be scared anymore, I want to be brave enough to love you out loud. Today, I want to make another promise and it is one I intend to keep for the rest of my life. Oliver Teoh, will you--”

Just as I was about to conclude my very well-written and romantic speech I was interrupted by loud trumpets and cymbals. What on earth was an entire marching band doing here and interfering with my proposal? Which other asshole was proposing?

I glanced up at Oliver for the first time and I’d never seen my generally stoic boyfriend look more frantic. With panic-stricken eyes, he left me kneeling and rushed up to the band and desperately tried to hush them. He partly succeeded but not before one of their members revealed a massive pink origami heart that read in god-awful near-illegible calligraphy: WILL YOU MARRY ME?

I guess it was my asshole that was proposing then.

I could not decide if I was more pleased or aghast. I suppose we really are meant for each other. Oliver ran back to me and sighed fondly “Of all the people in the world, I think only the two of us could manage to plan proposals and have them clash so horribly.” His furrowed his brows, “Hold on, did you just propose to me using pigeons? Don’t you hate those birds?”

There I was, bleeding heart and all--and the man wanted to know about the damn birds. “I could ask the same of you, don’t you hate loud obnoxious things?” I tilted my head to gesture at the band.

“Well, I am proposing to you, aren’t I?”

“Oliver Teoh, since when you so daring? I am currently kneeling on this painful cobblestone path declaring that I am willing to be your lifelong booty call and you not only interrupt but then you sass me?” I asked, exasperated. I was still on the floor and my knee was killing me. One would think that I’d have some practice being on my knees by now, but alas these cobblestones shall be my demise. “I didn’t even get to finish asking you before you hijacked my proposal!”

Oliver laughed “I guess you really do love me then.”

There was no more doubt, I had the rest of my life left to convince him, “I do, indeed.” Time to let go of my shame-creased origami heart.

Well, of course he said yes with mirth in his eyes, and so did I. We laced our fingers together once more by Clarke Quay, only now a pair of rings rested contentedly on them.