Chapter 53:

LIII | Toilet

The Rowan Tree


I'm leaning
against the railing,

looking over the boardwalk
at the sea.

Sunset pigments
and watercolour clouds.

The wind mumbles incoherently,

I listen without responding.

Or maybe it's not the wind,
it's that dude
in knee-high socks.

Apparently his name is Adam.

And he really enjoys playing soccer.

(Knee-high socks,
football jersey.)

'So you're Rowan's JC classmate.'

It's been
like five minutes

but he's already done
with two packets
of chicken rice.

I tell him what I think of that.

He gives me an expressionless expression
that looks eerily similar

to someone's.

'Uncle Lee's chicken rice
'is the best in Singapore.'

'you're supportive of your own kind.'

It's an exaggeration.
There's better chicken rice out there.

'We're all rooting
'for the same team.'

He's not talking about soccer.

'Clyde.'

I turn to Adam
but his mouth is full
of chicken rice.

Not him?

Rowan's by the pile of garbage bags
just before the boardwalk begins,
tightening the knot on the latest addition.

Adam raises a hand,
a wordless greeting.

The wind whistles,
blowing Rowan's hair
all over
her face.

They just stare
at each other,

a conversation without talking.

Then, Adam leaves,
patting me on the back.

'Sorry I haven't talked to you
'since the picnic
'started.'

She's still out of breath.

I have a rubber band
on my wrist
from the chicken rice box

so when Rowan
leans against the railing,

coal-black eyes
reflecting the watercoloured sunset,

I brush her hair
into a ponytail
with my hands.

Goosebumps form on her neck

when I touch her.

She reaches a hand,
pulls her hair from my fingers.

'I'm all sweaty.'

'Shut up.'

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