About how I spent the weekend as Shadow Man

“Singaporeans are not foreigners, of course they do not have blue eyes.”

I awkwardly smiled in affirmation, still holding my hand carry bag at the entrance. The father of my new buddy breathes in and the end of the cigarette burned red. I had caught a whiff of it at the entrance, but seeing the smoke curl towards me made me panic a little. I’m going to get lung cancer over the weekend!

We wanted to have seafood for lunch. The parents got ready and left me with my two buddies, one of whom I have never seen and never heard the name of, in the lift lobby. “I don’t really want to have seafood though.” whispered the nameless buddy. Yunyi, my actual buddy, whispered back, “Same, can’t you tell your parents somehow?” I wanted to agree but nameless buddy continued, “My father wants to meet his friends.” Just then, the father came out and stood beside me, looking up at the lift level display. “Wow, dad I never realised how short you are until now!” my nameless buddy exclaimed. I looked to the father standing beside me and wanted to die of embarrassment.

We packed into the car and got comfortable for the long ride. The mother was the driver. She received a call on the road (it’s from the younger brother, nameless buddy said). She got annoyed and hung up when I could still hear the other end’s high-pitched explanation. “It’s your brother. He called to ask if he could have some money.” Nameless buddy snorted and said with full confidence, “He probably wants grandpa and grandma to buy him something that they do not allow. That’s why he is trying to get you to say ok.” “You sure?” the mother asked. “Obviously.” Nameless buddy was super sure of her brother’s character.

The topic drifted to home-cooked food. Nameless buddy insisted that the father’s cooking was terrible and tasted like he was trying to poison them. Both parents chided her for not being appreciative of the love and thought that goes into cooking. I listened awkwardly. I thought this kind of conversations only happened in Chinese compositions about appreciating what you have. I pretended to sleep and not listen to the constant bickering. The father sounded like he was constantly on the verge of finally giving in to the rude provocations of his daughter before he peeked at me and hesitated. I was not listening though. He might as well stop performing.

By the time we got to the place, I have a clear impression that the mother was the only one involved in running the family. Nobody called the father or relied on him for anything. Today was abnormal: he was trying really hard to sound like he was not estranged and disrespected by his children, and nameless buddy was trying equally hard to make sure he was called out at every turn.

We took the lift up and walked into a dining hall with the interior painted in fake gold. My heart sank when I saw that half the table we were led to were strangers, mostly old men in somber old man blazers. I sat down awkwardly and the father sat down beside me. He lit a cigarette and I got lost in the smoke.

The nameless buddy started using her phone and rolled her eyes whenever someone talked to her, except for the other buddy and I (me because I did not even talk to her). I wanted to laugh at how comical her expression of puberty was. Haha. Angst.

The dad downed his umpteenth glass of hard liquor and started talking to me. He was trying to teach me something but I did not understand his strange accent. I tried to make up for it by simply nodding and looking engaged. This is clearly a man not used to being listened to. His daughter would turn away, eyes fogging over like those windows that become opaque under sunlight. The slightly drunk dad tried to tell me to look after her daughter but her daughter ignored him. “Han Han, Han Han!” he tried, “babe!” I was either non-existent and they went about in their family’s dysfunctional ways, or I was invited to be a silent observer of this painful play.

The strange men had to catch a train and decided to leave. Half the table got up and started to mumble words about meeting each other again. Sometime soon. About the same time, the eldest daughter of the mafia-looking guy sitting opposite me came by. The old men finally left and newcomer sat down and quietly ate the leftover seafood.

The father turned to me and the smell of alcohol changed to my direction. “I don’t understand the South China sea dispute. You know why? Everyone involved are Chinese anyways, those Vietnamese, and Filipinos.” I nodded. He would still keep talking as long as someone would just listen to his ideas. I could not be bothered to correct him.  “Chinese are family, and families don’t fight.”

As if to prove his point, he attempted conversation with his daughter again. The daughter’s face hardened and she icily said, “Since when do you care about me this much.” Like a bad actor forced to recite his lines, “Always! Always babe!” Nameless buddy laughed loudly and without joy. The mother, silent till then, clicked her tongue and scolded her, “Yihan! Stop being so rude! I’m getting a headache already! Listen to people when they’re talking to you!” Mother and daughter started to bicker as if they have been waiting for the table to clear and be left alone as a family.

In the background, the ruddy mafia-looking guy had a little too much to drink and frowned. Then, to his daughter, “Daughter, listen to me, before you marry you need to be independent. It will help you become a better wife, a better person.” The daughter looked up from her strands of noodles and nodded so the ends swayed back and forth. I started to zone out from whatever my rude buddy’s father was saying.

“Daughter, listen to me. I know you don’t have a lot of reason to listen to me perhaps because both your mother and I did not have a lot of time for you when you were growing up. I’m telling you now, this is important…” I saw the daughter’s eyes droop a little as if she was looking at something pathetic, but she still nodded again and looked straight at the walls behind our table. It must be partly because of the stench of alcohol and smoke, but this guy was clearly drunk and sounded ridiculous announcing in his pompous drunk voice in this stupid room. As if a sudden glimpse of drunken honesty was going to make a difference.

“Daughter, you know that I will support you regardless of anything right?” I looked back to my buddy and her father. She rolled her eyes to heaven. The mother resumed her scolding and looked to the drunk guy for some understanding as a fellow parent. The drunk guy laughed sympathetically, as though he was wise and had great success in parenting.

The father continued, “Daughter you know I support you right? Whatever you want, so long as it is not illegal.” The bickering got awful and pointless, like a vehicle stuck with an old exhaust pipe, pregnant and unwilling to advance. I was starting to be convinced that there is no help to this family dynamics. It refuses to move forward no matter who attempts to propel it. It only chokes and sputters some more black smoke.

I suddenly realised that this was all a show put up for me, in the crammed car, in the stupid dining hall stinking of smoke and alcohol. It felt so ridiculous it had to be one giant prank to make me feel uncomfortable. Each of them trying to make me, the objective outsider, their ally in order to prove a point. So I just smile and pretended to be a shadow.

“I look forward to a day when Singapore will become Singapore province. Vietnam, Thailand, Korea, Japan too, they will return and become part of their rightful homeland. Don’t you agree?” Haha, I repeated to myself: Remember, smile and get through the weekend!