My Idol

Thousands of years of civilization have witnessed the coming and going of many great names; among them we’ve seen King Solomon, the wisest king of all time, Zinedine Zidane, the outstanding football maestro, and Florence Nightingale, who revolutionized our mindsets on nurses, not to mention the rest who have left their mark on history. Now, everyone should have a person whom they look to when they call for inspiration; one that makes them dream, and consequently reach for their dreams. We call them our idols. Who is yours? Take a guess at mine.

Sit back and relax; enjoy this story.

When I was a child, I was a subject to much prejudice. I was fat. Some people might have been so kind to suggest that I was ‘chubby’ but no, I had to face reality. I was overweight. Obese. My so called friends laughed at me. The kids at the playground teased me and refused to play with me. They pulled my hair. They pinched my cheeks. The ‘Fatty’, they called me, bringing me to the brink of tears each and every time they did this. I was only a ten year-old; what did I do to deserve such treatment from them!?

Every time they pointed at me, pulled my hair, chanting the sobriquet they gave me as well, I would run home straightaway. I would hide in the darkest corner of my house and weep uncontrollably, until her warm and gentle hands wrapped around my shoulders. She would then pull me into a tight hug, stroking my head at the same time and whisper, ‘sweetheart, it’s alright.’

It was just a simple act, yet it was enough to make me stop crying. Yes, my mother has been the pillar of my strength since I was a little girl. She taught me that clothes do not make the man; a person’s appearance does not foreshow his abilities. She taught me to climb up where I fell, and hold my head up high, just to prove the critics wrong.

In the few years that followed, I began to observe mum more. Even though she was often busy with housework, she nevertheless did her utmost best to give us, her family, the best. When I was sick, she was there beside me. When I was hungry, I could always look forward to a hot meal on the table. When I was down, she was there to lend me her shoulder. She was the best mother ever, a devoted wife and a dutiful one.

Alas, this is not Hollywood. This is a small town, where good endings never occur. I took her for granted and abused the care she had for me. I screamed and shrieked and shouted at her, but she never once lost her temper towards me. Instead, she just hugged me tight until my tantrums subsided. I didn’t notice that she was getting more and more fragile. She got weaker and weaker by the day until one day; she collapsed in the living room.

The doctor diagnosed her as a patient of third stage leukemia. I was too young to know what leukemia was, but I could see her getting frailer. And that was a torture I could not describe with words. It was like being crucified on a burning cross; or being hit time and again by a spiked bludgeon. I began to surf the internet, to find ways for her cure as she lay fragile in the hospital.

She passed away on a cold and chilly morning. I was fifteen. Her parting words were, ‘Samantha, I’m sorry mummy couldn’t accompany you anymore. Be a good girl, and listen to daddy. Maybe you weren’t in time to cure mummy, but do amass enough knowledge, and save more people in the future, alright?’

I wiped the tears from my eyes.

In all honesty, despite the legions of great people whose stories inspired millions to bring out the very best in them, she was the one who provided me with the spark that ignited my passion to become a doctor. Being such a dutiful mother to me, her memory was the most vital asset on my obstacle-filled journey to achieve my goal. She was the foundation of my motivation, the source of my power and the fuel of my spirit. In the face of impediments, the memory of her was the only thing with the ability to generate my fortitude when I look directly at the jaws of defeat.

She is the force behind me; my strength. The one who guided me; my mentor – my idol.

No Smoking

I stopped my car in front of Kim’s Florist. How fast does time fly. Felicia likes the bouquets they sell most. She said they were much fresher, and were more elegantly arranged.

I chuckled under my breath.

I knew how she liked her flowers arranged. The colours had to be just nice, not too colourful nor too dull. The flowers have to be of the right size, and there must be at least nine violets. To symbolize September, the month we were both born. So sweet.

I walked into the florist.

Today is her birthday. I remember this day, exactly twelve years ago, when I first met her. We both were taking our driving test. There she was, a sweet and cute girl, sobbing pitifully because she failed her test.

Fast forward seven years, and there she was, being walked down the aisle with her father. All these were memories, distant but clear…

I paid for the bouquet, and turned to leave. Behind me, an old couple was having a heated argument. As I walked past them, I heard what they were saying.

‘George, how many times must I tell you not to smoke!? Can you please not smoke!!?’

I stopped in my tracks. A tsunami of sadness crashed into me…

* * *

Felicia was a sweet girl. She was good-tempered and patient, not to mention being very caring towards her friends and families. However, she whose father had passed away due to lung cancer was extremely stringent when it comes to smoking. Anyone who smoked in front of her would immediately get a severe tongue trashing.

Of course, there was an exception. Me.

She loved me so much that she would let me off the hook when I took one or two puffs. I told her I was trying to kick the habit, yet she didn’t know I was puffing away like nobody’s business at my workplace.

She did attempt to reason me out a few times, but I just laughed her words off.

“Gilbert, can you please not smoke anymore?” she had asked me nicely but…

“Erm Felicia, can you not play the piano?” I replied cheekily.

She grumbled but didn’t say anything more. I knew I would win; she gave in to me too much. Yet I didn’t feel elated at all. Something in her expression bothered me much.

How I was to know that was the last time she would tell me not to smoke….

In the few days that followed, I continued to smoke in the house. The feeling was heavenly. Have you ever filled your house with the sweet scent of burning tobacco before? Well, that was it. Alluring.

I smoked when I read the papers. When I watched football. And even when I ate. Felicia didn’t say anything and I felt guilty. However, I thought she was using the old ‘make-him-feel-guilty’ routine again. So I wasn’t that perturbed by it.

Until she collapsed at the dinner table.

Lung cancer.

Why must every story end in the same way? Why? WHY!?

I could do nothing but to stay by her side for the remaining two months of her life. Seeing her lifeless body in the hospital ward, my heart was crushed. Into thousands, no, millions of pieces. Looking at her suffering I could never forgive myself, just for the fact that I was the one who brought death to her…

She passed away. During her final moments, she did all she could to keep me from being sad. Typical Felicia. Trying to give me the best even though she was suffering. I was in total agony, but I kept the smile plastered to my face. No, I didn’t want her to be sadder.

She told me she didn’t forbid me from smoking anymore. I couldn’t reply her. In spite of everything that made her body fragile and weak, she didn’t care about anything but to make me happy.

I knew it was too late; that nothing I could have done would bring her back again.

* * *

I snapped out from my reverie. Turning to George, I said, ‘for you not to regret; for you not to harm your loved ones, don’t smoke.’

I have never touched a cigarette since the day she collapsed on the dinner table.

Felicia, I love you.

The Most Unforgettable Character I Have Ever Met

I could still remember the day it happened.

So clear, like it had just happened yesterday. I guess it will be a part of me, the part which I would never forget no matter what.

It was a Saturday, a day in which I was feeling depressed after losing in soccer match with nobody to talk to and no outlet to release my frustrations. The setting sun glowered at me, as if reprimanding me for being overly downcast, but even the knowledge that I will be having extra classes for English couldn't lift my spirits.

I pushed the door open, as gently as I could so as not to show the class what my temper could do. The door still banged against the wall with a force enough to knock a person off his feet, so I wasn't surprised when my teacher gave me a scowl which I returned, only pleasantly.

Then my gaze focused onto the seat I usually occupied, and my scowl became uncharacteristically prominent. A new girl. Great. Occupying my usual seat. Even greater.

'No! ' I told myself. I had to fight the strange urge to strangle her. I had to. She wasn't worth it. I glared at the teacher, who glowered at me and instructed me to seat beside her. I did so grudgingly. Really, my blood was at its boiling point.

I thought it would be polite if I could make up for any of my irrational behaviour so I offered her my hand.

A surprised look, then a cold gaze. She stared at my hand for a full second, then she turned away.

Man, this is worse than hell.

'Sir, what's her name?'

It was time to take drastic actions. Heh, I'm smart.

'Abigail. Sean, no flirting in my class though.'

'I won't'

Like I would flirt with people like her. I don't like unfriendly girls. They make my goosebumps excite.

I stole a quick glance at her. Wow, nice scowl lady. You'd scare the daylight out of anybody who looks at you.

The next two hours passed by so fast that I didn't even have the time to think about Abigail. All I could do was to finish my work as fast as possible and wait for half-past ten to arrive. All I wanted was the class to end soon. How cliche.
As I was doodling on my paper, suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, the teacher clutched his chest and stood quite still. Then he collapsed.

The silence that followed was one of the loudest I've heard in my life. A bloodcurdling scream broke the eerie silence and before I knew it, the room was filled with panic and shock.

Everyone seemed to have lost his or her head. There was a fair amount of screaming and then sobs could be heard. Annie Tan fainted. Junyang Ng vomited. As I surveyed the scene, I could not help but marvel at the only person who did not show signs of stress-Abigail.

With a commanding voice, she yelled for the class to calm down. And with a sense of authority I could never have, she gave instructions. However, the shell-shocked students remained rooted to their seats and looked as though they couldn't understand English. She took an exasperated look around the room and finally decided to utilise my hidden potential to its fullest.

'CPR?' She said, grabbing my hand.

At that instantaneous moment, I felt my heartbeat accelerate. Wow. Reflex reaction, I guessed. She gave me a small smile, and I felt my cheeks go hot. Another reflex reaction.

I nodded briefly and I blew a lungful of air into the teacher's mouth. Ewww...his mouth tasted of cheese. High cholesterol. No wonder. I pumped at his heart. One, two, three, four.

Behind me, Abigail has called the ambulance.

'They're coming'

'Of course they are. Get Annie and Junyang out'

'No I want to assist you'

My brain seemed to freeze. I couldn't think. I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. How unusual.

For the next fourteen minutes, we didn't stop performing CPR on the teacher. It was tough but with her beside me, strangely enough, I didn't feel tired. I was prepared to do it the whole night.

But the ambulance arrived. The defibrillator was used and they stretchered him to the hospital. Pushing the rue I felt to the back of my mind, I packed my bags and went home.

After this incident, I totally changed my view of Abigail. She is kind-hearted and calm, not to mention being extremely knowledgeable and street-smart. Her ability to take control of a situation has greatly impressed me and thus she tops the list as the most unforgettable character I have ever met.