I was sitting in the car going out for lunch today when I spotted a very familiar face behind another car. It took me a few seconds before I recognised his face. Hey, it was my ex-boss! Mr. D looked like he hardly aged at all. He must be pushing 60 by now but he didn’t really look it. And woo-hoo, was that a cute 40-something lady I see sitting on the front passenger seat?

My heart suddenly felt warmly mushy. Maybe love has finally knocked on the very picky Mr. D’s door and was responsible for him looking so dashing and youthful.

If that was indeed the case (and I dearly hope that it is!), then perhaps this bit of fiction that I had written for Nanowrimo last Nov isn’t that far off from the facts of life after all. Yes, I’m taking up the task of completing Desperadoes Anonymous again. I loved the story and the characters too much to not develop them further. Enjoy…

“Aren’t you going to answer your phone, Suzanne? It’s irritating,” mom appeared and glared at me.

I pressed the cancel button and said breezily, “It’s a wrong number. Some people just don’t get the message.”

Satisfied with my answer and too busy to be bothered with further questioning, my mom handed me a bouquet of flowers.

“This customer is too busy to come and collect the flowers today. But if you could deliver it to this address, he will pay for the delivery charges,” she said.

“Why can’t you ask our delivery boy to do it? Isn’t that his job? Besides, you don’t trust me with the car.” It was basically a hot day. And I didn’t want to tire myself unnecessarily before turning up for the first rehearsal of the play. We, the prop movers were automatically recruited to help build and paint the props for the stage setting. An enviable task to be sure.

“Because you are heading down that way anyway. Mr. Lee will be at the rehearsal, no?

“Mom, you are not serious are you? I’m surprised that you would even suggest that! Are we skimping on delivery costs now?”

Mom’s eyeballs bored into mine. “I am a practical woman. And I want the most cost-effective way of delivering the flowers. End of discussion.”

Wow. That’s a new one. It must be the doing of mom’s new friendship with my lecturer. Some of his no-nonsense kind of talk must have rubbed off her. ‘End of discussion’ is Mr. G’s favourite mantra when we, the ever hopeful students would try to beg him to add on a few extra points so that we would get a decent score.

“What, are you saying that I didn’t think things through thoroughly before putting that C- on your paper? I am most grievously offended. No changes will be entertained. End of discussion.”

I wondered in what context did Mr. G use that sentence on my mother:

“No, my dear. I think you are beautiful, lovely and sweet in spite of what your scary daughter may say to the contrary. End of discussion.”

It’s funny how two people so disparate can actually meet and get along so well.

They met when mom came to campus to deliver me my due assignment which I had thoughtlessly left at home. She was on the way and agreed to drop by my class to pass them to me. I’ve always thought Mr. Gerald, my Linguistics lecturer was a confirmed bachelor. We, his students have always wondered why on earth such a stylish gentleman would roam the earth all his 45 years as a never-married single. The guys in our class even had a bet to see if he was gay or not.

Isn’t it a terrible trend, to think that something is wrong with someone if they are not attached after a certain age? Especially if that someone is a man. Everyone knows that women outnumber men in Malaysia. So seeing an old spinster on the streets is quite a natural thing. But a never-married, successful and good looking older man is a weird thing to behold. Guys like that could have his pick on any woman they wanted. The fact that they didn’t shows that they are either very, very picky or very, very gay.

So anyway, it was real classic how mom met or rather bumped into Mr. Gerald. She was walking in her very brisk manner as per usual. And Mr. Gerald was walking with his head up in the clouds as usual, thinking if he could add on a certain twist to his upcoming novel. They collided with each other.

Papers (mine, all mine!) were strewn around. Mom was all flustered up. She hated being caught off-guard and looking like a clumsy oaf especially in the presence of such a fine specimen of a man. Mr. G gallantly tried to rescue all the papers that were flying in the wind. And managed to save them all miraculously. Needless to say, a lot of guys lost their bets the day Mr. G met my mom.

I think it was fate that my papers brought them into such a fortuitous contact, for he was the one responsible for marking them. I got an A+ for that assignment. A stroke of luck and a record breaker, too, considering the highest Mr. G ever gave was a B+.

Ah, well. Perhaps I should not upset mom too much this time. After all, she has a certain amount of influence on the outcome of one of my most difficult subjects in uni.

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