The Riot Act

by Sebastian Sim

  “She is the one who made a police report about someone taking an upskirt photo of her and subsequently impersonated a police officer to conduct a security search on the bus,” Yu Chin added.

  Sharon nodded. She recalled having heard about that earlier.

  “She will become our new evidence,” Elvis stated. “Her claim of having an upskirt photo taken may serve as a mitigating factor, but her act of mischief in impersonating a police officer and creating fear and alarm on a bus full of migrant workers shall be the focus of the new inquiry. For all we know, she was the trigger of the Little India riot.”

  Sharon bit her lip as thoughts raced through her mind. If the court were to be persuaded to reduce the sentence, pinning the blame on this act of mischief was definitely preferable to the clip of the bus driver exercising physical violence inundated with elements of racism and xenophobia. The Indian Embassy would be satisfied with the outcome of the sentencing and her political party could escape the backlash from the social activists. It was the lesser of the two evils.

  “Alright, let’s do this.”

  The three of them fine-tuned the press statement over dinner. It was close to ten o’clock when they headed for the car park. Sharon was first to fire up her engine and speed out of the building. Yu Chin used to chide her for what he termed reckless driving in the early years, but had since given up. He drove his own car so her driving did not really bother him that much.

  As Sharon swerved into East Sussex Lane and approached the house, a figure jumped out from the kerb, giving her a fright. She screeched to a stop and glared with apprehension as the stranger approached her window. It was a young Chinese man in his twenties, wearing his hair back in a ponytail. He tapped on the glass of her car. Sharon hesitated a little but finally decided to wind down the window. For all she knew, it could be one of her residents seeking help and she wouldn’t want to antagonise him.

  “What can I do for you?”

  The stranger looked startled; it was obvious that he only just realised she was not the one he was looking for. He mumbled an apology and backed himself into the shadows. Sharon kept an eye on the rear-view mirror as she activated the remote control for the gate and glided down the driveway. Had the stranger dashed in, she would have backed the car out and called the police. But the man made no such attempt.

  Curious, Sharon walked back to the gate and peered between the grills. That was when she saw it—Yu Chin driving up the lane, the stranger stopping the vehicle, some verbal exchange between the two, during which the stranger appeared to show Yu Chin something on his mobile phone. And then the inexplicable happened. Yu Chin allowed the stranger to get into the vehicle and drove off.

  What was going on?

  Sharon got back into her vehicle and fired up the engine. She had to find out. As she reached the junction of Clementi and Holland roads, she spotted Yu Chin’s vehicle waiting for the traffic light to turn green. She slowed down and tailed him as he made his way to Sunset Way, parked and walked towards the row of alfresco eateries together with the stranger. Sharon hid her vehicle at the far end of the car park and continued to track him on foot. From afar, she saw that both Yu Chin and the stranger had joined a lady seated at a table at Rocky Pizza.

  It irritated Sharon that the lady had her back to her and she couldn’t see her face. For a moment, Sharon thought this might be the other woman. But bright fluorescent light bounced off the lady’s lustrous black tresses; there was not a streak of white that she could spot. She couldn’t be the one.

  Sharon went back to her vehicle and waited. She tried to suppress her racing thoughts and calm herself but to no avail. Yu Chin had secrets. He had chosen to come clean about that woman he was in love with before he met her, but might there not be a handful of secrets he was hiding from her? What did she really know about her husband?

  As her emotions surged, Sharon decided not to fight them. She allowed her imagination to run wild and felt herself begin to shake uncontrollably. It was just as well that her vehicle was parked in a shadowed corner. She bawled. Tears streamed down her face and she sobbed horribly.

  When it was over, Sharon found that her mind had cleared. She was ready to deal with it. Yu Chin might have his secrets but she was the one who had given him permission to hurt her. She could just as readily withdraw that permission. She was done crying. She simply wanted to find out what it was he was hiding from her.

  It was another twenty minutes before the three reappeared. Yu Chin got into his vehicle and drove off while the couple walked to the road to hail a taxi. Under the street lamp, the profile of the lady was discernible. It was a young Indian woman with flowing tresses. Although Sharon was spying from too far to recognise the face, she had a curious inkling that this might be the mysterious young lady she had seen on the video clip, the one who was in some strange way linked to the Little India riot.

  Sharon remained calm as she tailed the taxi until the young lady alighted at Simei, and then the young man until the ride ended at Tampines. She watched from the kerb as the man sprang up the flight of stairs at the block of HDB flats and she memorised the number of the unit on the second level that he had entered.

  Now she had an address.

  When Sharon reached home, Yu Chin had showered and was texting in bed. He looked almost calm and collected as he asked where she had been. Sharon lied that she had gone back to the office to retrieve a document she needed.

  Now, they both had secrets.

  The next afternoon, Sharon was not surprised when Yu Chin texted to inform that Elvis had decided to revert to the original press statement. There was not enough to pin any blame on the young Indian lady. They would have to bite the bullet and submit the video clip as new evidence.

  Sharon bit her tongue. She was certain her husband had been blackmailed. What she wanted to know was how.

  Sharon drove down to Tampines after dinner and ascended the steps to the second level where the blackmailer lived. The young man was bleary-eyed when he answered the door, as though he had been sleeping. But the lethargy of somnolence quickly disappeared. It was pure alarm and trepidation as he regarded her with uncertainty.

  “Let me in. Please,” Sharon pleaded.

  After Sharon sat down, the young man asked if she wanted a drink. Sharon shook her head. She was here for only one thing. She wanted to know what the discussion the previous night at Rocky Pizza was about.

  The regret came a moment later. Sharon wished she had asked for a drink; her throat felt parched as she stared in shock at the photo on the mobile phone—Elvis on a beach chair, his head of white glimmering under the sun, his chin resting on her husband’s shoulder, his lips on her husband’s neck.

  Elvis was the one who had left the single strand of white hair on her hairbrush.

  Sharon felt like retching. She had entertained the idea and learnt to accept that her husband desired another woman more than he did her. But not in a million years would she have guessed that her husband desired a man, sexually and emotionally. So Elvis was the one Yu Chin was in a relationship with! Sharon recalled all the weekend diving trips the two of them arranged at short notice; those were their Brokeback moments! How could she have been so blind?

  Sharon found herself driving around aimlessly afterwards. She needed time to sort out her confusion. But her mind was in too much of a swirl to allow for clear thinking. She should talk to someone—but who? Sharon realised with bitterness that she had no close friends. There was no one she could share this secret with without repercussions.

  But wait…there was one.

  I need to meet you tonight, Christina. It’s urgent.

  Christina’s texted reply came quickly. Can’t. I have a massage scheduled.

  Sharon decided to apply a shock tactic. Elvis is having an affair.

  It took Christina three seconds to reply: Meet me at D9 Cakery, Hilton Hotel. Thirty minutes.

  Sharon felt calmer after she sipped her hazelnut latte. The range of pastries at D9 Cakery was
astounding but she was in no mood for dessert. She sat up straight when Christina strode in with her usual assured gait. She wondered if Christina had any inkling at all.

  “Tell me what you know.”

  Sharon tapped her way to the incriminating photo and passed Christina her mobile phone. Christina took one glance and frowned.

  “How did you get hold of this?”

  There was no element of surprise.

  “Did you know?”

  “Of course.”

  Sharon stared at the woman, her mouth agape. Christina knew, and she had known even back when she and Elvis had set her up with Yu Chin.

  “You’re married to Elvis. And this doesn’t bother you?”

  “It did, when I found out shortly after we were married,” Christina replied, her eyes carefully devoid of emotion. “But I came to accept it. If he is gay, there is no point pressuring him to suppress his desires.”

  “But Elvis and you are in a marriage!”

  “Yes, a marriage that works,” Christina remarked. “We complement each other in our careers and social statuses, enhance one another’s network and enjoy strong finances. We can count on the other for emotional support and companionship. We just outsource the sex.”

  Sharon wanted to feel outraged but Christina’s placidity had an oddly calming effect. She had to remind herself that the woman had conspired to deceive her.

  “You introduced Yu Chin to me despite knowing that he is Elvis’ lover. How could you?”

  “Are you the worst off for it?” Christina threw the question back at her. “Other than the fact that he is not keen on sex, does Yu Chin fail as a husband?”

  Sharon was speechless. She had, in fact, asked herself the same question not too long ago. Yu Chin was, in all other ways, the perfect husband.

  “But why did you do it?”

  Christina paused when the waiter approached with the pot of Earl Grey she had ordered. After he left, she took a leisurely sip before replying.

  “I will be honest. When Elvis and Yu Chin went on a holiday in Gao a few years back, they were spotted and a rumour started circulating online. We decided that the best way to kill the rumour was to get Yu Chin married off. That was the period when you came into the picture during the AWARE saga. You were the perfect candidate.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Sharon interjected, offended.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but marriage did not appear to be top on the list of your life goals. You were driven for professional and financial success, and not putting in any effort to secure a life partner. Had Yu Chin not come along, there is a chance that you would still be unattached. What’s more, it is unlikely that you will be enjoying the professional success you’re enjoying right now. Yu Chin is good for you—don’t you realise that?”

  Sharon hated that she found it difficult to disagree with Christina.

  “But what kind of a marriage do you call this?”

  “I call it a marriage on your own terms. Sharon, you’re a smart woman. You can learn to bend the rules. Whatever it is that Yu Chin is unable to provide, you can source it outside the confines of a marriage. Why restrain yourself?”

  Sharon sank back into the sofa and ruminated. Was she being naïve in subscribing to the common expectations of a marriage? Why was it important that her marriage be like everyone else’s? Why should she be afraid to be different?

  “You don’t have to figure out everything tonight, Sharon. Take your time.” Christina smiled as she extracted a key from her purse and placed it on the glass table. “My masseuse is waiting at room 1966. But I think you are the one who needs some healing. Consider it a little gift from me.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t.”

  Christina said nothing but tapped her mobile phone and passed it to Sharon. There was a photo of a shirtless man smiling into the camera, his confidence as chiselled as his muscled physique.

  Sharon blushed.

  “His name is Gene Gerard, but he goes by the moniker of Genie. He comes highly recommended by the agency. He is great with his hands and will do anything you want.”

  Sharon felt a sudden lump in her throat. She bent forward to reach for her cup of hazelnut latte, gently brushing her little finger against the key to room 1966.

  Epilogue

  Sharon could hardly see the traffic ahead. Yu Chin had switched the pair of windshield wipers to the maximum speed, yet the unrelenting torrent of rain pelting onto the windshield had reduced visibility dramatically. It was a good thing Yu Chin had insisted they leave for the airport early. There was ample time before the departure of her flight.

  “Did you pack the tube of sunscreen I left on your dresser?”

  “I have my own.”

  “What you have is SPF30, which is hardly enough protection. I bought you SPF50.”

  Sharon reached across and gave Yu Chin a loving squeeze on his knee. She had come to appreciate the qualities that made him an exceptional life partner. Not only had he volunteered to send her car for servicing, he had scheduled to retile the bathroom while she was away so that she would not have to suffer the inconvenience. As a husband, Yu Chin was one in a million.

  A thunderclap caught both of them by surprise and the two jumped. Yu Chin broke out into a snigger.

  “Poor Omala! So much for her candlelight memorial tonight at Hong Lim Park to mark the anniversary of the Little India riot.”

  Sharon shook her head, a derisive twitch at the corner of her lips.

  The woman should learn to let go already. Yes, there had been a fracas when the public first saw the video clip that the Indian Embassy released. Yes, for a while there had been an online backlash against the government for not protecting the rights of migrant workers. But that was months ago. Other events had since diverted the public’s attention. Everyone had moved on. The riot was old news.

  Yu Chin stopped the car at the airport’s departure hall drop-off lane and alighted to help Sharon with her luggage. He gave her a warm hug and kissed her on her cheek.

  “Have a good break in Phuket.”

  Sharon spotted the smile he wore as he disappeared back into the car and drove away. It was a smile of genuine happiness. Not because he looked forward to some private time with Elvis, but because he no longer had to fear Sharon finding out. He knew that she knew and accepted the situation. Just as she knew that he knew she would not be checking in to the beachfront villa in Phuket alone. She had booked Genie on an earlier flight.

  Yu Chin was smiling because he was happy that they were in a marriage that worked.

  So was she.

  ...

  There was a deafening thunderclap as the announcement came on to urge passengers to board Tiger Airways TR2328 to Bali. By the time Jessica and Andreae located their seats in the aircraft, the downpour had commenced.

  “I hope it’s not going to be wet in Bali. I want to get a proper tan!” Jessica grumbled.

  “I missed you, Jess! It feels weird on campus without you.”

  Jessica felt a sense of irritation as Andreae leant her head on her shoulder. She wished the girl would give her some space. Almost immediately, a wave of guilt washed over her. Andreae had been a loyal friend. She had been there for her during the horrible public shaming after the sex clip was unearthed. She had helped with the paperwork when Jessica hastily quit her studies at the university and relocated to Melbourne to complete her degree. Jessica ought to be grateful.

  “Krison is pissed off with me, though.”

  “Why?”

  “He is dating this girl he met volunteering at Migrant Workers Count Too. The entire dragon boat team has been practising a flash mob for her as a birthday surprise. Because I pulled out at the last minute for this Bali getaway, they had to re-choreograph the piece. But I don’t care. You’ll always come first, Jess.”

  There was that pinch of guilt again. Jessica had flown back from Melbourne during her term break. The side trip to Bali was an impromptu decision she made when she realised the i
mpending anniversary of the Little India riot might dredge up some old news article featuring her name or picture. There was nowhere to hide on social media. She could only hope that, with the passing of time, her notoriety would be forgotten as other newsmakers took on the limelight.

  Jessica was done with the limelight. She could imagine nothing else more blissful than anonymity.

  “Excuse me, Miss, would you like me to place your luggage in the overhead compartment?”

  Jessica grabbed her bag and passed it to the flight stewardess absentmindedly. She was, however, startled when the flight stewardess jumped in an ungainly attempt to store her luggage in the overhead compartment. That was when she took a second look; the young woman couldn’t have been more than a metre and a half. How did she get selected to be a flight stewardess?

  Curious, Jessica stole a glance at her name tag.

  Hashwini.

  ...

  Flying as a career did not turn out to be as glamorous as Hashwini had hoped for.

  She had pictured herself wearing the graceful sarong kebaya, the signature cabin crew uniform of Singapore Airlines. She imagined the romance of sipping a thimbleful of espresso in a café in Paris admiring the Eiffel Tower from afar or the excitement of shopping at SoHo in Manhattan before catching a Broadway play. She might even fall madly in love with a handsome stranger flying first class who happened to have a thing for exotic Asian beauties.

  But Hashwini’s dream did not come true.

  Teddy Toy Boy convinced her that he did not have enough strings to pull to get her into SIA. Not at her height.

  So here she was—flying regional with Tiger Airways. For some reason, sipping teh tarik at some coffeeshop in Kuala Lumpur with the Petronas Towers in the distance just did not carry the same element of romance. It was a poor mutation of her fantasy lifestyle.

  Worst of all were the incredulous stares she received from passengers whenever she had to jump to throw their luggage into the overhead compartment. It was especially challenging when she had to aim to fit the last piece between two others. More than once she had miscalculated and the falling luggage narrowly missed the head of the passenger seated beneath. Hashwini counted her blessings that no one had filed a complaint against her thus far.