Lovesick Guy (part 3)
By Chris Quek
Exposed under the sun, Amis, sunglasses perched before his eyes, rested languidly. The warmth of the sun sent calm tingles on his sun and legs. Soon, there would be a nice layer of tan.
After following him discreetly for a week, Julian found out about Amis’ habits. Earlier in the morning, Julian had gone to a farm, where after some haggling with a sceptical farmer, he managed to obtain a whole bucketful of goat shit.
Amis stared at the sky, the chatter of the crowd drowning away any other noise. As he felt his chest rise and fall, he became faintly aware of a waft of putrid smell that passed his way.
It came out of the blue. Something wet and slimy hit his chest, the torrid smell assaulting his nose. As he registered what was happening, more of the substance started flying at him through the clear blue sky. It struck him on his neck, his arms, his back, his feet, forming an unsightly, repugnant sheen of brown, coating his body.
By the time Amis jumped to his feet, his entire body had been slathered with shit that trickled down his feet and formed puddles on the ground. Over the horizon, he could see the silhouette of a man running into the distance, a bucket on his hand.
Amis strode into the hall. On the altar in front, the plaques of his ancestors stared at him. His entire family were gathered there. Phoenix was there. His parents were there too. They looked proudly at Amis. He stared straight. He would make them proud.
He stopped in front of the plaque-filled altar. On each plaque was a name. Each one was a story, or legend, that was once the pride of their generation. They called towards him. Come to us, it seemed to say, join us. Make us proud.
Amis lit three sticks of incense. He prayed fervently, that his ancestors and the deities up above would give him the strength, the necessary wrath, to strike down this man who had defiled his sister and humiliated him. When he finished he bowed thrice and inserted the joss sticks into the ash container.
Everyone looked at him solemnly. They were anticipating his next move. This was the moment, he knew, the scene in a thousand films where the hero faces the turning point in the plot.
He took one grave look around, making sure he caught the eye of every relative in the room. If he was to do it, he was to do it in style.
“Let’s get that sonva bitch.” He said.
Julian had known what he had coming for himself, so he was sitting on a curb on the top floor of the carpark as Amis ascended through the staircase. The bright sun and blue sky were going to be the divine witnesses to this duel.
They met at the centre of the carpark. They both wanted to get the fight over with.
“You forced my hand.” Julian said.
“You dog!” Amis spat.
They crashed into each other like two locomotives. The fight was bloody, brutal, and long drawn. Amis could not defeat Julian that easily. His fighting power was drawn from the hopes of bringing honour to his family. What Julian fought for, was for his own sake. If he lost this match, it was over with him and Christy. If he could not have Christy, the narrative of his entire life up till then was negated. He could not lose. He could only win.
After fifteen minutes the fight had taken a toll on them. Amis had cuts on his face, arms, and legs, crusting in blood. Julian’s face was blue black from his bruises, and his jaw seemed slightly dislocated. Blood flowed from his gums. Still, they persisted, determined to continue fighting, to just the point just before death.
After twenty minutes it was a wonder that they were both still standing. Julian’s strength was sapping out of him. Amis’ strength was also running out, not far behind Julian’s. Though neither of them showed signs of faltering, at this juncture it was pretty clear who was going to be the winner and who was to lose.
At twenty five minutes it was over. Julian had collapsed, his legs given way under him. Amis, barely able to stand, like the hero in the films, locked eyes with Julian in a carnal state. He had not resorted to such atavistic measures to settle disputes since his bouncer days, and he did not enjoy it. He had no strength to continue the fight, even though the killing blow was close at hand.
Julian looked at him. His eyes spoke, just come on. Get it over with.
Amis could not. But he also could not watch as his victory lay just out of reach. He looked around for assistance, some new item that could help him do the job.
His eyes lit up. He found what he was looking for.
Limping painfully, he dragged himself towards the side of the carpark.
A trolley was sitting there, having served its purpose for its previous owner. It was left alone and now waiting for someone else in need of its services. Amis clutched onto the handlebars, applying strength. With great difficulty, he wheeled it around. The trolley was heavy. Amis was weak after the epic beating.
He set his sights on Julian. With every last bit of strength he had Amis pushed the trolley. It started moving, the wheels creaking like some old cog coming to life. His legs ran faster, the trolley accelerating. As it ran over stone and groves on the ground and shook convulsively, Amis found it hard to hold on to it. The trolley had turned into a force of nature. Even Amis himself was barely harnessing it.
He let go of the trolley just as he couldn’t keep up anymore, and fell flat on the ground. He heard, and he felt, after a few seconds, a weighty thump reverberating through the still afternoon air, and heard, or rather, did not hear, a muted cry ring out. The deed was done.
Amis staggered back to the exit and tottered down the step. Throughout the whole journey he was afraid his legs would give way and he would tumble down and suffer the same fate as Julian.
Half a year later, Julian was discharged from the hospital. Intellectually, he was still the same, but temperamentally he was no longer himself. He no longer had any interest in girls.
Julian bumped into Christy one day while he was having lunch at a downtown cafe. Christy, although she was still single, had changed so much. Her confidence was now so vibrant and aural that it felt almost hostile to Julian now. He was embarrassed to speak with her new form.
Amis did not want to sustain animosity with Julian. Phoenix and her friends had already forgiven him when he was still recovering in the hospital, and had forgotten about him by the time of his discharge. There was no reason to not extend peace to a harmless enemy. The ban was quietly lifted and Julian was allowed back into the bar. So for Amis, apart from just having one more story to tell others, life went on as usual.
Julian’s life did not end with not getting Christy. He eventually married, and became an uxorious husband. While at times he still had pangs of loneliness, he no longer approached girls at bars for their numbers. Instead he turned to his favourite drink, the strongest Japanese sake, for solace.
