Singapore Noir

He said no. Her question surprised him; usually it would have been a torrent of, Why are you not in school? Where have you been? Today she seemed uninterested.

Told you, man. Told you, she is hiding something.

She is seeing a man.

Eddie, don’t listen to him. You don’t know what she said. You did not read her lips all the way through. You don’t know the whole story.

There he goes, Eddie, calling you stupid because you can’t hear properly. Yes, he is calling you stupid — are you going to let him do that?

No, I am not stupid.

I never said you were.

Thoughts clawed at his brain like tiny crabs taking over the shoreline.

He remembered that day even more clearly than the day of the rape. Because after that phone call, her behavior began to really change.

Ma began to stay out later after work each day. When he asked why, she made excuses that made no sense. She seemed constantly lost in thought, and he hated the fact that she ignored his questions. She began to scout local resale stores for silk blouses and bright skirts. She even started wearing makeup. Perhaps, he thought, she feels like she has been prostituted so she needs to dress and behave like one. He wondered how he could help her. He asked her constantly about that day; she never responded.

Although she did still go to the Holy Family Church, he noticed that she had stopped praying in the mornings. She was more concerned with the way her hair looked than with reading the Bible.

I told you, she is turning into a prostitute.

No, she isn’t. She is a kind, gentle woman, don’t forget that, Eddie.

She is a prostitute, Eddie. Ever wonder where she goes out at night? Why is she so late? Who is she with? Why won’t she tell you?

The final straw was when she began to have people over several times a month. Men and women came to his house for what she called a reading club, to discuss some book. He hated them on sight, and hated the fake attention they showered on him. She thrived on it. A cleaning lady in a book club — it was a joke. The people came and talked to her, they ate and drank together and laughed. They were stealing his mother from him, and she was letting it happen.

“Why are you trying to be so atas?” he asked one day, and she slapped him. It was the first time.

She doesn’t need you anymore, Eddie. She has them.

A cleaning woman — what does she need to read for, Eddie?

She is becoming atas, Eddie. Soon she will think you aren’t good enough for her.

He began to withdraw.

He knew it was all because of the rape. It had changed her; she was no longer the beautiful, pious woman he had loved. She was now a cheap slut, flaunting herself in front of these people in her new clothes and makeup, laughing out loud, pretending to be someone she was not. He was sure she was in a lot of pain.

You are right, Eddie, she needs help.

Her soul has been desecrated, you need to cleanse her. She is in pain. Evil is making her hide the pain. You need to help her, Eddie, she is your ma. She would do the same for you.

Help her, man, help her.

The decision was made. The voices were unanimous. He decided he would help her. He would put her out of her pain.

He picked a day about two weeks later, telling her he had saved enough to treat his mother to a nice meal.

Then he began to plan, meticulously writing down each step.

When the day finally arrived, his mind was calm. He was prepared.

Even though God had not given him the best ears or brain, he had given him several advisors who dwelled in his head.

His mother dressed down for the dinner, which pleased him.

At five p.m., he told her he was ready to go.

Together they walked to a little beachside restaurant nearby, one he knew she liked. Because it was right by the water, you could feel the sand under your feet at the table. Ma loved it, and he wanted her to enjoy this evening.