Glimpses

These ones are from at least a month back. Things have moved quickly. More glimpses later.

***

The borrowed car belongs in a museum. No air conditioning, so the windows are down. In 30C weather. Toxic fumes and bloodthirsty drivers, haphazard urban planning and a bewildering lack of signboards. He’s hopelessly lost and his phone-in navigator is barely fighting off panic.

Just another day on the roads of KL.

He keeps reading off road names that are completely alien to me, too far out of the city center and my usual waypoints. I know I’m not the most reliable navigator, having spent almost a decade away. And as a kid, I was more of a day-dreamer… a bit like Loup, actually… I never paid any attention to the roads.

“I’m pulling over to ask for directions.”

Now I know the situation is desperate. While I wait, I tape up and reinforce my abused city map and try to forget the fact that it’s 3pm and I haven’t had lunch.

Then a text: “I’m on my way.”

But I don’t breathe easy — nor does he — until he is at my door, collapsing against me. “I’m never driving in this city again.”

***

I lean over to allow him a better look at the girl who’s sat down a few tables behind me. We’re trying to ascertain her racial mix — she’s not the usual Chinese, Malay or Indian. Her tight black curls are pulled back in a ponytail.

Loup sighs appreciatively. He starts to talk about hair styles that look good on girls, especially right out of a shower –

I can’t help it… It’s not jealousy — I echo his appreciation in the most open-hearted way… But as I fix my eyes on Loup’s, there’s an arrogance — a certainty — in my actions. Casually, I slide the pelican clip through my almost-dry hair and it tumbles around my shoulders.

Loup stops in mid-sentence. “Wow,” he breathes. “Wow.”

***

He’s angry about a job evaluation that has turned brutally personal. I’ve just decided to quit my own job, leaving behind a start-up and a cause that I had desperately hoped to see succeed. We are angry, frustrated, disappointed. But the week of inactivity turns into an unexpected blessing. Though we’re hesitant to make such a claim, there’s a quiet satisfaction in knowing that we have each other.

***

It’s the night of the breakup talk (or, just another one?) with Gar. I’ve just walked into the apartment with him to find a small crowd in the living room. Loup is on the couch, half naked, his back to me and drenched. I feel a little thrill, but as I start towards him, I notice May coming from — his bedroom? The bathroom? I stiffly pull back, caught off guard.

Loup was once in a relationship with May, but last I heard, they had a falling out. He hasn’t mentioned her since. And I certainly don’t want to jump in the middle if they’re sorting things out.

Taken by surprise, I feel a trickle of jealousy. But as I keep my distance from Loup (out of respect, not resentment), I turn my attention to May instead. It’s small talk, but it is sincere and so is the laughter. I prop myself up on the arm of the couch by May, with Loup glancing over now and then between bouts of concentration on the movie. The jealousy fades without a fight. In its place is a diffuse serenity and I find in this moment a glimpse of just what it could be like — how warm, settled and stable it could feel — to be in an open relationship that worked.

***

At first, we were in it because we both liked the idea, found each other attractive, and figured it wouldn’t hurt to experiment. Because we were just there. Then, one evening — over cheesecake — I found myself leaning in closer, and it wasn’t just his conspiratorial eyes that drew me. They’ve softened. And so have we.