I was running late. As I rushed towards the platform to catch my train, I heard someone call out my name. It was him, with a wide smile as he navigated through the salarymen crowd.
“I thought you went back east a couple of months ago.”
He had left to start his own business and to be closer to his parents.
“I did. I had some work in town this past week. I’m leaving tomorrow,” he answered, still smiling.
“Listen, I know you’re on your way home but would you have coffee with me? There’s another train in 40 minutes, right?”
Glancing at my watch, and judging by the numerous beeps from my mobile, I knew my friends were already at our meeting place. Yet, I wanted to stay. After five months, I think a cup of coffee with him won’t kill me.
Braving the drizzle, cold wind and throng of people, we crossed the street into a coffee shop.
“You look good,” I said, after a short, awkward silence. There’s only so much stirring of coffee I could manage without talking or looking at him.
“Thanks. You’re not bad yourself.”
He told me about his new company, the usual difficulties in doing business and his parents. I related the story about my parents’ visit and how they still hope I’d go back to KL instead of trying to make it in Tokyo. Updates about mutual friends, some laughs and our half hour was up.
“You took the charm off.”
I looked at my phone strap and remembered I had recently removed a boat-shaped charm he gave me a few years ago. I looked up again to see his face break into another smile.
“I wish I could take mine off that easily. ” In the middle of the platform, I was suddenly engulfed in a familiar warm hug. The meaning of his words was not lost on me, his lucky charm.
“I’m really glad to see you today. Be good, okay.” He was gone. Again.

- – -
The ending of the story came in a dream, specifically, the “you took the charm off” part.

“So how are you, really?” I have not seen her for over five months, since she moved downtown. Since that night.

“I’m fine, really.”

“No more cutting?” She showed me her left arm, then the right. The scars looked faded, no new ones. I was glad, and told her so.

“I’ve missed you.” She lit a cigarette. I was hoping she’d quit that too. One thing at a time I guess.

We spent most of the night catching up, trading jokes, stories and some tears, before I drove her home. I think she’s going to be okay.

- – -

I knew her from work, she was quite popular with the guys in my department and one day we were at the same assignment. We’d somehow connected over bad coffee after the event and got along well ever since. After a while, we got closer and I learned about the other side of her that was kept fairly hidden from prying eyes. The cutting habit, the drugs. Having a lousy live-in boyfriend didn’t help matters either but my concern was more about her. I had seen her scars and knew it was more than physical pain that she’s suffering from.

But how do you help someone, when outwardly she looks like she doesn’t need any?

- – -

Six months ago, I had moved to another job and we saw less of each other. The live-in was no longer in the picture and things seemed fine for a bit. I heard she was doing well at work, her stories seemed less… edgy. More coherent, definitely readable. Until one night, when she called me up. I knew she was high, she’d always have some loud rock music on when she wants to get stoned. However, her voice sounded different, desperate. I went over and it took her a while to open the door.

The image of her with a bloody arm is not one I’d likely to forget anytime soon. I remember taking the blade from her and tried to stop the bleeding. Her glazed eyes looked at me but I doubt she knew what was happening. I knew crying will not help but I cried anyway, while searching for the first aid kit. Luckily, she actually had one.

“You shouldn’t have done this. Why didn’t you just let me die?”

She had slept off the drugs and woke up in pain. I could only offer her coffee.

“Because it isn’t your time to go.” I didn’t press her about what happened but I knew that she could tell that I was angry. I had hoped she would argue that she was fine but instead she started telling me her story. So I listened.

“You are definitely the most screwed up rich brat I know.” She laughed at that. It sounded hopeful.

He was performing his prayers. He looked beautiful in profile and I couldn’t stop staring at the man. I gave a silent thanks for the small pleasure and at the same time remembered watching another man in prayer years ago.

At the time, I didn’t dare to take more than just a peek because he might notice. I think he did anyway.

“Wei, nak semayang ke tengok orang?” Thanks a lot, makcik. I really should opt for the middle rows next time.

“Ermm.. are you in love?” She asked out the blue, with the din of office chaos in the background. I was stunned for a minute.

“Why do you ask?” I was stalling in a way.

“Well, I saw you staring at your monitor, and you looked like someone in love.” I was stunned again.

She added hastily, “It’s alright if you don’t answer. I was just being nosy as usual.”

As she walked back to her desk, I returned my attention to my computer screen. The usual suspects were online and before I was interrupted, I was having a discussion with one of them on which players worthy to play for our respective fantasy football teams.

Talk about weird chat up lines. Too bad I don’t bat for the other team. She was kinda hot.

I saw For Love of the Game again today. Must have seen it a dozen times since it came out.

For a girl, you really watch a lot of sports movies. The other week it was Invincible. You have a thing for sweaty guys in uniform, issit?

Haha. Maybe I do.

Hmm… What’s so good about those guys? They are a bunch of overpaid men running around ballparks. Or in baseball’s case, they just stand around either waiting for their turn to try and hit the ball or waiting to run and catch it.

A very apt observation, sir, but I actually like sports-themed movies because they’re usually good stories. I didn’t say all, but most of the time they are.

Yeah, right.