I remember being very quiet in the taxi. 5 minutes into the ride, the driver started making wild guesses of why a young boy like me was traveling all by himself. I think I just told him Mum was rushing for her China trip and had left her luggage at home.
I remember stepping into the plane for the first time, being pinned to my seat by the force during take-off, and gazing out the tiny windows for a sight of the clouds so up close, and of course, the taste of the orange juice the stewardess had served. (Gary had stressed that she ALWAYS decline the offer, as those are not REAL fruit juices.)
I remember seeing your anxious face turned into delight as I walked out into the arrival hall. You had broken away from the waiting crowd to stand much more in front because you know I won’t know what to do if I don’t see you there. I quickened my pace towards you, and your out-stretched hands embraced me in one powerful but warm sweep. And then you put the hotel keys in my palm, and said “Keep this, it’s the key to my heart.”
And I remember the stares and the astonishment on everyone’s faces. Surely a hotel chauffeur has witnessed things more terrifying than a Caucasian man embracing an Asian boy.
I remember being the only local in the resort amongst the many Caucasians, Japanese and Middle-Easterners that were holidaying there. And the stares of the two Japanese ladies at the table on our right during the poolside candlelight dinner. We took a stroll along the beach after that, the touch of the soft fine sand, and your warm body as you hug me in your arms. You had too much red wine during dinner.
I remember waking up in the mornings to be greeted by your sweet face. You would say I slept like a baby. Thank God you do not snore!
So it's been almost three years. What do you remember, Ted?
BRAVEHEART [77]
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