CHAPTER 2
Clarice wanted to cry. Right in front of her
was a cake, a beautiful, delicious white chocolate and strawberry
cake, topped with thirty candles—no more, no less—just thirty
straight candles illuminating the entire room that was once
shrouded in darkness.
The sound of her family and two best
friends, Elise and Whitney, singing that birthday song should have
turned those tears into streams of joy, yet the one that came
trickling out of her eye right now was of sadness, of a sense of
failure, as her entire thirty years of life was reflected right
before her eyes, like an open storybook.
*
“Clarice, darling. Let go of your mother’s
skirt and come over here.” Her father called her over to him,
speaking to her in fluent Khmer, her mother tongue. But she didn’t
budge from her spot, her little fingers still clinging to her
mother’s skirt for dear life, too afraid to look at all the
strangers’ faces staring at her.
Who are these people? she thought,
eyeing the many strangers through her small spectacles perched upon
her nose. They came to welcome her when she got off the plane. They
looked just like papa, with blond hair and blue eyes, the likes of
which she had never seen before in the Cambodian refugee camp in
Thailand.
“Welcome to New Zealand, my dear.” One lady
leaned in, smiling.
Then another one came and crouched in front
of her and asked her with a pretty smile, “How old are you, little
missy?”
Clarice didn’t know what to do. They were
talking to her, but she couldn’t understand them.
Her father came over and translated in
Khmer. She held out both of her hands and made the number six to
the strangers.
“Does she not know English?” the old lady
asked her father.
“It’s my fault. I only taught her basic
greetings. We conversed in Khmer all the time in the camp,” her
father said.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll adjust and come to
fit in school just fine with all the other children,” the young
lady said.
School! Now that word she knew. Papa
had taught her that word in the camp.
*
“Go back to your own country, you four-eyed
monster.”
“Yeah, pancake face. Go back to where you
came from.”
“We don’t want you here. Go away.”
Clarice cried when the others at school
wouldn’t stop their bullying. She couldn’t understand what they
meant, but the physical abuse they bestowed upon her, pushing her
and pulling her pigtails, sure hurt her little wee heart. That
night she cried on her mother’s lap.
“Chantee, my dear, don’t cry.” Her mother
smoothed her hair while she cried her eyes out. “You have to be
brave and strong.”
“But they pulled my hair on the first day of
school,” she complained. “I hate those people. Why can’t they be
nice? I don’t like this place. I want to go back to the camp.”
“Chantee, I know you’ll meet nice people
soon. And who knows? You might even be friends with them for life.
There are many great people here in New Zealand. And when you meet
them, you’ll know how lovely this country is.”
Clarice’s mother was right, because the very
next day at school, when she was in the middle of being bullied
again, a girl appeared, jumping off the monkey bars and announcing
to the whole school that from now on, this little Asian-Caucasian
girl would be under her protection. The girl who saved her was
named Whitney, a boisterous girl that was like a hot air
balloon.
Clarice’s first real friend was a sight to
behold, dressed all in black, with the palest skin, like a sheet of
paper. She was a little witch, casting deathly spells on anyone who
dared hurt her and her little friend. And now that Whitney had
taken her under her wing, Clarice was no longer afraid of
anyone.
*
“I’m afraid I can’t let you participate in
today’s sport, Clarice.”
Clarice wasn’t happy. She’d been looking
forward to this day for ages and now that it had finally arrived,
she wasn’t allowed to participate because of her shoes.
What could she do? It wasn’t her fault her
shoes had more holes than the number of craters on the moon. Her PE
teacher said it was unfit for sport. Simply speaking, it may cause
her injury.
“You can use my spare pair,” a quiet little
blonde said beside her.
Clarice turned and smiled.
This little girl, who was three years
younger than her, was called Elise. She was a quiet, methodical
girl who hardly spoke but had a heart the size of an ocean. She was
a charming, innocent, and pure-hearted girl, much like a cherry
blossom on a nice spring morning.
With Elise’s spare shoes, Clarice was able
to participate in school activities along with Whitney. From that
point on, the three girls were now like the three musketeers,
sticking together like glue.
*
“Honey, I’ve been made redundant.” Clarice
heard her father speak to her mother in their bedroom.
“Oh no, Michael. What will happen to
us?”
“Don’t worry, Montha. I’ll make sure you
won’t starve.”
That night, Clarice sat forking her rice and
tuna. Yes, she was starving. That small portion wasn’t enough to
supply the fuel for her growing teenage body, but she didn’t say
anything. She told her parents she was full and went off to
bed.
At that point, Clarice made a life-changing
decision. She would never go hungry again. She would do anything to
support herself and her family.
“Don’t worry, Papa. I’m going to get a job.
You don’t have to pay for my education anymore,” Clarice vowed to
herself.
The next day she applied for the paper run.
She got accepted on the spot because she was good at running. From
that point on, she saved her money like her life depended on it,
which to her it did, because she knew she wasn’t born with a silver
spoon in her mouth. And if she wanted to get into University, then
she would have to work hard.
*
It was on Clarice’s thirteenth birthday that
she was able to attend high school, along with her two best
friends. That night while her friends were sleeping, preparing for
their new adventure ahead, she was still slaving over the iron,
trying to press the secondhand uniform she had bought with her own
money.
Clarice knew her friends would arrive with
newly pressed uniforms that had been serviced by professional
launderers because her friends’ families were far better off than
hers, but she’d never complained about her station and worked hard
to achieve a level of comfort for her parents and herself. In order
to achieve her goal, she must be frugal and mindful towards
everything.
*
“Mum, I want to go to Cambodia to help out
the children and adults,” Clarice said to her mother one day after
she turned sixteen. She was watching the documentary about
Cambodian kids not having enough dental care, leading to poor oral
health and losing their teeth at such a young age.
At that moment, Clarice had made a lifelong
decision. She was going to become a dentist so she could help
provide dental care in her mother’s homeland, Cambodia. It wasn’t
until ten years later that she and her team of dental professionals
accomplished that goal, setting up a practice in the heart of
Battambang Province, donating free dental care for all who would
utilize their service. She usually frequented Cambodia on her
holiday at least once a year to check on the progress of the
children there.
On her twenty-fifth birthday, Clarice went
into the world of periodontology, wanting to further study the
subject of gum disease, so she could provide more service to the
community. And she did that within three years.
*
Clarice stared at the flickering candles,
her mind flitting back to reality. All the goals she had planned
she’d accomplished. Everything she had wanted she’d received.
But now Clarice, aged thirty, was lost.
She bit her lip and stared at the
candlelight dancing in front of her, those flames providing just
enough light to illuminate the many smiling faces that now stared
back at her—the faces of her many nephews, eyeing her weirdly, not
understanding why their aunt would be fabricating mass saltwater
production down her cheeks; her cousins and their husbands, holding
each other’s hands, eyeing her with mixed feelings of sadness
because they seemed to know what she was going through, since they
were of similar age; and then her mother and father, hugging each
other at their ripe old age, looking at her worriedly.
Clarice took all of this in. And then a
painful cord struck through her heart and she reached a moment of
epiphany, that single moment when she finally realized what
everyone was talking about for the past two decades.
Love. Marriage. Family. Children.
Too busy was she trying to achieve her
status, her career, and her reputation that she had totally
forgotten all about that other important aspect of her life:
love.
Sifting through her memories, Clarice tried
to place any fond memory where she was actually in love with
someone. Her mind drew a blank. There was none, nothing, a big fat
zero, just a single goose egg. She had never had her first kiss,
never had her first dance at a formal during high school, never
went to a nightclub, never had a boyfriend, never had or
experienced anything that a girl her age should have done while
growing up.
In her entire thirty years of life, she had
been working. In high school, she spent her days working, if not
studying. When she finally entered university, again she was so
busy studying and working she had forgotten to go to the annual
dental ball, forgot to look around her as her other classmates eyed
each other across the room and asked one another on dates. And even
after she graduated from dentistry, she still forgot to have fun,
forgot to go out and celebrate her success at achieving such a high
degree. And now she was about to enter the big three-zero zone. By
midnight tonight, she would be officially a spinster, on the shelf,
tough as leather
Who would want to chew this tough beef
anyway, when everyone at the supermarket would go for the
veal?
To say she never had any interaction
with the opposite sex was also preposterous, because she had.
Growing up, she had always been surrounded with her many nephews,
cousins, her male classmates, and now her patients also, but to
associate them with the L-word, now that would be preposterous.
Although she did have many proposals, ranging from eight-year-old
boys to eighty-six-year-old men, namely her patients, how could she
take any of them seriously?
Her biological clock was screaming at her.
Her hormones were on rampage as tears streamed down her face and
all those thoughts spun through her mind. She couldn’t suppress
them. She hadn’t hit menopause yet, but here she was having an
emotional breakdown because she was turning thirty and wanted a
family of her own. That sudden feeling of wanting another person
there at night, lying close to you while you rest. Yes, that strong
yearning suddenly hitting her like a ton of bricks, and she
couldn’t help but burst out and cry even harder.
Clarice’s mother, Montha, sensing something
was horribly wrong, came to comfort her daughter.
“What’s wrong, Chantee? Why are you crying
on your birthday?” she asked, patting her daughter’s back. Whitney
and Elise came to her side also. Their singing faltered and they
stared dumbfounded when they saw her in this state.
How could she tell her mother and the rest
of her family and friends that she wanted her own family, that she
wanted love? But it was too late now. No man would even look at
her. She had passed her prime.
But she couldn’t tell them that now, could
she? Well, not when they were all smiling before her. To tell them
the truth would ruin the whole mood. So she lied.
“I’m just so happy you did all this for me.
And you both, coming all the way here from Dunedin, just for my
birthday.” There, now the smiles were back, except for her two
friends who eyed her, clearly broadcasting, We’ll talk to you
later about this.
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,
darling.” Her mother hugged her.
Just then, her little five-year-old nephew
came and tugged at her skirt, asking in his little high-pitched
voice, “Aunty Reece can I open your presents?”
Children and their presents, she
thought, smiling as another sob erupted. She tried to hold back but
almost choked on it, so she let nature take its course and more
waterworks escaped her eyes.
“Why are you crying, Aunty Reece?” Timmy
asked her.
Clarice lifted her nephew to straddle her
hips, then hugged him tightly, feeling that warmth emitting from
his small body.
“Because I’m so happy to be here,
celebrating my birthday with you,” she replied.
“I love you, Aunty,” Timmy said, wiping away
her tears. “So don’t cry anymore.”
“I love you too, Timmy.” She hugged him
again. Then after she released him, she walked to the present
table. “And which one would you like to open first?”
“That one!” he said, pointing to the largest
on the table with his little wee fingers.
So cute, so adorable—her motherly instinct
cried out to her.
After she finished cutting the cake and
everyone got a piece each, they all said their congratulations, and
a little while later, they all left her apartment. Her mother and
father were the last to leave.
“Chantee, are you sure you’re okay?” her
mother asked her worriedly.
“I’m fine. Just tired from work, I suppose,
and then when I came home, I got a full-blown surprise.” She
laughed drily, hoping her mother would believe her excuse.
“I didn’t want to surprise you too much, but
Elise and Whitney suggested it,” her mother replied, hugging her
warmly.
Clarice eyed her friends as they both eyed
her from the couch. She knew they were waiting for her to explain
what happened before.
“Thank you for today, Mum, Dad.” She went to
hug them both, then led them out the door. “When are you heading
back to Dunedin?”
“Tomorrow. Max will drop us off. You take
the day off too. You work too hard.”
“I don’t work too hard. I’ll drop you off
instead. Speaking of Max, where is he?” Clarice suddenly realized
her favourite cousin wasn’t present during her birthday party.
“Not a clue, Chantee. You just make sure you
look after that boy, though,” her father said, rubbing his
temple.
Clarice knew her father had a lot to deal
with when Max was in Dunedin, since both of his parents were away
overseas, but now since he was here in Auckland, her father grew
even more worried. That little cousin of hers was more robust than
a rodent. There was no way of knowing when he would explode and
cause trouble for them all.
“I will. I don’t understand why he can’t
study in Dunedin when you’re both there to look after him.”
“It’s because he’s worried about you and
wants to make sure that you’re fine,” her mother answered her
instead. “He’s a boy, Chantee. He can look after you until Mr.
Right comes along.”
“Yes, Mum.” Clarice kissed her mother and
father, then closed the door as they departed. She sighed heavily,
leaning against the door, glad everyone had left. But as soon as
the door was closed, both Elise and Whitney rushed to her side.
“Explain!” was all Whitney said.
Clarice knew immediately what Whitney was
referring to, but she didn’t want to elaborate about her dilemma
tonight. Tonight she just wanted to drown in self-pity, maybe do
something bad, like drink a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice
without even waiting thirty minutes to brush her teeth, or better
yet, flag the whole brushing of her teeth altogether so they would
rot away in that acidic environment in her mouth.
“I…” she began but then choked on her
word.
“I’m going to get some tissue.” Whitney
sighed, patting her back. “I have a feeling we’re going to cry over
this.” Whitney jumped from the couch, motioning for Elise to
follow.
All alone now, Clarice brooded in self-pity.
What could she say when the others came back? That she was scared
midnight would strike in two hours and when she woke the next
morning she’d have white hair and wrinkly skin, with no one beside
her but a walking cane as her only companion.
“Cuz,” a deep voice said from behind her,
startling Clarice out of her thoughts.
Clarice turned around and saw her cousin
Maximilian, the subject of her earlier conversation with her
parents. She smiled, seeing her favourite young cousin, all
dirty-brown hair and dimples.
Maximilian was her cousin on her father’s
side. She didn’t have any relatives on her mother’s side, as they
did not survive during the war. Her mother was the only one that
had made it alive. She lived in the Khao E Dang camp for many years
before meeting her father.
Maximilian had full-on typical European-Kiwi
features, fair skin, with a few sprinkled freckles dotted on his
nose and cheeks; while she had the typical Asian features in her
genes, making her traits stand out more than her other cousins,
with thick black hair and fair porcelain skin. When the two were
seen out and about together, no one would even believe they were
related.
“Happy birthday, you.” He hugged her from
behind, almost strangling her neck in the process. “And I’m not
going to congratulate you for turning thirty, but I’m definitely
gonna get some of that cake on the table over there.” He laughed
cheekily, eyeing his favourite white chocolate cake.
“Max, you rascal.” She swatted his hand and
stood up, facing him. “Don’t think you can come to my birthday
party without congratulating me. Now be a good boy and say your
part.”
“Nah.” Max shook his head, smiling.
“Maximilian Henry Christopher Mason!”
Clarice warned him, knowing Max hated it whenever anyone used his
full name.
Max screwed up his face in disgust. Why his
parents had decided to name him Maximilian was beyond him. Clarice
did mention his mother was a historical romance fanatic since
reading that book from her favourite author Alexia Praks, called
The Duke’s Revenge or something along those lines, with the
hero being called Maximilian. His mother had become so addicted to
the story that she had declared if she ever had a baby boy, she
would name him Maximilian. Then lo and behold, just three months
later she was pregnant. And now he was stuck with the name.
“Not going to,” Max said, determinedly
stubborn.
“Fine then. I’ll just grab Sweet Elise and
Madam Witch, who will tear your ears down.”
“What? They’re both here too?” Max asked in
fright.
“Why wouldn’t they be? They’re my best
friends.”
“But…”
“What’s wrong, Maxy boy? Scared of us?”
Whitney asked from behind him.
Max was already shaking in his boots.
“Yes, Max. You better say your
congratulations to Clarice or I might have to sweet talk you into
doing it,” Elise added.
Max wasn’t looking forward to Elise
sweet-talking him. The last time he got on Clarice’s wrong side, he
ended up doing his cousin’s chores for a whole week, and he didn’t
even know he had agreed to the deal in the first place. And as for
her other friend, Whitney, the one he liked to secretly call the
Wicked Witch of Oz, was no better either. If Elise used the sweet
approach, then the Wicked Witch used her spells to torment him,
which mainly involved painful words that eventually led to
punishment, not by her hands, but by his very own cousin
Clarice.
Both of them were wicked, and if he didn’t
know any better, Clarice was also. But out of the three, he had to
admit he had great affection for Elise, the sweet one. But then
again, he couldn’t help hanging around any of them. It was like
they produced this spinster’s pheromone that attracted him to their
clan. Not that he was in love with them or anything. It was more
along the lines of a sibling relationship whereby every time he
hung around them, he felt safe and happy, like they were his
long-lost sisters. That was why he made it his mission to make sure
they were all safely married and never remained the Three Spinsters
for too long.
“Now where were you when the others were
here?” Clarice eyed her cousin’s attire. “Why are you all dressed
up?”
“Not telling,” Max teased.
“Maximilian!” Clarice warned him again.
“Just out and about with friends,” he said
cheekily, trying to avoid the hidden truth.
“Where?” Whitney asked in her serious
tone.
“Mmmm, a nightclub,” he finally
admitted.
“Maximilian,” they all said
simultaneously.
Right now was one of those times Max thought
he was their little brother, with their eyes staring at him like
any big sisters would, before laying out the ground rules and
punishing him.
As for Clarice, she couldn’t believe her
young cousin would attempt to do such a thing. Never in her mind
had she ever thought he would attend a nightclub. When she was his
age, all she’d ever do was work and study. She didn’t even have
time to admire the view around her, let alone go clubbing.
“There was hardly anyone there, though. It
was too early and I didn’t even get a sip of alcohol. So there, I
didn’t do anything wrong.” He rambled his confession.
“But, Max, you’re only in high school,”
Elise said.
“But I don’t want to grow up not being able
to experience drinking alcohol. I’ve only got one life,” Max whined
to Elise. “Plus, I want to experience it before I turn twenty.”
When Max said this, Clarice felt her world
spin around, her tears almost overflowing again. Before they could
escape, though, she wiped them clean while the others were too busy
with their argument to notice her change of expression
Since growing up, Clarice had never had a
chance to get drunk. In fact, she had never even been near to or
tasted alcohol since the moment she was born.
No, wait. That was a lie. She had been near
alcohol. In her life as a dentist, she had been near the Bunsen
burner many times, with its purple spirit, making impression trays
for the molding of her patients’ teeth. But that’s the alcohol
required for lighting flames, not the drinkable sort.
“You’re underage, Max,” Elise said, cutting
her thoughts.
“More importantly, Maximilian, you broke the
law.” Whitney topped it off.
“What, Whitney? Are you gonna tell my mum?”
Max challenged. “Phone her in Dubai?”
“I think I might,” Whitney answered, walking
towards the phone.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Max gasped. “It’s gonna
cost Clarice a fortune to phone Dubai. Plus, you don’t know her
phone number.”
“Oh, I would, Maximilian.” Whitney nodded to
show she meant business and picked up the phone. “I could always
ask Clarice for your mum’s phone number. Plus, I’ll pay for the
phone bills.”
“You witch.” Max gasped, head bulldozing at
Whitney.
“Now, now, you two, stop it. It’s Clarice’s
birthday, after all.” Elise interrupted their feud, catching Max’s
head just in time before he made contact with Whitney’s stomach. “I
don’t want his mom to know Max has gone out. It would look bad on
her behalf.”
“Oh, thank you, Elise.” Max forgot all about
his anger and went to wind his arm around Elise instead, resting
his head on her shoulder like a little puppy asking for affection.
“You’re the best, not like my cuz and that Wicked Witch of Oz.”
“Excuse me?” Whitney huffed at Max.
“No, nothing, I didn’t say anything.” Max
pretended to zip his mouth. “Elise, you didn’t hear anything,
right?”
There was a look of sadness and longing on
Elise’s face that Max couldn’t understand. It only appeared for a
fleeting second before it disappeared again.
“I didn’t hear that,” Elise said, smiling at
Max with affection.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, then,”
Whitney finally said, letting the subject go.
“All right,” Elise said, smiling too
enthusiastically this time. “Now, Max, say your congratulations to
your cousin.” And that was when they all noticed Clarice had gone
completely silent and a sad look was plastered on her face again,
just like the face she had made when she blew out the candles.
Whitney was the first to react, folding her
arms around her friend to comfort her, while Elise went to grab
some green tea, with Max following blindly behind her, having not a
clue as to what had just happened.
Once Clarice and Whitney were on the couch
and Elise and Max came back with the steaming green tea, they all
sat in a circle, giving Clarice their undivided attention.
“That’s it. I’m not going to cry over what’s
already been done, or hasn’t been done,” Clarice declared with her
head held high. “We are going out tonight.”
“Wherever you’re going, can I come too?” Max
asked enthusiastically.
“Not unless you have a death wish,” Clarice
said, eyeing her cousin sternly while the two friends pondered
Clarice’s declaration.
Yes, Clarice thought. She might be
old and yes, she might be on the shelf, but it wasn’t too late yet
to find her own family, her very own husband, and find love.
Starting tonight, she was going to reverse the clock. Tonight, they
were going clubbing!