My Greatest Fear

I knocked
at the door. In her uncombed hair and
soy sauce stained apron, she looked
surprised.
I smelt Bak Kut Teh. “Who are you
looking for?” she asked
peeping
from the door gap. I held her hands,
fingers crossed.

Fingers crossed
on one hand, a Hello Kitty bag
on the other, She walked me to the school gate
every morning.

I held her hands, fingers crossed.
Led her to the couch
where she read newspaper and had a pot of Chinese tea.
Flipping through the photo album, I pointed at
a photo
set in a playground, she was holding
a little girl’s hand, fingers crossed.
“I’m looking for them.” I said.

I knocked at the door.
“Sorry, my girl has gone to school.”
For once
I looked familiar to her.
“Would you want me to give her a call?”
Politely, she asked. I shook,
passed her
a dozen of egg tarts.
“Your daughter asked me to send you these”
“Oh my girl, she has not visited me for months!”
She exclaimed with joy
and tears. I prepared her the tarts
at the dining table where we had
countless dinners
where we quarreled
about my studies,
where we gossiped
about the divorced aunty,
where
she forgot who I am.

I came every day.

I knocked at the door.
Again.
Once more.
Took out the keys from my bag
and unlocked the door, all by
myself.
Someone left the photo album on the dining table.
A mom and her girl, fingers crossed.