Tangled Dreams

CHAPTER 1: THE DILEMMA OF DREAMS (Part 5) | Eunice Wong

A pilot. I couldn't possibly become a pilot. This flight was already torturous enough for me. The dizziness I felt the moment I saw the display on the screen just now proved that my dad's dream would never come to fruition. Thinking about the screen made me feel nauseous again.

The medicated oil provided by the stewardess seemed to have helped. Except that psychologically I was not comfortable with the thought of how high I was above ground. Oh, why had I chosen to flee by air?

Because Dad would never have imagined I would do this. Because I could get farther away this way. Because I would not be going home again. I really hope Dad will forgive me! Guilt was beginning to blanket my conscience.

Memories of Mum who had left us exactly six years ago today flitted across my mind. She was an expert at all sorts of dishes and delicacies. From asam laksa to bak kut teh, ABC soup to sautéed yam bean, every recipe was cooked using fresh ingredients from the market. My mum never once used sachets of instant food flavourings or seasonings sold in shops. She said food prepared that way was not authentic; that was how lazy people cooked.

Many had praised my mum's cooking, especially during the Chinese New Year celebration. Visitors thronged our house especially to indulge in the delicacies she prepared. The favourites were undoubtedly the crisp and fragrant vegetable pickles, Hainanese chicken rice and the mouth-watering salted vegetable soup. Delicious!

During my school days, I would often hang out in the kitchen after I finished my homework, helping my mum prepare to cook, such as cutting vegetables, mincing meat and many other tasks. Eventually, I learnt each and every one of her recipes. All of them became indelibly etched in my memory. One only had to mention the dish, and I would undoubtedly know the recipe and how to prepare it.

Now, I would often cook when I reminisced about Mum. That was how I was inspired to open my own café. Mum had often said that young people nowadays were too busy working and did not have time to cook for their families. Most people ate out and did not get the opportunity to enjoy food cooked by their loved ones. I wanted to serve authentic, traditional Chinese food so that more people would become acquainted with it. I'm sure Mum would have given me her support. I know she would have agreed.

"Miss... Miss..." The voice of the flight stewardess buzzed in my ears. I opened my eyes slowly. The surroundings were shockingly bright and extremely quiet. I turned my head left and right. Nobody was there.

"We have landed, miss," the stewardess added. I had apparently dozed off. I glanced at my watch. Oops! Just an hour's transit in Dubai before my flight to London. I got up immediately but had to sit down again when the numbness in my legs kicked in. I told the stewardess that I needed time to adjust myself first. She nodded and left.

It was fortunate that I had dozed off. Otherwise, the seven hours would not have passed by so quickly. I massaged my numb legs so that the blood would circulate down to my toes. As soon as they recovered, I got up and grabbed my shoulder bag. I alighted the plane and headed towards the next terminal. Along the way, I managed to stop by at a chemist's.

Sleeping pills. I just had to have them. The next flight would be longer. Seven hours and thirty minutes. It made me dizzy just thinking about it. As I had an empty stomach, I couldn't possibly throw up anything more. That would mean something more traumatic – retching. I didn't want that.

Why did I choose to transit in Dubai? I berated myself. However, I knew it was necessary. Transits would make it more difficult for my dad to track me. I also deliberately carried just a shoulder bag for ease of arrival and departure. There was no need to waste time at the baggage carousels because I did not have any checked-in baggage. I could then move faster. It was my intention to buy time so that I could plan my next move.

The second flight: Dubai to London. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for it. This time, my seat was next to the window. I was relieved to be seated there as I would not be disturbed by the food trolleys that were pushed to and fro along the narrow aisles. I would not have to make way for other passengers to get out. I had my own little space.

I took out the "Do Not Disturb" sticker from the amenities pack given to me and stuck it at the top of my seat headrest. I pulled the blanket up to my chin. I then took two of the sleeping pills that I had bought earlier. The eye mask blacked out my vision. I closed my eyes before the plane began moving, hoping to reach my destination in the blink of an eye.

Upon arrival in London, my pen pal Juliette would be meeting me at the airport. We had been sending each other letters since school. With the advent of the Internet, we corresponded via e-mails. We had exchanged photographs once or twice, but this would be the first time we would meet.

I chose Juliette because dad did not know she existed. Dad would be sure to interrogate my other friends. But only my dear mum had known about Juliette. My friendship with Juliette was a continuation of the friendship between our mothers. They too had been pen-pals, corresponding via letters for so very long but never, ever meeting. As a child, Juliette had been thrilled to see my mum's letters arrive from Malaysia. So, her mother had suggested that Juliette begin corresponding with me. That was how our friendship began.

London. The place where I would have the space to think and plan ahead. I was sure I would be inspired to do something for the future. The dream to establish my own café remained in my heart. I did not know when it would be realised, but I was confident that with every step forward that I took, I would eventually get there. It was just a matter of time.