The Ballad of Citra Sidek and Her Terrible Taste in Men

3

"So who is this Khairul?"

Citra bit the inside of her cheek. This was not a conversation that she could have with either Anna or Arjun. So, she had made her way down to the school's library under the pretext of returning books that were long overdue. After the requisite nagging which she completely deserved, Citra was relieved to discover that Dahlia was bored enough to listen to her problems.

Dahlia was younger than her but happily married and, to Citra's knowledge, blessed with three beautiful children - each one chubbier than the last. Determined not to let Noura's sister take up more mental space than she already did, Citra launched into a summarized version of Khairul's parentage.

"So....dia ni kirakan ex bapak kau punya anak ah?" Dahlia remarked.

"No. Noura isn't even his ex. It just... nothing happened," Citra shrugged, sitting on the low counter as kids checked out their books. Some tried to linger and eavesdrop but most knew better than to risk Ms Citra's scathing comments. "But this Khairul was like my teenage crush. Mind you, I don't even know what he looks like now but apparently, he's back from Australia and he's attending the wedding."

Dahlia's eyes widened as she clapped her hands. "Eh, eh... you have to go. Must go!" she poked Citra in the arm.

"Why?"

"He's your crush, kan? Then you have to go. Who knows he might be really handsome now," Dahlia grinned, ecstatic at the drama that was happening in real life. "How come you never got together with him?"

"I'm not even sure what actually happened," Citra confessed, thinking of all the times Khairul smiled at her during Hari Raya visits. All three of them. He had beautiful white teeth that were even and straight. She wondered if he got them with braces, letting her mind wander till Dahlia repeated her question. She had to stop zoning out like this. "I was about fifteen and back then, we just sort of met when our families visited each other. And it was just 'hi' and 'bye'. If I was lucky, I got to make tea and serve it-"

Dahlia cackled. "That's so sandiwara P. Ramlee," she wiped her eyes, making reference to the most famous Malay artiste to grace the silver screen. "Make tea. Oh my God."

"Shut up," Citra chuckled, cheeks flushing pink. "I was young and stupid. Anyway, he liked my tea and I was all 'ahhh' and then... I went to kelas agama and met this girl who was from his school and she told me he was his girlfriend."

"Oh no."

"Yup. I was so sad and after that, I decided I was going to get a boyfriend and then I ended up with that psychotic asshole and wasted years of my life on him," Citra shuddered. "And you know what's the worst thing?"

"Apa?"

"I don't even know if that girl was telling the truth."

"You tak check?!"

"I was fifteen lah! Critical thinking was never my strong point! Plus, I didn't think she had a reason to lie. Why would she?"

Dahlia took a book from a passing pupil and scanned the barcode with a vengeance. "Obviously she liked him too! You were the competition!"

Citra raised an eyebrow. "I was fatter than she was and I had short hair. She had those long princess tresses, you know?"

Dahlia cocked her head to the side and sighed.

"Besides," Citra shrugged again. "I didn't think he would be interested. I mean, if he had, Noura would have said something and some other stuff would have happened already." She drew a deep breath and wished she could expel all the anxiety she felt bubbling in the pit of her stomach. "I don't think I'll go. I don't even like his aunt."

Dahlia got to her feet and jabbed another finger into Citra's upper arm. "You better go. I didn't listen to this entire grandfather story just for you to back out and tak pergi. It's been years since you saw him and who knows what would happen? Besides, you tak boring ke? You just work."

Citra hissed and rubbed her upper arm. Dahlia had a point. She wanted to go as much as Dahlia wanted her to. The entire situation was in her head, wasn't it? Maybe Khairul didn't remember her as much as she did him. Perhaps, it was completely in her head and she was making a fuss out of literally nothing. "Thanks for reminding me," Citra hopped off the counter just as her phone vibrated. Marilyn? Citra felt a knot forming in the pits of her stomach. "Shit. I need to go. Marilyn wants to see me."

"What does she want?"

"Probably to give me more work," Citra shrugged, thinking of her reporting officer. "I better go check." She made her way speedily from the library to the department heads' cubicles. Stopping at the door, she took a deep breath and calmed herself. Her stomach had not stopped knotting itself up and she knew if she didn't get this under control, a headache would strike sooner or later.

She tapped for access and pushed the door open. "Marilyn?" she asked, approaching a cubicle in corner.

A woman a few years older than her with short bobbed hair and glasses looked up from her laptop. "You didn't have to come down to my table," she said, gesturing for Citra to have a seat. "I just wanted to know how's the planning for annual musical is going."

Citra heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, we're still at the beginning of the year but we are getting the scripts from the P4 English teachers. They're a bit sore from us making them do this during their English lessons but they understand that not participating in inter-department efforts isn't going to look nice on their work review forms."

Marilyn gave a slight smile. "That's good. What about the vendors for drama training?"

Citra swallowed. She imagined a tsunami of gastric juice wreaking havoc on her stomach lining. "Well, that vendor you... preferred never bid for the job but I do have KidsArtz putting in their bid."

"KidArtz is reputable. We'll just go with them," Marilyn said with an air of finality. "How are you coping with the workload?"

Citra pursed her lips and shook her head. "It's challenging. When you said I was directing the musical, I thought that it was just that - directing. I didn't realise it was actually producing the thing - from the basic idea to the vision."

"Well, you have all the English teachers at your disposal and our entire Aesthetics department to assist you," Marilyn reminded her. "All you need to do is ask for help. Learn to delegate."

Citra nodded even as she knew that Aesthetics was the smallest department in the school, "I will be doing that soon. Once the scripts are finalised and we've auditioned the kids, we can start the rehearsals and I can place everyone where they ought to be."

"Don't forget the choir-"

"Yes. And the dancers from P1. I remember them and their vendors too."

Marilyn leaned back in her chair and smiled. "I'm glad I put you in charge of this," she said, putting her fingers in a steeple. "So far, I like your vision. A mishmash of all the fairytales and with a 'save the earth' theme thrown in. It's ambitious."

Citra tried not to look too relieved. "Yeah... which reminds me, you know that art exhibition I usually handle? Is it possible that you give it to someone else? I know I should have said something when we sat down to discuss my workload for this year, last December but... like I said, I had no idea I was actually producing this musical. I don't think I can handle the annual exhibition because it takes place the same week as this musical."

"The musical is only one day, Citra," Marilyn looked at her kindly.

One day? Citra wanted to remind her that 'one day' was just the main performance. This musical was the closest thing she experienced to actually giving birth but the words she needed weren't found. She found her throat locked and her mind blank.

"Besides, from what I understand from Cecilia, you're doing just fine."

Citra nodded, thinking of the experienced teacher Marilyn mentioned. She had been paired with Cecilia. The idea was that the now-retired department head would act as Citra's mentor to keep her focused. "That's good, I guess."

"That's high praise coming from her," her superior remarked dryly. Marilyn fixed a firm smile on her face. "You're doing fine. Just keep at it. You can handle both."

In the face of Marilyn's assurances, Citra took that remark as her cue to leave. "Thanks. I guess, I better get started on the next phase. I need to get the P5 students to start working on the props."

Marilyn nodded and waved goodbye. Citra didn't need to be told twice. She left the room and quickly walked to the staff pantry, knowing that hardly anyone would be there at this time of the day. It was empty and Citra quickly sat down at the dining table. She placed her head on the table and closed her eyes, telling herself to take deep breaths. She can do this, she told herself. It was just work. She just had to hold on. It just looked like a mountain because she had just started the great task ahead of her. That was all.

"That's all," she breathed into the IKEA table.

"What's wrong?" she heard a voice. Citra quickly looked up and saw Arjun and his empty coffee mug. Large brown eyes, heavy with lashes studied her curiously. "Are you all right?"