There was nothing Aida feared more than being cheated on.
When it finally happened, it was an affirmation that the reality of their carefully cultivated 15-years together was finally over. Breath straggled in throat and cheeks flushed from anger, she grabbed the keys for the white Honda MPV, now grey and dusty from neglect, and drove off into the night. The last she saw from her dashboard mirror was her husband in his boxers and cotton grey t-shirt, arms flailing in the dark to stop her from leaving as if signaling for a helicopter from the skies to come and organize a rescue. “Aida!” he yelled. “Come back!”
She wondered if he enunciated the other woman’s name with the same fervor. The declaration left his gaping mouth emptily and lazily; she didn’t care for his words no more than she cared for the dinner she’d half-heartedly prepared a few hours earlier. Funny how love, too, has an expiry date. There was something both comic and tragic about his cries as she reversed out of the driveway and pressed on the gas, tires screeching with its ugly, sharp sounds puncturing the otherwise pristine night in the quiet neighborhood of Damansara. Most of her neighbors were old retirees, many of them no doubt nosy about the commotion taking place outside. She could picture Joyce from the corner-lot semi-D peeking from her upper window in her pink nightie, her spectacles dangling on the bridge of her nose, but Aida was too distraught to care about public opinion at this point.
It was the kids she pitied most, the image of their crestfallen faces already making her sick to the stomach. Sorry Abah’s not been behaving. She knew kids can always tell when adults try to deviate them from the cold, hard truth. Both her boys were still peacefully sleeping in their beds, oblivious and untouched in their dino pajamas. She’d come and collect them the next day, she just needed a few hours to get her shit together.
The warbled ads on the radio weaved themselves into her unraveling thoughts. 1-300-88-2525. She would’ve ordered pizza in more often if she didn’t care so much about the lack of nutrition it gave her kids. It was only during a traffic light stop that she realized she was hiccuping from all the crying. She was headed to her childhood home, where Mak and Bapak would be sound asleep. The sight of her would scare and hurt them but she realized with a sinking sensation she had nowhere else to go. At 38, her waist was no longer neat and trim, not after the two pregnancies she labored through.
She’d given her body to build a family with a cheater, what did she lose and gain from this? She thought of the lines and fading scars on her body and how it traced the history of her years. Aida was no longer the wisp of a girl she was, but there were days where she could feel its ghost stirring inside her, staring mutedly into the mirror as she begged for verification of its existence.