Chapter Thirteen

The morning had just dawned, and as the first streak of sunlight pierced through the cracks of the curtains, Terrence awoke in an abrupt jolt, drenched in an extended fit of perspiration.

Was it the heat? No - it could not have been. The temperature of the room had been precisely calibrated to 24 degrees Celsius by the newly installed split design air conditioner.

Was it a bad dream? Hormonal imbalances? Pre-heart attack?

No. Terrence ran through his memory of the previous night's events, and it came down to the manifestation of anxiety over a now seemingly trivial concern. It had not been trivial yesterday, but the short passage of night had somehow rendered it trivial, the way a cup of hot coffee is neutralized by room temperature over just a brief span of time.

Teresa had made an offhand remark to Terrence, and in his particularly sensitive reception of the words, reproached her for the lack of consideration and tact. Indeed, that initial harmless spark was the only prerequisite needed to kindle a much graver and involved altercation - as Terrence recalled, one accusation led to the next, and as their inhibitions continued to lower into new depths and uncharted territories, insults were exchanged, and verbal jousts were struck with merciless strength, with intentions of not only victory, but also damage and injury.

How had it become such a rapid downward spiral from what had been a cheerful and amiable relation just days, if not hours before!

Where is the anchor, with which to retrieve the stray ship from lost seas?

Where are the roots, on which the momentous trunk of the tree can depend upon, so that branches can proliferate and leaves and flowers bloom?

Where is the keyboard, on which the (control-z) command can be executed, to undo the regretful actions and words, and the (control-f) function to find her heart once again?

Chapter Twelve

As Terrence turned the corner from IFC into the overhead that led to Worldwide Centre, a middle-aged man with a green tie and parted hair brushed by his side. Terrence remembered that he wore a red tie yesterday, but had little recollection of the history of his dress code beyond that.

Then at the bridge several metres past Exchange Square heading towards Prince's Building there was the small Asian woman with red-rimmed glasses who's looks probably deceived her age. The European man with short curly hair and Armani glasses passed by near Chater House; the tall hawkish lady who fitted white trainers with her business attire at the HSBC Building...

It was a 10 minute walk from Terrence's bus terminal to his work place, and having sported this routine for over 3 months now, he found that it wasn't only the walkways that he became more familiar with, but also the faces of the people who wandered in a brownian-like motion across the Central district at 8:45am every morning. The precision of the timing was impeccable, and Terrence could almost predict the exact moments at which he would cross paths with the corresponding individuals each day.

There was a sense of bonding too, amongst this select crowd of white collared workers. There were no exchanges of names nor titles, greetings nor glances, but a subtle acknowledgement of each other's existence sufficed to demostrate a mutual understanding of their respective destinations and purposes. The middle-aged man would proceed to open a store in Worldwide Centre, the small Asian woman would continue in an opposite direction to Terrence towards IFC, the European man would take the elevator up to the office complexes at Chater House and the tall lady would disappear behind the front doors of the HSBC headquarters.

The anonymity was comforting, and it gave Terrence a chance to feel welcomed into the environment without having to reveal any secrets about his identity beyond that of a surface outlook.

But today, as he went down the escalators into the Standard Chartered building, he noticed that the other side of the escalator was empty. The American woman with short blond hair and large brown eyes wasn't there.

Chapter Eleven

Hazel barked at the approaching woman. She was carrying two schoolbags, and two primal-looking children who corresponded to each of those schoolbags orbitted around her like the toxic gaseous bodies that surrounded Saturn. But she wasn't the one drawing them in - they were the ones pulling her apart.

As the trio came closer to Terrence, he noticed that the woman was no more so than a girl. Her wrinkled face and calloused hands had made her seem aged in appearance, but when Terrence looked into her eyes he was able to detect an undeniable presence of youth behind her worn exterior. But the look on her eyes wasn't one of hopes and dreams, nor was it one of dalliance and flirtation. No. The look on her eyes was one of anguish and despair, an expression of solitude and hopelessness that transcended colour or creed, wealth or status.

The sadness was not the result of a singular incident, rather, it was caused by a slow and painful acceptance of the banality of life. The earth on the fields which had once embraced her feet as she frolicked in the poverty of the third world have now been replaced by emotionless stone monuments and skyscrapers that looked down on her with patronizing stares. What was once her innocence and aspirations were now found only in the offspring of her wealthy patrons, and even that small privilege of nurturing an infant into an adult would be brutally stripped from her in due time, and she would once again find herself pierced by the bleakness of life, with no preoccupation or destination, an adopted family from which her services have been discharged and a blood family that recognizes not her face but only the monthly alimony that she sends home.

She would then find solace in the only way she can, by reapplying for domestic employment through local agencies that charged outsized commissions, to work for miserly yet demanding households who could afford her no room nor bed, with ailing seniors, or rascal children who would seem to have an unyielding determination to make life even harder for her than it already was.

Terrence had seen such episodes many times in the short while that he had been back in Hong Kong. That is to say, it wasn't the length of time there that gave rise to the exposure, but merely the startling frequency with which it occured. A society that had given capitalism its highest praise had now successfully undermined the self-evident truths, and the unalienable rights of mankind. Religions that touted the sanctity of life now sported members who excercised condescension and even abuse towards their domestic helpers, as if they themselves were somehow transcendant, or "more equal" than their comparable counterparts from the Philippines.

Terrence felt his heart cringe. She looked at him again with another fleeting glance, as if in search of a glimpse of hope, a floating device to desparately cling onto in the midst of crashing waves.

When they finally crossed paths, Terrence let her pet his dog.

Chapter Ten

The audacity of hope is only a cruel foreword to the futility of process. And yet while there was little doubt in Terrence's mind as to the inexorable truth of those words, he remained confident that it was the fundamental desire of the male species to seek and pursue, and that it was the effort, not the result, that brought about gross satisfaction. Terrence was, of course, a happy man by any measurable means - he had a caring family, meaningful academic recognitions, a well-salaried employment, common friendships...

But so peculiar is the human mind, so strong its drive to seek non-platonic affections, that he had recently begun to experience an intolerable irritation of desolation and loneliness, one that seemed to exponentially multiply as time was spent in the office like yeast in an incubator.

Terrence enjoyed being around people. The dynamics of social gatherings was like a magnetic pole that harnessed invisible energy and redistributed it in predictable manners across its field of reach, displaying comprehensible contours that guided each of its members towards an ambition. Of such importance is its function, that the lack of its existence in Terrence's current routines had caused him to feel nauseated and lost, like a displaced electron which continues to seek a hospitable structure to stabilize.

But hope does have a way of reaping rewards for those stubborn enough to persist. Terrence had a scheduled lunch with Vincent, a recent acquaintance, on Thursday. And another one with Crystal on Friday. These were not the prospective meetings that Terrence had originally summoned up the audacity to contemplate, but as far as he could comprehend there was no better way to subdue his frustration than such casual social interactions. At the very least, the prospect of meeting someone his own age gave him motivation to continue his pursuit of the greater endeavour of finding a meaningful companion such is a partner. He understood that it was inevitable for there to be a journey, and that the destination would not be reached until the journey was taken.

So with little else to anticipate, he looked forward to his meetings on Thursday and Friday.

Today was a Tuesday.

Chapter Nine (2)

"...that in the absence of compelling friendships and brotherly companionships, a prolonged foriegn academic exchange would surely have lacked adventure, involvement and purpose. I have been fortunate to be a part of this vibrant and elite congress, without which would surely have subject me to these unflattering human emotions.

No other destination has so consistently been a source of joy and excitement for me, that without detracting from my grateful and sincere thanks to each and every individual of its composition, I would like to acknowledge this very special and dynamic social hub that I have come to call home with my final words in Canada:

Live Long and Prosper (and do not get foreclosed).

Yours Always."

Chapter Nine (1)

Terrence was about to leave Canada. Five years of memories would soon become neatly archived in the shelves of memories behind his actively acquired educational knowledge in mathematics and finance. The process of extradition is typically a very heart-gripping one, and this one was no exception. He would soon be breathing his last breath of fresh winter air, shooting his last glances at the wild squirrels darting between trees, walking his last steps on this home and native land...

Of course, there were inconveniences in his daily routines that he would be happy to leave behind, like chores and other administrative responsibilities resulting from being the sole resident of a household, but at the same time he realized that it was precisely these occupations that had helped him develop into a stronger person. Would it be that his return to a sheltered family environment cause his years of independent livelihood to degenerate back into a state of decadence? Would his lack of intellectual companionship in Hong Kong initiate a steady decline of the healthy mental activity that had been so strongly promoted in his academic education? Terrence was determined not to let that be the case, but he was still worried. Change is usually a cause of anxiety for the human mind, and Terrence was obviously human.

Before his departure however, there was still one duty that Terrence felt obligated to perform. That is, write a letter of gratitude to his closest friends in Canada - the house of 309 Karen. This was a house that had protected him from adversities in numerous occasions; be it a desire for suitable clothes for an occasion or an outright basic need for shelter, 309 Karen had been a hospitable host that managed to address all such concerns. Terrence had already finished packing all his luggage, so it took him a few minutes to rummage through his bags to retrieve an ink pen and a decent piece of paper to start writing.

"Dear 309 Karen,

So strong is the propensity of the human mind to experience emotions of isolation and desolation...

Chapter Eight

Terrence was checking his email, and after having sifted through a series messages from his family and friends, the daily news updates and the word of the day from dictionary.com, he was surprised to find a remaining unread message from someone by the name of Amy Chu. Terrence did not know anyone called Amy Chu.

Thank you for your job application for the position of Advisor – Global Wealth Management.

After reviewing your resume and cover letter, your educational background and working experience are fulfilled to our requirement. Therefore, we would like to invite you for a phone interview....

Regards,

Amy Chu

Terrence, having completed his last semester of undergraduate studies less than a month ago, had since become a statistic in the Canadian labour unemployment numbers, so this was a timely email which presented the opportunity for him to claw his way back into the respected ranks of society. Terrence had undergone several full-time job interviews before, so he wasn't particularly shocked or astonished at a third party's recognition of his credentials. What had most caught his mind about the email was the way that it was written. It somehow seemed very awkward, he thought.

He read the email again.

"After reviewing your resume and cover letter, your educational background and working experience are fulfilled to our requirement."

Did that mean that prior to them reviewing his resume and cover letter, his education and employment experience did not fulfill their requirement? Did the act of them conducting such a review somehow add or detract from his qualifications? Did they only have one requirement?

None of these were questions that Terrence had any answers to, so he thought it was perhaps best that he accepted the interview opportunity graciously and cast aside his doubts on corporate communications language for another day, a far and distant day when he would actually have a job and these confusing recruitment processes would be behind him.