“…And why is it,” I said, folding my arms, “that the person who swore she didn’t want to come to this officer’s function the one who said, and I quote, ‘I don’t like military officers because they’re self-absorbed people’ is now having the most fun and winning almost all the prizes?”
She laughed, the kind of laugh that carried over the music. “Don’t know-lah… but you gals told me I must learn to relax and have a good time. So I do exactly as you said I have a good time-lah. What’s the issue now?”
“The issue,” I said, trying to sound serious, “is that you won almost all the prizes. Never gave us a chance!”
“Hey! But I gave some away, right? You got one of my prizes. Why are you complaining now?”
“You’re the one who was so reluctant to go, remember? And yet here you are dancing in the middle of the floor like it’s your own parade ground. The guys were lining up to dance with you!”
“They were, eh?” she grinned. “I didn’t even notice. I never knew I could dance either, but you gals told me to enjoy myself, so I enjoy lah!”
I shook my head, laughing. “Next time you say you ‘don’t want to go’, I’ll know better.”
“Another thing I wanted to ask you this: Why on earth did you tell that guy to stop the car and say we’d walk back to the hostel? My heart almost stopped when I heard you say it. I couldn’t believe my ears.”
She shrugged, completely unfazed. “Because he insisted on stopping at MacRitchie Reservoir instead of sending us straight back to the hostel like we agreed. Do you know what their intentions were?”
“Yeah, I know! But it was one-thirty in the morning! Are you out of your mind, walking along the main road at that hour?”
“We could have taken a taxi. And anyway, we were almost at MacRitchie. It’s about a thirty-minute walk from the hostel. Not far.”
I stared at her. “I keep thinking… what if they had stopped the car and told us to walk home alone?” She smiled faintly, like it was all a game she’d already won.
“Nah. It wouldn’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re military officers. They’d be in deep trouble if they pulled something like that.” I narrowed my eyes.
“And how exactly do you know that?”
She only grinned, leaning back in her seat. “Let’s just say I know the rules they live by and the trouble they can’t afford to get into.”
“You see, all these invitations come from the top,” she explained patiently, as if teaching a child. “ Only after the Nursing Department approves them do they come down to us. And if you read the conditions they’re supposed to fetch us and send us back to the hostel. No detours. No funny business.”
She leaned forward slightly. “So what happens if those guys stop the car halfway? We file a complaint. It goes straight to their camp commandant. Big trouble. And next time? Future invitations will be ignored. They know that. So they’d better be nice to nurses… after all, their guys end up in our hospital for treatment. Remember heat stroke!”
That was her impossible sometimes. She could always come up with a reason, and no matter how reasonable it was, it still got me mad.
“My heart almost stopped,” I said.“Did you see their faces?” she grinned. “They panicked when I insisted we stop the car. I almost wanted to open the door.”
Come to think of it, she was right. I remembered the Indian guy thick moustache, short curly hair sitting next to me in the back what was his name? Sammy? Sameer? Samir? Samik? Gosh, all these Indian names I could never pronounce.
Whoever he was, he leaned forward to the driver and muttered, “Listen to the ladies. Better do as they say.”
Talking about the Indian guy with the thick moustache and short curly hair I sometimes wonder if he and my roommate have ever even shaken hands. I never saw them greet each other, not even a nod. When we reached the hospital grounds, the car stopped at the Emergency Department so we could report to the Nursing Officer on duty.
She sent a hospital attendant to open the main door for us. I didn’t see the Indian guy walk us back to the hostel he stayed in the car, engine running, like he couldn’t wait to drive off.
My little plan hadn’t worked at all. I’d thought maybe I could coax him into walking with us, give them a chance to talk. But no she’d insisted on sitting in the front seat, and I’d been stuck in the back with him, Maria, and another Chinese guy Raymond with funny-looking spectacles.
Jamilah arrived in another car, along with a Chinese guy named Neo.
What’s so special about this Indian guy? I still can’t tell. What caught my attention wasn’t just the thick moustache though, let’s be honest, it could have had its own postal code. It was his silence. In a group where every other man seemed determined to outdo the next with stories about how important they were in the army, he never once boasted.
No war stories, no chest-thumping. Just quiet modesty. He laughed when the group laughed, joined in when it felt natural, and somehow that made me notice him even more. Then I realised my roommate had noticed, too. Not in any obvious way, but her eyes, which normally flitted over every face in the room, kept returning to him.
And when they did, he seemed aware of it. She really is a good dancer, though. The guys seemed drawn to her crowding around, vying for her attention but I noticed her gaze kept drifting past them, toward the bar. There, standing alone in all white shorts and T-shirt was this indian man holding a glass of beer, watching the crowd on the dance floor.
I leaned over to Raymond, the Chinese guy with the funny spectacles. “Who’s that man standing at the bar?”
“Oh, he’s the Officer on Duty,” Raymond said.“Can’t he join us?”
“Of course he can. Let me ask him.” I watched Raymond approach him, say a few words, gesture toward our table. By the time he managed to convince the man to come over, my roommate was already back on the dance floor with someone else.
The two of them never spoke that night. At least, not that I saw. But later, when the night was winding down, I caught her looking toward the door where he’d just left, that same flicker of focus in her eyes.
The next time he reappear when they have to send us back to the hostel.
Another commotion at the hostel the next night. Almost half past midnight. We were all asleep well, at least that’s what we thought when a loud scream tore through the quiet. A man’s scream. It turned out to be one of the girls’ boyfriends. We found him sprawled on the floor with a ladder lying beside him.
They rushed him to the Emergency Department fracture of the humerus. The story came out in pieces. He’d been trying to sneak out of the hostel via the west wing, thinking no one would notice this time. His plan was simple: climb up to the 4th floor, slip into the toilet where his ladder was waiting, and climb down to safety.But as he leaned out of the toilet window, he froze.
Standing in the corridor opposite was a white figure. Motionless. Looking straight at him.He panicked, lost his grip, and slipped. Lucky for him, he caught the ladder and broke his fall otherwise it could have been much worse.
The “white figure” instantly became the hottest topic in the hostel.Stories began to surface. One girl said she’d been returning from the TV room late at night when she saw something moving on the 4th floor. Curious, she crept toward the staircase for a better view.“
A white figure, walking out from one of the rooms toward the toilet,” she said at dinner.“Maybe the ghost or whatever it is was having high tide. Ghosts need to use the toilet too, right?” my roommate cut in, deadpan.
We all stared at her. Nobody laughed. She had this odd habit of cracking jokes at exactly the wrong time.“So,” she asked again, “did you wait until the white thing came out of the toilet?”
“No! You must be kidding. I ran straight back to my room. Who wants to stick around after that? My goose pimples were all standing up!”
“Just hearing this is enough to make them stand,” another hostelite muttered. “Jamilah told us she saw the same thing. Said it was walking up and down the corridor, then disappeared into a room — the same one where they say the nurse committed suicide.”
“Maybe the white thing just got bored and needed some exercise. Pacing the corridor can be a good break,” my roommate said again, that same strange glint in her eye.This time nobody reacted except me. Her tone wasn’t scared, or even amused.
It was… dismissive. Almost like she knew something we didn’t.
