The Apple
41. She wasn't closing any doors. She just wasn't opening them either.
The pantry fridge needed clearing. It always did on Fridays — end of shift and there it all was: three tupperwares from God knows when, two cups of yoghurt with the names half-worn off, a bag of grapes somebody had meant to finish on Tuesday. She had her apple in one hand and was going through it shelf by shelf when her phone buzzed.
Christine.
She bit into the apple, wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder. Yoghurt — both of them — straight into the bin. The grapes she smelled, then followed.
Kaia came in for something from her locker, clocked the call, raised an eyebrow. Amandha shook her head slightly. Kaia took her thing and left.
The question came near the end. It always did with Christine — she worked through the surface items first, the logistics, the weather report of family news, before arriving at the thing she’d actually called about. But you’re not going to be there forever mah. You’ll want your own space eventually. You’re still young. Meet people.
People.
A tupperware — no name, something beige — went in without her looking.
“I know,” Amandha said. “I’m not saying never. I’m saying now isn’t the time.”
She put the phone face-down on the counter. Closed the fridge. Took another bite of the apple.
Kaia came in to put something in the pantry before her shift — night started at eight. She set a bag of crackers on the shelf, clocked Amandha at the table, and sat down.
“Your sister?”
“Mm.”
Kaia looked at her.
“She thinks I should meet someone.”
“And?”
“And what.”
“And do you want to?”
Amandha took a bite of the apple. “I’m forty-seven. I’m not closing the door.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Kaia.”
“I’m just saying what I heard.”
“You heard thirty seconds of a phone call.”
“I heard now isn’t the time,” Kaia said. “Which is what you say when the answer is no but you don’t want to have the argument.”
Amandha set the apple down. Not hard. Just down.
“She knows you were married,” Kaia said. “What does she think finding someone looks like. The same thing? Different packaging?”
“She wants me to be settled.”
“You are settled.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do know what you mean,” Kaia said. “That’s the problem.”
Amandha bit into the apple.
“There are guys in this building who talk about you,” Kaia said. “You know that.”
“I know.”
“Not nicely.”
“I know that too.”
“But.” Kaia tilted her head slightly. “The information is still information. You’re not invisible. You’re not the auntie your sister is worried about you becoming. Older women are desirable — not as a consolation, as the actual thing. There’s someone on Level 9 who has noticed you in a way that has nothing to do with availability or timing or what your sister thinks settled looks like.” She paused. “He thinks you’re hot. Like that kind of hot.”
She gave Amandha a look — slow, deliberate, entirely pleased with herself.
Amandha looked at her. “Who.”
“I didn’t say who.”
“Kaia —”
“I didn’t say who.” Kaia leaned back. “And that’s not even the point. The point is — do you know that relationships don’t only have to look like married? That settled doesn’t have to mean what she thinks it means?”
From the corridor, the end-of-shift sounds — someone’s locker, voices passing.
“Some people have arrangements,” Kaia said. “Not the same for everyone. But it works when everyone knows what it is.”
“You’re saying I should —”
“I’m not saying anything,” Kaia said. “I’m saying there are more relationship styles than the one your sister knows.”
Amandha didn’t answer.
“What do you want?” Kaia said.
Amandha thought of David. The coffee. The way he’d listened without filling in the gaps.
She finished the apple. Set the core on the table.
“Are you watching tonight?” Kaia said.
“Watching what.”
Kaia’s mouth curved.
“The live. There’s a woman who sells bags on TikTok. Fridays at eight. Half the ward is subscribed.” She uncrossed her legs. “Sometimes there are two men who pass through in the background. One is tall. The other one has long hair — shorter, the comments went insane. Nobody on the ward can figure out how old he is — Priya said early forties, Siti said he could be fifty, they went back and forth about it for one whole lunch.” She paused. “They also agreed he was very, very hot. Just so you know the full picture.” She stood to go. “It starts at eight. You have time.”
At eight Lina went live.
The bags were on the table in their usual arrangement — her own structured tote first, then a small clutch from a woman in Penang, then two crossbodies in different leathers. She held up the tote and turned it in her hands.
“This one is mine. I made it three years ago. Someone asks every week, so here it is.”
She set it down.
Thirty people in. She didn’t check.
She was midway through the clutch when the comments shifted.
@pearliesg: is that the guy from the coffee place the tall one??
@meilingdraws: WAIT the café guy
Lina looked up.
Mark was in the doorway in long pants and a black sleeping tee, looking at what she was doing. He stood there a moment — unhurried, just taking it in. Then he went to the kitchen. A minute later he came back with a steaming mug and sat beside her.
He leaned in to read the screen. The comments were small.
He picked up the clutch from the table. Turned it over, checked the clasp. Set it back down.
@grace.tsl: HIIIII is this your husband
@farahwanders: aunty he is very handsome
“No,” Lina said. She picked up the crossbody.
@pearliesg: your son?
Mark looked at the camera. “No.”
then what
He considered this. “I live here.”
@meilingdraws: wait WHAT no but seriously aunty how
@farahwanders: are you single PLEASE say yes
@grace.tsl: #asking for a friend
Mark leaned in slightly to read. Then looked at the camera. He smiled.
“You’re not exactly my type.”
@pearliesg: … oh WAIT OH
@meilingdraws: THE SMILE
@grace.tsl: so boyish leh wah lau
@farahwanders: I cannot oledi. respect sia
@nursepriya92: how old ah
Lina set the crossbody down. She picked up her tea.
“Is anyone here for the bags.”
The comments were still running when David appeared in the background, crossing from the hallway to the kitchen. He didn’t look at the camera.
@meilingdraws: WHO IS THAT AUNTY EXPLAIN
@pearliesg: how many men does she have in this flat
@grace.tsl: I am forty-three and my flat has zero men in it. Aunty. please share your secret!!
Lina looked at the camera.
“I didn’t arrange them.” She set the crossbody down and picked it back up. “They arrived at different times. That’s all.”
@farahwanders: Aiyoh. Wat kind of answer is this!
She did not respond to this.
Mark set down his cup. He leaned back in his chair.
“Oi,” he called toward the hallway. “Come and see this.”
A pause. Then David appeared in the doorway. Mark tilted his head at the screen. David came over and looked at the phone on the stand. His hair was down, shoulder-length, still mostly black. He leaned in to read and it fell forward across his face. He didn’t push it back.
“I’m single,” he said. Then, reading further: “But I’m not available.”
@farahwanders: THE HAIR
@pearliesg: what does that mean
@nursepriya92: he’s CHOOSING to be single?? how can like that
@meilingdraws: please EXPLAIN
He looked at the screen a moment longer. “The only woman I’m looking for right now is a live-in caregiver.”
… oh
@grace.tsl: aiyoh
@farahwanders: that’s actually quite sad no lah it’s sweet
@siti.bakes: I kidnap. I also can do caregiving.
@pearliesg: I am a trained nurse
After a while he stood, picked up his mug, and went back to his room.
Amandha was on the bus when the live started. She found it the way Kaia had said — searched the username, tapped in. Fifty-odd people. She put her AirPods in.
The man Kaia had described was at the sofa. She could see why the ward nurses watched.
Then someone appeared in the background of the frame.
She went still.
The way of someone who knew exactly where the light switches were in the dark.
Her heart.
She recognised it before she recognised him.
Her stop came. She watched it go.
She got off at the next one. Stood on the pavement. Took out her phone.
Have you found a caregiver for your mother yet.
Three minutes. Then:
No.
She put the phone in her bag and walked back to her stop.