Queen of Love

It doesn’t know that beauty

Genevieve took her time removing her makeup and getting ready for bed. As she washed her face and brushed her teeth, she wondered how love could be like the prized orchids her grandmother had planted and her mother had ensured left their mark on the world.

The thing about orchids is that they’re stunning and delicate. And damn hard to help thrive. Which was why Genevieve hired the best horticulturist in Singapore to take care of her orchids. She didn’t have the same green thumb her mother had.

It always struck her how much she looked like her own mother when she removed her makeup and stared at her own reflection. Is it because I’ve always looked like my mother, or because I’m getting older? The woman Genevieve remembered was eternally in her forties. That was her age when she met her early end, back when Genevieve was barely an adult and had all of this suddenly on her shoulders.

She often wondered if she and her mother could have better understood each other, let alone become closer, had they had time while Genevieve was grown-up. Her mother had always come across as a woman who was not good with children, as evident when she constantly shipped Genevieve to overnight camps and parties. Or straight-up left Orchid Grove to spend time with her other adult friends and family. If the best around were a boarding school and not a day school, she would have sent me there.

That’s what Genevieve imagined because the truth was probably more mundane than that. Let’s be real, she would have always been on my ass to get married and give her grandchildren.

Genevieve pulled back her hair before exiting the master bath. She had looked forward to ending the night by making love to her girlfriend, taking all the time in the world they required, but apparently, God had other ideas.

Aya was already knocked out asleep in the bed, her phone against her chest and her arm over her face.

Genevieve turned off all the lights, save for the lamp by her side of the bed. She took Aya’s phone and placed it on the charger situated on the nightstand before climbing in beside her. Aya curled onto her side and continued to sleep.

Instead of being put off that her girlfriend was tired after a taxing day, Genevieve chose to look at this as her chance to imagine what it might be like to have a new domestic arrangement: one in which she had someone special to come home to, and someone to fall asleep beside, sex or no sex.

That was almost more exciting than the sex itself.

They had the rest of the long weekend to themselves. Aya proclaimed a wish for some spontaneity, but Genevieve knew the only way they could do most of the touristy things during such a busy time of year was to make reservations in advance. Pretending a trip to the botanical gardens was spontaneous was easy when there were other people around, but less so when they were the only people in a popular restaurant that Genevieve forgot had a standing order to clear the place out when she came into town with friends or lovers.

Yet Aya did not complain, nor did she let on that she knew when Genevieve was pulling favors or greasing palms to get their way. It helped Genevieve had a good relationship with most of the landmarks and institutions around Singapore. You can always pay people off to do things, but having them actually like you? That’s more powerful. This was especially true when she was a resident and wanted to keep those relationships sound.

But there were plenty of low-key things to do around Singapore as well. Aya had the best time when they had dinner after dark in the Newton Food Centre, a hawker square famous enough to land in the movie Crazy Rich Asians – a fun fact Genevieve couldn’t wait to share with Aya. Yet it didn’t matter to Aya, who was more than content to peruse the food stalls. Whenever she asked Genevieve what they should eat, she was met with a gushing giggle that led them to the Chinese-inspired stalls, because Genevieve was of the expert opinion that her girlfriend should have some of the best Chinese food Singapore offered.

That meant spicy noodles, fried rice with oysters, and enough skewers to fill their stomachs before they could sit at the table to eat.

“Jesus!” That exclamation startled Genevieve, who wasn’t used to any Japanese person taking the Lord’s name in vain like that. Then again, she did live in America for a while. “Fucking spicy!”

Genevieve almost fell over laughing when she saw Aya drop a mutton skewer on the spicy noodles. “Too spicy for you?” she asked.

“No, but I’m going to need some milk if I’m to eat the rest of this.” She gestured to Genevieve’s can of diet soda. “I haven’t had anything this spicy since my sister last got distracted making curry.” She quaffed some of the diet soda before laughing against her disposable chopsticks. “That was last weekend, by the way. Terrible cook. My sister, I mean.”

Genevieve gestured for Aya to keep the can. “She sounds delightful.”

“Oh, she’s a wreck.” After inhaling a deep breath – and more of the soda – Aya took another, smaller bite of the spicy noodles. This time, she did not have a heart attack, although the sweat on her brow might have been from the noodles. Or the late evening humidity. “She and her husband spent a long time trying to have kids. God overcompensated and gave them twins in one go. A boy-girl pair.”

“You have a niece and nephew!” Genevieve exclaimed, grabbing her wallet as she stood up. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when I return. I’m going to get you some milk and me another can of soda. Be right back. Don’t burn your tongue off.” She winked at Aya. “I’ll need it later.”

Aya winked back at her, chowing down on a skewer.

She shared greetings with the old man who ran the shaved ice stall in the farthest corner of the Centre. As he quickly prepared her drinks, Genevieve paid in cash and glanced at her phone. She had two personal messages: one from Wendy inviting her to a luncheon the following week, and one from Nyla, who mentioned she had returned to Taiwan safely and thanked her boss for inviting her to the party that past Wednesday.

Genevieve’s heart leaped in her throat. She was so distracted she almost didn’t catch the hawker shaking her drinks in her face.

“I think the spice is growing on me,” Aya croaked through a puckered mouth when Genevieve sat back down. “What do you think?” She gestured to her sweating skin before accepting the milk. “How’s the Singaporean Chinese food treating me?”

For a moment, Genevieve forgot her messages. “You could be doubled-over on the ground with stomach cramps and I’d still think you’re the sexiest person I’ve ever met.”

Aya coughed on her skewer bite. “Hm. Good to know. Because that might happen by the end of the evening.”

“It absolutely will not. I’ve brought ang moh here and watched them nearly die, but not that like that.”

“Oh, so it’s a rite of passage, huh? You wring all of your foreign friends and lovers through the hawker gamut to see if they’re up to snuff?”

Genevieve finally cut into her oyster omelet. “You got me. I’ve got standards, you know.” She closed her eyes to savor the first bite. “No girlfriend of mine is coming to Newton and not enjoying some spicy food. It’s half of what my chef makes.”