Page 31 of Behind Frenemy Lines

Kriya

It turned out there were damn a lot of messages in the group chat that I hadn’t read.

Everyone had agreed they’d show up before nine a.m. to help make the nasi lemak, so May Yin could eat and get back home in good time for the baby’s nap.

Only Esther had overslept: she was on the Tube and would be turning up around ten a.m., in time to eat but not to cook.

“When did you send these?” I said, scrolling through my WhatsApp backlog.

Zuri was unpacking the bags of groceries, laying out ingredients for our early brunch on the kitchen counter, while May Yin fed her baby.

“Don’t know,” said Zuri. “Last night. Why weren’t you checking your phone? What were you doing—?”

She cut herself off. She and May Yin looked from me to Charles, wide-eyed.

“I was working, ” I said. “We had a late night.” I realised how that must sound. “ At the office. ” I cleared my throat. “Charles is having issues with his flat, so I offered him my sofa bed.”

At least the sofa bed was still out, evidence of our chastity.

“Let me put this away,” I said. “I’ll put the yoga mat down. Then Ethan can have a play on the floor.”

Charles had been hanging back, looking like he was wishing he was well out of it. But he came and helped me with the sofa bed.

“I’m Zurina,” said Zuri to Charles. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“This is Charles,” I said. To Charles, I said, across the expanse of sofa cushions: “Zuri and May Yin and I went to uni together. We met organising Malaysia Night. Zuri’s a book publicist. May Yin’s at Deloitte, but she’s on leave right now.

Oh, she’s in tax, you have something in common there.

Charles did a seat in Tax Law when he was a trainee,” I added to the girls.

“Charles,” said May Yin slowly, but it was Zuri who said:

“Wait. This is Kawan Baik ?”

I could practically hear the whirring in Zuri and May Yin’s heads. Charles looked polite and uncomprehending.

“Charles works at the same firm as me,” I said. “We share an office.”

“You didn’t tell us Kawan Baik looks like that, ” said May Yin.

Thankfully Zuri shushed her. I said hastily, “Do you have to get back to your place straight away, Charles? You might as well stay for brunch. You like nasi lemak, right?”

Charles muttered something about not wanting to intrude, but he might as well have saved his energy. There was no way the girls were going to let him go until they’d got to the bottom of what was going on.

“Come and help us cook,” said Zuri. “May Yin was going to do the chopping, but technically she shouldn’t be cooking when she’s got the baby in the carrier.”

“Are you from Malaysia?” said May Yin. “Oh, Hong Kong.”

“Eh, have you tried this place on Brick Lane?” said Zuri. “It’s like a Hong Kong style diner. It’s really cute.”

I considered intervening, but Charles was already measuring out rice into the rice cooker while Zuri gave instructions. I ti died away all the choking hazards I could identify in the living room and put down the yoga mat for May Yin’s baby, then said:

“Sorry, guys, I’ve got to do my laundry, or I won’t have anything to wear next week. You all know where everything is? Do you want me to get out the air fryer for the chicken?”

“No need. It’s in that cupboard over there, right?” said Zuri. “Go, go. It’s all under control.”

Inevitably, they’d drifted onto the topic of Malaysian politics by the time I came back.

Charles was looking a little watery-eyed from the sambal—the pungent smell of chillies and belacan frying in oil pervaded the flat.

But otherwise he seemed to be bearing up well under the full force of my friends’ personalities.

“Is Ethan OK with that?” I said, raising my voice over the sizzle of the wok.

May Yin’s baby was on his stomach on the yoga mat, trying to roll over, with limited success. I pushed the windows open as far as they’d go, for his benefit.

May Yin said, “He’s a Malaysian baby, he must get used to sambal. We’re talking about the Hornbill Gazette lady’s Guardian article. Have you read it? It’s very detailed. Supposedly it’s going to be a series.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it going round on social media,” I said. I added to Charles, “This is a write-up of our big corruption scandal. Our Prime Minister stole billions of dollars of Malaysian public funds. I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.”

“I cannot tahan,” said Zuri, who was making the sambal. She gave the red slurry in the wok a vengeful stir. “Every time I try reading it, I get a stomachache.”

“Do you think it’ll make a difference to the election?” I said. I came over to slice up some cucumber. The chicken was marinating, and Charles had been set to work peeling hard-boiled eggs.

“No lah,” said Zuri. “Most it will do is give Jamaludin a stomachache also. But it won’t kick him out of office. The rural Malays are not going to be reading the Guardian .”

“Have you seen the YouTube videos by this guy, Stephen what’s his name?” said May Yin. “This Iban guy, he’s an activist.”

“Oh, the whistleblower? Stephen Jembu.”

“I haven’t heard of him,” I said, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Should I bring my laundry out onto the balcony? I didn’t want to go into work smelling of belacan.

“He’s the one who gave the evidence to the Hornbill Gazette, for the article,” said Zuri. “They tried to get rid of him, but he got away. Living in Switzerland now. He can’t go back to Malaysia, if not they’ll catch him.”

May Yin frowned. “You didn’t read the article also, how come you know so much?”

“My friend knows his boyfriend.” Zuri raised my spatula and waved it at me and Charles. “Eh, the boyfriend is a lawyer, you know.”

“Oh, is Stephen Jembu gay?” said May Yin, interested. “I’ve been watching his videos, they’re pretty good. Explaining what happened, who stole what, where did the money go. They’re in Malay, but with subtitles, Chinese and English. He put out a call for a Tamil translator actually.”

Zuri said, “Kriya, you should do it!”

“So long as he keeps it to Standard One level, maybe I can manage,” I said.

I would bring my laundry outside, I decided. The sun had come out, so that would help the clothes dry faster, too.

I’d hauled the drying rack out onto the balcony and was coming back in when Charles said to me:

“I’m going to head off. Thanks for letting me stay the night.”

“Oh, don’t you want to wait till the nasi lemak is ready? It’s almost done, right, Zuri?”

Zuri nodded. “We just need to fry the peanuts and ikan bilis. Chicken done already.”

Charles shook his head. “Thanks, but I should see what state the flat is in, and get my things. And see if I can rescue Loretta’s collection.”

“But have they fixed it? Will you be able to stay there?”

Charles glanced down at his phone. “The building management company hasn’t replied to anything since yesterday. I think they’re probably offline till Monday. It’s fine, I’ll get a hotel.”

My friends had made no pretence of not listening in on the conversation.

“What’s wrong with your flat?” said Zuri. When she heard the story, she said, “I’ve got a spare bedroom. You could stay with me.”

It wasn’t a terrible idea. Zuri’s estranged father was a bigwig in Bank Negara. She lived in a palatial flat in Wimbledon. She would have hosted the nasi lemak party, if not for the fact Wimbledon was a pain for everyone else to get to.

“That’s probably more comfortable than my sofa bed,” I said.

Charles looked alarmed. “Thank you, that’s very kind, but I really couldn’t—”

“I’m serious,” said Zuri. “Any good friend of Kriya’s is a good friend of mine.” May Yin choked on her green tea.

I ignored them.

“You’re welcome to come back here,” I said to Charles.

“I’m going to be out most of the day tomorrow anyway.

I’m volunteering at a legal advice clinic for asylum seekers.

You should be able to get in touch with the building management company on Monday, right?

You should at least get them to confirm they’ll cover a hotel before you pay for one. ”

Charles slanted a look at Zuri, who was grinning like a shark.

“If you don’t mind me staying over the weekend…” he said, turning back to me. He’d clearly figured out that Zuri was not going to let him out of the flat unless he agreed to stay with one of us, and he’d identified me as the lesser of two evils. Wise man. “I’ll be out of your hair by Monday.”

“Of course. So you’ll be coming back?”

“We’ll save a plate of nasi lemak for you,” said Zuri sweetly.

Esther turned up as Charles was leaving. He was so intent on escape he only gave her a perfunctory nod before he fled.

Esther handed me a bottle of red wine. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one getting the wine?” said May Yin. “We scheduled this at nine is because of me!”

“We scheduled this at nine is because of Ethan,” Esther corrected her. “He’s too young for a bottle of Pinot. Who was that guy?” She jerked her head towards the door through which Charles had disappeared.

“Yes,” said Zuri. “Who was that guy, Kriya?”

The focus of collective attention swung round to me before I could invent another household chore to take me out of the room.

“Is it Kawan Baik?” said May Yin. “It’s Kawan Baik, right? Kawan Baik’s name is Charles.”

“The question is, why is Kawan Baik staying at your place?” said Zuri.

Esther’s eyes went round. “That was Kawan Baik? Wait, did you rumpy-pumpy with Kawan Baik?”

“What?” said the rest of us.

“I just learned this word today,” said Esther, with pride. “‘Rumpy-pumpy.’ It means ‘have sex.’”

“Oh, that’s a very interesting term,” said May Yin, seriously.

“Right?”

“OK, to be clear, I did not rumpy-pumpy with Kawan Baik,” I said. “You all heard what. His flat got flooded, so I let him stay over. On the sofa bed. ”

“That’s not an explanation,” said Zuri. “The girl who sits next to me in the office and is always having personal calls at her desk, if she got flooded out, I’d wish her all the best. I wouldn’t say, ‘Come back home with me.’”

May Yin said, “Why don’t you rumpy-pumpy with him?”

The quorum promptly descended into chaos.

“May Yin! Is that the kind of language they use at cell group?” shrieked Esther.

“Don’t shout, don’t shout,” said Zuri, wiping her eyes. “What about Ethan’s ears?”

“I don’t mean, as the first step,” said May Yin, injured. “I meant it metaphorically. He’s cute what. And he can cook. And he seems nice.”

“Upgrade on Tom, on all points,” Zuri agreed.

I sighed, settling on the sofa. “I haven’t even told you about Tom yet.”

It caused another uproar when I told them about my encounter with Tom at Loretta’s wedding.

“I always hated that guy!” said Esther.

“But why were you going to the wedding with Charles in the first place?” said Zuri.

“I told you. Because his cousin is gay, the relatives thought he might be gay. He had to bring a woman along to show he’s not gay.”

“What nonsense,” said Zuri disdainfully.

“Sounds like an excuse to ask you out,” Esther agreed.

“No lah,” I said. “Why wouldn’t he just ask me out, if he’s interested?”

But the answer presented itself to me even as I spoke. Charles knew pretty much all my problems in the past month had been caused by Arthur coming on to me. Charles wouldn’t want to do anything to put me under further pressure.

What was it he’d said to Loretta, when they’d been arguing about him bringing me as a date to her wedding? Bad enough the boss is chasing her.

Zuri and the others didn’t know about Arthur, of course. I didn’t feel ready to talk about that yet.

Zuri said, “What’s stopping you from asking him out?”

“He’s my colleague,” I said. “I share an office with him. It’s not a good idea. What if it goes wrong? It’d be so awkward.”

Esther said, “You’re always asking, what if it goes wrong. What if it goes right? You’re thinking of the worst-case scenario, but there’s a best-case scenario too. The one where you live happily ever after with this rich hot guy who can cook and is nice.”

“Or at least where you get to rumpy-pumpy him a couple of times,” said May Yin.

“May Yin!”

“What’s gotten into you?” I said.

Right on cue, the baby started crying. May Yin gathered him up into her arms.

“Ethan is so cute,” she said mournfully. “But he’s really disrupted my sex life.”

I jumped on this with relief. I’d had quite enough of talking about my completely imaginary sex life.

“Next time, drop Ethan off for a couple of hours and you can have some private time with hubby,” I said. “OK, who’s ready for some nasi lemak?”