This Crazy Rich Boy - Chapter 158

This is the same bus terminal that served as her entry into the city a few months ago. She had come straight here after graduation, with her suitcase crammed with printed out resumes and her heart brimming with hope. Now it seems ironic that she’s back here, going home to her parents, seemingly in defeat. And all along her mind asks her: What are you doing?

She boards the first bus that she sees, dragging her suitcase in one hand and carrying Sam in the other. She finds an available two-seat section in the middle, which is convenient. She carefully places Sam’s pet carrier in the seat next to the window, then she tries to cram the suitcase in the overhead compartment. All the other passengers are gazing at her with curiosity, for what reason she doesn’t know.

She takes her seat. Sam whimpers. “Take it easy,” she whispers to her. “We’ll get you something to eat in the first stop.” Then she looks around; the bus is still half-full, and if its business is to have every single seat occupied before it could leave, and judging by the trickle of arriving passengers, then maybe they’re going to stay here for an hour or so. She sighs—that’s too long a time to be left alone with her thoughts.

She thinks of him. Gabriel must have learned about her leaving by now. Her entire being wants to go back, but the thought of Matilde—always that woman, always with the sharp knife-stabs of her words—gets in the way and Claire’s resolve melts. Seeing Matilde’s face in her mind transports Claire to the future, an ugly future, one in which even the love between her and Gabriel seems a tiny bud against a raging storm.

“Do you have a companion, miss?”

It’s the inspector, pointing at the pet carrier beside her. Sam is hidden by the towel she used to cover the carrier to help the dog calm down.

“It’s just me,” she says.”

“Are you paying for that?”

Claire nods.

The inspector, a tall, lanky man with an improbable ultra-black hair, looks at the towel-covered cage with suspicion. “What’s in that?”

“Uhh,” Claire says, trying to decide whether to tell the truth or not. “It’s a small puppy.”

“Jesus,” the inspector’s eyes get round. “We can’t have it in here! It’s against regulations! We could get impounded.”

The inspector’s voice is too high-pitched that most of the other passengers begin gawking at them, expecting some entertaining spectacle.

“But I will pay for her,” Claire protests. She pauses. “I will pay for three seats, actually.”

The inspector grimaces and scratches his head; he looks in the general direction of the bus driver, who’s currently in the driver’s seat listening to Peter, Paul and Mary sing “For Lovin’ Me.” “You don’t understand, miss,” he says. “The fine we’d have to pay if, for example, we get caught by a traffic inspector, is worth more than this entire busload of people.”

“Oh,” she mutters. She mentally calculates how much she might pay for a busload of people, and immediately she realizes it’s not possible.

Then somebody from the back yells, “That’s bullshit!”

The inspector blinks. “Excuse me?”

“That’s bullshit,” the voice repeats, which turns out to come from an old lady in the seat three rows behind Claire’s. “There’s no such regulation, young man. You only don’t want the dog in here because you’re afraid the dog would take a dump while in transit, fouling this entire airconditioned bus with the smell of the dog’s half-decomposed breakfast.”

The inspector gazes at her for a minute, then he relaxes, and holds his arms in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Thank you, ma’am. You had me. You’re right. That’s the truth. We can’t have a dog in here because dogs are easily frightened and stressed and when they’re stressed, they pee and poop and what have you.”

“But,” Claire says, “I promise you she will behave.” She removes the towel covering the carrier. “Look at her. Can’t you see she’s so nice? She doesn’t even bark—”

Sam barks at the inspector, and claws playfully at the walls of her cage.

“That means ‘hi’ and not an actual bark,” Claire says. She smiles, even though her eyes are still ringed with tears. “Please, sir, she’s not going to poop here, I promise. Please?”

The inspector gazes at Claire for a long moment; he sees as if for the first time the kind of beauty she is. What did his old man used to say about pretty girls? Like buŧŧerflies, they don’t need excuses. He gazes at Claire’s smile, and quietly wishes that he were younger, unmarried, and as handsome as that guy on TV the other day, that Gabriel Tan. Then he would have—what a minute. Something clicks in the inspector’s brain as he gazes closely at Claire’s face. “You look eerily familiar, like I’ve recently seen you somewhere…”

Claire holds her breath, unsure of what to do. And yet, she just smiles, trying to win him over with her charm, if that could still work. “Maybe you’ve seen me. I used to ride this bus when I was…”

“Holy shit, you’re THAT girl!” The woman seated across from her suddenly jumps up, gazing at Claire with amazement. “You’re the girlfriend! The fiancée!”

The inspector’s gaze pingpongs from the woman to Claire then back to the woman. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you seen the news on TV? She that rich guy’s girlfriend! The other day! Then she threw the guy’s bitchy ex-girlfriend down the floor like a bowling ball!”

A collective sigh of amazement throughout the bus. Everyone’s standing up now, trying to get a clear view of the “celebrity.”

“I’m not what you say I am,” Claire protests. “I’m just a nobody with a dog, so please let me—”

“Claire! You’re Claire! You’re Gabriel Tan’s fiancée!” a girl with braces chirps like a true fan girl. Then to prove her point, she holds up a copy of the morning’s newspaper. On the front page, there’s a photo of Gabriel and Claire being hobbled by reporters. “Oh, my God! My friends are not going to believe me!”

“Please! I’m not—”

But Claire’s voice is drowned out by the growing excitement of everyone on that bus. Even the inspector, who moments before was just all business, has been staring at Claire as though he’s seeing the gates of heaven part. “It’s really you, isn’t it?” he mutters. Then he looks around, as though looking for something. He takes out a pen from his backpocket and offers it to Claire. “Miss, I would die happy if you would only sign your name on my person.”

“What?”

“Just, you know, an autograph. You can sign on my uniform here.”

Claire holds the pen dumbly, unsure of what to do. All around her, the previously sane passengers of the bus have morphed into bleating, screaming, desperate “fans” fighting for the precious space by Claire’s seat. It’s like she’s suddenly surrounded by zombies who are all clawing at her flesh, desperate for a piece of her. If only Claire could sink in her seat and disappear forever.

“Me, too!” says one. “Please sign on my shirt!”

“Fall in line,” says another. “I’m nearer her. I call dibs. I’m next to the inspector.”

“Ladies’ first, you arseholes!” says another. “I was the one who first recognized who she is!”

And on and on they go, fighting and fighting for the privilege to get in there, until Claire feels it’s too much that she just wants to scream…

Everyone turns their heads toward the back of the bus. It’s the old lady from earlier, the one who called bullshit on the inspector. And now she’s standing up—an old little lady with a perm and thick-rimmed eyeglasses—and in her raspy, cigarette-grated voice says, “Leave her alone! Are you all blind? Can’t you see she’s all stressed out because of you? Is this your first time to encounter an actual human being, you imbeciles!”

Everyone falls silent. The cramped crowd standing on the aisle parts like the Red Sea, allowing the old lady to hobble toward Claire. She has a problem with her right foot, as she walks with a slight limp that she tries to hide by scoffing and glaring at the people around her.

She stops right by Claire’s seat. She stares at her, gazing closely at her face. “How are you dear,” she says, her voice surprisingly pleasant, yet still hoarse.

“I’m…I’m fine, Grandma,” Claire says.

The crowd give out another collective sigh of surprise. “Oh my God! Are you her real grandmother? What an amazing coincidence!” one of them exclaims.

The old lady barks at them. “You are really Grade A morons. She calls me grandma out of politeness because I’m a generic old woman, and not her actual grandmother! Why are all the idiots of this world decide to be this bus’s passengers?” Then to Claire: “Don’t mind them, young lady.”

The old lady takes one look at Claire’s face and instantly she knows. She touches Claire gently on the chin in a gesture of empathy. “I don’t know if you’re really who they say you are, but I don’t care. I’m past all that bullshit. But there’s one thing I’m sure of. You’ve been crying. You look like you’re trying to run away from something. I’ve seen you the moment you arrived with the saddest face I’ve seen in years. And here I am, talking as an old woman who have seen all her sons go before their time.” She smiles at her. “What’s the matter, dear?”

Claire chokes on her tears. It’s been a long time since last someone spoke with her like that, as though the old lady knows her, knows her soul. “Nothing, Grandma,” she says, sobbing.

The crowd watching this is shocked to see Claire cry. “What’s the matter?” somebody behind asks. “Did he hurt you?”

“Is this about Gabriel Tan?” somebody else yells.

“Shut up!” the old lady says. She holds Claire’s arm and squeezes it. “Are you sure about what you’re trying to do? I don’t really know your situation. But let me tell you something, dear. Sometimes, the monsters that frighten us are just sad, unloved little beings on the inside, and they only need somebody to show them what really matters in this world.”

All heads turn to the old lady, awaiting with bated breath his next word.

“Love,” the old lady says. “Only love. So you’ve gotta ask yourself: do you or do you not love him? Because if you do, then no monster, no matter how big, can stand in the face of that love.”

Claire stares at the old lady’s eyes, feeling in her heart every single word of what she just said. Tears have begun to flow down her cheeks, and she’s not afraid or ashamed anymore to bȧrė her heart to those around her. And for some reason, the crowd has fallen silent, too; some of them sniffle, some weep.

“I do love him,” Claire mutters. “I love him more than my life. But his mother, she said…”

“Bullshit,” the old lady says. “What she said was bullshit. And you know what you do with bullshit? You flush it down the toilet.” She smiles, baring her gold teeth.

Claire smiles and laughs despite her tears. She stands up finally and throws her arms around the old lady; she’s surprised how fragile the old lady’s body feels in her arms, as though she’s nothing but bones.

“Thank you so much, Grandma,” Claire mutters. “But who are you? Why do you know these things?”

“I’m nobody,” the old lady smiles. “Don’t bother yourself with me. You have an important thing to do, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean by ‘what do you mean’? Of course, you have to go back to him and show that mother of his what kind of golden, sunshiny stuff you are made of.” She turns to the crowd: “Isn’t that right, kids?”

“Yes, go back to him!” the crowd cheers in unison. “Go back and slay! Be fierce, Claire!”

Claire giggles. What in hell is happening? It’s as if everything is surreal. Is this really happening? Is she really here right now?

“Go back! Go back! Go back!” the crowd is chanting, like cheerleaders.

Claire giggles; she wipes her tears like a child, smiling. She declares, “Alright! I’ll go back to him!”

The bus crowd go crazy in excitement, cheering her on. As though this were the grand finals of some basketball game, and the star player has just made the winning shot.

“Good evening, ladies and gents,” blares a voice on the bus’s speakers. “This is your heartbreakingly handsome driver informing you that we’re leaving in a moment. Please go back to your seats and stop all that nonsense, will you?”

Somebody blew a raspberry, but still, the crowd obediently go back to their respective seats. The old lady taps Claire on the shoulder and whispers, “You know what to do.”

“Thank you,” Claire says.

The inspector is left standing by her, smiling. “Well, I guess I have an idea. If you don’t mind?”

“If it’s about me going back to him, I’m open to ideas,” Claire says, smiling now.

“Where do you think you’ll find Gabriel Tan right at this very moment?”

Claire pauses. At this hour, maybe Gabriel is back at The Residence, waiting for her. She’s not sure, but it’s worth a try. “Do you know where The Residence is?”

“You mean the former hotel? Sure. This bus will be passing by it in about fifteen minutes,” the inspector says, beaming. “What do you say about we dropping you off at The Residence, tell your lucky boyfriend how much you love him, so we can all have a happy ending?”

Claire giggles. “As long as you let Sam go with me, I say, that’s a fine suggestion you have there.”

The inspector laughs. “The Residence it is, then. But may I ask you one last favor?”

“I’m all ears,” she says.

The inspector looks around. Then he removes his shirt. “If you’ll be so kind as to write your name on my shirt here, I would be extremely delighted.”