One

 

 Abigail looked up from her television screen. She was in bathing rope, obviously just coming out of the bath. Some nice aromatic sent was in the air.

 “Hey-loo.” She smiled: “Late night, isn’t it?”

 “Not really.” I dropped the keys on the table: “How’s Bo?”

 “Jolly good. Had dinner and watched a bit of tele, went to bed at 7:30. No complaints.” She checked her painted toenails. Judging by the bottles and tissue spread around the table, she had been doing it for quite some times.

 “Good one.” I threw myself onto the couch: “Hey, thanks for picking him up and stuff.”

 “No worries.” She hummed with the jingo on the television.

 “You haven’t painted Bo’s nails again this time, have you?” I picked up and inspected a silver pick nail polish that rolled around my feet.

 “Hell, no!” She gave me a naughty smile: “Do you want me to?”

 “ABSOLUTELY NOT. Do you have any idea Bo nearly harassed me to dead for those ‘pretty things’ last time you put it on.”

 Abigail laughed: “Sorry, love. But he was just so cute, I simply just couldn’t help myself.”

 “You do notice Bo is a boy.” I gave her a evil.

 “Oh-yeah.””

 “How long are you going to be in town this time?” I kicked me shoes off.

 “Donno, depends on what Tiffie has in her mind. “ She started doing the French nails on her hand: “Will probably be about 2 weeks I guess.”

 Abigail Fuller is my flatmate. We’ve been the best friends for dunkie’s years. She’s even Bo’s godmother. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Half European and half Asian, she got the most stunning look that even the prettiest girl in town would jealous for: big brown eyes, long eyelashes, fine porcelain skin, and short platinum blond hair (she died it, her original hair colour was more chocolate like, which to my opinion was just as nice. However, she said that was a real eyesore, claimed it was ‘dirty blond’ and could not tolerate one single strand of them exposed to public eyes for more than half of the second). We met on the plane and clicked almost instantly. We both quite found of earrings, enjoyed watching lots and lots of junk televisions (she actually was the only one who managed watching all six seasons of Sex In The City and never missed a single episode of American’s Next Top Models. Some times, if she was able, she would watch Dr. Phil, CSI: NY and Survivor on tape all at the same time) and last but not least, adored all kinds of food, although she always seemed pretty good at hiding them all once consumed (and I couldn’t). After I found out we both looking for a place to stay, I suggested we could flat together. We’ve been flatting together ever since and it had never even crossed our mind to find someone else as a flatmate.

 Abigail worked as a PA for Tiffie Fitzgerald. Tiffie Fitzgerald was a renowned TV personality in this country. Bubbly talking, bright smiles, and good appearance, which made her quite popular. Almost everyday you could see her on the television/newspaper/magazine. Tiffie also owned a production company, a pub, and a clothes brand. Very dynamic and talented person, I must say. Since Tiffie was very busy and travel around a lot, it was pretty rare for Abigail to stay in this flat longer than a month. The shortest record so far was 10 minutes (not even enough time to change clothes!!). She just got back to Auckland at 1:40 am this morning, looking absolutely crap and exhausted.

 You thought Abigail would hate this, well, I definitely would. Who would want to stand by 24-7 for their boss? But apparently she loved it. She loved the traveling, meeting new people, establishing connections, socializing and organizing other people’s life. Ever since she started five years ago, she had never looked back.

 Actually, how did she have her job was another interesting story. She was actually in the middle of a date when she overheard someone from the next table mumbling something like Tiffi Fitzgerald was looking for a PA. She actually ditched her date and jump in front of that horrified looking someone and demanding for detail information. It turned out that horrifying someone was Tiffi’s manager, she was immediately organized an interview over the phone and was hired right on the spot! Gee, not everyday you could see such a efficient and fast process happened in the town of JAFAS.

 “So what happened? Why are you this late?” Abi poured me a glass of red wine.

 I immediately sit bolt upright: “You are not going to believe what happened!”

 “What happened?”

 I gulped down a big amount of wine: “…Some bastard had sexually harassed me on the train.”

 “Some WHAT!!” She nearly hit the ceiling: “WHAT A BLOODY WANKER!!”

 “Wait, wait. There was more to come.” I was all excited, face slightly flushed: “ Then I met a guy,” I pulsed for a moment for the maximum effect: “a yummy looking guy.”

 “What?…..Okay, hang on a minute…you don’t put those two events together.” Abi waved a finger at me: “Lets start again. There was a guy who harassed you on the train?”

 “Ahem.”

 “…………and you met a guy on the train?”

 “Yep.”

 “This guy harassed you?”

 “Hell, no!” I went all pick and laughed: “No, no, no!”

 “So what happened then?” Abi demanded.

 All righty.

 Here was how it happened.

 I was on the train, on my way home. Suddenly someone, who was undoubtfully men, was putting his bloody dodgy hand on me, on my bum to be more specific. It must have been happening for a while. At first I didn’t pay much attention to it. You see, like most of us when we were traveling and we weren’t the one who was driving (some does that even when they are driving), there were so many things going on in my mind at that point and time: Bo need another pair of trousers; did Abigail managed to pick him up? our fridge was empty again, need to do come shopping on the way home; need to defrost the fridge this weekend: need to remind Abigail again today to pay me her share of the rent (not that she always forgot, she’s just not in the country a lot lately and had missed the rent a couple of times); something about work..all right, a lot of things at work, I might have to find a babysitter this Friday so I can stay after work to finish them…ANYWAY! So by the time I actually notice there was something dodgy going on around me and obviously had going on for quite some times because it had actually managed to progress slightly further than just touching my bum.

 No, I was not going to describe to you in graphic details how and what did he doing with his hand on my bum like they did on the pornographic novel/magazine. I was just trying to tell you what happened and how this areshole was now really pissing me off.

 Okay, piss off didn’t sound like the exact word. Let me said it more clearly, I was first embarrassing, then fuming, then furious.

 I wasn’t supposed to be using this goddamn train anyway. If it wasn’t my slack neighbour who had a habit of reverse his car into whoever was parking behind him (across the road actually. Which was usually me), which made my precious VW Beatles literally living in Mitch the panelbeater’s garage, and made Mitch a very happy chappy indeed, I would still driving to work today and no one, absolutely no one except Bo, would harassing me over something.

 I never thought in a million years this could happen to me. You know, at this time in the evening, way pass the peak hour traffic, in a modern civilized Western Society like Auckland. I heard it occasionally from my mum or other female family members when I grew up about people being sexually harassed on the public transportation vehicles such as train or bus etc., but that was in Taiwan and it was during the 80’s! I honestly thought this kind of behavior had long become extinct. Well, now it had proven I was wrong.

 I slightly tilted my head around, shot a sneak peek at this what seemed to be a shameless wanker. Noticed that I had found out what he was doing, his face went a bit pink but guess what, HE DIDN’T SEEN TO HAVE ANY INTENTION OF STOPPING!! ALL RIGHT, THAT WAS IT! Before he had any chance of doing anything, I quickly grabbed this man’s hand and hold it up in the mid-air: “Oy!!”

 The man blinked, and blinked again. He didn’t expecting I would do this, for a moment he seemed in a bit of the shock.

 “ What does this doing on my bum, dickhead?”

 “…..I had no idea what you are talking about.” Now this man’s face had gradually reached the satisfactory tomato state. He tried to pretend nothing had happened, that I had just gone mad by suddenly grabbing his hand and started shouting like a maniac.

 Of course I was not going to let her get away that easily.

 “Oh, you know pretty well what I am talking about, you moron.” I stared at him with fury.

 “No, I did not.”

 “Did, too!”

 “No, I did not.”

 “Oh, yes. You did!” Was he actually trying to deny this?!!

 “Look, ma’am, I really don’t know what you’re going on about. I was perfectly happy standing here and any part of my body was nowhere near your bits.” With the entire carriage’s passenger now staring at him, he tried to wiggle his hand out of mine. Oh, no you don’t! I held it tighter.

 “Oh, yeah? Well, let’s go to the police and see if you did it. I believe they will be very interested to know…” I was interrupted by he finally managed shaking my hands off. The strength was too big, it almost made my hand flying off my shoulder joint and landed onto a terrify looking Maori old lady not very far away from us.

 “NOW LISTEN, YOU MAD GOOK!” His eye was so bulge out for a moment I thought they were going to fall out of his eye sockets: “THERE WERE ABSOLUTELY NO ONE HERE HAD ACTUALLY SEE THAT I WAS TOUCHING YOU IN ANY WAY, STOP BEING SO FUCKING MENTAL. GOING TO THE POLICE?? I HAD NO TIME TO PLAY AROUND WITH CRAZY WOMEN LIKE YOU, ALL RIGHT?” He slowly moved towards the sliding door.

 Now look at this, would you look at this, can you believe this dickhead was trying to run away now? Oh no, I wasn’t going to let him to get away and I mean it. I quickly walked towards him, grabbing his arm while he was trying to get out of the door and start dragging him back to the carriage.

 “You are not going anywhere! The only other place you are going to is to the police with me!!” My voice was rising higher and higher. With the door was now open, some passenger around the carriage heard the argument and started looking towards our direction.

 “Let go of me, you crazy Chinese Woman!” Big mistake, I wasn’t Chinese.

 “NO.”

 For a few second we struggled. He tried to run out of the door, I nearly cling on to him, face as red as his, using all my strength to hold him back. In the wits end, he turned towards me abruptly, fist in the air, ready to threw me a big punch.

 It was then I started getting frighten. I started realize a petite woman like me could get myself hurt badly and no one else on this carriage would care even the slightly bits. This is how cold this world is, everyone. I had seemed them in New York and I wouldn’t expect them any differently here.

 I shot my eye tightly, still wouldn’t let go of this pervert. All right, ouch time, I thought. You can punch me to dead and there is no way you are going to get away for sure.

 I wait for the impact to come.

 But…

 “That’s quite enough.” Unexpectly, another voice stopped whatever we were doing.

 I opened my eyes.

 I knew this might sound really cliché and feel like coming straight out of romantic novel, but someone had finally step in to rescue me. Out of nowhere (I said out of nowhere because if he was in the carriage earlier I definitely would have noticed) there came this gorgeous, delicious looking man, with the finest facial definition and dark, dark emerald eyes, soft charcoal hair and long, elegant looking fingers, holding the bloody pervert’s fist in the mid-air, jaws clinching, looking dead serious.

 Well, about time, I thought gratefully.

 “WHAT?” The wanker still looked bloody aggressive. He gave this fella mind-your-own-business look, not very happy to be interrupted.

 “We all saw what you did (did they?), “ Handsome man looked at the wanker coldly: “ so stop making a fool of yourself.”

 “Yes, we all did” Abruptly the Maori lady spoke: “You two were standing right in front of me. Don’t think because I am old I’ve got to be blind, too.”

 “Me, too.” Another man who stood at the far corner of the carriage joined: “I was just start thinking what a sick person this is and was going to put a stop on you.”

 “I saw that as well.” Another voice allied.

 “Don’t think she was mad, chap” Man in overall on the chair nodded.

 “Me, too”

 “Me, too.”

 “I might had a bad eyesight, but surely I didn’t miss that.”

 “I saw it the whole time, you wanker.”

 “Me, too.”

 “I was going to put a stop on that.”

 “Me, too.”

 “Me, three.”

 I looked around, slightly amused. Just a few minutes ago, not a bloody soul made a sound about it. Now they all suddenly rallied in, just because this nice man stepped in? Weird logic, if you asked me.

“…” Seemed as if suddenly deflated, the bloody pervert stood there, out of words, fist slowly putting down. He looked a bit nervous.

 “Now,” The fine specimen’s eyes moved from the bastard to me: “Are you all right?”

 I nodded, let go of the bastard’s arm.

 “Would you like me to take this fella to the police station with you?” He asked.

 I nodded: “Better do. Otherwise I might risk lying somewhere in the railway station unconscious.”

 He grabbed the now defeated looking, and grumpy face pervert in his upper arm and sneered: “All-righty, let’s moved, shall we?”

 Another gentlemen in the carriage gave me his card: “Hey, let me know if you need witness, I would be happy to help.”

 Another card shoveled into my hand: “Yeah, me too.”

 “Count me in.” Another one. Before we managed to leave the carriage, I actually had at least seven business cards in my hand, leaving me felt a bit ridiculous and bemused.

 We headed to the police, filed the complaint, the bastard spent the night there and my lawyer will contact him in a couple of days for suing him sexual harassment. He certainly looked very disgruntle now. Marvelous.

 “Are you okay?” Fine specimen asked as we stood outside the police station.

 “I suppose I am all right.”

 “Not frighten or anything?” He sounded genuinely concern.

 “No,” I looked at him: “A bit exhausted after all that struggle, but I am okay really. Thank you.”

 “Right,” He smiled. Sexy smile, I must say. Oh, he actually got a dimple on his right cheek: “I suppose we better off. Do you live around here?”

 “No, I’ll have to go back to get the next train.” I smiled back.

“Oh,” Was that just my imagination or he actually did looked slightly disappointed? “I am actually living just down the road there.” He pointed at the opposite direction of the railway station.

 “Oh, I see.” I see. That was indeed disappointing.

 “Well….”He lingered: “Would you like me walk you back to the railway station?”

 I shot a couple of sneak peak at him. His handsome figure had a silver outline under the streetlights, eyes looks as dark as the sky. Goodness, where were those nice people come from? It was such a pleasant experience for simply just looking at him.

 “That would be nice, thank you.” Oh, what the hell!

 “I am Aiken.” He introduced himself as we strolled back to the railway station slowly.

 “….I am Myo.” I suddenly worried if my hair looked okay, or if my makeup on still where they should be, which probably all weren’t after all those fiascos. I had a few quick look around my reflection through the car window. Hmm...seemed okay.

 “Mayo?”

 “No, it’s Mee-Yo.” I laughed mildly: “But I got a lot of joke like that.”

 “Myo” Hands in his pocket, he flashed me his dazzling smiles again: “What do you do?”

 “I am a custom broker.” I gave him my card.

 “Myo Kato.” He read out from the card: “Are you Japanese?”

 “Yeah.”

 He studied the card for a while (which was quite interesting really. Anything on a business card worth him to study it for that long?), then carefully put it in his pocket.

 Now, folks, I didn’t know about you guys. But I personally had a few weird habits. I was quite fussy on how people treated my business card. Some people I knew didn’t really care about this little piece of paper, they just have a glance at them, shovel it into their pocket, and when they meet you the second time, they had no idea who you are or what company are you working for; one the other hand, some people take this card exchange thingy quite seriously. They accepted your card, had a good read about it, and registered you properly into their brain. Coming from a Japanese family, who told me business card represented you so you must take it seriously, might be the reason. Well, so what Aiken was doing now had just pleased me a great deal.

 He gave me his card.

 “Aiken Walker.” I read out the name on the card: “You are a solicitor.”

 “That’s right.” He smiled.

 “Right, that’s very convenient.” I looked at him meaningfully: “But I’ve already had a lawyer.” I knew it; he couldn’t be rescuing me for my looks.

 “What…oh, no.” Hands up: “I don’t do court things. I only do barrister works.”

 “Oh, I see.” I see.

 “What? Do you think I helped you on the train because of my job?” We stopped at the pedestrian crossing.

 “It wasn’t?”

 “No, of course not.” He gushed.

 “Why did you do it then? No one else seemed to bother.” I said grumpily.

 “I didn’t know you don’t want to be disturbed.” He joked.

 “NO, I don’t mean that….I….” My face gone a bit pink.

 “I am only joking.” He laughed: “Seriously, I did that simply because it was a right thing to do. You looked as if you really need some help.”

 “I was indeed. I was on the risk of being harassed AND assaulted.” We now back to the station. Standing at the platform, waiting for my train to come: “Thank you.” I said.

 “Arh, that was nothing.” He waved his hands.

 “Really, thank you.”

 He said nothing, just looked at me with smile in his eyes.

 What a wonderful way it turned out, I sighed quietly.

 “Oops, here comes my train!” We both spotted the train coming around the corner.

 “Righ,..urrh…have a good evening then.” He kicked around the pebbles on the platform.

 “You, too.” I said: “ Hey, thanks for everything.” I stepped into the carriage.

 He gave me a you-are-welcome gesture, and as the sliding door was closing between us, he seemed suddenly thought of something:”Hey, am I be able to see you again?” He shouted.

 “Maybe,” I shouted back: “You got my card.”

 He digged out my business card from his pocket and waved excitedly at me as the train left the platform.

 “Wow, that was………….. very mushy” Abi finished her nails: “I think am going to puke.” She joked: “So do you think he might ring you?”

 “ Donno.” I shook my head.

 “Are you going to ring him and ask him out?”

 “Donno.”

 “Wha….oy! Do you actually know anything?” Abigail looked a bit annoyed.

 Well, I didn’t really know what to do. Even the way we met wasn’t exactly considering usual, the impression between us was undoubtfully pretty good. Of course I would love to see this Aiken again. But wouldn’t that be odd if I ring him? What should I say to him? “Hi, this is Myo Kato, the one you rescue from almost being punch on the train?” or “Hi, this is Myo Kato, you saved me from nearly being punched after being sexually harassed on the train the other day?” Oh I don’t know. I just thought that being harassed was embarrassing enough, and you have to bring it up to someone you thought was gorgeous so he would remember you didn’t make it any easier.

 Unless he remembered you so clearly, as soon as you showed up in front of him, he knew. But that would be highly unlikely, I must have said.

 I looked at Abigail for a while and slowly shook my head.

 “Jay-sus!” Abi also shook her head: “Watching you doing those thingy in snail speed is killing me!!”

 “Well, I can’t do speed dating or Internet dating like you do.” I shrugged: “How was your date last time, by the way. I never had a chance to ask you before you headed off to UK.”

 “That,” She sighed: “That wasn’t good. It was a fucking disaster “

 Abigail always had her picked of the men through speed dating or Match.Com. You had to say some of them are pretty good, but the vast majority of those fella were pretty scary. The first one Abi went out with was all good on the world wide web, but as soon as they met she couldn’t get out there fast enough. Apparently he was as old as her grandfather and looked like a 9 months pregnant women. He even got a couple of missing teeth.

 “Not I am judging a book by its cover. I do have my standard and this,” She said drastically: “is way off the bloody scale!”

 The second and third one were okay. Actually even I liked the third one. He was pretty gorgeous, said all the right words, and seemed had pretty good fashion sense. But Abi got rid of him just after the first date, saying he was too ‘Gay’.

 Every time when Abi met someone, before they met, she always acted as if she was madly in love with this person, saying they had a lot in common and he was the one. She would spend hours and hours on the Internet and phones with him, sweat talking and everything. You would think they were going to get married any minute. But as soon as she met them, that was it. The romance was finished and she quickly moved on to the next poor bastard. The longest record she held at the moment was two dates. The reason for that one finished was “He wore shoes inside the house.”

 “What’s wrong with that one this time?” I got up and headed towards the kitchen, ready to fix myself something to eat.

 “Wonky eyes,” She sighed: “ I wonder how come I didn’t pick that one up on the web Cam.”

 “I think you did.” I pointed out: “ But you said they were’ Romantic’.”

 “Did I said that?!!” She acted all surprised, or maybe she was: “God, I need a pair of glasses.”

 “Anyone told you you are a bit way too picky?” I looked at her.

 “Like I told you previously, every man had the potential to be my future husband, and yes I am planning to get married someday and having a couple of children running around our share house, so how can I not being careful about this?” Abi shrugged, inspecting if her painted nails were dry enough.

 “Ever thought of doing this in the old fashion way?” I asked.

 “I have no time for that kind of bloody yolk.” She started packing up the nail polish bottle