Lydia wakes up inside the black void again, The familiar feeling of abandonment arises in her heart and starts propagating throughout her mind and soul. She thinks of the 3 words that are supposed to be her name, yet she can’t fathom why these 3 words caused her so much distress. She thinks of the idea of being married, wearing a wedding dress, saying “I do!” Just like what she watched on the TV screen when she was a clueless 10 year old. She can remember again. The scent of cologne focuses her and she tries to expand on this memory.


She lingers on the little girl being marvelled by the lavish outdoor wedding ceremony, then a few beats later, she zooms out from the TV screen. She is sitting on the floor in a tiny home, outside the window is the crowded streets of Hong Kong, full of beardless Chinese people, a tram passes by underneath; next to the window is a sofa, on it lies Mama clutching a large glass bottle of brown water, sometimes the water in the bottle is red, sometimes yellow, sometimes transparent. She pans around the room, a bunk bed occupies one corner, a table occupies another corner, a fridge and sink occupies another corner, and back to the first corner, the sofa. 


“There is no toilet?” Exclaimed Const. Khakishirt.


Lydia floats to the only door and passes through it into a corridor, and there at the end, is a large toilet.


“We share it with other families.” She recalls.

“That is your home?”

“Why not?”

“Carry on.”


She finds herself in a classroom. The teacher is holding up a card that says dining table, Kid Lydia is befuddled by the extra word, for as far as she knows, a table at home is a table, nothing more. The teacher holds up another card that says bedroom, and again Kid Lydia is befuddled, for as far as she knew, at home, there are no rooms. When the classroom closes its door for the summer, she stays at home glued to the TV screen, watching a bunch of foreigners dress up for weddings in beautiful locations, and always outside a mansion surrounded by trees. Everyone spoke romantically in English, there were no dumb sounding Chinese that had filled the smothering streets in Hong Kong. So she forced herself to understand these foreign romantic words, and would recite them back to herself in the mirror. 


Maybe this little girl did get married in the end.


“Do you know when?” Khakishirt probes.

“I’m still at home watching TV.”

“Okay, Okay.”


Kid Lydia switches channels and sees people almost her age partying - drinking and dancing, being flashy and cool. She likes the music and dancing, and memorized all the moves. When the school opens its gates again, I would be dancing in the school hall and there would be applause, there would be medals, but when I brought the medals back to Mama, she would cry and cry, and drink and drink; to make the crying more tolerable, I would drink the coloured water as well, as it helps to selectively mute sounds that I don’t like. A group of dancing friends from school brought me to dance on a stage, with so many spotlights on me, I felt intimidated and my body froze, but Mama’s coloured water was a potion that took away all fears so I could keep dancing under the lights. Medals turned into trophies, but Mama’s crying just got louder and louder. Until I stopped taking trophies home and instead, brought home dollar bills.


“What does all these have to do… ” Khakishirt feels annoyed by all these detours but he also feels bad for feeling annoyed and shut up.


But the dollar bills stopped coming to me when I punched another dancer, and I wasn’t invited back to the stage anymore. It was my turn to cry at home. I still wanted to dance, and I found my way to clubs, found myself being inserted into the movie scenes on the TV, with expats taking an interest in me, and I would recite the dialogue from those scenes, and I would be getting free drinks. It’s easy for the expats to be enamoured with me, because I was able to paraphrase one-liners from standup specials and make people laugh, and then I found myself making people laugh behind the bar, drinking shots with them, making them take out their credit card again and again, until I outlasted them. Dollars bills came back to me at last, but were soon gone when Mama’s heart started misbehaving and had to have a heart pacer implanted. Mama started crying again. 


Early morning, I get home from work, and mom would be crying as I try to sleep. Without much sleep, without much options, I started trading free rounds for a wakey wakey powder to keep my job, my spirits and my Mama alive. I didn't want the feel-good energy to end when it’s closing time, and neither did my patrons, so I avoided the downer of my home, and went to keep the party going and slept at posh hotel rooms or upscale residences with the expats that liked having me around to indulge in their vices together. 


“Sounds like a good time, doesn’t it?”


Until my manager found out about my bartering practices and fired me. It’s okay, I just work at another club and brought my fans with me to the new joint. I was more cautious with the till, but I still needed my energy boost, so I bought my own powder, and boy, wasn’t it pricey. 


“So, er… Did your relationships with these expat friends develop into something outside nightlife?”


Yes. They all tried taking me to fancy restaurants, boat parties, I feel so close to my dream love story like those on the TV, I always think one of them will take me away from Hong Kong. 


“Any chance one of their surnames is Sparrow?”


I went through the names of the revolving door of expats I slept with, but there weren't any matches, because all these transactional relationships never reached the ‘knowing the surname’ stage. I needed them to feel I am more than someone bred in a 100 sq ft home, they needed a fun, sexy companion on the weekends, that’s the extent of the relationships. Besides, Hong Kong was always a place they were passing through, and attachment was the last thing on their mind. 


“So what happens on the weekdays?”


I am back to my own home, watching the hours tick by with ear plugs to filter out unwanted noise. 


“So none of those guys are from Glasgow?" 

“What’s Glasgow?”


Redhead comes back into view, and I know it’s sleepy time. 


“Making any headway?” Nurse Sleep asks.

“Nope, I just spent the whole time learning about her fucked up days in Hong Kong.” Replied the copper.

“Oh, any idea when she relocated here?”

“I didn’t push for specific dates so she could be telling her life stories from maybe 10, 15, 20 years ago, and  none of these stories is material for the incident report.”

“Well with her condition, memories are going to be in bits and pieces, you’ll have to reassemble her fractured statements yourself."

“Well… But her statements will probably be used in court, and right now, she sounds a little too druggy and incoherent, it is going to be picked apart by a defence attorney, they could easily argue she is not of sound mind. So, I do have one small favour though, any chance you can reduce the dosage of the meds for like a short 2 hour window when I interview her?” 

“Theoretically, it can be done, but I still need the surgeon to sign off on it. I’ll let you know when you come back. But I think the immobilization period is over. So there is less need for round the clock sedation. I’ll let the doc know about your concerns.”

“Thanks, much appreciated. Bye for now.”