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“You seem tired, Malik,” said Kanitha just as Malik stormed through the UN Hotel’s lobby. She was sitting cross-legged on one of the lobby’s velvet armchairs, book in hand.
It was almost 2 a.m. Malik had no idea why she was outside her room at such a late hour.
He was about to get into an elevator, already pressing the up button, but stopped.
He thought to himself, maybe a chat with Kanitha wouldn’t hurt.
He went back to the lobby space, then to the Thai lady instantly.
“Mhm?” She focused on him, gently. “You want to tell me something?” It was almost as if she could read his mind, or Malik let his guard down often whenever he was with her. Or anyone else. But still.
“I do,” He picked up his words, carefully. It was something like a government secret to him, or he wasn’t fond of gossip. “I spent some time in the bar with the United States of America. You know him. What he’s like.” The words sputtered out of Malik’s mouth so forcefully, like he didn’t want to remember what had happened there.
“Sit down, Malik.” Kanitha looked around her, making sure no one or nothing was picking up what Malik was about to tell her. Malik obliged, resting on the sofa opposite her. He took off his songkok and placed it on his lap. His hair was ruffled like crazy.
“He… didn’t do anything to you, right? Malik?” Kanitha was very worried now. Especially since Malik was at a bar. He shouldn’t be there. A Muslim man like him, mainly one so sincere. The USA is a strong man, and he probably wouldn’t do something like that… or not.
“Nothing happened, Kanitha,” Malik exhaled. Knowing what Kanitha meant. “He’s a lot smarter than what we think of him as. And no, I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol either.”
“So what happened?” Kanitha was all ears now. She wanted to know. “I promise to keep it a secret.”
“Between us?” He asked. Kanitha concentrated on Malik’s face, and she could see how drained he looked.
“Between us,” She confirmed. If they were able to do a pinky promise she’d do it hesitantless.
“All right, so what happened was…”
--
Is that the USA’s countryhuman?
That night, maybe at 11 p.m, Malik saw the blond man sitting alone in a bar, at the counter, from the bar’s window. Malik was able to see dozens of small, tiny glasses, with a bit of leftover alcohol.
The USA’s wide shoulders were shaking, and it was clear to Malik that the man had been crying. Malik chuckled to himself. A powerful countryhuman such as the USA, wailing? While drunk? He really let himself be vulnerable in a pretty much public place, huh…
Malik wasn’t planning to do anything with that info, though. Keep it to himself, of course. He only wanted to get back to the temporary hotel before going back home to his comfortable wood stilted house in Malaysia.
But something throbbed deep in Malik’s heart. The USA looked really messed up, in a horrible condition, and… weeping. Maybe Malik could comfort him.
No. Malik told himself. He knew about his own saviour complex, one that isn’t as bad as the USA’s, but one risky enough.
Stop it, West Malaysia. What would East think of this?
He probably wouldn’t have cared, actually.
Malik reached for the door handle.
He pulled the door. No stopping now. He wanted to go back, but couldn’t as he’s already inside. What is a country like him doing in a bar? He started to criticise himself in his chaotic mind, unable to really focus on what he was actually going to do.
There was nobody in the bar other than the two countries, well maybe there was the bartender, but he was busy tending himself to washing and wiping the glasses.
Malik took a seat next to the flushed man.
The bartender turned to Malik, raising an eyebrow. Would you like something?
Malik shook his head. The bartender continued his business.
The American noticed that someone was sitting next to him, and turned his head. Go away. You shouldn’t see me like this.
“Uh, actually…” Malik didn’t know how to handle someone drunk or to sober one up. Looking at the amount of glasses, it’s clear that the USA had consumed a lot of alcohol. And it’d take a longer time to sober him up properly.
Would it help to use his real name? They were in a public space…
“Charles.” Malik forced himself to say it. The name didn’t roll out of his tongue naturally.
He had Charles’ attention now, who looked at him with bloodshot eyes. Dried tears down his cheeks. His hair disheveled. “Wassup?” He said, tired.
“You’re drunk,” that wasn’t a question, but a statement.
“Yeah. Do you like to see me like this?” Charles let out a sheepish smile, a bit menacing. “I’m weak now, for now… you enjoy seeing me pained like this…”
“I don’t,” Malik blurted out, “Uh, in fact, I think I need to sober you up.” Was he really drunk? He looked like he could handle more bottles…
“You did nothing,” Charles stated.
“I passed by this bar and saw you. Felt bad, I guess,” Malik shrugged.
“It’s not your responsibility," Charles pressed on.
“Mine now. I’m here.”
The two said nothing for some time, Charles rubbing his temples. Until he said something.
“You’re just like me, Malaysia.” He said with a tone of amusement. Or was he glad?
“What do you mean, I’m like you?” Malik was slightly offended. He was fine if he was compared to Doni, the countryhuman for Indonesia, but this was the USA. “I don’t know if you had meant that as a compliment, but I don’t like it.”
“You can take it any way. But… you know? Helping anyone out, regardless of nationality or status or–”
“You don’t help anyone, USA.”
“It looks like that to you.”
“It looks like that to everyone. You’re no hero, USA. No one’s hero. Maybe one, to Australia.” Malik stammered.
“Don’t bring Ozzie into this, Malaysia.” Charles appeared to be deeply hurt by Malik’s statement. Malik didn’t answer. Instead he focused on Charles’ shaking hand on the counter.
“Just get out of here, Malaysia. A Muslim country like you shouldn’t be in a bar. Or anywhere near alcohol,” Charles laid his head on the counter. “I’m not sleeping. Just tired.”
“If you’re tired you sleep,” said Malik, even though that doesn’t even make sense. If you’re tired you could do anything else other than sleeping.
For a few minutes the two didn’t say anything.
“Raz is missing,” Charles said, out of the blue.
Raz was the countryhuman for the State of Israel.
“Ah, okay. So what do you want me to do?” Malik responded. What was he supposed to do with that information? Cry? Celebrate? He could do the latter option.
“You don’t know the crazy pressure that was put onto me to find him, Malik,” Charles’ voice was unsteady. “I get threatened everyday, Malik. They push me to the edge. At first it wasn’t so bad, they thought that he’d come back, but he… didn’t. And then I thought that he got captured, held hostage or anything, but after tracing after the leads I had, I got… nothing. I don’t know where he went, and his things are gone, which means…”
“He ran away.” Malik continued. He thought that Charles was going to reject that theory, but to his surprise, he didn’t. Instead he broke their eye contact and focused on his half-empty glass.
“It’s not that I hate him,” Charles began, “I cherish him, obviously. I’m unclear of how he views our relationship, but to me he’s my responsibility. And he’s pretty immature, you know that. Forced into so many things by his boss. Still stuck to a childish mentality. I guess I’m like his father. I will clear up the mistakes he makes and support him.”
“He’s you,” Malik said.
“I try to make him me,” Charles corrected. “And besides, I have this odd feeling that whatever he’s doing right now, in hiding or not, he is able to handle it himself. I am a bit worried, but… it’s better to let go of a few things, right?” He smiled.
“You don’t love him like a countryhuman, do you?” Malik was interested in their relationship, suddenly.
“I don’t. I love him like how a human would,” Charles exhaled. “You won’t understand, I know that. You’re judging me.”
“I am not, Charles.”
“You are, Malik.”
“I’m not.” Malik held in his laugh. Hearing his name pronounced by Charles sounded funny and unusual. He was only able to let out a giggle.
“Now you’re giggling!” Charles slapped Malik’s shoulder, harsh but light-hearted. Cackling, his head tilted to the back. He was like a hysterical man, experiencing too much happiness in the scene. They laughed for a few minutes, poking each other with their real names. Malik wasn’t sure if Charles had sobered up. If yes, then damn that’s fast.
Charles’ stomach grumbled. “I want grilled cheese. Order one for me, will you?”
Malik was unsure on how to order at a bar, but he watched a lot of American movies, so he should be fine. “Hey, sir?” He said almost a bit too politely to the bartender who was still clearing up the glasses. “My friend, he wants grilled cheese,” Malik also didn’t know if the bar had grilled cheese or not.
The bartender nodded. He disappeared under the counter, gathering ingredients from the cabinets.
“They have grilled cheese here?” Malik raised his eyebrow.
“Yeah. Best one yet,” Charles cooed. They started having a conversation related to cheese, which led to Charles introducing Malik to so many types of cheese.
“Cottage cheese is really versatile, but people don’t seem to realize that, you know? Terry Crews made a whole mac and cheese out of it. I haven’t tried it out yet, but I'm looking forward to it,” Charles paused for a second, “you know… you’re the only person to have ever listened to me talk about this stuff. So maybe I’ll have you over at my house for dinner? All halal, by the way, don’t worry.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure,” Malik said. The grilled cheese was done by then. The bartender slid it across the counter, and the plate was caught by Charles, right in front of him.
The smell of the dish wafted in the air. Burnt cheese.
Charles picked up the food and took a bite out of it, then dropped it back on its plate. “You know, Malik?”
Malik didn’t know how many times already had Charles said ‘you know’. “Yeah?”
Charles laid a thoughtful look on Malik, like a young boy deep in thinking, his lips pursed. “You’re not doing this for anything else, are you?”
“... what?”
“I know what you’re looking for. You’re extracting information from me. Like how you asked about my relationship with Raz. I mean, I get it… we don’t talk much. Most we’ve ever talked is during those time-wasting UN meetings,” Charles assumed.
“I’m not doing this for anyone– anything,” Malik corrected himself, “I’m here to help you, Charles.”
“I don’t need help. I already told you,” Charles rejected.
“You’re drunk.”
“I can manage myself. Just leave.” Charles looked even more depressed now. He ruffled his hair, pulled out a tissue from a box nearby and wiped his face with it.
“How will you get home?”
“Taxi, duh, don’t you know?” Charles sounded annoyed now. Was the alcohol causing him to experience mood swings? Just now, they were laughing together, conversing about cheese… but now, he’s asking Malik to leave out of the blue.
Malik blamed himself for being such a busybody. But he’s already in this mess, already meddling in with… whatever.
“I’ll call a taxi for you,” Malik offered. “It’s on me. As an… apology,” Malik didn’t know what exactly he was apologizing for. Meddling in someone’s business? Being interested in private matters? He guessed that he did feel sorry for Charles, for what happened with Raz, but unfortunately he wouldn’t be much help. Charles didn’t need someone who could listen, but he needed someone who could help him.
“It’s fine…” Charles’ hand waved at Malik, who was already dialing a number on his phone.
“Nap for a bit, will you,” Malik told him, “hello? Yes, I’d like to book a taxi… at this late hour? Yes, sorry. My friend is a little drunk right now. You can? Okay, it’s at (name of bar). Thanks, bye.” Malik hung up. “They’re coming in 15 minutes. Do you want anything from me in the meantime?”
“Why would I want anything from you?” Charles uttered dejectedly.
“You told me about Raz.”
“Um, okay. Tell me about you and Joshua,” Charles requested, “even though it isn’t comparable at all to my personal matters with Raz.”
Joshua was the countryhuman for the Republic of Singapore. The land was meant to be united with Malaysia, then something happened… which led to Singapore becoming its own country. The country quickly became a first-world country, despite coming from a third-world background.
“Well,” Malik began, “sometimes I worry that he’s going to leave me behind. It’s stupid, I know, but anything can happen, don’t you think? Even when you don’t think so. I adore him, yes. He’s sort of a little brother figure to me, and you know. I don’t mind him leaving me to become one country. Sort of like being independent. But I don’t know. I’ve always wanted him to be on his own feet, but then, there’s a… huge gap?” The words slipped out of Malik’s mouth fast, so fast even Malik couldn't control it.
“I understand what you’re trying to say. Continue,” Charles ordered.
“Right. Uhm. I think that he doesn't have much time for me anymore,” Malik confessed.
There was a pause, up until Charles began chortling.
“What’s funny?” Malik felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“My boy…” Charles tried to contain his laugh, “he ran away. Your boy, who’s growing up… don’t tell me you’re attached to him!” He howled anyway, nearly falling off his stool.
“You’re attached to Raz, Charles! I swear you are!”
“No. My boy, whenever he stands up on his feet, I become proud. But you get concerned with yours doing the same!”
“Shut up… yours is a nepo baby…”
“But–”
“The bartender’s staring, Charles,” Malik cut the other man off just as he had noticed the bartender’s stare, “uh, yeah? What’s up?”
“... I’m closing,” was the bartender’s answer. He had a British accent, but just one look, and you’re able to tell that he came from Iran.
“Oh, sorry, Mr. Bartender,” Charles said sheepishly, “we’ll get out now.”
Malik glanced at his watch. The taxi should come in six minutes. “We should get out now,” he said. Charles sobers up pretty quick, actually. Is it a countryhuman thing or something he built himself? Malik thought for a second, but then dismissed it as it shouldn’t concern him.
The two men got out of the bar, the chilly weather hitting them immediately. Malik cursed himself for not bringing a spare coat for him to wear, even though he was already wearing one. But it wasn’t enough.
“Not used to it?” Charles asked, one hand on Malik’s shoulder, trying to balance himself.
“We don’t typically have cold weather in Malaysia. Unless it rains for a few days. Monsoon problems.”
Charles hummed in response.
The taxi arrived a few minutes later. Malik slipped the taxi’s payment into Charles’ hand. The man grasped it tightly. It was only Charles who got in.
“You’re not getting in?”
Malik thought for a bit. “No,” he replied eventually, "I'm walking. Do some sightseeing.”
“Late at night?” Charles raised his eyebrow.
“Late at night, yeah.”
“All right, then,” Charles turned to tell his destination to the driver, then turned back to see Malik still standing there.
“I’ll see you soon, then. Goodnight and thank you.”
“I’ll see you too. You're welcome. Uh, goodnight.” The taxi departed. Charles didn’t stay at the temporary hotel for countryhumans during the meeting season. He had his own house nearby.
Malik didn’t know where he could go. He planned on walking aimlessly, maybe until 2 a.m.
“He’s a frequent customer,” said a posh voice. Malik spun to see the bartender, locking the bar’s door, “Your friend, he only comes when there is no one here. Or when there’s very few people, sometimes. Sits alone in the corner. When he’s not so intoxicated he talks to me sometimes. I only do, because I felt bad for him,” he zipped up the jacket he wore.
“Talk to him more,” he ordered.
Malik felt compelled. Who was this bartender? The aura he radiated felt… unreal.
“Sure,” said Malik before walking away as quickly as he could.
As he walked aimlessly through the city, past its beautiful parks and noisy late night streets, there was only one thing he could think of. How do I help Charles? He hated it. He was infuriated, mad at himself for even concerning himself with the American countryhuman’s problems. But he couldn’t stop worrying. He wondered if Charles would make it home safely. He reflected on their lengthy conversations in the bar, hopping from one topic to another. And Charles’ mood swings. Was it actually caused by the alcohol?
Where did Raz go? Malik wanted to kill himself now. That countryhuman, especially that one, just that one, shouldn’t concern him at all. He should be glad, but his disappearance had let down Charles more than ever. And Charles’ life could be on the line.
Oh, well.
He resumed walking with no proper direction, with his thoughts poking him like a needle, until it was 1.30 a.m that he decided to go back to the hotel.
–
“And so. That was what happened,” Malik sighed.
“Damn.”
The book Kanitha held was on her lap now.
“So–”
Kanitha cut him off, “Wait, I’m processing this. You mean,” she paused for a second, “The USA told you that. All of that.”
“Sort of.”
Kanitha’s lips were pursed, her eyes shut. She opened them, and asked “So what do you plan on doing now?”
Malik shrugged. “Sleep, I guess. I’m tired.” He got up, put on his songkok, and said “I’m leaving, ya? Goodnight, Kanitha.”
“Goodnight, Malik.”
“How much longer do you plan to stay down here?”
“Until I get tired,” Kanitha smiled.
“Mhm,” He nodded. Malik went to the lift area and pushed the up button. A lift opened its doors. He entered and chose the third floor button.
Maybe, I’ll stop worrying by tomorrow. He pondered in the lift, his legs almost giving up.
He only wanted his bed now.