"Two Double choc and a sunny egg tuna, please. Americano regular, no sugar. Thank you."
Sullen faced, the girl repeated his orders and slid the counter window shut. He hoped she heard and paid heed to his "no sugar" request. A whole cup wasted the last time he passed through the same outlet. He chose to alternate between Brother Don's drive-through and a roadside food stall for his daily breakfast treat. Pricing was almost at par anyway, although the Brother's coffee was far superior in pushing him past the early morning lethargy.
"Donuts. Sunny sandwich and coffee. No sugar. Eight ninety, thank you."
Accompanied by a smile. Forced, but there it was. He returned her smile, passed on two notes, told her to keep the change. The packet he placed on the passenger's seat, the nicely warm cup into the middle console cup holder besides his tag. Its lanyard went around the rectangular card twice, obscuring the words printed on it.
He drove off, slowing down just slightly at the turning, expecting no other vehicles and, seeing none, pressed the accelerator as the pickup lurch ahead into the main road; a single lane each side divided by drawn white lines that had seen better days. Propping his right elbow on the armrest, Arman Shah Junaid softly spoke his prayers for journeying. Three times just like his late dad used to do.
Still didn't save dad. Or mom.
A heart attack nine years ago caused his father to veer his car into incoming traffic and ramming a station wagon driven by a farmer. The latter's wife died at the scene, maimed their son seated at the back. The press reported a miracle for the farmer who staggered from the double wreckage with only cuts and bruises.
Nobody could tell him when his parents died. The official response was "at the scene" according to the forensics people who consoled him, He had arrived at the Batu Pahat hospital morgue five hours after the accident. Call came in late to him.
A cool breeze brushed Arman's goatee, which he grew in his late father's memory. He often wondered if he could ever be like his father. Dad was the head Imam of the mosque in the suburb where his parents had settled down. A civil service early retiree, Junaid Shaheed Abdullah made the previously quiet and somber mosque into a veritable hub of activities. Helped established a community center for the old and the young.
His son? Arman settled at fulfilling whatever rituals were compulsory, nothing more, nothing less.
Feeling a spate of solemnity descending, he switched on the radio, heard a hiss of statics. Grunted as he changed to cd. Immediately, Simply Red's Mick Hucknall belted out "Remembering the First Time." A bitter smile formed on Arman's lips. It was a song his dad would undoubtedly not approve. He loved it. Hummed along where there was just music. Joined the singer during chorus.
Hucknall was recalling the first time he made love when Arman's pickup arrived at the main entrance of the Bahagia Hospital where he worked.
How quaint, he thought. Being able to be making carefree love while the rest of the population were slogging to meet their debtors' monthly expectations and the usual sustenance of the mind and body.
Very philosophical, Arman.
Morning thoughts, he grimaced as an oncoming trailer rumbled passed seconds after he turned into the hospital's main road. He drove passed a dark, empty unmanned security booth. The parked motorcycle beside it meant Singam Muthusamy, the resident security guard, was probably snoozing inside, his walkie talkie a silent companion on the counter probably.
Or he could be doing his rounds of the area. Yeah. Right.
Arman was minutes from the staff parking lots when he saw Singam crouching, a torchlight in his hand. Shining its beams towards what looked like a small breach in the fencing erected around the hospital's perimeter. He looked up and raised a hand to Arman.
Feeling a flush in his cheeks, Arman honked a soft one acknowledging the security personnel he had just sullied. Made a note in his mind to ask Singam for details as it did look like the fencing needed repairs after all.
Wasn't an easy task to secure the hospital, especially with their budget allowing for only two in-house guards. A semi-public hospital, the government expects Bahagia Hospital to generate its own income. There is an annual grant enough to cover the basic operational and medical expenses. Security wasn't something of priority, but with good reasons.
The hospital stood on three hectares of lush, green landscape. Its main building a four-story tall mansion with smaller satellite wards branching to the north, east and west of its sides. Well-tended mini gardens between each ward provided serene layoff and recreational zones for patients, visitors and staff alike.
Arman found a vacant parking spot and slotted in the pickup's engine. He stayed inside and finished his cup of coffee. One could see the reception desk through the double-side opening tinted glass doors of the main building. A modern-day inclusion to the building painted in white. Its Melayanese architectural features made Arman mistake it for an actual mansion when he first went there.
The sprawling lobby was empty when he walked in, its silence a sweet comfort to Arman. The ticking of a large grandfather clock standing at the wall near the empty reception counter the only sound he could hear.
Where's the night staff?
Spying a partially opened pantry door, Arman gave a small cough. A man - tall, medium built, skull cap on his head, hair cropped short – came out.
"Morning, Din. Typical night?"
"Morning, Arman. As always."
"Our patients gave you any problems?"
"Nope. Just the usual suspects. At least Puan Norma slept much better this week since we included soft music inside her room. Did you get me anything?"
"Sandwich. Tuna on eggs and mayo."
"If I have a daughter, I'd take you as my son in law," said the male nurse, grinning as he took the pack from Arman's hand.
"You have one and she's already married. End of story."
"Exactly what I said. Hah! I'm too old to have another so you are so out of luck. Unless she…"
"Don't you start, Din. You have a good son in law."
"Just saying, Arman. Just saying. God work his wonders in the most miraculous ways."
"Yeah, I know. What time is Sam coming in to relieve you?"
"Should be coming in soon. He texted me just now about being slightly delayed. Don't worry. I'll stay a bit longer to start the place up."
"Thanks, Din. Appreciate it. You enjoy the meal, all right?"
Arman walked past the counter towards a glass door carrying the signboard, "Staff Only", and stepped into a smaller hallway. Three doors on each side. None were occupied yet. His room was the second on the left. The only one without the prefix "Dr." in front of the occupants' names.
Four years now and still trying hard.
Leaving his bag inside the room, Arman went to the shared toilet. A particular routine of his was to arrive the earliest. He took his ablutions and returned to his room. Once you closed the door, only the loudest noise would disturb anyone inside as the hills in the distant lit up with the waking sunlight morning gaze and the surrounding area coming alive.
****
Khairuddin Zakaria watched the young administrative officer step into the hallway housing the offices of the facility. He opened the pack Arman had handed him, smiled when he saw the piece of donut inside. Trust it upon Arman to always have something extra in everything he does. The reception console monitor's digital clock showed quarter to seven. Another 45 minutes or so before the bulk of the hospital staff would be arriving.
Life at the hospital picks up around only when the wards opened. When the pantry opens and served the morning tea. Sometimes with cakes, most time with wheat crackers. When those able go through their daily exercise routines. Din remembered with great relief he would be on day shift the following week, having done nights the whole month.
He wondered if Arman somehow suspected he has not been doing his ward rounds of late. That he had been staying inside the pantry most of the nights. Cocooned inside four walls and a single entrance providing a comforting fortress from the snaking corridors and shadowy corners of the huge mansion.
He bit into the sandwich, the freshness of the tuna inviting further bites. A hint of staleness caused him to pause. An underlying rancidity assailed him.
Din stared at the pack, placed the unfinished bun on the counter. His thoughts returned to Arman. Sometimes, he wished the young man could be a meaner administrator and would confront him about performing without fail the task of checking their guests every two hours.
Not that he was a laggard. Din prided himself of earning his keep by doing all required of him when he joined the then-newly opened hospital two decades ago. He remembers still the grand opening. A Minister was around to cut a pink ribbon, allowed some pigeons to take flight and then took a tour of the spanking new facilities to house and care those with ailing minds. The initial plan was for a core strength of three male nurses, two security guard and a medical officer during the night shifts. With less than 30 overnight beds, the smallish numbers were deemed ample.
The sunlight had begun to peep into the lobby, casting elongated shadows when Din saw the main doors opening and Sam Jamel walking in, hair flattened into the shape of his safety helmet. The newcomer had a huge smile on his face.
"So happy, Sam? No time to greet me, eh?"
"Ha ha. Of course I'm happy. My Lily is going to Perma Sensa after all. She got the job. Finally!" replied Sam, walking into the reception counter, "Eh? You still want that? Can I have it? Hungry loh…."
Din looked at his friend pointing to the sandwich bun on top of the counter. Unwrapped.
Didn't I have a bite just now?
He then tasted a horrid staleness on the tip of his tongue. Tasted like iron.
Din turned to face Sam and then back at the wrapper. Beads of sweat appeared in his brow as he stood up and rushed into the pantry. He spat into the sink, expecting to see a big glob of life-giving blood, but there was nothing. Just his saliva. He gargled a cup of water and spat a second time. Again, there was nothing.
"Din? Are you okay, man?"
Sam was beside him, hand patting his back.
"No. Sam. I'm not. I think I'm losing my mind."