Friday dinner with the family.

“Hi Firdy!” she arrived with a smile, waved with her right hand, took a big turn in her red dress, skipping twenty other people and hugged me.

“I miss and i love you.” I didn’t say it out loud, but i showed it with a warm hug and a subtle kiss on her cheek.

“Look what Anna Suraya did, she go all the way to Firdauz and hug him,” said Nicholas to the rest of the people from the same table.

With the lips still shaped the warmest smile, Anna Suraya greeted the few people around me before she went back to sitting next to Nicholas, in a long table that gathered 22 people, in a restaurant that had a huge painting of God and Adam touching their fingertips painted on the wall, in the ambience of a candlelit dinner.

It was a family dinner, celebrating Stewie’s birthday with a cake and a song sang full-heatedly by the family members, whistled maybe half-heartedly by the restaurant crews, and perhaps some honest cheering from the crowd.

“So you’re the famous Firdauz!” I sat next to a person whom i never met, maybe had bumped into and perhaps had crossed paths before, but never properly introduced .

“I am, I am! Faster give me a kiss!” I raised the stainless steel cutlery up in the air with my right hand, lifted my pride up in the sky with a self compliment, lowered my moral values to at least to the bottom of my shoes of which perhaps had the highest germ counts in this restaurant. Perhaps.

“So you’re the sweet guy!” What i had lowered, she lifted it back. Her name was Kimberly, the girl who sat beside me whose face was glowing brighter than those candles in front of us, curiously wanting to know if i were the guy who many referred to as the famous Firdauz – the sweet jerk who puts his family close to his chest but claws them cruelly as much, because he believes love should wildly hurt on the surface but delicately be restored at the bottom of one’s heart.

“No no no no, Kimberly. He wrote that sweet letter to me because he was looking after a lunch date! He was using my blog, using it to link to his blog in the comment!” What Kimberly had raised beyond the heaven in which God breathes life into Adam’s fingertip, Anna Suraya brought it back to the bottom of my shoes. She was a mean person who won’t let me have my 5 second fame.

“I hate Anna Suraya!” I should have said this out loud, but instead, i joined them laughing at me. In fact, i started to laugh first and they just followed. Pride on Anna Suraya’s face to have blown the cover of my deceitful intent. If the painting of God and Adam on the restaurant’s wall were mortal, i think they would have laughed harder than we had and probably won’t stop laughing at my life. I hated the painting on the wall too.

I hated everything, everything in this restaurant.

“How was your meal Sir?” asked the local waitress who addressed me as if i was from Great Britain.

“I think it’s a bit too dry, can i have more olive oil please?” I forgot my age, i forgot the manners, i forgot to lie a little. I was an angry child who seriously hated his meal, hated everyone, stopped talking to anyone and took too long to stomach his meal until there were people who noticed it.

“Wah, you eat so slow ah Firdauz?” That was from Waffle, the guy who shared the same name as the birthday boy.

“Looks like you’re struggling to finish your meal. Is it not to your liking?” That was from Suanie.

And Suanie liked to scold me.

“Damn man, it’s Sue-A-Nie, not Sue-Ann-Nie,” other than cursing me, she liked surfing pornographic websites too, and shared the best one with the birthday boy.

“Go to http…, shhh shhh.. keep it low,” She recommended a website, and the birthday boy touched the screen of his iPhone to check out them naked ladies.

“It’s better than playboy, i never liked playboy.” Suanie forgot about the painting of God behind her. Exactly behind her.

“Your hair, your hair, your hair.” I got this from everyone. From KY to the Kung-fu Cat to the i’m-so-lazy-to-list-them-down, practically everyone had poked fun at my hair. And by poking, i meant some of them had really poked their fingers into my hair to test if i ever change my facial expression.

Me on the other hand, i poked my fingers into the melted candle and played with the soft wax.

“You’re like a child la, play with that thing,” Kimberly had learnt it from Suanie i guess. I didn’t quite understand though, why everyone had to scold me.

I then took my camera, and just spent some quality time with it. Ignoring the world.

“How long since you bought this camera,” Waffle asked.

“About a month, eh, about 2-3 months like that,” i answered.

“Looks like you just bought it yesterday.” I wasn’t so sure whether that was Waffle or it was my father who actually possessed his conscience, or to have at least whispered to his ears.

But Kimberly was sweet, for a while, when she helped me took the picture of my fingers with the hardened wax.

“Why you use the cloth to cover the camera?” I asked because i thought she hated my camera.

“So that the flash wouldn’t be too bright.” Click. She took the picture.

“It’s nice, i like it.” I thanked her. Kimberly was 4 years younger than me. But she knew a lot more than i did. I used “cloth” to refer to the napkin, she never corrected me like she corrected everyone about the vegetable soup that we had. It was called “minestrone” according to her.

According to her, and according to the rest of 21 other people of that night, there were probably too many moments that were shared among us. I loved every bit of it and glad that it was a family dinner that brought the meaning to our meal. That brought the meaning to the cake, to the birthday song that we sang together. True, there were gifts, balloons, cute little bears, flowers and cards wishing happy birthdays, but it was this family dinner that stimulated sight and softened many hearts.

Happy birthday Stewie. Will always love you.