Refugee Prison Break

Chapter 5

My field of study was civil engineering. During first year, we covered the basics of fluid flow, soil behavior, and structural analysis. It was hard work, and by the end of the second semester, I was looking forward to a long break.

Contrary to my expectations, Bas had remained in California. That meant I was due to go and see him. My parents covered most of my living expenses, but if I wanted to go travelling, I had to finance myself. I got a job with a construction company as a CAD assistant, and everyday after lectures, I spent three hours at my computer detailing steel reinforcement in concrete. It was menial, but by the time holidays came, I could afford to fly to California.

I wasn't sure what to expect. According to the Hollywood image of America, everyone lived in huge houses with double garages and well watered yards. Did Bas live that way? From the few video calls we had had, his room looked smaller and darker than the one he grew up in.

Bas met me off my flight. He had cut his hair, and he was looking healthy.

"You haven't changed a bit!" he told me.

"You look like you've been sun bathing!"

We rode the local metro to his place in Fruitvale. As we passed a cluster of tents pitched under a freeway-flyover, I told him, "Your mother is worried you'll end up homeless and on the streets."

"She worries too much."

"How, exactly, are you supporting yourself?" I asked.

"This and that... Plus, you know how frugal I am."

"You're not breaking any laws, are you?"

"Hey, I invited you here and not a member of my family because I was hoping to avoid these kinds of questions!" Bas slapped me on the shoulder. "Let's just enjoy each other's company. It's so good to see you!"

I didn't press Bas on the matter, but it was informative to see the bungalow he lived in (compact, but well maintained), and he couldn't conceal the fact he was working at a Malaysian restaurant washing dishes. Meeting him at the end of a shift, he explained, "I love this café. With the food and the people, it feels a bit like home."

"Do you miss home?"

"Do I miss it? Of course! I miss it so much. But, Lan-Lan, I don't have a choice."

"What do you mean you don't have a choice? You absolutely have one!" I retorted.

"If I go back, I'll have to spend the rest of my life pretending to be straight, or otherwise hiding my sexuality. I'll be that uncle who never found the right girl, or the one who still lives with his 'friend' at forty. I knew a couple back in Penang that had been together for thirty years. They kept separate bedrooms in case a relative came around! Can you imagine? The ideal situation... You know, Lan-Lan, I wish I could transplant the attitudes towards gay people here over to Malaysia. That would be perfect. Oh, and have Ernesto come with me."