I've never yet had the motivation to write about what happened in Cambodia. But being in bed and sick made me miss this one particular Uncle that were with us as volunteers over there.
He is called Uncle K. Literally.
So, I have no idea why, but he adores me greatly.
I didn't notice it at first. When we were doing preparations for the trip, he remembered my name and often cared if whether I have eaten yet or what not. He is always always with a video cam in his hand. And recording us volunteers, he often calls my name to make me look at the camera.
Whenever I did something good, he praises me like I've did something incredible. Like when I was assigned to cleanup the place where they slaughter the cows, he goes on and on about how great I'm doing and why this is the reason he adored me.
It was strange. I felt awkward honestly. But you learn to get used to it.
Almost every morning, this Uncle K would make me whatever drink I want. If I wanted a mineral water, he'd open it up for me. If I wanted a chocolate drink, he'd go ahead and make it for me.
It was comfortable. Until people start talking about us.
See, Uncle K isn't married yet. But he is the age of my father. And though he is a bit on the good looking side, he still is the age of my father.
He gave me money one day, when I wanted to borrow 2usd to buy some prepaid Cambodian number. I wanted 2usd, but he gave me almost 20usd.
Next is when I wanted to buy something but haven't changed the Malaysian money to usd yet. So, I asked him to lend me about 10usd. As always, generously, he gave me 20usd and told me to keep it.
I was baffled but I went on anyway. Because, well, I'll pay him later.
When we finished our shopping spree, I saw Uncle K around the Central Market and said hi. He asked me what I bought and what not, then we small talk. He then looked at my plastic bag and insisted greatly on holding it for me.
I refused a lot of times until I finally gave in. It WAS heavy anyway.
Up till now, though he asked for my number, he never called to ask about how I'm doing. Unlike some other Auntie who said she misses my voice and called. She even went so far as to ask someone else my phone number.
And now that I'm in bed, feeling feverish and just sick, I miss being treated so caringly by Uncle K.
It gets to a point where I wonder all alone, in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
If you know that someone is going to treat you right, why does age matters when it comes to marriage?
