It was this that kept Marina going, and when she was back in the back alleys of Chow Kit, giving a blow job to an Indonesian construction worker who smelled of concrete, cigarettes and sweat, she knew that Mr Ferrari would be there again next week, and the week after next, waiting for her.

* * *

Marina had been ill so I went to see her in Chow Kit. I brought her herbal chicken soup from a Chinese restaurant in PJ. It came in a clear plastic bag inside a larger pink plastic bag. Alba insisted on carrying it as we walked back to the car.

I want carry, she said. I want.

We had not seen each other in months and she whooped with joy when she saw Alba.

Aduh, so besar. She’s growing up too fast!

Alba started singing twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are, up above the sky to high, like a … like a…

Diamond!

…diamond…

In the sky…twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are.

We clapped along with her, her chubby arms and fingers waving in glee. She was dressed in a flowery dress from Bali, with alternate layers of blue and white, the kind that all parents bought from the street-side shops in Ubud or Kuta or Seminyak. It was a gift from Sumi and Fairman, who’d gone there for their honeymoon. Three sets in different colours and motifs. One formal, one for playing and another for a day out. This was the day-out dress, with multiple dolphins, frolicking in a cottony blue sea.

I’d only been to Marina’s flat once before. It was a floor up in a shophouse, in between a brothel on the third floor and her friend Kak Min’s flat. She still shared it with her two trans housemates from Sabah, who were also from seaside villages. I spotted new curtains: they weren’t the same faded batik sarongs. The kitchen table was also new, with a pink table cloth and a vase of plastic flowers in the middle. The couch was the same, with the pronounced dip in the middle, but the television was a larger version of the previous one.

Marina walked to the kitchen and I followed her. She unpacked the soup and slowly poured it into a bowl. She was sniffling and blew her nose loudly on a tissue. She turned to look at me. Her eyes were watery and her nose pink.

I feel so teruk, she said. This flu is terrible.

Yeah, sorry but I won’t stay long then, don’t want Alba to get sick.

Thanks for the soup, darls… yummy!

Marina took another sip from the bowl and cleared her throat. I need to get back to work, can’t take another day off. She held the bowl with both hands and drank all the soup in one long gulp. Aaah, I needed that. Thanks so much, darls.