by Nuril Basri
“Hans?”
“What are you doing here?” Now his friends are all
looking too.
“I-I’m working here, now,” I say. I never expected to see him here even though there was always the possibility—it is not so far from where his top-up counter is.
“You’re not working at the embassy anymore?” he asks.
“No,” I say. And quickly I look around the table. “Any more orders?” None of them answer.
“What happened?” Hans asks, insistent. He doesn’t know he’s humiliating me. People are starting to stare, Hans’ face is full of concern, and here I am standing with my hair like barbed wire. It’s all too much drama. I don’t take care of myself anymore, no more hair irons or L’Oreal shampoo, not even lipstick during work. I look like a domestic maid. I don’t care.
“Nothing happened. I like working here,” I say and turn
to leave.
He keeps quiet. Then he calls after me, “I’ll wait for you after work, ya?”
“No need. My husband will pick me up,” I reply. I don’t know why I said that.
I hurry back into the kitchen and I hide. There, in safety, I try very hard not to cry. Triandini, one of the restaurant workers, asks how I am.
“Who’s that? Are you okay?”
“My ex. It’s nothing, I just didn’t expect to meet him here.”
“You stay here,” Triandini says. “I’ll deal with the tables.”
I nod, slowly. I don’t want to see Hans anymore, I don’t know why. I’ve arrived at the conclusion that I should forget men. Even him. I’m learning to enjoy myself and I don’t want anybody interfering. I want to become somebody new. If I don’t, the wounds in me will never heal. And, anyway, I keep seeing Astrid’s terrible defiant stare. I’m so sick of bothering with the two of them. Why did he have to come here?
I stay in the kitchen for the rest of the evening. At 9pm, at the end of my shift, I pack some rice and meat for my dinner, and I leave.
It is already long dark. Typical of Thamrin and its many rental houses, there are still many people about, still in their office attire, heading home. They walk in groups, chatting, they hang around in roadside eateries and relax, they unwind.
Suddenly I feel as if I’m being followed. I feel like running, but I stop, steel myself and shout: “Stop following me!”
It’s Hans. “Your husband didn’t get you?” he asks.
“He’s coming later. None of your business,” I say, continuing on, still a little shaken. I thought it was a pickpocket or a perv.
“If he’s picking you up, why are you walking towards your rental?” Hans points out, trying to match my pace.
“My business.”
“You changed your phone number? I couldn’t reach you
at all.”
“I sold my phone.”
“What? Why?”
“No reason.” Curt.
“You changed jobs, sold your phone. Now you’re back at your rental. You don’t try to get in touch. What’s up with you?”
So I spin around.
“I got divorced! You happy?” I shout in his face.
Hans stands there, nailed to the spot. His eyes go dim and his annoyed expression fades. I see him racked with emotion—fear, shock and joy?
“Good,” he says, smiling, his teeth in a neat straight line.
“Good?”
“Ya, good,” he says, taking my hand. “Now we just have to wait for that pregnant woman to have her baby, and we can be together again.”
At this my chest quivers. “W-what do you mean?”
“Isn’t this what we want? This was our plan from the beginning or do you not want it, anymore?” he says.
My eyes catch fire and I feel a heat in my body.
“I-I, I, I do,” I stammer.
Of course I want to be with Hans again. I’d be stupid if I didn’t! That Astrid, oh, she needs to be taught a lesson. She tore us apart. Now it’s my turn to make her suffer!
“You serious?” I ask him. I need to be certain.
And he nods. I see his smile, the sides of his eyes, creasing. Right there in the middle of the street I hug him. Hold him tight. Then I start to cry. I sob into his chest.
That night I bring Hans back to my room and I tell him everything, even about how evil Astrid treated me. Lala spies us sitting close together, on the sofa by the balcony, but she doesn’t say a word. I am happy, yes I am. Because suddenly now there is hope for me again. Ya, Hans and I will be together. And everything will go back to the way it was and should always have been.
The next few days are better for me. Hans comes by the restaurant often to buy food. We don’t get to chat much because I’m working. He gets me an ugly Esia phone. It works well enough. Triandini asks whether Hans and I made up. I smile in reply.
Behind Astrid’s back, Hans and I are seeing each other again. We text, chat on the phone and meet at my place. That gives me satisfaction. So much satisfaction. Mwahaha-type satisfaction. I start looking after my hair again. I even start wearing powder on my face. It crosses my mind—Hans and I, us cheating, I hope Astrid finds out. Like Inu did. It will hurt her so much.
And then I wonder: how much was Inu hurt, when he found out? Ah, I need to stop thinking about him. If I do, I won’t stop crying. Inside I still miss him. But hoping to get him back…that is just stupidity.
*
It’s strange the way time passes. Slow when I feel bad, so fast when I’m happy. And lately I’ve been very happy. One: I’m back with Hans. Two: I’m learning so much in the kitchen. It’s been two months since I left Inu’s house and I barely notice. Inu never once tries to get in touch with me. He’s forgotten about me, obviously. Damn him. Maybe his contract with Mother expired. He was just a paid body, after all. I was stupid to fall in love with him.
Actually, lately, I’ve been feeling unwell. As if there’s something not quite right in my body. I feel achy, light-headed, and sometimes my body feels heavy. I don’t know why. Exhaustion? So today I ask for leave from the restaurant owner. “You better come back to work as soon as you’re better,” she warns me. “Else I’ll get Triandini to come by and throw fish guts at you.” She’s joking about that last bit, of course. But I promise to come back. I love working there, after all.
That evening I head to the Tanah Abang kiosks to see Hans. I’d promised to spend today with him. We’re often out together. But this will be the first time we’re spending the whole day at his phone counter, just the two of us. Ah, I can just imagine the shenanigans we’ll get up to. Secretly kissing under the counter, with customers in the stall maybe? How thrilling!
But those moments of passion are not to be because something happens within minutes of my getting there. Hans gets a call from his wife. That damn pregnant Astrid, she’s screaming over the line, even I can hear her from where I’m standing. Hans’ face changes to shock.
He holds his phone and says, faintly: “Astrid’s water broke.”
“When? Now?” My mouth gapes open.
“Ya.”
We look at each other, like two wrestlers sizing each
other up.
“Oh God, go, go, go!” I shout at him. I don’t know why. Hans steps back, startled. There isn’t much space behind the counter, he spins around and trips on me. He tries to put on his jacket and his shoes at the same time. He wants to run, just like that.
“Hey. Money! You got the money?” I yell as he darts out of the kiosk.
He darts back in, grabs the entire cash drawer. Then he runs back out.
“Your bike keys! Wallet!” I scream at him.
He comes back, grabs his stuff. He’s all panicked, that’s understandable, but why am I panicking too?
“Watch the shop? If you get bored, just close up,” he says, shaking.
I nod three times. “Careful,” I say and I see him start his bike. He doesn’t turn back to me, not once.
And when he’s gone, suddenly I’m hit by a sensation. What is this feelin
g? Is it joy?
Yes! Joy!
Oh God, that pregnant woman will pop her baby out and finally the one thing tying Hans to her will disappear. Hooray! For nine months we were separated by her pregnant belly. Now we will be reunited. Oh little baby, hurry up and come out.
You can’t imagine how powerful this feeling is. I feel like giving everything in the shop away, free of charge—come one, come all, get your free top-ups! (Of course I don’t do it. Not my counter.) I hope Astrid’s baby comes out quickly and then my suffering will end. Done. Full stop.
*
I shut the kiosk. It’s very quiet after Hans leaves, maybe because it is my face behind the counter, not his. I return to my room and try to reach Hans. He doesn’t answer my calls. I imagine Hans holding on to Astrid’s hand as she screams in labour. I decide to send him a text. It doesn’t take him long to respond.
Baby hasn’t come yet. When it does I’ll call you.
No call comes. Night falls and at 11pm I begin to feel sleepy, even though Lala’s chattering away in my ear about how her boyfriend’s going out of town and she’ll be alone for three months. I go to bed.
At about 2am, I wake up with a start, gasping. My phone is ringing. It must be Hans. I answer.
“It’s a boy,” he says. No hello, nothing.
“Oh, a boy? So it’s over?” I say, half-awake, half-dreaming.
“Ya, just finished. Healthy, it’s a boy,” he says again. His voice is shaking, shaking very hard. I can feel delight and triumph like a wave, coming from his voice, through the call and into my ear. It hits me and wakes me up. I imagine the grin he must be wearing and I can’t help but grin, too.
“Haha, yay, hooray,” I say. Nothing else I can say.
Hans laughs freely. And then he falls quiet. I hear him sniffle, snort. “I’m a father,” he says, in quiet ecstasy. And something in that tone is like a bucket of ice, poured into the pit of my stomach.
“Congratulations,” I say, low.
“Ya, thank you, I’ve got to go, I want to hold the baby.”
The line cuts off, just like that. I set my ugly Esia phone down on the side table and I fling myself back into bed. I cover my face with a pillow. Argh.
The next few days are very hard for me to endure. I cannot reach Hans at all. No calls, no texts. His phone is always off. I want to see him and give him a slap. I want to remind him that I’m here, still waiting for him. Still waiting on all the things he promised me. Needing those things. Needing our two-year relationship to finally bear fruit. Damn that Hans! What the hell is he doing?
That evening I am desperate to leave the restaurant. I want to check on Hans at his top-up counter. He’ll be there, surely. I’m sure of it. It’s his wife who gave birth. He still has to work. It’s been three weeks since the baby was born. I’ve been patient enough, waiting all this while. But when I sneak out and into the side alley, Triandini follows me.
“What?” I snap at her.
“Where are you going? The restaurant’s still open.”
“I’ve got some stuff to do. Can you tell the boss? Tell her I’m sick,” I say.
“What’s wrong with you?” she barks.
I sigh and finally I tell her the crux of my big problem—minus the bits about marrying Inu, of course. Triandini now knows that my boyfriend had to get married to some girl he got pregnant. She doesn’t know I married Inu in revenge, but then fell in love with him and then got divorced, and that now I’m hoping to get back with Hans. If Triandini knew the whole story she’d probably think I’m some sort of confused, deceitful tramp. So let her have the edited version.
She follows me to Tanah Abang. We take a Bajaj, and from inside it we peek out and spy on Hans’ phone kiosk. It’s dumb. People usually do surveillance from cool cars with tinted windows, and here we are in this battered, noisy thing. It’s difficult. But it pays off, because a Bajaj is actually good camouflage. It blends in with the area. I can watch Hans from close by, I don’t even need binoculars.
He’s not alone. His wife, pregnant Astrid—who’s not pregnant anymore—she’s there, too. She has that horrible little creature in her arms. She wears braces. I wonder whether her baby wears braces, too.
“Oh, so that’s the wife and the baby?” Triandini asks me.
I nod.
“You want to go after them now?”
“I do. Really do. I want to tell that damn girl that Hans promised me he’d divorce her when the baby was born.”
“You sure?” Triandini says.
“I’m sure. Hans promised. He should keep his promise.”
“And once he’s divorced, what will you do?”
“Marry him. I want to marry Hans,” I insist.
“What about his wife?”
“Not my business. She was the one who stole him from me. Take that, bitch.”
“The baby?”
“Not my business, either,” I say, less sure.
We stay hidden for a long time. I watch Hans and Astrid take turns carrying the baby, rocking it, making cute faces at it. The three-week-old baby couldn’t possibly understand anything. I’m not sure why the both of them are so happy, so pleased with themselves. Ceh! I keep watching them. In the end the Bajaj guy clears his throat loudly and very rudely and I return to reality.
“If you want to go after them, let’s go now,” Triandini says.
“You know something?” I say, at last. “I’ll just do this some other time.”
“Aw, why?” She’s surprised.
“Not in the mood,” I say, detached. I ask the Bajaj guy to turn back the way we came. I’m really, really not in the mood. Not after I’ve seen the expression on Hans’ face.
*
Exactly a week after that, as the baby turns a month old, Hans comes by my room in the evening, after I’m back from work. Something’s changed. It’s plain on his face. I’ve never seen that look before. His lip quivers when he sees me standing at the door.
“Why are you here?” I ask, a little nastily.
“I-I, wanted to talk.” His eyes dart here and there nervously. His nostrils puff and deflate. It took him a month before he could face me. What was he thinking?
“No need to talk about anything, I don’t want to talk to you!” I am yelling. I yell so loud the other tenants must’ve heard. I make to shut the door but he gets in the way.
“Why?” he asks.
“Boys who mess girls around like you disgust me,” I say, looking at him head to toe.
Hans doesn’t reply, at first. It’s as if he’s shocked. “Why are you saying that?”
“Enough. I’ve had it with you. I wasted two years of my life with you. All you knew to do was cheat on me! If you got work you could never keep it. Had to depend on me, leech off me. Look, I’m bankrupt now, because of you!” I snort at him. “Go be a useless loser somewhere else.”
Hans goes red. He opens his mouth: “I…”
“Enough. Just shut up. You think I was happy, being with you? I was never happy with you! I’m sick of waiting for you. All those empty promises. From the beginning you told me you wanted to marry me. Where’s the damn proof? Empty words. Always sweet-talking me. And in the end you went and knocked up some girl!” I’m spitting now. “What girl can stand for this? Ah, sorry, okay? I’m not going to be stupid anymore. Goodbye. It’d be crazy for me to want to be married to you, I’ll just be cheated on left and right. I can’t even imagine what living with you would be like.” I fold my arms and I look away.
Hans is still quiet.
“Thanks for all the memories! Our story ends here. I don’t want to be cheated by a handsome but rotten good-for-nothing like you anymore. Immature, cheating, spineless layabout bum!”
“Shut your mouth!” he shouts.
“Hey, don’t you dare raise your voice at me! This is my place! You’re not welcome here,” I tell him. “You shut your mouth.”
And now there are faces appearing from behind doors, blinking, staring, curious. Lala comes out and
leans against a wall. Everybody is watching us. Good. Let everybody see.
“You listen to me. I don’t want anything more to do with you. I don’t want to see you again. Game over for us! You better go, before I call the landlord. You want me to call the cops? Huh?”
Hans is still standing there, his face carved from ice, slowly melting—melting into a volcano. His stare bores into me. And I lift my chin up, challenging him. I’m done playing now.
“Go now. You understand me? And, by the way, I’ve got somebody new! Better, more stable, more independent,” I say. “Doesn’t need to live off me. Doesn’t owe people money.” I grin, mocking.
Hans stares, eyes filled with rage—and also glinting, teary.
“Go!”
He doesn’t move.
“Go! You disgust me! You trash!” I scream, pointing at the gate, full of hatred.
I see that his hands are shaking. I just know that those hands will be flung at me. I will shut my eyes. In a moment I will feel his hand’s impact on my face. Okay. I can take this. If I am knocked unconscious there will be people to help me. Lala will definitely have some cajeput oil to wake me up—she’s got a full medicine drawer.
Hans still does nothing, but I know he will hit me. I look at his face again. I will myself to spit on it. Suddenly he moves. He moves at me. I close my eyes and turn away. I will try to take his hit, so it doesn’t hurt me so much. I knit my brows and tense my body. I squeeze my tears out. Oh, here it comes, I’m ready. Ready. Come on…come on…
And…
PLAK!
(But, no. Nothing. The slap was only my imagination.)
I feel nothing on my cheek. Not even the gust of movement, of somebody catching Hans’ hand just before it could connect with me. No, nobody came to save me. Hans could’ve done anything he wanted. But he didn’t.
Fearful, I open my eyes. Hans is in front of me. He is very close. And then he wraps his arms around me. Holds me tight, until I can hear his strangled sobbing. He pulls my face from his chest. Then kisses me on my forehead.
For a while I am silent. Staring at him, at his changed expression. He has changed. I knew it from the start. We stare at each other. Then I come to my senses.