Paper Boats

by Lestari, Dee

  “Let me introduce you. This is my little sister, Kugy.” Karel pushed her forward.

  “I’m Remigius,” he said in a friendly tone as he shook her hand. “You can call me Remi.”

  Karel shook his head. “No, no. That’s too informal.”

  Remi gave a low laugh. “Just Remi,” he insisted. “Please.”

  Kugy smiled. “I’m Kugy.”

  “Thank you so much for this opportunity,” said Karel. “Hopefully she won’t be too much of an embarrassment.”

  “She’s one of the K Family, isn’t she?” Remi laughed. “I have faith in her.” He turned to Kugy. “Your resume looks very good, and you’ve come at just the right time.”

  “Really?” she said.

  “We have a lot to do—new projects, media campaigns, the works. One thing’s for sure, you’ll be busy right off the bat.” Remi spoke breezily. “Come on. You can start right away. I’ll introduce you to the different teams.”

  Kugy’s palms were sweating. The university campus, her boarding house, the Sakola Alit—she could see them so clearly, as if everything had happened only yesterday. Now she was embarking on something entirely new. Just then, Kugy wished she could fly back to Bandung.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE WORLD STILL TURNS

  September 2002

  Kugy couldn’t believe she had made it through her first month at AdVocaDo. Because she had graduated so recently, she was dubbed “the new kid.” Her team was headed by a creative director who was also supervising several other projects, and an art director named Siska and a senior copywriter named Iman made up the rest of its members.

  While the lower level of the building belonged to accounting, the creative department occupied the second floor. And while the ambience of the first floor was more orderly and the people there more neatly dressed, the second floor was lively, rowdy, and more chaotic. Kugy worked on the second floor, occupying a corner cubicle with a computer and a desk.

  Remi was right. She was incredibly busy right off the bat. Every few moments, someone new appeared from behind the cubicle partition. “Can you scan these?” they would ask, handing her a pile of drawings. “Can you photocopy these?” they would ask, handing her a pile of documents. “Can you cut out all the marked drawings for a storyboard?” they would ask, handing her a pile of magazines and a small pair of scissors. Kugy felt the only job she hadn’t been given yet was to make coffee or tea, and that was only because those were the duties of the office boy and office girl. Sometimes, Kugy felt more like a senior office girl than a junior copywriter.

  The hours were unpredictable. The office boy and office girl left at six, but Kugy sometimes had to stay until eleven—longer if there was a client presentation coming up, though when it came time to give the presentation, she was never asked to join.

  Whenever she returned home, Kugy faced a barrage of questions from her family, who were excited about her new job. “How’s work going? Do you like it?” “Hey, what ads have you come up with?” “I heard your boss is good-looking. Is it true?” Kugy was frank and told them that since she had started working at AdVocaDo she had become skilled at cutting and photocopying, and that it all would come in handy if she ever opened her own photocopy service kiosk. Occasionally, she answered these questions with a snore as she lay sprawled on the living room sofa, where she remained fast asleep till morning.

  It was Friday. Kugy had been looking forward to it all week because she was planning to spend the entire weekend vegging out. She would be task-free. Her thoughts were already at day’s end, in bed, playing with Snoozy and devouring a pile of new Japanese manga comics.

  But today, she was trapped in a staff meeting, discussing an upcoming candy bar ad campaign. She knew any involvement on her part would consist only of cutting and scanning. Stirring her coffee, she tried to look like she was paying attention, even though she wanted to die of boredom.

  Iman was working hard to convince Remi about his proposed concept. “But this text is catchy. I know we’ll have to cut a lot of it to make room for visuals, but the message will still be clear.”

  “Yeah, I know. But how do I say this?” Remi thought for a while. “I don’t feel like it hits the mark. So many ads have taken the same approach.”

  Fani, from another team, spoke up. “Narration is central to the concept. Tammies: Swiss chocolate, real caramel, crispy wafers, hazelnut cream, etcetera, etcetera. Those are the details we need to push.”

  Remi shook his head. “It’s stale. And I feel like it’s not a good fit for the demographic we’re targeting.”

  “But it’s what the client wants,” Iman protested. “They want to highlight the quality of the ingredients, the taste, what the wrapper looks like. If not through narration or text, how?”

  Gina, the account director, cleared her throat. “Friends, I don’t mean to make the situation more stressful, but I want to remind you that the client has given us a difficult product on purpose. If we score a goal with this one, they’ll put us in charge of everything. The company is launching four products in Indonesia this year alone. The Tammies bar is just a trial run, but it’s crucial we get it right.”

  “So which concept are we going with?” asked Tasya. “My team’s, Iman’s, or Fani’s?” Her team had been the last to present and Remi had shot them down as well.

  Remi took a deep breath. “Sorry, guys. I’m still not satisfied.”

  Everyone looked disgruntled. All those days of hard work had been for nothing. Not only that, but they would have to start again from scratch. Remi looked around. Everyone was watching him anxiously, awaiting his final decision. Almost everyone. Remi’s eyes came to rest on Kugy, who was stirring her coffee at the far end of the table. Her chin was propped up on one swaying hand. It was clear from her drooping eyelids that she was about to pass out.

  “I want an opinion from someone who hasn’t spoken. Kugy, what do you think?”

  At the sound of her name, her sleepiness vanished and she sat up. “Wha— Opinion? About what?”

  The others snickered at the scene: Kugy, the student who had been caught sleeping in class, and Remi, the fierce teacher ready to dole out punishment.

  “The Tammies bar ad,” Remi repeated, his voice growing sharper. “What’s your opinion?”

  “We’re still discussing that?” Kugy asked innocently.

  The snickering continued.

  Remi began speaking slowly, as if talking to a child. “In your opinion, which of these three concepts best hits the mark?”

  Kugy was quiet as she racked her brain, trying to play back everything that had happened in this meeting so far. They’d been there for an hour now. She hoped the memory was still somewhere in her head. “Um. I don’t like any of them,” she said finally.

  The titters subsided. In the blink of an eye, smirks were replaced with serious expressions.

  Remi was curious. “Okay. Why not?”

  “They’re all too ordinary, if you ask me.”

  The atmosphere in the room, already still, now froze. Kugy was besieged by glares, left and right.

  Now her sleepiness was really gone, and what she had just said, as well as its consequences, began to dawn on her. But there was no turning back now. She had to continue.

  “The three concepts contain a lot of information, but they’re too chatty. Visually speaking, all three fulfill the client’s requirements. But they don’t have any kick. There’s nothing special about them. They don’t make me drool. I wouldn’t want to buy a Tammies bar if I were a viewer. We have to make people intrigued about the Tammies bar—make them want to try it.”

  “Simple in theory,” Iman blurted in a high-pitched voice. “What does it mean in terms of concept?”

  Kugy fell silent. How should I know, she thought. But everyone in the room was waiting for her answer. They looked like a pack of hungry lions, too fierce and terrible for her to admit she had no idea. So, instead, Kugy decided to say whatever came to mind.

  “Pi
cture this: a black background. And silence. No music, no voice—like the TV’s gone dead. But it hasn’t. Then there appears . . . a single wafer. Then a stream of hazelnut cream. Then another wafer. And a drizzle of caramel. After this, a layer of chocolate, melting, coating it all, and a shower of crisped rice. Then the chocolate hardens. All with dramatic sound effects. Like the time Mr. Freeze wanted to freeze all of Gotham City. Finally, the bar is slipped into a wrapper: Tammies. And the following words: More taste, less talk.”

  The room was silent. But it was a different kind of silence than before. Kugy had set everyone adrift, visualizing her idea.

  “The tagline’s not bad,” murmured Fani. Despite her reluctant expression, she liked it very much.

  “It’s unusual,” Tasya acknowledged. “I like the idea of the TV suddenly going dead. And the idea for that sound effect—Mr. Freeze? I don’t know who that is, but it’s memorable.”

  “I’d certainly want to buy it,” Siska chimed in. “My mouth is watering just thinking about it. The visuals will be a lot of work, but I’m optimistic we’ll manage.”

  Gina chuckled. “It’s economical, too. We don’t need a jingle, or overdubbing, or anything.”

  Iman glanced at Remi. So did everyone else. He was the only one who hadn’t said anything yet.

  Remi slammed his hand down on the table. “Great. It’s a done deal. Tammies: More taste, less talk. Sound effects and visuals just as Kugy described. We’re good to go, then. I want Kugy to be the project leader for this pitch. Get the presentation ready, okay, Kugy? Good luck.” Then Remi stood up. Gazing warmly at Kugy, he patted her on the shoulder. “And . . . good job.”

  Kugy felt her blood grow warm. Gradually the tension that had gripped her melted away, and she smiled. Kugy knew this was the end of her career as AdVocaDo’s designated arts-and-crafts employee and her first real day on the job.

  When Lena heard the news from her husband’s office, she went straight to the hospital. Half running, she hurried down the corridor, looking for Adri’s room. Jeroen followed, still wearing his school uniform.

  She found her husband lying in bed. His face was pale, but he was obviously trying to look as if nothing was wrong.

  “Hi, Lena. Jeroen.” He greeted them with a forced smile.

  “Dad, what’s wrong? What happened?” Jeroen asked, panicked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Adri answered, trying to calm his son. “It was just a little stroke. I couldn’t move my hand. See? But it’ll go back to normal soon. There. I can move the fingers a little already.”

  “What causes a stroke, Mom?” Jeroen asked.

  “All sorts of things, dear. They can happen if you’re too tired, or stressed, or . . .” Lena was still too dazed and breathless to finish her sentence. Though she too was trying to appear calm, she couldn’t conceal her deepening worry. It was written all over her face.

  “I’m fine. Really. A few weeks of physiotherapy and I’ll be back to normal.” Adri stroked his wife’s arm. “Everything will be back to normal,” he repeated as if trying to assure himself.

  Lena was lost in thought. This was more than just a matter of physiotherapy. She was worried about what hadn’t been said, what was hidden away, and what would continue casting a shadow over their family from here on out.

  Keenan had been holding the block brush for some time now. The white canvas was before him, ready and waiting. But there wasn’t a single stroke of color on it. It was as if his hand were paralyzed. This was the first time in the two years since taking up painting again that he had experienced such a creative block. The feeling was strange. Worse—it was terrifying.

  Keenan felt a nervous energy spread throughout his body, slowly and steadily engulfing him. He felt restless. Even the clear late-afternoon sky held no meaning for him. Something was wrong. But he couldn’t figure out what.

  Keenan saw Banyu passing by the bale and called out to him. “Banyu! Where’s Luhde?”

  “She went to the temple at Puri Saren Agung,” Banyu said, continuing on his way. “She’ll be home in a bit.”

  Maybe it’s because Luhde’s not here, thought Keenan. Usually when she’s here, everything is fine. Finally he decided to lie down and wait. But he kept turning from side to side, almost feverishly. The restlessness was becoming unbearable. There was nothing he could do.

  “Keenan, were you looking for me?” Luhde asked from behind him.

  Quickly, he sat up, feeling incredibly relieved. “Why were you away for so long?” he asked, tugging at her hand.

  The unusually warm greeting startled her. She sat down beside him. “I’m sorry. Did we have plans?”

  Keenan laughed. “No, but I feel strange today. I guess I missed you. It felt strange not to have you here with me.”

  Luhde swallowed. She had never thought she would hear those words from Keenan. As if that wasn’t surprising enough, he suddenly rested his head in her lap.

  “It feels so peaceful like this,” Keenan murmured. He closed his eyes.

  Luhde’s body tensed. But she let Keenan rest, his body leaning against her legs. He looked so relaxed. She tried to get used to this position, this view.

  “Why can’t I paint today, Luhde?” Keenan asked. “My heart is empty, my mind is blank. Nothing’s flowing like it usually does.”

  “It’s understandable if you’re tired of painting. You’ve been working almost nonstop for months now.”

  “But what if it’s not just because I’m tired? What if it’s because I—” Keenan couldn’t finish what he was going to say.

  “Sometimes the sky looks like a blank sheet of black paper,” Luhde continued gently, “even though it’s not. The stars are still there. It’s just that the world is turning.”

  Keenan let out a long sigh and hoped Luhde’s words were true. He grabbed her hand and placed it on his chest. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” he whispered.

  They were silent once again. But a sliver of that whisper reverberated in Luhde’s soul, filling every corner of it. She had never heard Keenan express his feelings so explicitly, so clearly. Luhde had never felt this happy. Slowly, her hand smoothed the strands of his hair. Each stroke was filled with emotion. And with every movement of her fingers, Luhde hoped Keenan would feel what she was feeling now.

  CHAPTER 30

  THE NONAQUARIAN AGENT

  The minute Kugy stepped foot inside the lobby, she was told to report to Remi’s office. She glanced at her watch. Due to all the work she had been doing for the Tammies presentation, she had been arriving at the office after eleven for the past four days. She had been working late every night, and couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes any earlier than eight in the morning. Jakarta’s rush-hour traffic meant further delay. She wouldn’t be surprised if she was in for a reprimand.

  “Morning, Kugy,” said Remi, greeting her cheerfully. “Please, come in.” Gina was there as well.

  “Sorry I’m late,” said Kugy. “I was exhausted after the presentation yesterday, so I tried to get plenty of sleep. I don’t want to get sick.”

  “Yes, you should definitely look after yourself,” Gina said. “You really can’t get sick. Because . . .” Smiling mysteriously, she glanced at Remi.

  “We scored the Tammies account,” Remi finished. “The client loved your concept. They want to launch a huge campaign.”

  “They also want to go with us for all their new products. The thing is”—Gina cleared her throat—“they want ideas as brilliant as the one you came up with for the Tammies bar. Concepts that are fresh, that are outside the box.”

  Remi swooped in. “We want you to be the project leader for all their products.”

  Kugy’s jaw dropped. “Me? But how? Why me?”

  “Because I think you’ve got what it takes,” he said matter-of-factly. “You have fresh ideas. You think outside the box. And because you’re a new kid on the block, you don’t have any preconceived notions. Your personality suits the client’s outlook well. Very
rarely do we have clients who choose not to play it safe. So synergy-wise, I think you two are a perfect match.”

  “But I don’t have any experience. I’ve only done one presentation.”

  “What about your team, honey?” Gina asked with a light laugh. “I’m sure they’ll help you.”

  Kugy tried to digest what she had just heard. She—the peon in charge of photocopying—now had her own team? She wanted to burst out laughing. Though she knew Remi and Gina weren’t kidding, it all felt like a big joke. She tried her best to put on a serious face.

  “Okay.” Kugy took a deep breath. “So . . .” She was at a loss for what to say.

  “So at our next meeting,” Remi said, “you’ll have something else to do besides daydream and try to stay awake.” He gave her a small smile.

  “Congrats!” Gina added.

  Soon afterward, Kugy left the room and returned to her little corner. There she chuckled to herself to her heart’s content.

  Kugy had been waiting for her taxi for half an hour. This was the downside of leaving during rush hour—the competition for public transportation was fierce. But Kugy was too tired to try an alternative means of getting home. All she wanted to do was sit quietly in the backseat and maybe even doze off before arriving at her front door.

  “You said you were going straight home.”

  Kugy looked to her left to find Remi standing beside her. He was dressed more smartly than usual.

  “My taxi hasn’t come yet,” she answered. “What about you? Going clubbing?” She chuckled.

  “Actually, I had an appointment, but it got canceled. I can give you a lift home if you like.”

  Before Kugy could open her mouth, Remi was telling Anita, the receptionist, to cancel Kugy’s cab, and before Kugy could respond to Remi’s offer, he said, “Wait here,” and vanished. Moments later his car was out front, waiting for her to step inside.