by Dee Lestari
“Luhde, all my time is yours. Who else would I waste it on? The idea of wasting time doesn’t apply here.” Keenan sounded exasperated.
“You should go back to Jakarta. It would be better that way. What you’re looking for isn’t here.”
Keenan stared at Luhde, trying to comprehend what signal she was sending, because he really didn’t understand. “Luhde, what do you mean? Don’t you want me here?”
Carefully and almost tenderly, she said, “I want you to go, before we argue and end up hating each other. Or before we realize we don’t love each other. Do you understand?”
Keenan had never seen her so determined. So unflinching. “Luhde, please—”
“Keenan, I’m the one who’s pleading. Please take this back.” It was something she had longed for very much—something she had asked for and that, eventually, he had given her. But Luhde now realized a wooden carving of a heart was all she would ever own.
Keenan shook his head with a frown. “It’s yours. I gave it to you. You should be willing to keep it at the very least. Please.”
Again the same smile appeared on Luhde’s face. “Even the name you carved on it isn’t mine,” she whispered. “But it was very good of you to lend it to me. Thank you.”
Keenan didn’t know what else to say. Every path he tried was a dead end. “If you really want me to go, I will,” he said, choking up. “But please tell me, why?”
“I’ve learned from someone else’s experience. The heart doesn’t choose to love. Love chooses the heart. So you see, when you say you’ve chosen me, you will never be able to truly love me. Because the heart doesn’t need to choose—it always knows where to set down anchor and rest.” Luhde held Keenan’s hand for a moment. “What you’re looking for isn’t here.”
Keenan was quiet. He heard the wind whistling and suddenly his mind was pulled back into the past. Back to the night when he heard the wind making a similar sound, shaking the bamboo kentungan hanging from the roof of the bale. The night when he had made his choice. What Luhde said made him realize something. He had decided to give Luhde the wooden carving, but that was all he could give her. The feeling that had compelled him to make the carving—that he could never give. Keenan squeezed his eyes shut. It was all too bitter for him to swallow. And yet, it was the truth.
“Forgive me . . . ,” whispered Keenan. He was trembling. His eyes were filled with tears.
Luhde didn’t answer. But a warm smile spread slowly across her face. Her gaze was clear and pure, like a fresh spring. There was no vengeance. There was no sadness. There was nothing to apologize for. Then she turned to go, her black hair fluttering down her back, and bade him farewell.
Keenan gazed after her. A single tear rolled down his cheek. Slowly, he wiped it away. And then he left.
From a distance, someone was watching them. Wayan felt as if he had been broken in two. Part of him was devastated, as Luhde was. And the other part was immeasurably happy for Keenan. Now, Keenan had an opportunity that he himself had never had those twenty-some years ago—an opportunity to be chosen by love, and to surrender himself to its current. Where would it take him? The heart will know, thought Wayan. It always knew.
July 2003
Keenan got his backpack ready—the maroon one with the letter K that he had been using ever since university. He put it in the front passenger seat of the car and got behind the wheel. For a moment, he looked at the bright morning sky.
Now there was nothing tying him down anywhere. Not here. Not Bali. For the first time in his life, Keenan got a taste of what freedom really meant. He decided he would drift with the wind. The wind always knew where it was headed in the end.
It was evening when Keenan arrived. This was the third time he had come back, but there was no better place to be. He parked his car on top of the cliff, and waited in anticipation for the bats in the cave below to stir.
The crash of the waves roaring and breaking beneath him was unnerving and soothing all at once. Keenan lay on his back and watched the heavens until they began to turn orange. It was so quiet. He felt like he could stay there forever, just nature and him. He had no plans.
Suddenly, his vision darkened. A backpack dropped on the ground next to his head. Keenan’s eyes narrowed, trying to make out the person standing above him.
“Password?” she asked.
Keenan smiled. “Klappertaart.”
“What? A fart?”
“Banana.”
“Okay. You can pass.”
“Why are you here?” asked Keenan.
“I should be asking you the same thing. But I think we both know the answer.”
“Neptune radar.” Keenan grinned. Suddenly, his heart burst into bloom—and how brightly it blossomed, and kept on blossoming, as if there were no end.
His view was unobstructed once again. Kugy was now lying beside him. And Keenan couldn’t remember when the sky had looked so beautiful.
EPILOGUE
In the middle of a calm blue ocean, two hands appear from the side of a fishing boat to set a paper boat adrift. Not from a reservoir. Not from a stream. Not from a small river. This time, she wants to set it down in the middle of the ocean. It is her last letter to Neptune.
Nep,
It’s been years since I’ve written. Don’t be mad, but I would like to resign. I have no more secrets to tell you, or dreams—because we’re living those dreams. Now. And forever.
K&K
(And a little K on the way)
The paper boat drifts all alone. The wooden boat leaves it behind and heads slowly back to shore, where Kugy jumps out with a splash. Where Keenan is waiting for her with open arms, ready to embrace her before hoisting her into the air.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dee Lestari is one of Indonesia’s bestselling and critically acclaimed authors. Born in 1976, she began her writing career with the serial novel Supernova in 2001. The popular series achieved immediate cult status with Indonesian readers.
Dee has published ten books in total. The original version of Paper Boats, Perahu kertas, was the first digital novel in Indonesia that readers could subscribe to from their mobile phones. It was printed in 2009 and was made into a movie that became a national blockbuster and marked Dee’s debut as a screenplay writer.
Dee also has had an extensive music career as a pop star in Indonesia and has released several albums. In her spare time, she writes songs for other renowned Indonesian artists.
For the latest information about Dee’s releases and future books, visit www.deelestari.com. Chat with her on Twitter @deelestari.
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
Photo © 2015 Leah Diprose
Tiffany Tsao is a writer and literary translator. After spending her formative years in Singapore and Indonesia, she moved to the United States to attend college. In 2009, she received her PhD in English from the University of California, Berkeley, and she now lives in Sydney, Australia. Her writing and translations have appeared in LONTAR, Asymptote, The Sydney Review of Books, Transnational Literature, and Comparative Literature, among others. Her debut novel, The Oddfits, was published in 2016.
