Love, Lies and Indomee

by Nuril Basri

  Hans says: “Oh.”

  “Oh, right, let me introduce you guys, this is Hans. Uni mate,” I tell the others. “And this, your wife, is it?”

  “Astrid,” the girl says, sweet-voiced, so unlike her face. And we all exchange handshakes.

  “My name’s Ahmad Fuad now, but you can still call me Hans, no problem,” he says.

  “I forced him to convert when we got hitched,” pregnant Astrid says, jokingly, hanging off his arm, squeezing up to him.

  “Oh I see, I see,” we say.

  “This is my husband,” I say, not to be beaten.

  “Oh, so you got married?” Hans says, feigning surprise.

  “Ya, just married,” Inu says, not to be outdone either.

  “Wah, you’re very pregnant!” Nilam says, pointing. “Your belly’s so big!”

  And Astrid rubs herself and says: “Ya, seven months already.”

  “You’ll have a baby soon. You must be so happy,” Ferlita says, buoyed along.

  And then there is nothing more to talk about, so we all fall silent. Finally, I go: “Right, well, we’re looking for a TV, so…”

  “Oh ya, okay, we need to find a radio,” Hans replies, and it is byes and see yous.

  What happens next is very annoying, because the televisions and the radios are side-by-side. So we run into each other several times, and try to be cool and not be weird, and Hans and I try to steer our separate groups away from each other. As we pass we smile and say nothing. So stupid. We end up buying neither TV nor chairs. I want to leave. I say I’m not feeling so good. Which is true. I am a bad mix of fear, crankiness and anger. I’m afraid Inu will find out about us. I’m angry at Hans. And I want to tear Astrid’s face apart. I want to make an official complaint to the National Commission of Human Rights—that’s the bitch who stole my Hans!

  “That Hans Fuad was so good-looking! I really want a boyfriend that looks like Hans. Just like a Korean idol. His wife was also really pretty,” Nilam says in the car.

  “Not as pretty as you!” Ferlita says, very kindly.

  “Eh, don’t say that, I’m not pretty, what do you mean I’m pretty, haha,” she replies, suddenly shy and smiling. So easy to please.

  Urgh. If there was nobody else in the car I would’ve reached over and sewn Nilam’s big mouth shut. How dare she call my nemesis pretty!

  That chance meeting with Hans haunts me for the rest of the evening. I am anxious, upset, irritable. Is this what cheaters feel like? Am I cheating? I don’t even know. I want to call Hans, to talk. I want to be reassured. Reassured about what though? I don’t know. The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m unsure about everything.

  I feel a change in Inu, too. When we go to bed he doesn’t tease me. Just lies down, takes a deep breath and keeps his eyes shut. I pretend to be asleep. Both of us know we are both awake, I want Inu to talk to me so I know where I stand. But he is silent. At last I fall asleep. I have a terrible nightmare. I dream that I am lost at sea, rocking in a little, rotting boat. Terrible waves rear up and crash around me, the boat threatens to capsize. I hold on tight. I don’t want to be thrown overboard. Suddenly a giant whale bursts out of the water. It will swallow me, boat and all. I wake. Inu is shaking me. It is dawn and I need to get ready.

  I send Hans a text. We see each other after work. We talk, strolling inside Plaza Indonesia. I browse the pricey boutiques. Just like I used to, two years ago.

  “Does Astrid suspect us?” I ask him.

  “Nothing’s different. She only asked who you were.”

  “I think Inu suspects,” I say. I bend to look at a display of luxury watches. “After we bumped into each other he hasn’t said a word. Did I act weird?”

  “Ya, you were really antsy, next time you can’t be so antsy.”

  “We need to be more careful,” I say.

  We’re both quiet for awhile.

  “Are you sure?” I ask him.

  “Sure about what?”

  “About us. I mean, are you sure you want to leave Astrid and marry me?”

  Hans keeps quiet. And that makes me really uncomfortable. He has to think about it. That is not good. He never thinks about things! Usually he just blurts things out. He has to think about it. He isn’t sure.

  “Why do we need to talk about this?” Hans asks.

  “Because I’m having second thoughts,” I say. Because it’s clear he is having second thoughts, because he refuses to answer me.

  “You think I won’t be able to take care of us? You’re feeling comfortable with Inu because he’s got lots of money?”

  “He doesn’t have that much money,” I point out.

  “Ya, well, I’ve got my own business now, my top-up counter is doing really well. Lots of profit,” he tells me.

  “It’s not about money.” I sigh, impatient. I mean, I’ve got a job, right?

  “So what’s the problem?”

  What can I say? “I don’t know.” I want to say: “I think I’m starting to like Inu.” But I can’t. My stomach turns. I’m so unsure. Ah, I’m unsure about everything. I don’t know why I have become so confused, so hesitant. We walk towards the Zara store. I see its big sign and smile, and I want to ask Hans to follow me inside, to relive old times together. But then I freeze. I see Nilam bounding out of the shop with bags on both her arms, and I don’t have any time to hide. She sees me. That’s it. I need to face her now. I need to be cool.

  “Hey, Ratna! How come you’re here?” Nilam says. She still can’t get my name right. Why can’t she get my name right?

  “I work in the next building, Plaza Office Tower,” I reply.

  “Still working?”

  “Finished already, I’m heading home soon.”

  “Oh, so you’re hanging out with Ahmad Fuad, ya?” she says, pointing at Hans.

  “No,” I lie. “I just bumped into him here.”

  “Lying! You’re hanging out with him! Ratna, you should be going home, not walking around with somebody else’s husband! You want Ferlita to move in on your husband? So naughty! Cheating on Inu!”

  “Hans and I are just friends, okay? Don’t talk like that,” I say. My heart has leapt out of my chest, I don’t know where it’s gone. Nilam’s interrogation has shaken me. Her eyes are squinting, narrow, glaring chillingly.

  “Ahmad Fuad, alias Hans, go stand over there! I need to talk to Ratna. Go!” she shoos him.

  I elbow him, push him off. He goes without protesting. Thank goodness.

  “Here, carry my stuff,” she says, dropping a few of her Zara bags into my arms. I follow her. “Come on, let’s go.” I follow her out of Plaza Indonesia and across the road. She hails a taxi.

  In the taxi, Nilam stares at me. “Who is Hans? Tell the truth. A relative of yours?”

  “He…”

  Before I can continue, she cuts me off. “Ferlita says marriage is a commitment. You shouldn’t play around. Do you know how lucky you are, to get a man like Inu? He’s a good person. You are so lucky. But you’re cheating on him!”

  “Nilam, I’m not cheating on him.”

  “Liar! You’re lying! I saw you and Hans at the National Monument the other day! Just admit it!” she says.

  And I do not breathe. Oh God, how does she know? Oh no. What can I say now?

  “I saw you holding hands and everything. You slut.”

  “Don’t call me a slut,” I snap.

  “Enough! Shut up. Do you know? I kept all this from Inu because I didn’t want to hurt him. I don’t want him to be hurt. I thought you’d change. I know you were forced to marry him. But I thought he’d won you over. But you’re still the same.”

  What can I say, ya? This is all wrong. I want to jump out of the taxi. Maybe I should. I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to be here.

  “Ratna, stop lying to Inu. Stop lying to yourself. Stop lying to that Hans. You should’ve left him long ago. You are somebody’s wife now.” She goes on and on and on. I want her to stop.

  “Ya! I love Hans,
” I shout at her. That shuts her up. “What’s your problem, hah?” I am furious.

  “Okay, fine, but you need to break up with him now,” she says, shrinking away. I frightened her, I think. She’s not used to being screamed at.

  “You think it’s easy? Leaving somebody you love?” I am still yelling. The taxi driver is staring at me through the rear-view mirror. Let him!

  “But…but, Ratna, you are Inu’s wife. And Hans is married, isn’t he? To that girl. Astrid,” she says, softly, pleading. “Life has to change after marriage. People have to change! You need to change.”

  “Change into what? Into Sailor Moon?”

  “Eh, I love the Sailor Moon cartoons, I want to be the superheroine Sailor Mercury,” she says, striking a pose suddenly. Then she starts, turns to me. “Don’t change the subject!” This girl’s insane.

  “You don’t know anything about marriage,” I tell her. “Have you been married before?”

  I don’t know why I say that. It’s not as if I know what being married should be like either. What it is, how it should be.

  “So you just married Inu for fun?” she says, understanding nothing.

  I don’t reply. And then finally I say: “Hans and I were together for two years. You don’t know how hard it is, to leave somebody you’ve known for that long, for somebody you’ve only known for a month.”

  Nilam shuts up. She seems taken aback. Maybe she sees that I am telling the truth.

  “Uh,” she snorts.

  “It’s not easy to forget somebody,” I say.

  “Ya, but, you need to try to change,” she says, uncertain.

  “Ya, I want to change,” I say. A lie. “Happy?”

  Nilam is quiet. She breathes in wheezes. Maybe she’s angry, or something. I can’t tell. We sit the rest of the way in silence. Nilam gets the taxi to stop at Pondok Indah mall, in south Jakarta. She pays the driver for our fare so far. She wiggles and wobbles her way out, dragging her Zara bags with her. I didn’t think such a messy girl would spend all her money at a place like Zara.

  “You know?” she says, leaning down and back at me. “You’re not being realistic. You’re like a teenager. Still dreaming some teenage romance fantasy. Living in the past. When you didn’t have to think about anybody else. Only yourself. You don’t want to be an adult. But you need to realise you’re not a flighty teenager anymore. Wake up!”

  Bam! The taxi door slams shut. I just sit there. The driver turns his head and looks at me.

  “Where to, miss?”

  “No need, I’m getting off here,” I tell him and step out. I wait for a minibus to take me home.

  I really hope Inu doesn’t find out. Maybe Nilam will be kind enough to keep quiet. I don’t want to hurt anybody. Not Nilam. Not Inu. Even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t really love me, I’m not about to hurt him. Our marriage is fake, just a label. I mean, he married me for the money, right? He doesn’t really love me. He sold himself to my mother, basically. But that can’t be right: what about Ferlita? That girl worships him. She’d marry Inu in a heartbeat, even if she had to go hungry the rest of her life.

  To be honest, seeing Ferlita fuss over him makes me jealous. I don’t like it. I may not love him but Inu is still my husband, and I don’t like other girls flirting with my husband. I’m in such trouble, aren’t I? I don’t know what I want.

  That night Ferlita calls. I am cooking instant bihun. Too lazy to really cook.

  “You’re terrible!” she shouts, over the phone.

  “Uh, hello?” I say.

  “You are so vile!”

  “Hello?”

  “Nilam told me everything. You watch out! I’ll tell Inu what you did. How could you? How dare you!”

  Once again, my heart wants to burst. Dian Sastro is scolding me. The serene, graceful beauty has turned into a monster.

  “What exactly did Nilam tell you?” I ask, as evenly as possible.

  “I know you’ve been going out with that Hans, that Fuad Mukhtar person. How could you do that to Inu?”

  Nilam probably didn’t tell her how Hans and I were together for two years. How could Ferlita possibly understand?

  “Why do you want to tell Inu that?” I ask her, still calm.

  “Ratu, you’re cheating!”

  “No. I’m not cheating,” I reply.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “What does cheating mean?” I ask her.

  “You’re having an affair with somebody else, even though you have a husband. That’s cheating,” she says.

  “But I’m not having an affair with anybody,” I tell her. Because what does “affair” mean, exactly? Some negative, immoral hanky-panky that involves sex, I think?

  “You and Hans! That’s not an affair?”

  “Yes, I’m in love with Hans. Is that an affair?” I ask.

  “Yes! Of course. That’s an affair. You cannot be in love with anybody else if you’re married,” she says. And then she keeps quiet.

  “So marriage is a cruel trap, isn’t it? We cannot love anybody else, if we get married,” I conclude.

  “You can only love your husband. That’s called commitment!” But I hear a note of uncertainty in her words.

  “I can pretend to be in love. My heart can’t lie,” I say.

  “You should love the person you’ve married!” she shouts.

  “And where is that rule from?” I ask.

  “Why did you marry him if you don’t love him?” she snarls, full of spite.

  “He married me. You have to ask him why,” I reply.

  And Ferlita is quiet. And then finally she says, “You know? There are a lot of people who want Inu. Such a terrible shame he got somebody as low as you.”

  And Ms Dian Sastro disconnects.

  I don’t understand. What is all this? Why are people so upset? Okay, fine, I was out with Hans. Is that what people call cheating? In the first place, I didn’t marry Inu because I wanted to. I didn’t love him. I didn’t know him! I married him because I was forced to. Remember that. To me, cheating is when two people love each other, but then one betrays the other. That’s cheating—betrayal of your partner’s feelings. In my case, I have no idea what Inu’s feelings are towards me. Does he love me? I don’t know. How could I? How could I cheat on him, if I don’t even know how he feels about me?

  I feel drunk. I don’t know. Maybe this instant bihun has alcohol in it or it’s gone off already. My head hurts so much it wants to explode. I’m not cheating, but everybody says I’m cheating. I’m married, but I don’t feel like I’m married. I feel like I’m in love, but it’s like I have nobody to love. I don’t know. Whether I’m married, whether I’m cheating, whatever. Fine, I’m married to Inu and I’m cheating with Hans. I’ve gone out with both. Held both. It’s up to Inu’s two guardian angels if they feel the need to tell him about what I’m doing with Hans Fuad. I don’t care what Inu thinks. Maybe it’s best if he divorces me. It’s what I want. So I can marry Hans Ahmad Fuad Mukhtar, the one I really love.

  It isn’t long before Inu gets home. Outside, it’s started to rain. I don’t say hello to him. But from his face I can see that he doesn’t know anything, not yet. He looks like he always does, every day. Nilam and Ferlita have kept mum.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks me, taking off his helmet.

  “What’s wrong with what?” I ask him back.

  “Your face. Why do you look like that?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with my face,” I say. “Oh, ya, I didn’t make anything tonight, maybe you can cook instant bihun for yourself, ya? Use the hot water from the dispenser. Or if you want rice, there’s still some in the cooker.” I leave him there and go into the bedroom.

  Inu always knows when something is bothering me. That’s one thing about him, different from Hans. With Hans, I always had to get his attention somehow. When Inu gets into bed I have a lot on my mind. He begins to arrange the pillows and the bolster. He ruffles his hair and readies himself for sleep. My mouth opens and words
come out.

  “What are we, actually?”

  “What? Um, people, I guess?” he replies, confused. His eyes are open again. He knows I want to talk.

  “No, not that. I mean…us. The two of us.”

  “Oh. Husband and wife, Ms Ratu. That’s pretty clear, right?” he says, showing me the ring on his finger.

  “If I throw away my ring, Mr Inu, would that mean we aren’t husband and wife anymore?” I ask him.

  “There’s the marriage certificate too. We are husband and wife, by law,” Inu points out.

  “If I burned that certificate, would that mean we aren’t husband and wife anymore?”

  “What do you mean, Ms Ratu?” Inu asks me.

  “This marriage is just…stuff. Rings, a certificate, formalities to show the world we are married. This marriage is just a label. Words on a piece of paper. And a ring on our fingers.”

  “It’s not just a label. We are really married. A couple, husband and wife. If the rings go missing, if you burn the certificate, we’d still be husband and wife,” he says. He sounds unhappy.

  “No, Mr Inu. Those things are the only things tying us together. If there weren’t the rings or the certificate, we’d be nothing. We wouldn’t be husband and wife. There would be nothing to show.”

  “Marriage isn’t just those things. There are other things. Things more real,” Inu says, low, nearly a whisper. Maybe he is thinking about it.

  “Like?”

  “Like vows in front of witnesses, in front of an imam. In the eyes of God, during our ceremony. Ijab qabul. The joining.”

  “Those kinds of vows can be faked. Tongues can make all kinds of promises the heart never intends to keep.”

  “We cannot lie in the eyes of God. He knows our hearts. We cannot make false promises in the eyes of God,” Inu says.

  “So many people swear using God’s name, Mr Inu. By Allah this, by Allah that, but they’re lying anyway. And God doesn’t punish them or reveal to others that their vows are false. Don’t bring God into this, hey?”

  He scratches his head. “In that case, maybe marriage is really in the love two people have for each other,” Inu says, softly. I think I feel his body grow warm. Maybe he’s embarrassed to talk about it. Love.