by Nuril Basri
“I married you not out of love, Mr Inu. I was forced to,”
I say.
Inu is silent for many moments, surprised. Then he asks: “Why do you feel you were forced to, Ms Ratu?”
“It’s obvious, right? My parents got you to marry me because I’m a fat spinster nobody wanted to marry,” I say bitterly.
“Ratu, let me explain. One, your parents never asked me to do that. Two, you are not fat! You are just curvy. Three, it’s not fair for you to feel like some sacrificial lamb. Because I never forced you.”
Curvy?
I hear Inu continue: “We are not like most people, most people date first, and then get married. We got married first and then we started dating. That’s pretty good, too, no?”
I twist around to him, to look him in the eye.
“So, according to you, we’ve been dating this whole time?”
“Of course we’re dating. We are husband and wife and we are dating.” Inu smiles. And, out of every time I’ve seen him smile, this is the first smile I think is just for me. I think I will record this smile in my head, so that I can play it back in the future, whenever I feel like. It is such a smile. Gentle and sweet. And I cannot help myself—I smile back.
I think I’ve fallen in love with Inu.
Honestly, I think I’ve been in love with Inu for a while. Just a bit in love, not too much. But I couldn’t admit it, because I thought it would slowly kill my love for Hans. And I cannot bear not being in love with Hans because he is so handsome, and I was with him for two whole years. We have so many memories together. And I don’t want to throw those memories away. I have been defending this love of ours for years. How can I just simply leave him? Hans and I will be together, at last, I am, I was, so sure. That’s how fairytales and romance stories end, don’t they?
But now I’ve fallen in love with Inu, argh!
I cannot take it any more. I am at a loss, with my feelings, my self, my life. Will Hans leave Astrid and marry me? I will press him for a clear answer. That evening, right after work, slipping between my colleagues like angora, I wave down a Bajaj bike and head to Hans’ counter.
There is a crowd and shouting in front of his stall. I watch from a distance. Looks like Hans is in trouble again. What else is new? I see a man I recognise: he’s the guy from the cybercafé where Hans used to live. Only when the man and his gang leave do I go over. I don’t want to get involved. I just want an answer to my question.
“What’s the matter?” I ask. Hans looks troubled, afraid. I can’t ask him about us, yet. If I ask him now he’ll just run off like a stray cat.
“Nothing,” he says. Of course he’s lying.
“You owe that guy?”
Hans nods. Ah, I knew it. So I can’t press him about the other thing. I can’t pile more problems on him.
“What do you owe?”
“A computer, a printer. And I used to live at his place. He told me it was cool, I didn’t have to worry about paying up, but now he wants me to. He came with his bodyguards even.”
I look at Hans.
“Do you have the cash to pay him?”
“Ya, got some savings. But it’s savings for when Astrid has the baby.”
Right. I almost forgot. He has that pregnant wife who’s about to give birth. All that stuff won’t be cheap. Of course he has to save up. He will have a kid…with Astrid. And once the baby pops out, pregnant Astrid won’t be pregnant anymore. She’ll go back to being thin and pretty. And maybe Hans will forget me. He’ll stay with Astrid. Of course he will. Nilam says Astrid’s pretty. Of course Hans will choose her.
“What’s the matter with you?” Hans asks, shaking me out of my nightmare.
“Oh no, nothing, I need to get going, it’s getting dark.”
Hans frowns. “Aw, going so soon?”
“Ya, just wanted to check on how you were doing,” I say, walking away, waving for another Bajaj. I wanted to lean in, say something like, sorry, I can’t help you this time. I couldn’t bear to do it. So better that I go. I don’t want to stay and hurt myself staying. I can’t even sort myself out. How can I help him? I don’t want to see Hans sad or in trouble. I want to save him. But I can’t now. He needs to help himself.
*
I run to the Bajaj driver, tell him to send me to Plaza Indonesia. When I reach for my purse to pay him, I cannot find it. I panic. I search my entire handbag, the pockets in my clothes and skirt. Nothing. I only have the 5,000 rupiah in my skirt pocket. That’s how much I can pay the driver. He takes it with a grunt, speeds off, sputtering angry fumes in my face. Oh, I’ve lost my purse. Ah shit. Where did I lose it?
I don’t have a cent. What can I do? The sun has almost set, and the clouds are heavy. Sure enough, thunder grumbles in the distance. Great, just great. I slump onto the pavement, frustrated. Sighing and groaning. Immediately, Hans comes to mind. I take out my phone. I’ll call him and ask to borrow some cash. I’ll pay him back later. He’ll come, his counter’s pretty near. Ah damn it. Such a pain!
I see that I’ve dialled Inu’s number instead.
On the second ring he picks up. “Hello,” he says, in a hurry.
I don’t say anything. I end the call. My chest goes bump-de-bump-bump. Don’t know why. Oh God, what did I just do? I called Inu for help. That can’t be, I’ve really gone soft. I’m starting to depend on him.
My phone rings. I jump from fright. Oh, Inu is calling me back.
Hesitant, I say: “Hello?”
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Oh, sorry! Accidentally dialled your number,” I say.
“You’re off work already?”
“Ya, but I can’t come home.”
“Why? Is it raining there? It’s raining here, too.”
“No. It’s not raining, here. Not yet, anyway. I, my…” I don’t want to say anything.
“What is it?”
“Lost my wallet,” I say, finally.
“Oh no,” Inu says. “Do you have money to get home?”
“No,” I say, whining a little.
“Just wait for me, I’ll come get you.”
And before I can say: “Eh, no, don’t worry,” the line went dead. Oh, what to do? I’ll just have to wait. But at least it’s sorted. I wonder where Inu is right now. He’s at work maybe? I don’t even know where he goes to work. Ah damn it. Is it far?
Waiting at the stop in front of Plaza Indonesia.
OK.
Fine, I’ll wait for him. For how long? Maybe ten minutes? Twenty minutes? Thirty? As long as it takes. The important thing is he comes to get me. It is thirty-seven minutes now. He still hasn’t shown up. What does show up is a downpour of rain. Torrential rain. Oh great! It’s almost 7pm, it’s dark. I’m cold, hungry and miserably alone. And Inu still hasn’t shown up. He’s probably got caught in the rain. Huddling under a bridge somewhere. He’s not going to be some crazy person, riding his bike through the driving storm. Why would he sacrifice himself for someone who’s never been nice to his friends, who gobbles down lanting and gets fat?
There are a few other people waiting at the bus stop with me. Once or twice a motorbike peddler comes by, selling hot coffee. The coffee is steaming hot and smells so good, but I don’t even have 1,000 rupiah.
Then, I must be hallucinating, because a sputtering bike pulls up in front of the bus stop and I watch the rider take his helmet off, and the rider has Inu’s face. What is he doing here? He’s driven through the rain, without a coat. What has he done? This crazy person. I feel terrible. And—just my luck—the rain decides to stop, right there and then. Now it’s only a drizzle.
I go over.
“Why did you ride in the rain?” I ask him.
“It wasn’t raining before. Only started near the Hotel Indonesia roundabout. So I was forced to keep going. Nowhere to take shelter.”
I know he is lying. His brown jacket sticks to him like wet cardboard. His jeans too. He’s been riding in the rain for the past half hour.
&nbs
p; “Why didn’t you use a raincoat?” I ask him.
“Don’t have one,” he replies. “Hurry up, get on. It might start raining again.”
I wipe away the water on the seat and clip on the helmet he hands me. The rain has mostly stopped, but the whipping wind remains. It whooshes and whooshes, antagonistically, and carries the last drops of moisture with it. The whole journey home I feel Inu’s body shake. Shivering in fits because of his wet clothes. Of course he must be cold. What was I thinking? I’m so stupid. Gingerly, slowly—and I only mean to offer him some relief—I let my hands slip around his sides, his waist, my hands will warm him a little, I think. I do not really hold him. Just his waist. And I feel his shivering subside.
Okay, long story short. When we get home I cook him some instant noodles. We are both starving, and only instant noodles are quick enough. Inu pours soya sauce into his bowl and slurps his noodles down. He even eats some leftover rice. While we eat I hear him sniffling. Oh no, he is going to catch a cold. He has to blow his nose.
We go into the bedroom. Inu doesn’t want to take a shower. I should’ve kept some hot water for him. But I didn’t think of it and took a long shower myself. I stretch myself out in bed. I hear thunder and the patter of rain on the roof. It picks up into a roar. How lucky we are, to be indoors. Warm, protected. A boom, a crash, a flash of light. Lightning like a snapshot from the window.
Then: Boom! I scream. The power’s gone out. I see nothing. Everything is pitch black. And I remember we don’t have any candles in the house. Only a crazy person would go out at 11pm, in a storm like this, to look for candles in the shops. Then I see a glow. It’s a phone screen, lighting up Inu’s face. He has his phone’s backlight on.
“How long will your battery last?” I whisper.
“Don’t know,” he answers. He sounds different. He voice is nasal now.
I hope the power comes back soon and the rain stops. Then I’ll go out to the twenty-four-hour Indomaret to buy some cold medication for Inu. But thirty minutes later the power is still out. I cannot sleep. Inu’s phone goes dim, gone into power-saving mode. It won’t be long before we’re sitting in the dark again. That’s not what I’m really worried about. Sure, I’m afraid of the dark, there are monsters in the dark, but I’m more worried about Inu. His condition. The dim light quivers as if he’s shaking. Inu’s phone turns itself off.
“Are you okay? Do you have a fever?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer with words, just a wet sniffle.
I sit up in bed. I search for Inu’s forehead, I want to take his temperature. But when I reach out I hit him in the nose, trying again I poke him in the eye. He cries out. “Sorry, sorry,” I say. Finally I find his eyebrows. His skin is very hot. Hot like a chicken’s bum. Not that I’ve ever touched a chicken’s bum. What can I do? I feel him shiver more. The whole bed shakes. We don’t have blankets in here. I didn’t bring over the one I have at my Jakarta rental. I grope inside the wardrobe for a spare bedsheet to wrap Inu in. Don’t ask me why I’m suddenly doing all this for him. I don’t know. I just feel like I have to. He has done so much for me. Even though he’s my paid-actor husband, lately he has been very kind to me.
Once I have him in a bedsheet blanket and shift the pillow-wall away, I arrange the pillows and the bolster around him for extra warmth. But all that doesn’t warm him. He’s still shivering. And I can’t deal with this, I can’t just do nothing. I twist around, worried. Weigh things in my head, things I don’t completely comprehend. And then…
I move closer to him. I touch him. I bring myself close to hold him. He is very warm. And still he’s shivering. I have never held a man like this. Sure, there was Hans, but not like this, not lying down. And I was always hesitant, even with Hans. Always worried of other people watching.
But holding Inu, like this, it feels… Well, I can’t really say how it feels. He is my husband. I think I’m allowed. We’re married though I do feel a bit weird. When we got married, it was a masquerade to me. So was it a real marriage at all? Don’t think, stupid! All I have to do now is hold Inu. Give him the heat from my body, so he is comfortable.
The rain keeps going and I feel groggy. I start to fall asleep. Can you picture how it feels? It’s pitch black, but you’re in somebody’s arms, somebody you think will protect you, it feels so good. You won’t think about spirits hiding under the bed. This is how it feels, me and Inu. He is so warm. I can feel his chest drumming. And hear him gently snoring through his snot.
So I sleep. When I wake again, I’m not holding him—we’re holding each other. I feel him very close. He isn’t shivering anymore. As lightning plays in the sky, in the flashes that come through the window, I see his face. Inu is looking at me.
“You’re so pretty,” he says. He runs his fingers along my cheek.
In the next flash I realise he is kissing me. Inu is kissing me on my lips. I stay still and do nothing. I do not respond. But I do not protest. I don’t know why I do not object. I think I may like it. There is a pleasant scent and his lips taste sweet. Inu touches my neck. He kisses me again, runs his fingers through my hair. My straight, soft, smooth hair—thank you L’Oreal!—his fingers do not get snagged. (Why am I fixating on my hair? Stupid!)
So, well, I start to kiss him back. And I won’t tell you what happens after that.
*
Morning comes. There’s a cockerel crowing somewhere. I’ve never heard a cockerel here before. I didn’t think there were any in this area. What if I’m just imagining it? What if it was me, crowing? I lie on my back and blink. The lights are back. I look to my side and see Inu snoring. Curled up in his bedsheet like a cat. Silly boy. I want to poke his skin, flick his ear, pull his hair. Of course I don’t. I get up and shower.
And I behave like nothing happened last night. I shouldn’t overreact, right? My cheeks have been red all morning. Why? What happened last night wasn’t a big deal. Happens to a lot of people! I should just be cool. After showering, I make Inu a cup of coffee. I fry him an omelette. I check on him: still sleeping. So I leave the eggs and coffee on the side table, by the bed. Damn, wasn’t I meant to act cool? This is far from cool! Should I just eat the eggs myself? Toss the coffee away? No, just think of it as thanking him for coming to get me yesterday. And then I leave for work. (I steal 100,000 rupiah from Inu’s wallet. No problem; he’s still got lots of cash left.)
All the way I think about him. I don’t think I get men. Why are they so obsessed with that? Even when they’re sick, when they were shivering just an hour before? What’s up with guys, huh? But do I regret it? I don’t think so. Oh, I should just forget about it all. Why am I still going over it in my head? Damn it.
Then I get a call from Hans Fuad. I nearly forgot about him! Then I feel really, really bad. I still have Hans. But last night I made love to Inu. Oh, what have I done? I feel so very, very bad.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I want to see you this evening. Can I? I really need some help, will you help me?” he pleads.
“Oh, ya, fine, meet at the south entrance, as usual.”
“Thanks.”
And that’s how I find Hans, waiting at the south entrance to Plaza Indonesia. (And also, hooray, I found my purse in the office, lying on the floor; I must’ve dropped it when I was rushing to send a fax.) Hans looks terrible, a picture of messed-up worry.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, concerned.
He doesn’t reply.
“The people from yesterday came by again?”
He nods.
Hans gets me to sit with him on the riverbank not far from Plaza Indonesia (there’s a river, here. It’s pretty shallow and its water is pretty clear, if it hasn’t been raining). We hang out with a bunch of other people and watch for security in case they come by to chase us away.
I glance at Hans. He holds his head in both hands. He must be in real trouble, that’s for sure. I hear a snort of surrender. It’s obvious that he needs my help and obvious that I’ll help him. By now
, this is a habit. He only has me—he doesn’t have many friends. So I’m his best friend in the world. He’s got nobody who will throw him wedding parties at fancy cafés, nobody to wish him happiness ever after from the stage, nobody to help him paint his house, nobody to take him to a mall to celebrate when he’s finished painting. Hans isn’t close to anyone, except me. His parents don’t care about him. And all this is why I don’t want to lose him. Nilam was wrong about me. I’m not with Hans because I feel like a teenager with him. It’s because I feel like a mother, a sister, a friend. A lover. And what kind of sister, what kind of friend would leave Hans like this? I really love him, my Hans, he’s still a little boy deep down. A hunky playboy who’s only ever messed around. Hans is my boy, I take care of him. I let him go, and I comfort him when he comes back crying. I could never leave him. I’m way more of an adult than Nilam thinks. I’m just a bit stupid, is all. Well, very stupid.
So I decide to take all my savings and give that to Hans. I tell him that he has to come see me again tomorrow. I will try to get the money together for him. Hans looks at me. The clouds in his face begin to clear. He grins and of course I long for that beautiful smile of his. When he hugs me I let him, even though that hug doesn’t feel the same, anymore.
Inu is messing around on his laptop when I find him that evening. He’s wearing glasses. I’ve never seen him in glasses before. That makes him look so much better, more adult, smarter. “Hi,” I say, wanting to seem cool. I sit on the sofa, flip through the channels like I usually do (though he was watching the news), sip from a juice I grabbed from the fridge. I see a few new things around the house: table lamps, little sculptures, knick-knacks.
“Ferlita came by?” I ask.
“Ya,” is his reply. “Came to put those things up, then I got her to leave.” His voice goes up as he says this. He sounds unsure, like he’s read from a script. I feel like laughing. Seriously. I want to giggle. I don’t have a problem with Ferlita coming around, anymore. I hope they don’t do anything. But I know they won’t do anything. I feel…sure. Inu, he loves me, I think. He won’t want to make me jealous.
