by Lestari, Dee
“Hooray!” Kugy exclaimed as Noni said, “Thank goodness.”
“What’d you do, Kugy?” asked Noni.
“Mostly hung around the house, wondering what will become of me.”
Eko tilted his head. “Nothing better to do?”
“I’m also making . . .” Kugy faltered, thinking better of it.
“Talk about building up suspense!” Noni exclaimed.
“What did you do, Noni?” Kugy shot back to divert attention.
Noni’s face instantly brightened—as if she was about to convey some spectacular piece of news she’d been dying to share. “I’ve already told Eko about this, and he agrees that it’s an absolutely brilliant plan.”
Kugy’s eyes began to shine as well. She sat up straight. “It must be something pretty amazing,” she said in anticipation.
“Let’s be systematic!” exclaimed Eko. “Provide some background for the problem at hand.”
“All right—some background.” Noni cleared her throat and began to elaborate. “Something’s missing in our gang. You have a boyfriend, I have a boyfriend. Keenan’s the only single one. And from the looks of things, that kid is too antisocial to find a girlfriend himself. So . . .”
Kugy held her breath.
“So Ms. Noni here wants to try her luck as Madam Matchmaker,” Eko finished, touching the tip of Noni’s nose.
“I have a relative,” Noni continued. “Not a direct cousin, but we’re pretty close. She’s been living in Melbourne, but she’s taking a break from her university studies and coming back to Indonesia to intern at her dad’s company. She’s planning to visit Bandung next week—right when Keenan gets back from Bali.”
Kugy could feel herself tensing up. “And then what?” she asked.
“And then we should introduce them to each other. That’s what,” said Eko.
“You really want to set Keenan up like that? I don’t know,” said Kugy. She couldn’t force herself to sound enthusiastic about Noni’s project.
“They’re not going to know about it, of course. It has to happen naturally. We’re the only ones who’d know they’d been set up.”
“Oh, you two just go ahead without me,” Kugy answered weakly. “I’m no good at matchmaking. I have a zero percent success rate.” Her spine, so straight just moments before, slumped, and she returned to leaning back against her chair.
“Why so pessimistic?” asked Eko. “Imagine! Then we could triple-date! Me and Noni, you and Josh, Keenan and . . . What’s her name again?”
“Wanda.”
“And Wanda. How cool would that be?”
“Yeah, I appreciate your optimism, but enough already. They haven’t even met. They might not click. Don’t talk about triple-dating just yet.” Kugy was barely able to suppress the edge that had crept into her voice.
“Strange,” commented Eko. “Aren’t you the one who’s always been the professional dreamer?”
Noni chuckled. “If it’s a matter of clicking or not, I’m positive they’ll click.”
“Oh yeah?” Kugy asked.
“Just wait and see.” Noni gave them a satisfied smile.
It wasn’t just their conversation at the Hunger No Longer that afternoon—Kugy had been feeling there was something wrong with her for the past few weeks. She felt it was on the tip of her tongue, yet she still couldn’t explain what was happening. Not even to herself. She felt the time had come to talk to someone else about it. If she could at least work up the courage to speak about it, maybe she could get an explanation. That was her hope.
Noni’s door was ajar. She knocked. “Noni, are you busy?”
Noni was in the middle of talking to someone on the phone, but she motioned for Kugy to come in. Kugy sat on the corner of the bed and waited.
“We’re definitely confirmed for next weekend, right? Do you need a ride? . . . Okay. Me and Eko will pick you up and take you to the hotel, then we’ll all go out together. Yeah, some of my friends will be coming, too. Okay. See you later! Take care. Bye!” Noni put down the phone. “Sorry, that was Wanda. What’s up?”
Upon hearing Wanda’s name, Kugy felt uneasiness spread through her body again. She felt even more like something was wrong. She looked at Noni, who was looking back at her expectantly. For some reason, Kugy suddenly felt that Noni wasn’t the best person to discuss this problem with after all.
“What is it?” Noni asked again.
“Never mind. I forgot what I wanted to talk about. Sorry.” With a nervous laugh, Kugy got up to leave.
“Are you sure?” Noni studied her friend’s face. “It feels like you’ve been on the verge of saying something all day.”
“Maybe it’s time for me to repent and do more good works,” Kugy blurted randomly as she hurried away.
“Crazy girl,” Noni said with a grin before shutting the door.
CHAPTER 10
THE YOUNG CURATOR
By the time Kugy got back to the boarding house it was past five o’clock. She had just returned from a meeting for the Youth Mentoring Club, which had invited her to be a teacher at a volunteer-run elementary school. The Sakola Alit—“Little School” in Sundanese—would be situated outdoors in the hills of Bojong Koneng. They didn’t have enough funds to rent a space, so they would have to carry out their educational activities in flimsy thatched-roof shelters in the fields or under the trees.
“Can you believe that in a city as developed as Bandung there are nine- and ten-year-olds who can’t even read or write?” Ami had asked Kugy at the meeting.
“So where do we start?” Kugy asked.
“We’ll divide them into classes according to their abilities. The lowest class will focus only on reading, arithmetic, and drawing—what they would learn in kindergarten. But the ages within each class may vary, ranging anywhere from four years old to ten.”
Kugy listened quietly as Ami spoke. She kept looking at the photos of the children they were going to help.
“Think about it first,” said Ami. “We’re committed to teaching them four days a week, so it’ll take up a lot of time.”
“How many volunteers do you currently have?”
“Two, including me.”
“And how many children are there?”
“Twenty-two.”
Again, Kugy was quiet. “Okay. I’ll let you know sometime this week.”
All the way home, Kugy couldn’t get those children’s faces out of her head. Her attention was diverted only when she opened the door to her room, switched on the light, and saw the pile of gifts on her bed. Her eyes grew wide. “Noni!” she called.
She heard a voice call out from the room next door. Before long, Noni appeared in the doorway.
“Was Keenan here?” asked Kugy.
“Yeah. He and Eko stopped by. He was looking for you, but you weren’t here. So he gave me these souvenirs for you. You saw them, huh?”
Kugy nodded. She looked at the white shirt with the mythical lion-like creature on it and the black patterned sarong, both neatly folded. On top were a miniature surfing board and a box of salted nuts.
“Later tonight, Eko and I are going over to his boarding house. Do you want to come?”
“Yes! Yes!” Kugy answered, almost shouting, unable to hide how excited she was.
Once Noni had left, Kugy opened her desk drawer—just to take a look at the book she had made. It was finally finished. She felt something blossom in her heart. She couldn’t wait for evening to come.
“Hey, are you ready?” Noni poked her head into Kugy’s room. Behind her was Eko. “Wow. Why so dressed up?”
“What? Nah, not really.” Nervously, Kugy adjusted her black knee-length dress. It was the nicest piece of clothing she had ever owned, and it was so special that she had never taken it out of her closet. Abruptly, Kugy snatched up Karel’s denim jacket and quickly put it on.
“And . . . you’re back to being a mess,” Eko said with a laugh. “But it suits you better.”
Suddenly a woman she
didn’t know appeared behind Eko and Noni. She walked elegantly, and her lithe body was clad in tight jeans and a tank top. Her trendy-looking high-heeled wedges matched the tiny purse she was carrying. Her long hair looked perfectly styled, like she’d just come from the salon. Every time she moved, Kugy caught a whiff of floral perfume. Kugy froze.
“Let me introduce you,” said Noni. “This is my cousin, Wanda.”
“Wanda.” The woman repeated her name in a melodious voice that reminded Kugy of a receptionist’s.
Kugy shook Wanda’s hand and saw that her nails were painted a metallic blue, which gleamed in the lamplight. Then Kugy realized that Wanda’s eyes were a similar bright blue. She must have been wearing contact lenses. It was as if every square inch of Wanda’s appearance had been carefully planned—something that Kugy felt utterly incapable of.
Wanda turned to face Noni. “Shall we?”
“I’ll be out in a bit. You guys go ahead,” said Kugy. After they left, she threw herself onto the bed. Her emotions were in turmoil. She felt so anxious she almost couldn’t bear it. Everything about Wanda, Noni’s plan, and all the possible scenarios that might play out left her paralyzed. Finally, Kugy came to a decision.
She ran out front where her friends were waiting in the car and made up an excuse so she wouldn’t have to go to Keenan’s place. Instead, Kugy spent the whole night curled up in bed.
From his room, Keenan could hear Fuad pulling up. Then he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Immediately, he rose and opened the door. He could feel his heart beating faster.
Noni and Eko stood there, grinning from ear to ear.
“Where’s Little One?” Keenan asked.
He heard the click of high heels approaching. “Sorry, guys,” someone said. “I lost one of my contacts. Good thing I found it.”
Keenan was astonished to see a tall woman walking in their direction, blinking rapidly. Then he looked at Noni and Eko, searching for an explanation.
“Keenan, this is Wanda, my cousin from Melbourne. You’ve heard of the Warsita Gallery in Menteng, right? Wanda’s father owns it. She likes paintings, too. I mean, she knows a lot about art-related stuff. I told her that painting is your hobby, and she said she’s on the lookout for paintings here in Bandung.” Noni prattled on like a peddler promoting her wares.
Keenan greeted Wanda with some awkwardness. Behind her, Eko widened his eyes, signaling for Keenan to invite them in.
“Oh, sorry. Please come in,” stammered Keenan as he opened the door wide. “Sorry it’s a bit messy. I haven’t had the chance to clean up since returning from Bali—”
Before Keenan could finish, Wanda barged in, already transfixed by the artwork throughout the room. She examined painting after painting with great care, as if she were a professional curator. She was so focused that it seemed as if everything else had vanished into the bowels of the earth, leaving her alone with Keenan’s paintings.
Keenan watched in confusion as Wanda ogled the paintings appreciatively. At the same time, he saw Eko and Noni standing in a corner, smiling. There were a lot of questions hanging in the air that evening.
“Have you ever exhibited your work?” Wanda asked, her eyes still fixed on one of his paintings.
“Not yet.”
“Have your paintings ever been shown in a gallery?”
“Not yet,” Keenan said again, shaking his head. “Painting is just a hobby. I do it for fun.”
“Ah. Such a shame,” said Wanda, a faint smile on her face. “You are very, very talented.”
“Really?” Keenan raised his eyebrows. “In your opinion, are these paintings good enough to be shown in a gallery?”
“‘Good enough’?” This time, Wanda looked at him and chuckled softly. “You should be a professional painter.”
Keenan’s expression instantly changed. He stepped closer to Wanda, all ears.
“You’re a wonderful portrait painter. You bring all your subjects to life in such detail. Your strokes and lines are sure, precise. And what’s especially unique is the way you bring portraiture and the abstract together in one frame. Your abstract-painting abilities are also very strong. Usually, a painter’s strengths lie in one area or the other, but you’re strong in both. Impressive.” Wanda shook her head in amazement.
Keenan swallowed. This was the first time anyone had commented on his paintings with such seriousness. This visit had suddenly gotten interesting.
Noni and Eko ended up resorting to pizza delivery for dinner. Wanda and Keenan were having so much fun chatting about art that they didn’t even notice Noni and Eko trying to get them to leave the house.
As Noni raised a slice of pizza to her lips, she extended a hand toward Eko and gave him a surreptitious handshake. Mission accomplished.
Kugy had been lying awake for a while now. She’d tried distracting herself, but in her mind she was riding in Fuad toward Keenan’s boarding house, coming up with a thousand and one possible scenarios for what would happen that night. No normal guy wouldn’t be attracted to Wanda. But Keenan might be different—he values different things. Then again, guys are guys. But Wanda might be boring and bland, and maybe they won’t click. Still, if you’re that pretty, who cares if you’re bland and if you don’t click . . . And so Kugy’s mind rambled on.
When she heard the door to Noni’s room open, Kugy leapt out of bed and stood in the doorway, trying to look nonchalant.
“Still not asleep?” asked Noni as Kugy yawned and scratched her head. “I thought you said you had a lot of work and a stomachache, and that you wanted to go to sleep early.”
“Just about to go to bed. I was doing a bit of writing.” Kugy yawned again. “So how did our Madam Matchmaker’s debut go? Was it a success?”
“On a scale of one to a hundred, I scored a ninety-five,” Noni declared confidently. “I fell short by five points only because I didn’t wait around to make sure that Keenan and Wanda weren’t struck by amnesia.”
“You’re certainly the optimist. Do you really think Keenan would want to go out with a Barbie girl like Wanda?”
“Kugy, darling, Wanda is a young curator in the making. Her old man owns the Warsita Gallery in Menteng.” Noni issued her explanation with a triumphant smile. “True, Keenan had a bit of an allergic reaction at first, but once Wanda began commenting on his paintings, it was like he was bewitched! The two of them were so busy talking that they lost track of everything else. We had to cancel our plans to eat out and ordered pizza instead. And then Eko and I ended up taking refuge in an Internet café. So much for being matchmakers—wallflowers, more like it. Crazy, huh?”
Kugy laughed, too—an empty, fake-sounding laugh. Her tongue felt too dry to offer a response. In the end, she said she was going to bed.
Something had shattered in Kugy’s heart, and it felt like the fragments were spreading throughout her entire body. She grabbed her bolster pillow and clutched it to her stomach in agony. All the restlessness and confusion she’d been feeling came to a head and exploded. She could no longer contain her misery. One by one, the tears began trickling down her cheeks.
Briefly, Kugy raised her head to glance at the book of fairy tales she had made, which was lying on the desk. She frowned. Suddenly she felt so stupid. The book looked awful. She buried her face in the pillow, disgusted at her handiwork.
Then she realized: she had fallen in love with Keenan.
When Kugy woke up in the morning, her eyes were puffy and swollen. She had to wrap some ice cubes in a handkerchief to use as a compress. With one eye open, she looked up a number in her notebook and dialed it.
“Ami? Hi, it’s Kugy. I’ve made my decision. Yeah, I’d like to be a teacher at the Sakola Alit. Can I start right away? . . . Yeah, I’m ready.”
After the conversation ended, Kugy breathed a sigh of relief. She had to do something, anything. She had to keep busy. She would do whatever she needed to take her mind off this pain. And Ami’s offer had suddenly become her best ticket out.
Then she remembered something—something handmade and neatly wrapped in blue paper. Kugy took it out of the drawer. She opened her closet, where she kept a few small boxes of assorted knickknacks. Then she opened one of the boxes and hurled the object in. Still not satisfied, she buried the box in a pile of other things. As she did so, Kugy wished she could forget the object—and the way she felt.
CHAPTER 11
THE SAKOLA ALIT
The angkot they’d flagged down was an old Colt L-300, and it climbed the hills with great difficulty, finally dropping the three of them off at the beginning of a footpath. It was good to feel the warm morning sun on their faces after being trapped inside the van for so long.
Kugy, Ami, and Ical exchanged glances before setting off down the dirt path. This was officially their first day teaching at the Sakola Alit. They had no idea what lay in store. Toting small chalkboards and shouldering backpacks stuffed with books and writing implements, they descended down the path, shaded by clusters of bamboo to their left and right.
After walking for half an hour, they arrived at a mosque. Lots of small children were running around. A man wearing a felt peci on his head was sitting smoking. He quickly stood up to receive them.
“Neng Ami.” He extended the tips of his fingers toward Ami in greeting. “Kumaha? Damang?” he asked in Sundanese. “How are you? Well, I hope?”
Ami introduced her friends, then explained, “Mr. Somad helped us round up the children from the village.”
“Muhun,” answered Mr. Somad. “That’s right. We’ve managed to get fifteen children today, Neng. The rest will probably come tomorrow or the day after. We hope you understand—a lot of them have work to do as well.”
“It’s all right. We’ll go ahead and start. Where do we go?”
“Oh, mangga, mangga. Diantar ku Bapa. This way please. I’ll show you.” Mr. Somad hastily put out his clove cigarette and called the children, who were scattered all around the mosque. Before long, they were walking in a boisterous group toward a large shelter located beside a field of chili pepper plants.
