by Lestari, Dee
“Pasha, it’s me, Wanda. Could you do me a favor? I just need your name and info for my customer list. No, you don’t need to buy the painting, you just need to say that you’ve bought it. Is that okay, hon? Thanks . . .”
“Virna, dear? Could I ask you for a favor? I want to buy a painting, but I can’t buy it under my name. Could I use yours? I just need your info, that’s all . . .”
In a matter of minutes, all four of Keenan’s paintings had been sold. They’d been bought by four different people. But all of them had been paid for by one person: Wanda.
CHAPTER 14
THE BOOK OF HIDDEN TREASURE
June 2000
Keenan and Bimo pulled the CJ-8 Jeep into the one parking space next to the small health clinic.
“Talk about the middle of nowhere,” said Bimo as he looked around. “I come here a lot with my off-road riding club.” His eyes came to rest on a narrow, steep clearing off the main road, partially obscured by bamboo. “Ical said to follow this path for about half an hour until we come to a mosque. He’ll be waiting for us there.” He parted the thick curtain of bamboo leaves.
Keenan imagined little Kugy walking down this path every day to teach. Suddenly, he felt moved.
Ical was already waiting for them at the mosque, and they all set off toward the chili pepper field and the thatched shelters where classes were held. Before long, they arrived at a shelter made of bamboo, where Ami greeted them.
“That’s where I teach,” said Ical, pointing to another smaller shelter among some hills. “Kugy teaches over there.” He pointed to a large banyan tree where several children were seated on a mat.
Even at a distance, Keenan could make out Kugy’s silhouette. Her back was to him, and her little hands moved to and fro, as if she were demonstrating something.
“We don’t have any constraints on what we do here,” explained Ami. “Since you’re joining us as a guest teacher, just come by whenever you want. There are no specific times.”
“The children are really excited about learning how to draw,” Ical added. “Just show up every once in a while and they’ll be happy.”
“Whose class should I teach first?” asked Keenan, slinging his backpack of art supplies over his shoulder.
Ical and Ami exchanged glances. “Any class you want. It’s up to you,” answered Ami.
“I’ll teach that class first, okay?” Keenan pointed to the banyan tree, where he’d been wanting to go since he had arrived.
Keenan approached right when Kugy was pretending to be Dombrut the Sheep. Dombrut was about to go on a rampage and—so the story went—be defeated by General Pilik and the Alit Brigade. Head down, butt in the air, holding her hands on either side of her head to mimic horns, Kugy froze when a familiar maroon backpack with a K suddenly came into view. And a familiar-looking pair of shoes. And a familiar-looking pair of legs. Hastily, Kugy straightened up to find Keenan standing in front of her, a smirk on his face and two fingers on either side of his head extended like antennae.
“Agent Keenan Klappertaartmania reporting for duty,” said Keenan, adopting a soldier’s stance.
“Klappertaart?” Kugy’s eyes brightened at the mention of the Dutch-influenced dessert. But she tried to look serious. “What’s the password?”
“Banana.”
Kugy looked thoughtful. “Hmm. All right. Permission to join.” Her face assumed its usual cheerful expression. “Students! We have a guest teacher joining us today. Say hello to . . . Kang Keenan!”
Keenan had an amused frown on his face. He’d never been addressed as Kang before. It was a Sundanese term of respect for an older-brother-type figure.
“What did you say? Rangginang?” shouted one of the children. The transformation of Kang Keenan’s name into a type of rice cracker was greeted by shrieks of laughter.
“Pilik, you don’t even know what Kang Keenan can do yet!” Kugy said. “He can draw anything you want—in one minute or less!”
Keenan frowned again.
“How long is one minute?” asked Pilik.
“One minute is sixty seconds,” Kugy answered. “So all of you have to count out loud from one to sixty together. If you can’t, just repeat after me. But everybody has to join in. Ready?”
“Ready!” the children chorused.
“Okay, let’s go!” Keenan exclaimed, marker in hand. “What do you want me to draw?” He stood next to the large sketchpad he had propped up on his wooden easel.
“Draw Hogi!” one of the children shouted.
Keenan frowned for the third time. “What’s a Hogi?” he asked Kugy under his breath.
“He’s a rooster. Large. Black. Make him handsome—that’s the main thing. Got it?” Kugy turned again to her students. “Okay, barudak! Get ready to count! One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . .”
They counted to sixty with enthusiasm. And by the time they reached forty, Keenan was already sitting down relaxing, legs stretched out in front of him. The drawing of the rooster they had asked for was complete.
The children were amazed. It had come to life so quickly, before their very eyes. They cheered. And then they proceeded to bombard Keenan with requests.
“Draw a robot!”
“Draw a plane!”
“Draw Mr. Somad!”
Keenan spent the rest of the day fulfilling their requests. Every drawing was greeted by shouts of astonishment and cheers. Keenan’s presence among them that day was like that of a superstar among fans. They demanded he distribute the drawings among them to take home. And they accepted them from him with pride, as if they were autographs from a famous movie star.
“You’ll come often, won’t you, Kang Keenan?” pleaded Pilik. He rolled up his drawing and put it into his bag, which was made from an old flour sack. “Next time, draw a picture of me and the Alit Brigade.”
Keenan didn’t quite understand what Pilik meant, but he nodded anyway, unable to refuse.
“Oh, by the way. I’m General Pilik.” Pilik puffed out his chest and gave Keenan a firm handshake. “Tong hilap! Don’t forget!” Then he scurried away after his friends. “Hey, troops! Dagoan euy! Wait for me!”
Keenan turned to Kugy. “I don’t get how you always manage to turn everyone around you into weirdos as well. Or maybe you’re just fated to be among other weirdos.”
Kugy chuckled. “That kid. Talk about miracles. He used to be my sworn enemy, but once I succeeded in taming him, he became my ally. And because the whole class follows Pilik’s lead, they all became my allies, too.”
“What’s your secret, Agent Karmachameleon?” Keenan asked with a serious expression.
With equal seriousness, Kugy drew something out of her bag as if she were unsheathing a sword. “This is my secret, Agent Poffertjesmania!” In her hand was a worn-looking notebook.
“Klappertaart, poffertjes—my mother’s Dutch, not a pastry chef. What is that, anyway? The Weirdo’s Handbook?”
Kugy plunked down next to Keenan. Her eyes were aglow with excitement. “Take a look. It’s an adventure series I’ve been writing since I started teaching here. The characters are my own students. They didn’t want to learn how to read at first, so I promised them that I’d write fairy tales about their adventures. But they would have to learn how to read in order to understand them. And that’s how General Pilik and the Alit Brigade came about. All the characters in the series are drawn from their lives. See, here’s Hogi the Saintly Rooster . . . Palmo the Stubborn Goat . . . Gogog the Amazing Swimming Dog . . . and Somad the Stealthy . . .” Enthusiastically, Kugy showed him one page after another.
“These kids don’t know about teddy bears or Barney or Elmo. And when I told them about Snow White, Peter Pan, and Little Red Riding Hood, all I got were blank stares. But once I created something based on their own world—something they recognized—it was like something inside them suddenly came to life. Like self-confidence, or hope, or excitement . . .” Kugy stopped to catch her breath. “Like . . . a miracle.�
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Keenan took a deep breath as well. He realized he had also forgotten to breathe—he was so carried away by what Kugy was saying. “You’re amazing,” he said, his tone filled with wonder. “You’re the real miracle. I can feel it—how comfortable the kids are just being themselves.”
Kugy shook her head. “They’re the ones who are amazing. I’m just someone passing through who’s been lucky enough to witness it all. I don’t know how long the Sakola Alit will last. But I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
Keenan gazed into Kugy’s shining eyes. And boldly, Kugy returned his clear gaze. For a long time they were silent. There was nothing but the wind rustling through the leaves. There was nothing but the insects in the trees calling out to each other. The two of them just kept gazing at each other without saying a word.
“I miss you,” said Keenan finally, almost whispering.
A wave of emotion hit Kugy with such force that she felt like her chest was about to burst. She genuinely didn’t know how to respond. It was as if Keenan’s gaze had swept every word from her mind. At last, Kugy simply bowed her head.
“We fellow agents have to support each other,” she finally managed to say. “You’re going to be a professional painter soon. I heard what Wanda said at the gallery. That if you’re really serious, you’ll have to make time for producing more work. Then, you’ll have to hold exhibitions. You’ll have to go on tour. You won’t have time to stand under a tree drawing pictures like you did today.” Kugy tried to make her voice sound as steady as possible. “I still have a long way to go compared to you. You’ve already found someone who can help you achieve your dreams.” The words were difficult to say, but Kugy felt compelled to speak them. “Your dreams are more important than anything else. We each have a mission. And soon, you’ll have accomplished yours. We can’t let our whims get in the way or we’ll break down in the middle of the road.” Kugy swallowed. “Remember those signs on the back of buses: if two buses belong to the same company, they shouldn’t interfere with each other’s routes.”
Suddenly, Kugy felt her chin being tilted upward. There, again, was that heart-piercing gaze.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Keenan said gently. “I’m grateful you’re so mindful of my hopes and dreams and the chance I’ve been given to fulfill them. But all that aside, I miss you. You’ve disappeared recently.”
Slowly, Kugy turned her face away, until her chin was beyond his fingers’ reach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t gone anywhere.” She spoke softly and tried to smile. “Now you know where my headquarters are. All you have to do is look for me under this tree.”
They heard footsteps approaching. It was Ami. “Hey, let’s head home. It turns out Bimo’s still waiting in front. The five of us can pack into his car like sardines.” Ami chuckled.
“Yeah, let’s go!” Kugy rose to her feet.
Keenan held her back. “Kugy and I will catch an angkot. You guys go ahead. That way we won’t have to be sardines.”
“Are you sure?” asked Ami, noticing the contrast between Keenan’s certainty and Kugy’s hesitation. Kugy was about to protest, but Keenan was clutching her wrist so tightly that she felt she shouldn’t say anything.
“Positive,” Kugy said, finally. “We’ll take an angkot. See you, Ami!”
Once Ami was far away, Keenan loosened his grip. “To pay you back for disappearing for so long, I’m booking you for the whole day.”
“Contact my manager first. Her name is Madam Noni. You’re lucky it’s the low season at the moment, so you’ll be able to get a cheaper rate.” Kugy grinned and gave Keenan’s shoulder a nudge.
They spent the rest of the day hanging out. They walked to a bookstore, killed time at the zoo in Taman Sari, and had an afternoon coffee on Jalan Dago. Finally, Keenan brought Kugy back to her boarding house.
They stood in front of the white wrought-iron gate. The sky was beginning to grow dark and the lights on the front lawn turned on. They could hear the sound of the nighttime insects calling faintly to each other.
“Okay, Little One,” said Keenan. “I’m heading home. Today was a lot of fun. Thanks for everything.” His voice felt heavy in his ears. His feet felt heavy, too.
“As a bonus for booking me the whole day, I want to give you something to remember it by.” Kugy handed him the worn-looking notebook containing the adventures of Pilik.
Keenan looked surprised. “But—”
“I’ve reached the end of the notebook, anyway. I have to get a new one.”
“You’re really giving this book to me?”
“It’s the only thing I have to give you,” she said.
Suddenly, she found herself in his arms. Her entire body became stiff as a board. Her eyes were wide open. What’s happening? she thought. Then, slowly, she felt the warmth spread from Keenan’s body into hers, melting her muscles, causing her eyelids to droop. The fact that she was being embraced began to seep in and she surrendered to it with all her heart.
Seconds passed. The embrace loosened. Then he let her go. Keenan smiled a little and gave Kugy’s hair an awkward ruffle. “Take care of yourself, okay, Little One?” he murmured. Quickly, he turned around and left.
“You, too,” Kugy murmured back. She wasn’t sure if Keenan heard her or not. But she was sure he must have heard the beating of her heart when he had pulled her close to him—just as she had heard the beating of his.
Under the glow of his desk lamp, Keenan opened the notebook Kugy had given him. The rows of small, neat handwriting were so straight they looked like they had been typed. He read story after story and laughed. Kugy’s writing made him feel as if he were sitting in a movie theater, watching the plot unfold and seeing the characters brought to life, taking on a reality of their own. Keenan couldn’t stop reading.
His gaze drifted to a doodle on one of the pages. Keenan wouldn’t have been able to guess what kind of creature she had tried drawing if she hadn’t written “Hogi” under it. A few pages later, it seemed that Kugy had tried to draw something again—this time, a man of distorted proportions with a peci on his head. “Somad the Stealthy,” read the caption. Keenan could imagine how much effort Kugy had put into these scribbles. He could imagine her serious expression, as if she were in the process of creating a masterpiece. He felt very moved.
Closing the book, he dragged his chair over to the blank canvas next to his desk. He had been keeping it on standby for a while, but it had remained blank. Keenan hadn’t felt compelled to paint anything new since he’d come back from Amsterdam, but that night the old impulse returned—as if something was waiting for him to come and get it. What that something was, Keenan wasn’t sure. He just let his hands move, allowing them to dance and sweep over the blank canvas until, gradually, something took shape.
Keenan painted and painted until morning.
CHAPTER 15
SEARCHING FOR SINCERITY
It was two in the afternoon. The boarding houses were usually quiet at this time, filling up again only later, when the students returned from campus. So Eko wasn’t surprised at how desolate this one was—especially since it only had five occupants. He was more surprised that one occupant hadn’t left the boarding house, or been seen on campus for several days.
Eko knocked and the door to Keenan’s room opened. Keenan stood before him, his hair disheveled and his eyes half-closed.
“Whoa. Did you just wake up?”
“Mmph,” Keenan mumbled as he went back inside and threw himself onto the bed.
“Bimo says it’s been days since you’ve gone to class. What’s up, man?”
Keenan pointed at the canvas.
“Wow. New painting?” He shook his head in amazement. “It’s crazy cool.”
“It’s not finished yet . . .”
“This unfinished painting is crazy cool,” Eko amended with a laugh. “Anyway, I’m actually here to deliver a message from Wanda. She’s been trying to find you for days. She says
she has some super important information for you, but she hasn’t been able to reach you. She also says that it’s high time you got a cell phone, and that she’s coming to Bandung this afternoon for the express purpose of seeing you.”
“What for?”
Eko shrugged. “It sounds like something really important. So I’ll take you to buy a phone this afternoon, okay?”
“Eh,” Keenan answered in a muffled voice. He’d buried his face in his pillow.
“Technophobe. A true artist to the core. This is the new millennium. It’s absurd that you don’t have a cell phone.”
“Can’t be bothered. Don’t need one.”
“Anyway, second order of business: Are you and Wanda a couple yet? Be honest.”
At this, Keenan lifted his head and slowly straightened himself into a sitting position.
“Okay, okay, I’ll rephrase my question: Are you interested in her? Be honest.”
“Honestly, I’m more interested in . . . Wait, why are you asking me this all of a sudden?”
“Well, you’ve been hanging out with each other for almost five months. It’s obvious you two are a good match. It’s obvious she’s always making an effort to spend time with you, and you couldn’t ask for anyone more helpful for your career. And it’s obvious that she’s . . . well, Wanda! That girl’s got it all! What healthy red-blooded male wouldn’t drool and paw at the ground at the very sight of her?” Eko spoke with great zeal. “So?”
“So—what?” Keenan looked at him blankly.
Eko frowned. “It’s time you were honest with me. Are you straight?”
Keenan chuckled. “The last time I checked, yes.”
“If you’re not attracted to Wanda, something’s not right.”
“It’s not that I’m not attracted to her. I don’t have a problem with Wanda at all. She’s kind, she’s smart, she’s mature, and you’re right—when it comes to art, we’re a great match. And she’s helped me out a lot. I’m aware of that. Is she beautiful? No doubt about it. Even a blind person would agree. But, do I want her as my girlfriend?” Keenan took a breath. “I don’t know. I’m still not sure.”
