Short story by Hamzah Puadi Ilyas
Published in The Jakarta Post | Sun, 07/31/2005



""Mom, can you tell me again about daddy?"" begged five-year-old Fayi, asking again about where her father had gone.

Laela took a deep breath. She felt utterly bewildered every time Fayi asked the question. So as not to disappoint her beloved daughter, Laela had made up a story about Fayi's father, Har, and that he had gone to a place far above in the sky.

""Who did he go with, Mommy?"" Fayi's voice was slowing, a sign that she was getting sleepy.

""He went there with the wind.""

""Can I be the wind's friend, too? So I can go to daddy? I miss his Cinderella,"" said Fayi.

Hearing this, Laela was deeply touched. She wanted to cry, but she held it in, not wanting to shed tears in front of her daughter.

""You certainly can, honey. But wait until you can fly a plane like your daddy."" Laela touched Fayi's hair tenderly. After Har's death, Fayi was the only one Laela cared about -- her life was dedicated to Fayi.

""Can I fly a plane like daddy some day?""

""Of course, dear. But you have to promise Mommy to be a good girl and study hard. So later, when you fly a plane, the wind won't disturb you because it is your friend.""

""I will, Mom.""

Fayi stretched and yawned.

""Now, it's time for bed,"" Laela cooed.

Her eyes half open, Fayi murmured, ""I want to hear about Cinderella. I want to hear about her beautiful glass shoes.""

Laela gave in to her daughter's wish and picked up a book from the nightstand. She opened it and started to read in a soft voice.

About 20 minutes later, Fayi's breathing became heavy, and she fell into a deep slumber. Slowly, Laela put the book back on the nightstand. She tucked a striped blanket around Fayi and gave her a good-night kiss on the brow. Then she turned off the lights, leaving Fayi with her beautiful dream about the wind.

It was the dead of night, but Laela could hardly close her eyes. An image of Har seemed to float on the bedroom ceiling. It was so clear, as thought he was trying to contact her.

She tried to concentrate, making an effort to follow the image as it moved to and fro. Har's face was so calm and peaceful. He even looked more handsome than in life. Laela's eyes were glued to the pattern it made on the ceiling. Strangely, it left a faint trace of words, a farewell.

Quick as a flash, she got up. Was it just a dream? But why was it so clear?

***

She recalled a moment with Har, in a fancy restaurant at a five-star hotel, celebrating their second anniversary. Har didn't talk much then, and simply said that he was deeply in love with her.

""Will you love me for the rest of your life?"" Har asked.

""Yes, of course Mas. I loved you from the first moment I saw you,"" Laela said.

Har didn't reply, but his eyes shone with happiness, and he took something out of his pocket. It was a diamond ring.

""This is a gift for being my soul mate,"" he said.

Laela was surprised and overjoyed. ""Ooh, Mas Har, it is really beautiful.""

It fit her finger perfectly.

""Mas, I'd like to tell you something -- something I've been hiding from you,"" Laela teased.

""What is it, dear?""

""I'm two months pregnant.""

""What?? Really?? Oh, bless the Lord. I'm going to be a father!"" Unable to control his joy, Har clasped his wife's hand and kissed her long.

It was absolute happiness. Life was so good.

Seven months later, Laela delivered a healthy baby girl, whose nose was pointed like her mother's, and her round eyes took after her father's. They named her Fayi, which was Arabic for sweet fragrance. Laela and Har wanted her to grace those around her with her sweetness.

As she grew, they could see Fayi was a smart child. During his days off, Har spent all his time with Fayi, reading Cinderella to her.

Life is like a rainbow, thought Laela -- full of bright colors, beauty and mystery. We can't touch it, no matter how hard we try. In the end, it disappears, its cheerful and lively colors gone for good.

***

Day by day, Fayi grew under her parents' undivided attention, and had already started kindergarten.

One week before the shocking news came, Laela often caught sight of Har, who had become fond of watching Fayi as she slept. Laela was curious about this, but she was reluctant to find out what had caused the change in behavior.

Another unusual thing she noticed was Har's face. It looked sallow and drawn, losing its radiance. It was like the moonlight, how it disappeared gradually as the morning sun rose to show off its power.

The day before he was to fly, Har didn't say goodbye as he usually did. Kissing his wife on the forehead, he then drew Laela to his chest, whispering in her left ear: ""Please take care of Fayi and be strong."" That was the last thing he said. It sounded strange to her, but Laela just nodded, as a loyal wife should. Then Har went to Fayi's bedroom and kissed her goodbye on both cheeks.

Two days later, Laela's life was shattered: Jumbo jet flown by Capt. Hariman falls into Indian Ocean.

The cause was a violent storm. Everyone on the plane was missing. Why did this happen to me? Not now, it's too soon. We'd just started to be a family, facing our future together. He is a good husband. Fayi still needs a father who can drive away the evil spirits at night. She still needs Cinderella, and ... and ...

Be strong Laela, his words reverberated in her ears.

Days went by without Har. Silent, gloomy, dull.

Like a sunrise that was too shy to rise and erase the night, in her heart, Laela was unwillingness to let Har go. She was afraid whether she could raise Fayi on her own. What she should answer when Fayi asked about her father. Doubt cast a shadow over Laela's future.

Be strong Laela. There it was again.

***

Leaving Fayi's bedroom relieved Laela for a moment. It had taken several times for her to compose the story about Har's journey to the sky with the wind.

Fayi never tired of listening to the same story, again and again, and she seemed to have become obsessed with the wind ever since she heard the story.

Laela went into the living room, gazing at the big family portrait of the three of them, Fayi in between her and Har, smiling her childish smile.

Laela stepped closer to it and touched the figures in the picture one by one, including herself. That time was all too brief, but it was full of happiness.

Touching Har's face, Laela's spirit revived gradually. She remembered her last promise to him.

Let the past be buried. The future was for Fayi and Laela. From this point forth, Laela vowed in front of Har's smiling face, nothing would separate them.

A sudden loud noise came from Fayi's bedroom. Laela came back to herself, waking from her thoughts. Hurrying, she went into her daughter's room to see what was going on.

Stopping just inside, Laela couldn't believe what she was seeing.

The window was wide open, the wind gently blowing into the room. Fayi was on her bed, her arms stretched out, and the wind surrounded her as though it was protecting her from the dark night and evil spirits.

-- Jakarta, April 24, 2005

The writer is an English teacher at LBPP-LIA Slipi, and is taking English Literature and Creative Writing courses at the Jakarta International School of Foreign Languages (STIBA) in Ciputat, South Jakarta.

Short story by Hamzah Puadi Ilyas
Published in The Jakarta Post | Sun, 05/20/2007



Mother changed out of the blue. She was fond of combing her hair.

Almost every time -- morning, noon, night -- she sat by the window, combing her hair with an implement made of buffalo horn, her eyes staring at the sky. At night she observed the moon intently, whereas in daylight she eyed the sun.

She seldom talked to anyone, including me. She merely spoke as she needed. But when she talked, her words sounded very cool and tranquil.

There was a feeling gently caressing my heart, such that I was not capable of questioning her abrupt change of behavior.

To begin with, her change did not thoroughly tease my heart because I was still a small kid. I was busy as a bee, flying kites with friends after school, finding eels in the paddy fields that then we baked together, and sometimes chasing the white herons until reaching the neighboring village.

In that village, according to some, I had a new mother. They said my father had married a rich widow.

I heard through the grapevine that my father simply wanted to get rich by exploiting his handsome appearance. They also said that by tying the knot with her, my father did not need to work as an ojek (motorcycle taxi) driver anymore.

*****

""Tunggal, my son, go to the guava tree beside our house. The tree has borne fruit."" Suddenly my mother told me upon my arrival at home after chasing kites. She was by the window, combing her long hair.

I headed directly toward the tree. Soon I climbed its sturdy trunk. My tiny body did not make it sway, the tree steadily standing erect.

In its boughs, I saw the fruit with light yellow skin. I imagined their pink edible flesh. Quickly, the fruit filled my hungry stomach.

From the tree I saw a woman walking hastily, looking morose. She seemed to burn with anger. I kept watching her, and it turned out that she headed toward my house.

In front of the door she called out to my mother with filthy words. Then she pounded on the door. It flew open and hit the wall. Again, the woman yelled and she looked as though she were possessed by an evil spirit.

I saw my mother, calmly combing her beautiful hair and staring at the afternoon sun through the open window. When finally the woman found her, my heart beat hard. What would she do to my mother?

Then I saw a black shadow pulling at mother's hair, accompanied by a howl, like a wolf.

I was so scared that I shut my eyes and ears. But my fingers managed to open the eyelashes that were trying to unite. I could see what was happening.

My mother's hair was being repeatedly dragged. But it seemed that she didn't feel anything. She played it cool. There was an urge to assist her, but it was as though a tree hugged me tightly.

Besides, the tree, suddenly flapping backwards and forwards in the wind, made me afraid.

A few moments later I heard my father's voice. His figure appeared in the mother's room. Father quickly hugged the woman, trying to separate her from mother.

With great difficulty, he finally succeeded. He drew her away from mother, also our house. The woman kept howling, but apparently he did not care. Gradually her long loud cry of anger was gone.

Immediately afterwards I climbed down the tree. Running fast and almost crying, I went to see my mother. Entering her room, I saw her sitting and combing her tousled hair in a composed manner. Her face did not express the sense of grief at the incident.

""Who's that woman, Mom?"" I cried, then put my head on her lap.

""Tunggal, my beloved son. That woman is your father's new wife. They have united to oppose me. Their life is imbued with wickedness. Don't be like them. In a very short time, they will reap what they have planted.""

Mother's eyes still stared at the sun, not blinking as always. Her hair was already tidy and she looked gorgeous.

*****

I heard mother's voice, singing a song whose meaning I did not understand. Her voice was very gentle and heaved in a slow rhythm as though it followed a breath of wind moving around the leaves of a guava tree.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, with men's voices calling my mother's name. Having just finished eating, I stepped to the living room. There had been three men standing there, worn-out and sweating.

""Where's your mother, Tunggal?"" Asked one of them politely. I could hear his breath, panting.

I pointed at my mother's room, the door standing ajar. I could see her, still combing her hair and reciting the song. Strangely, the three men became still, and they looked in awe of her. Their presence did not disturb her.

Then, one of them said softly, ""Madam Sirah. Tunggal's father and his new wife died. The motorcycle they were riding fell into a river when crossing a bridge in the neighboring village. Now, their bodies are in her house.""

Mother didn't say a word. She kept combing her hair, reciting the song that sounded softer. Her eyes gazed at the sun, whose light was becoming dimmer. Dusk was falling. Before long, her eyes would stare at the moon. Then, the moonlight would move to mother's beautiful eyes.

*****

I grew up without the guidance of a father, but everything I needed was on hand all of a sudden. Gradually I felt my life was a bit dull. Only mother's chant did I hear.

She never changed, always combing her handsome hair. The change was just the color of her hair. Brownish.

Once I mustered up the courage to talk to her. ""Mom I've grown up already. I'd like to go to the big city."" I kneeled down on the ground in front of her, what I always did when talking to her.

""Tunggal, my son. You may go as you like. This world is vast. Wherever you go, you'll see the sun. That's the source of life given to us. Watch it as often as possible. Later on, its light won't blind your eyes. Spread kindness wherever you live, and don't take a false step.""

I put my face on her lap. I cried, her hands stroking my head. Up till now I'd never expressed gratitude for her sincere care of me.

""Tunggal, my son. Here are two strands of my hair. Keep them. Later, you'll know they will be beneficial for you. You may throw them away if they don't shine again.""

A week later I was in the big city, working in a factory. I saved up. Life here was very different. Everything could be seen easily, but it was hard to get.

It was completely different when I was still with my mother. Everything seemed easy.

When I longed for her or I had a problem, I would turn to look at the two strands of her hair. The picture of her combing her hair and reciting a song appeared. It made me calm. But strangely, when the picture was gone, the light of her hair gradually faded.

A year went by. I had thrown away mother's hair because it had no light at all. I decided to see her. I would give her all the money I had saved.

""Tunggal, my son. Keep the money; I don't need it."" She slowly combed her hair with her fingers, then pulled two strands out. ""Here are the new strands of my hair. Keep them. Later, you'll know they will be beneficial for you.""

Shakily I took her hair. It was brown, but beautiful and shiny.

I got back to the city, working as usual. I got along with many people from various walks of life, men and women. One of the women attracted me. Her name was Indah. It seemed that she also had a crush on me.

Day by day we got closer. Finally we pledged to sail together in the ocean of love, aiming to reach the promised land.

*****

I had thrown away the hair since it did not shine anymore. I got married without telling my mother. But there was a strong feeling that she knew and blessed our marriage.

It seemed that she was always in my step. Sometimes I felt she wanted me to stop it, so I canceled something. Often, days later, I'd realize that my intended action would have turned out ugly.

Suddenly appeared the willingness to see mother, after my daughter named Wangi was born. Wangi had thick, black, beautiful hair. Like me, Indah was confused how Wangi could have such good hair even though neither of us had it.

I always told her that it might have been caused by her habit of eating mung bean porridge during her pregnancy.

I could not resist the feeling anymore. Together with Indah and Wangi, I went home. I wanted to show my mother that her granddaughter, Wangi, also had beautiful hair. Wangi was asleep on my back, her hair hanging loosely.

The feeling of excitement mingled with that of longing when I was at the front door. Indah was behind me. I called mother while walking toward the living room. From the half-opened door I saw mother sitting and combing her hair, a soft hum plus rhythmic movement.

""Mom, I'm home. Please forgive me. I haven't been here for ages."" I said. Wangi was still in a peaceful slumber. Mother said nothing. I felt sinful. Indah stood still next to the door. Mother's hair had turned white but it was still beautiful and shiny.

""Tunggal, my son."" Suddenly she muttered. ""You did not do any wrong. I restrained you from coming home until your daughter was born. Now, this is the time for me to go. Look at your daughter's hair. That is my soul. You'll find it there for good.""

Her words were very quiet. Gradually, her comb that loyally accompanied her slowed down, running through the strands of her hair. Every inch it passed, the color turned whiter. Finally it fell to the floor without a sound.

Mother stayed put, breathing her last. With a feeling tearing at my heart, I knelt down, weeping. Indah took Wangi from my back. Then I put my head on mother's lap.

I felt as if half of my body was gone. I would never let her go. I never made her happy. I was an insubordinate son.

All of a sudden, the sunlight entered the room through the open window, touching my mother's hair. Her wind-blown hair shone like a polished diamond, my eyes not blinking.

""Grandma,"" Wangi said in her sleep, her lips smiling and her hair sparkling.

Short story by Hamzah Puadi Ilyas
Published in The Jakarta Post | Sun, 04/06/2008

Woman, Javanese, 31, 163/54, bachelor's degree, employee, polite; needs a man/widower, 31-40, 165/proportional height, min. academy graduate, full-time worker/entrepreneur, loyal, responsible, non-drinker and non-gambler, ready to marry.

The words arranged in the Matchmaking Contact column in a well-known newspaper was the answer to a mother's wish for her daughter. That was what Trie did to make her mother happy.

Her mother lay weakly in hospital, suffering from heart disease and elevated blood pressure, which she'd had for a few years.

Trie knew she would feel remorseful in the future if she hadn't made her mother happy. She seized the day, taking the last opportunity to sacrifice her life for her mother before the old woman shut her eyes for good. Trie remembered how her single mother looked after a hard day's toil to fulfill their daily needs, including her and her two sisters' tuition fees.

"Think it over, Trie!" said her mother again. "Look! Your two sisters are very happy with their husbands and children. Even now, Dodi, your nephew, has graduated from a high school and will soon go to university. Don't you envy them?"

Trie was quiet, trying to be polite and respectful by not refuting her mother's arguments. Trie's hand still fed her mother, her mouth still talking, even though her voice was weak.

Actually, her mother didn't know Trie's sisters often turned to Trie with their problems. They looked happy, but in fact they had hidden troubles. Trie's first sister had problems with her husband's family so she often thought about divorce, and Trie's second sister had a problem with her husband, who liked to chase young women. It was true she was well-to-do, but she was internally unhappy.

Trie was like a counselor to her sisters. She often heard of their domestic upheavals. It was impossible for them to talk to their mother since she was ill. They were afraid telling her such family problems would aggravate her condition. So, as far as Trie's mother knew, they had happy families -- so she insisted Trie get married soon.

***

The message in Matchmaking Contact got a reply. A thin and tall man was sitting on the couch in front of Trie. He was tidy and looked educated. He arranged his words in such a manner that he showed his intellectual capability. Unfortunately, he underestimated Trie's role.

The man had the opinion a wife had to be ready to take care of all her husband's needs and to accept all his decisions. And the most painful opinion of his was women had to be willing to be second wives because the number of women outweighed the number of men in the world.

Indeed, he didn't directly say he intended to be polygamous, but Trie abhorred the idea.

That was the first meeting with Indra. The first impression wasn't gratifying. There were contradictory principles that could be dangerous for both of them in the future if they married. They were like heaven and earth.

The next day, Trie met some other men, but unfortunately there was always a disagreement. Finally, she simply let it go and let destiny take its action.

***

"Mom, this is Feri," said Trie.

The old woman's eyes turned toward Feri's face. He wasn't really handsome, but attractive. He was average in height, not muscular but proportional. She smiled and raised her arm to shake hands. Politely, Feri extended his both hands and kissed her fingers.

"Good evening Mrs. Budiman." His smile was so sweet. The old woman asked Trie and Feri to come closer.

It had been a week since Trie's mother was hospitalized. The doctor treating her said she was under stress. She had a psychological problem that could worsen her disease.

With Feri coming, the cheerfulness came back to drive away the scratches of gloom from her old wrinkled face, bringing back the good looks of her young age. They got along very well straight way, like two empty hearts complementing each other.

Feri skillfully attracted the old woman's sympathy. She seemed to forget about her illness when she laughed so hard her body shook. Trie would stand up to sooth her mother's cough but it seemed that happiness defeated the old woman's frail body.

Out of the blue, Feri took a ring out of his pocket. In front of the sick old woman, he proposed to Trie and said he would be ready to take care of Trie and be her soul's blanket, sailing the ocean of marriage in happiness and sorrow. Trie's mother was stunned. That fast? Witnessing the sparkles in Trie's mother's eyes, Feri put the ring on Trie's finger. Happy smiles blossomed on both their faces, spreading a sweet fragrance all over the room.

***

Trie and Feri saw one another in the library of literature at university. Trie covered her heartbeat by pretending to seriously be reading Pearl S. Buck's novel, The Good Earth. Her mind was not on the words in the book.

The next day, they saw each other again. Then Feri approached her, pretending to need a highlighter. He said he needed to pinpoint the important parts in his note book for next week's mid-term test. The talk developed into a friendship, then changed into intimacy.

Their intimacy opened Trie's eyes that all this time there was a charming boy named Feri. He was two semesters above her. She realized that the campus life was not always about books.

Trie thought Feri was hers, even though she never heard "I love you" from the boy's mouth. Trie felt their closeness meant they were a couple. Love doesn't have to always be expressed with words, she thought at the time.

Two of Trie's friends warned her not to fall in love with Feri, a campus playboy and literature student who was good at writing poems to attract girls. There were a lot of girls suffering from a broken heart because of his cute and innocent look. But it was clear Trie didn't care. Love's flowers were in full bloom.

One day, Trie saw Feri sitting very close to a new student on the bench under a leafy tree next to the cafeteria. They were holding hands intimately. Trie decided she would no longer meet him. The next day, Trie got back to her books, making her become the best graduate from the school of literature.

That was more than ten years ago. They were united again through Matchmaking Contact. The last remnants of love sparked again, entwining the loose ropes of faded affection.

***

Dusk was falling, evening replacing the day. Its dim glow could be seen through the glass of the office building. In one room on the fourteenth floor, Trie took a long deep breath, feeling somewhat exhausted after working for nine hours. Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door. "Trie, you've got a guest. She's been here since three o'clock. She said she wanted to see you after you finished work."

"Who is she?" Trie asked the new receptionist.

"Her name is Dyah."

Trie's mind tried to remember a Dyah. There was no woman named Dyah in her mind and no meeting arranged with a client that day.

"What company is she from?" Trie asked.

"She said it was a personal affair."

Trie frowned, a little bit confused. But her curiosity overtook her confusion and her heart was racing.

"Well, ask her in."

A woman came into Trie's room. Trie asked her to sit on the brown couch next to the desk. They sat side by side. The woman was beautiful, but rather plump. She also looked dubious. Her face looked neither cheerful nor angry.

"May I know the purpose of your coming here?"

"I am sorry to disturb you." Dyah's voice was soft and it sounded sad, "I am Feri's first wife." Then Dyah started to cry her heart out.

Trie looked like she'd heard a thunderclap that struck a big tree and crashed it down.

A few minutes later, speaking in a halting voice, Dyah told Trie that she met Feri at campus. She still loved him, even though she knew Feri was close to several beautiful girls on campus.

All of a sudden, Trie remembered that Dyah was the girl she saw sitting next to Feri, holding hands; an event that had tormented Trie's heart at the moment she was enjoying the melody of love songs.

Dyah said after graduating from the university, they got married because she was pregnant. With Feri getting a promotion, they had more money. But gradually, Feri started coming home late, using business meetings as an excuse. Later, Dyah knew Feri had a new wife and a child. Since then, Dyah always kept an eye on his steps.

"Please forgive me. I'm doing this for your own sake so you are not shocked. But if you want to be his third wife, it's up to you." Dyah's tears rolled down her cheeks. Trie moved closer to her and hugged her.

The two women were embracing, both hurting for different reasons. The had both become the victims of an egotistical man who just wanted to fulfill his own desires.

Trie couldn't hold back her emotions. A tear fell down her face and touched her engagement ring. The tear moved around the ring's surface. Then, the image of her mother emerged. In a few days, the old woman would leave the hospital. What should I say to my mother? Trie's conscience screamed with pain and sorrow.

Short story by Hamzah Puadi Ilyas
Published in The Jakarta Post | Sun, 09/28/2008

I didn't want to call my wife an angel anymore as I used to, when she managed to cool of the blaze in my chest that could stop my horse breathing.

She was already gone, away with a man of golden teeth. I was convinced, now she was enjoying the gold's glitter in his tight embrace. I hoped their corpses were found in a cheap hotel room.

Thinking about them, I became sorrowful, mad and disappointed. The cute palace I had built was useless. I had worked my fingers to the bone while she was at home being served by a maid. She said her skin could get burnt cooking, her palm of hands could get coarse when washing clothes, and her body could gradually be hunchbacked when sweeping the floor.

In fact, to get her, I went through many obstacles, competing with one thousand men to satisfy my thirst for love. I sacrificed everything.

But after being with her, she started showing peculiarities. She said she was bored to tears with an empty house and her uncovered body. She said there was gold wound around the necks, arms, fingers, and legs of our neighbors. Their houses were also cool and full of expensive furniture.

I said she had to be patient. I would fill the house step by step. Deduction from my monthly wage wasn't yet finished. I used the money to build what I called a palace, but she called it a sheep's pen.

I got into a rage, so I slapped her face. She cried, taunting me with vile languages. She said she bitterly regretted choosing me as a husband.

I committed an error. I felt very sorry and asked for forgiveness.

But she did not take my apology. Instead, she committed adultery. Some neighbors said she always received a visitor, the man of golden teeth, when I worked.

Initially I did not believe, but when I saw a golden ring on her ring finger I had a sneaking suspicion. Then I asked her about the ring. She said she bought it using her savings from the money I gave her every month.

I did not trust her straightaway. Then I made a plan. She had a big smile on her face when I told her I would have a four-day training program in Puncak. Actually I hid in one of my neighbor's houses. All day long I peeped from behind a window curtain.

Finally, a man approached my house. My neighbor signaled to me that it was the man who often visited my wife. I saw her smile. The man smiled too. Glitter spouted from his mouth. I came to realize that the glitter was from his golden teeth. My wife closed the door.

Furiously I walked toward my house. I kicked the door vigorously. I saw her holding a golden necklace and the man putting his arms around her tightly. As quick as a flash, my right hand balled up into a fist. The fist hit him exactly on the mouth. He backed up several steps, his mouth open. Some of his golden teeth fell to the floor. Then he lunged toward me and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

I observed my wife intently, my emotion being filled with a sense of outrage. Then I commanded her to pick up the golden teeth spread on the floor. Surprisingly, she said they were a gift for me who never gave her glittery jewelry. Quickly she went into the room and came back again with a big bag, leaving me without saying a word.

***

I sold my house, my palace, leaving all memories that have colored my life. I wanted to find a new color in another place.

I ventured out of my place with no direction by taking a bus. Arriving at a bus station, quickly I moved to another bus without asking where it would go. I roved for weeks until my money was running low. Then I decided to stay in a small city. I did not know its name.

I rented a house with only a bed and bathroom. The house could be reached from the main road by going through an alley. On the right side of the alley was a wall two and a half metres high, while on the left side was an old house with a damaged wire fence. The old house faced the main road and cassava tress grew beside it.

In the daytime, when looking for a job, I always saw the window of the old house through the cassava trees. The window looked gloomy, making the house wall, which peeled off here and there, duller. But I felt quite attracted to knowing what was behind the window.

Going through the alley for days, I always turned my face to look at the window. There were no sign of life, only the wind which swayed the cassava trees once in a while. In the end, I thought the house was unoccupied.

Finally I got a job at a restaurant. I was so pleased that I often went home late. I just wanted to show the restaurant owner that I was a good employee.

One midnight I went home tired and sleepy. When going through the alley, as always I turned to the old house. The wind blew in the stiff breeze, I drew my jacket tighter. The wind blew harder, swinging the cassava trees. Suddenly I saw the window open. In the twinkling of an eye, I saw a girl waving her hand. I was surprised, and then tried to find a better position to see her. When the cassava trees swayed again, I could see her clearly.

The girl was still waving her hand. I looked to the right and left. Nobody was around in the alley. Again I looked at the window. The girl was still waving her hand as though she asked me to come closer to her.

I pulled the damaged fence wire in order to enter. Stooping down and walking among the cassava trees, I heard the girl's voice, asking me to go faster. Her voice was so sweet. I imagined that she had the face of an angel.

It was true, she was gorgeous. She had long black hair with bright eyes, a sweet smile coming from her red lips. My hands held the window sill.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"It's Angel."

"Is that your real name?"

"That's right."

"Your name is as beautiful as your face."

She smiled again. I felt like drinking a cup of love wine. My body didn't feel anything, only the flame which was getting hotter. She stuck out her hands. I reached for them quickly. They were as soft as cotton.

"Please come in, if you want." She said.

Out of the blue, I was already beside her.

***

I found a new angel in my life. I was not wrong to have chosen this small city. Seeing myself in the mirror, I always said what a lucky man I was. Life was so beautiful and I became a real man again. I was working harder and the restaurant owner raised my salary. He said he was very happy to have me as one of his employees.

For several days I had not seen Angel. As usual, the window was closed. I longed for her. Was the time not appropriate? So, one day I decided to go home at midnight to repeat that beautiful and unforgettable moment.

The sky was without the moon, I was alone in the alley. People must have been in a deep slumber. I was standing, staring at the window and hoping Angel would open it.

I looked forward to the wind that swayed the cassava trees, but even the smallest blowing did not happen. My hands held the wire fence for more than one hour, the window was kept shut. After the pounding in my heart subsided, I left the place bitterly disappointed.

A small coffee shop near my rented house was still open. Empty glasses containing coffee grounds were scattered along a long wooden chair. I sat down after cleaning the chair's surface from nutshells. The shop owner was half asleep. I woke him up to buy a cigarette.

"Work overtime, Mas?" he asked.

I nodded.

I inhaled the smoke very deeply, the imagination of Angel appearing. The shop owner sat beside me.

"Who is the owner of the house with many cassava trees?" I asked, the smoke from my mouth billowing upwards.

"Is it the house beside the alley, Mas?"

"Yes."

"Ooh, that's an empty house."

I turned to him in a sudden brief shock, swallowing a clump of cigarette smoke.

"Three years ago a married couple rented the house. But the wife committed suicide after knowing her husband had an affair with a very young woman. The husband has been gone ever since. In fact, the owner of the house wants to sell it, but up to now nobody wants it. So, he just plants the side yard with cassava trees."

I coughed uncontrollably and incessantly, my hands trembling.

"What was the wife's name?"

"Angel. If I am not mistaken."

"Angel?"

My mouth wide open, the nape of my neck as cold as ice, sending shivers down my spine. I felt as though fingers as soft as cotton were stroking my chest, then the top of the fingers dropped blood. The blood smelled rancid.

Short story by Hamzah Puadi Ilyas
Published in The Jakarta Post | Sun, 01/11/2009

Kamil, a thin black man, met long-haired Laras in the deep of the night at a deserted bus stop near a pedestrian overpass.

Kamil was in his masculine prime while Laras was desperately in need of shelter to protect her slim frame dressed in a thin green blouse from the bite of the night wind.

Night brought a different charm from daytime. The whispers of the heart teased a hidden passion. Anything could happen, in the blink of an eye. After the first burst of passion, more suspect seductions would follow, moving through the blood until a sigh was heard. Kamil and Laras felt it.

Laras looked so attractive under the beam of street lamps, Kamil just wanted to embrace her tightly. Moreover, the night wind kept blowing harder, making the air colder. He imagined her soft skin and sweet-smelling long black hair. They would be taste enhancers for his loneliness, especially in the dark nights.

Laras appeared beautiful in Kamil's eyes when they arrived at Kamil's small, dirty rented house. Laras smelled that ordinary musty aroma that hangs in the rooms of economy inns or frugal lodgings.

Laras saw a guitar in the corner of. A sudden urge to hear the strumming of guitar's strings struck her.

"Can you sing?" Laras asked.

"Of course," replied Kamil. "I'm a street singer. I sing every day on the bus."

Laras stood up and walked slowly to the corner. Her soft hand reached for the guitar. She brought it back to Kamil who couldn't keep his eyes from her long black hair. His eyes did not blink, his mouth hung open as he gazed admiringly at her.

"Sing for me," said Laras. Her gaze returned Kamil's unblinking stare. She smiled, her lips red and her teeth pearly white.

As if bewitched, Kamil took the guitar and started to strum a tune. He began singing the lyrics to his favorite song.

That girl with the long black hair Walks under the moonlight, Toward the moon's circle, That will bestow peace upon her. She turned into a butterfly Flitting everywhere 'Cause she belongs to no one.

Laras clapped her hands. Softly she said, "Did you know? That the song is about me, but nobody knows and cares. You sang it very melodiously."

Kamil did not hear what Laras said. He was already blind drunk on love wine, being unable to say a word and staring at every inch of Laras' body.

Seeing Kamil, Laras smiled with pleasure. It was the sweetest smile he had ever seen. He kept staring at her body. Night crawled, he could control his heartbeat no longer. It beat harder and harder, sounding like a wild ox that sees a waving red cloth. The pounding finally left when morning light broke.

"Stay here with me forever." Kamil's voice trembled when there was no more space between their bodies.

"But I am a free creature," said Laras. "I do not serve human beings."

"I don't care," Kamil said.

"And I am a butterfly which is bound up with the moon."

"Still, I don't care," said Kamil. "Even if you are a caterpillar."

Kamil pulled Laras' fingers to his chest so she could feel his heartbeat through her fingertips, which had reached tranquility now. His long-faithful beloved -- loneliness -- had been far away.

Gradually, without raising Laras' fingers from his chest, Kamil brought her fingers to his dark brown lips. He played them around his lips. Laras was simply quiet, giving a chance for Kamil to satisfy his thirst and hunger of a woman. Every night, Kamil dreamt of a woman sleeping beside him.

"I'll do anything you want as long as you stay here with me, becoming my spouse, my soul mate," Kamil begged.

Laras smiled. Her wings understood. It was not yet the right time to flap and fly to the full moon. It was still very far away. So she nodded. Seeing that, Kamil looked as though he had seen heaven unrolled in his future life. He felt he was the real man now.

The next few days became more beautiful for Kamil. Singing songs on the buses seemed more enjoyable. In the morning, there was a glass of coffee before working, and in the evening, arriving at home, he found a plate of rice complete with its side dishes.

His work schedule was already fixed, and he was very delighted when the time to go home had come. His longing always reminded him what time it was. Having a spouse in life was perfect and completed his life, everybody's dream.

Kamil became less choosy about which bus to ride. After he was done busking in one, he moved to another straightaway. There was always money coming into the plastic bag he'd been using for ten years. He thought Laras had brought him luck.

***

Months passed. Laras started to get bored by the unchanging atmosphere of the slum, the cry of neighbor children, quarrels between neighbors. All day was the same: the sound of food vendors and water hawkers, seeing tradespeople selling goods on credit going from one house to another, with vistas of laundry lines decked out with cheap, old and worn-out clothes.

"I'll give you what you want. Just tell me," said Kamil when he saw Laras' gloomy face one morning. Laras was thinking about the musty places which used to imprison her, before she would finally be free when the full moon shone.

"I am a butterfly who came from a caterpillar and a cocoon," she said amid the jangle of cooking pots the next-door neighbor was washing. "Here I feel like going back to the cocoon. It's hot and close. I don't feel at home."

"Don't worry, I'll buy you a fan so you don't feel the heat."

Kamil did not understand.

Ignoring Laras who was trying to say something, Kamil went out carrying his guitar. He thought to work harder to earn more money. He sang very seriously so his voice became sweeter, and the bus passengers started passing him more coins. He economized, eating a simple meal to save more money.

Passing a market, Kamil stopped in at an electronics store and asked the price of a standing fan. It cost more than 100,000 rupiah. Kamil was convinced he could collect that much money in a week if he worked much harder.

Coming out of the store, Kamil met an old friend who worked loading and unloading trucks at the market. Kamil asked him his wage, and got interested because it was more than he made trading song for coin. He would also get free meals and cigarettes. He decided to join his friend.

Inexperienced working by relying on his physical power, after the first few hours Kamil felt aches and pains all over his body. He could shoulder only a few sacks of rice before exhaustion hit.

"You'll get used to it," his friend said.

Because he wanted to buy Laras a fan, Kamil kept at it. In the evening when he got his wages, he felt as if his body had cracked.

"Save this money to buy a fan," Kamil said, passing his earnings to Laras.

Laras just followed Kamil's instructions because she thought it was useless to talk to him. Kamil would never understand who she really was.

Actually, Laras sense her wings would appear soon because the full moon was due to appear in a few more days. The wings had started to irritate her soul, urging her to go to the moon. Her heart had been away in a different place, a place that induced tranquility.

That day, Kamil could not budge from the bed. His body was sore all over, with the slightest movement. In his mind he recounted the money already saved to buy a fan.

The next day, Kamil decided not to keep working as a day laborer. He felt God had created him to be a street singer. Imagining a fan in his mind, Kamil sang so seriously he earned plenty.

At dusk, Kamil counted his bills and coins. His eyes gleamed when he realized the money would be enough to buy a fan along with the savings Laras was holding. He hurried home. Hearing Laras taking a bath, he silently took the savings and went on to the electronics store.

***

Laras finished her bath. Then she stared out the window intently. Her heart pounded as she waited for the full moon to rise.

Slowly her wings grew as the first arc of the moon appeared. The wings opened fully when the moon formed a complete circle above the horizon, radiating its cool light. Moonbeams touched all parts of the room. Laras could not resist letting her wings pump, throb and fill.

That girl with the long black hair Walks under the moonlight, Toward the moon circle, That will bestow peace upon her. She turned into a butterfly Flitting everywhere 'Cause she belongs to no one.



Kamil arrived home and called for Laras, fan in his hands. But the house was quiet. No lights were on. All was dark and dead. Groping in the air, he managed to enter his bedroom.

Opening the door, Kamil saw the trail of moonlight crossing the room. He dashed to the window and pushed it wide open.

Kamil stared at the full moon, its golden light gradually fading. Unconsciously, Kamil's right hand dropped the fan and reached for the butterfly flapping its wings as it rose in the direction of the moon.

"Laras." Kamil's lips trembled, the corner's dripping with tears.

He at last understood Laras was really a butterfly.

Short story by Hamzah Puadi Ilyas
Published in The Jakarta Post | Sun, 04/05/2009

All of a sudden, Prio was no longer interested in the two lumps on Elda's chest. Blazing desire quickly abated as though it had been rained on with iced water. Sweat, starting to appear under scarfskin, died away and was disinclined to become visible. Everything faded and became feeble - slowly growing cold - as cold as the night wind that was compelled to penetrate a room ventilator covered by a mosquito frame full of dust.

Elda seemed to understand, but no words came from her mouth.

"Why did you do this, Elda?" asked Prio. "Why? Do you think I don't belong to you any more?"

Prio's eyes did not focus on Elda. His eyes were facing the moon, starting to make a full circle through the window glass not covered by the red curtains. As always, they left the curtains open until the husband and wife ritual was done, a wild horse's breath stopped at the finish line.

Elda simply bowed her head, she softly covered her naked body with an evening outfit once bought by Prio as a token of affection. He had bought it during his training abroad. It was a well-known brand. But at this moment her slim body was like a piece of meat, having lost its attractiveness and fragrance. Prio used to be crazy about it, like a hungry cat offered baked fish.

Slowly, Elda's face lifted and saw Prio's back. Her lips, whose shape had already changed, tried to smile. The lips were thicker and fuller than before. She stretched her fingers and started to creep them along Prio's pajama-less back. It was very cold, like the surface of an ice block.

Elda made an attempt to spread honey with sweet words, dripping from her lips. Prio used to be fond of her lips when they first met at a caf* after office hours, but the words sounded unmelodious to his ears, false and hoarse. Again, the palms of her hands tried to give the sweetest touch to his dark brown back, but there was no explosion to arouse his passion.

Prio kept staring at the moon that people said had been touched by human feet. The moon seemed to amuse his deeply disappointed heart, as if it said there was another moon that had not been defiled. He could still find that moon, somewhere else.

Realizing there was no response, Elda stopped her guerilla.

"Forgive me, Mas."

Finally, there was a word of remorse from her. But Prio got up, without paying any attention to it. He went to the bathroom and not long afterward there was the sound of the shower.

Elda threw herself down on the bed, regretting what she had done. It was a silly thing to do that she thought would have made her husband happy. Elda looked toward the window. The sky was getting dim, the moon covered by a thick bank of clouds.

***

Prio ordered the taxi driver to race. He wanted to see Elda now, the pretty woman who had been his wife for three years. He longed for her nose, eyes, cheeks, chin and lips. He had been away for training, and had been on duty in various areas for about three months.

He could hardly wait. The cab seat was as if full of lice scrambling to bite his buttocks. He kept giving instructions to the driver, making the old man nervous and he shook his head several times, but Prio did not care.

At last, the cab entered a housing complex with big horse statue at the main gate and, two minutes later, the cab stopped in front of a comfortably small house with Palm trees along the fence. As quick as lighting, Prio got out without asking for change. The driver was very pleased - his peevishly annoyed look now gone.

Prio knocked on the door and called to his wife. His heart beat raced with his impatience to meet his beloved wife. It had been so long!

"Welcome home, my handsome man." The door opened wide and a woman whom Prio hardly recognized stood before him. The nose, chin, cheeks and lips which he had longed for had changed. Only the big eyes with the long eyelashes were the same.

"Elda.??!!"

The woman smiled, but the smile was different, as though there was a line around her mouth. Her nose was more pointed than before and her cheeks more sunken. Her chin was like the tip of knife.

"Hug me, Mas. I know you've missed me."

Prio's hand unconsciously dropped the gift. He did not embrace his wife's waist which was narrower. He was perfectly still, just like a statue, his eyes not blinking.

***

The faces of some of the women at the Arisan* gathering were similar, especially their noses, lips, cheeks and chins. Three women were wearing sexy dresses that made their breasts (bigger than before) more visible.

Subsequent to deciding the winner, the group spread themselves out around the house, enjoying expensive refreshments. In one corner, Elda and a woman wearing glittering jewelry were talking.

"Jeng Elda, look at Mrs. Alex. The wrinkles around her eyes are gone, her nose is more pointed."

The woman's hand - with a beautifully expensive bracelet coiled around her wrist and a jewelled ring on her finger - pointed to a woman across the room.

"You know, Jeng. That's the work of Doctor James."

Elda saw the beautiful woman, who always smiled from a distance.

"Jeng Elda, don't be old-fashioned." The woman gulped down her drink. "It's time to please your husband so he won't have an affair with a younger woman. You know, there are lots of beautiful and sexy women out there.

"If we cannot compete with them, our husband will not feel at home," she said and giggled.

Elda nodded, her sight moving from one woman to another. They all looked beautiful and classy.

"Have you ever visited Doctor James?" asked Elda.

"Of course, if you saw my pictures from three years ago, I looked like a hick." She laughed and covered her mouth with her left hand,

"Now my husband loves me a lot." She laughed once again, her eyes blinking. There were no wrinkles on her forehead, even though she was already 47 years old.

"By the way, how much is it?"

"Not too expensive Jeng." Then she whispered. "Well, he is the best plastic surgeon in Indonesia - maybe in Asia. He graduated from the best university in America. I'm sure you won't regret it. You know, most Indonesian celebrities go to Doctor James to make them look more beautiful."

Again, Elda nodded, her thoughts hovering. The sound of the chatter sounded like the buzzing of bees. Prio's face abruptly appeared. He was smiling, the sweetest smile she had ever seen in her life.

***

Prio smiled when he saw a very natural face. The face looked like Elda's old face. It radiated charm and shine, making his apparently dead heart beat again.

The shine coiled around his body so that he could not move it, and kept following where it went. It turned out the owner of the shine lived in a beautifully quiet village, in a small house made of bamboo near a river.

In the beginning, Prio had difficulty talking to her. There was doubt trying to restrain his desire. But because of his masculine seduction, he plucked up his courage to drop by every time he had a chance, bringing several different kinds of gifts. Eventually, he managed to express his feelings.

"Will you keep me company for the rest of my life?" Prio asked.

She smiled. God! Her lips were naturally beautiful. Her nose, chin and cheeks reminded him of his love, lost because of human interference.

Begging, Prio repeated his proposal. A few seconds later he saw a nod of agreement. A few days later, his job auditing a branch office finished. He went back to Jakarta and reported to his superior.

"Are you sure you want to be placed at the branch office?"

"I am, Sir." Prio answered, looking more cheerful.

"Tell me why."

Prio thought for a moment. "The branch has a lot of potential. If not managed professionally, it will suffer a loss. And I'm ready to develop it to make it the most profitable branch." Prio said looking at his superior, waiting for comment.

"Besides, I'm already bored with the noise of Jakarta."

"No wonder, you look weary lately."

The man laughed while stroking his beard. He took a quiet moment to think.

"Ok, your wish is granted."

"Thank you very much, Sir." said Prio. They shook hands.

***

Prio left without leaving any message for Elda. He had already taken possession of Elda's old face in a village girl. The girl had filled his empty heart. After tying the knot, he carried her off to the capital city of the province.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. That afternoon, Prio was on the porch, sitting on a rocking chair and enjoying a cup of hot tea. The surroundings were very pleasant, the afternoon breeze blowing gently. From afar, he saw a woman walking toward his house. She was getting closer and closer. When she was only three meters from him, Prio recognized it was Elda. The nearly forgotten memory began to surface.

Prio did not move.

Soon, Elda ran and put her face in Prio's lap.

"Please forgive my mistake, Mas." Elda cried, but Prio kept still, looking at the green grass. The feeling of guilt slowly disturbed him, remembering how he had left without saying anything.

The village woman showed up, her hands holding a plate of fried banana and a cup of hot coffee. She stopped, seeing there was a woman's head in her husband's lap. Suspicious feelings mingled with compassion and prejudice.

Prio was unable to talk. Elda raised her head, her eyes still filled with tears. Slowly, Elda's face seemed to change as though her lips, chin, and nose had returned to their original shape. Prio turned to the village woman, staring at her face. After that, he saw Elda's face. Their faces looked alike.

The afternoon sky was suddenly overcast. Rain was about to fall. Prio was totally bewildered, unable to think clearly, because there were now two women with a similar face in front of him. What would he do with two wives?

*A regular social gathering for women at which every participant contributes a certain amount of money. At each meeting there is a lottery and the winner gets all the money. At the next meeting the previous winner doesn't participate in the lottery

Short Story by Hamzah Puadi Ilyas
Published in The Jakarta Post, Sun, 08/09/2009 11:35 AM

Marina started to dislike playing with children in her neighborhood. She was often offended by them. They said her mother was crazy about orange. She didn't really know whether her mother really liked eating orange or not. When Marina asked her friends from whom they knew that her mother liked eating orange, they said they knew from their own mother.

Soon curiosity emerged. Arriving home from school and knowing that her mother was not in the house, Marina directly went into her mother's bedroom. There was a big wooden wardrobe beside the bed. She opened its door. It was locked. Hopelessly, she sat on the bed, her legs swaying. Suddenly her right heel touched something under the bed.

Marina got out of the bed. When pushing aside the bed sheet, she saw a dark wooden box. She pulled it quickly. Opening it, she found golden oranges. She counted the fruit. There were twenty-five. Why does mother keep these oranges under the bed? Marina thought.

The longer she looked at the oranges, the more golden the color was. They were blinking. There was attractiveness to eat the fruit. They must be very sweet. Before much longer, one orange had been in Marina's grip. When she wanted to peel, she heard the roar of a car coming to the house.

Marina quickly put the orange back, pushed the box, ran out of her mother's room, and closed the door. She went into her bedroom and pretended to be asleep. She could hear the steps, more than one person.

The steps approaching her room, Marina moved her body. Her back faced the door. Then the door was slowly open. She knew that it must be her mother, checking whether or not she was sleeping. She regulated her breath as though it sounded sleeping. Then she heard the door was closed.

Marina could hear her mother's voice talking to a person. Their talk alternated with giggle. Marina tried to not care but she couldn't sleep. She moved her body several times, her eyes staring at ceiling. Suddenly she remembered oranges in her mother's room and her friend's ridicule about her mother's fondness for orange. Again, her curiosity emerged. She wanted to see with her own eyes when her mother was eating the fruit and how she ate the fruit.

Marina went out of her room. The living room was quiet. She looked closely at her mother's bedroom. Its door was open a bit. Then she could hear a hushed voice coming from the room. It could be mother's voice eating oranges, thought she. Her curiosity grew stronger.

Tiptoeing, Marina came closer to the door. It was slightly open. The sound coming from her mother's room was more audible-murmur and moaning. What sound was it? Marina really wanted to know what was happening inside the room. Peeping into the room, she could vaguely see her mother's white back and shoulder-length hair.

Next, Marina slowly pushed the door. She was rather taken aback by what she saw, her mother being naked and tightly hugging a stark naked young woman. They were laughing happily while feeding an orange each other. The smell of oranges was so strong. Marina seemed to feel faint. She saw stars on the ceiling.

***

Marina missed her father a lot. She felt her mother no longer paid attention to her. Her mother stopped picking her up at school. The distance between school and her house was certainly not too far, but she was envious to other kids who were accompanied by their mothers or fathers.

Marina's father came home once in four months. Once her mother said her father was working in the middle of ocean, sometimes in the middle of jungle. But she still remembered her father's story saying that he was a hunter. He hunted sharks in the middle of ocean and tigers in the middle of jungle. He sold them to pay Marina's tuition fee.

Marina strongly believed him. When her teacher asked every student to tell what their father did, Marina told that her father was a great hunter. He brought a rifle and spear everywhere he went. Her teacher just smiled listening to the story.

That morning Marina was sitting in the dining room. On the table in front of her were bread, boiled eggs, and milk. Her mother came in and sat across her. The color of her mother's lips was similar to the color of orange skin. Her body also smelled the fruit of orange.

"Mom, why do you like oranges so much?" asked Marina.

Her mother was surprised, her eyes widely open and her eye brow rising. Her hand that would reach bread stopped.

"How do you know?"

"The kids told me," answered Marina. "Their mothers told them."

Her mother tried to smile, but her face showed that she was mad. "Don't care about what they are saying. They're just jealous and they don't understand that orange is very good for our health. It can make us stay young. When you grow up, you can choose any fruit you like."

All kinds of fruit -melon, watermelon, apple, grape, mangosteen, pineapple, guava, salak, durian, and jackfruit sketched in Marina's mind. But she would not choose those fruit, she preferred banana.

After having breakfast, Marina wheedled, asking her mother to accompany her to school. But her mother said she was in a hurry to workplace. Marina kept wheedling and asked her mother not to work that day.

"If I don't work, we'll never have a new car. Your father's wage is not enough. Tomorrow we'll have a maid. Every day you will be accompanied by her. And I don't have to cook and take care of the house by myself any longer. I am busy and tired."

Frowning, Marina went to school. Her look was full of sullen resentment. Arriving at school, she didn't want to enter the classroom, just playing on slides. Her teacher's persuading her was in vain. When the school principal talked to her, she cried. Finally they gave up and let her play alone until study hour ended.

The house was quiet. Marina still felt displeased. She had planned to go into her mother's bedroom and throw away all oranges under the bed. When opening the gate, she saw her father sitting on veranda. Her resentment gone out of the blue, she ran toward him, yelling excitedly. Seeing her, he stretched his arms and then hugged her.

"You're growing up."

Marina asked. "Were you managed to catch shark and tiger?"

"Of course, Dear! I even caught a very big whale. Now I have a lot of money," he said, "by the way, where is your mother?"

Then Marina told him that her mother already worked. She no longer accompanied her to school even though she already had a new car. The man was quiet for a moment. His look was strange to Marina.

"All right," he said. "Let's go to our favorite restaurant, and you may eat as much as ice cream you want."

Along the way, actually Marina really wanted to tell him that presently her mother liked eating orange very much, her body smelled orange, and her lips' color was like the color of orange skin. But there seemed to be like something that stopped her telling about her mother.

They went back home when the color of sky was black. Marina was very sleepy because she didn't sleep after school. Her mother was not home yet. She directly went into her bedroom without taking off her shocks and fell asleep. She didn't know what his father was doing.

After sleeping for several hours, Marina was waken up by a loud noise. She could hear her mother's scream, followed by her father's yell. Marina got out of bed. She wanted to see what was going on. But when getting closer to the door, she heard shocking sound - something was banged on the floor. She became scared, got back to bed, covered her body with blanket, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.

Marina got up in the morning. No sound was heard. She went to the living room. There were pieces of broken things on the floor. She carefully stepped to avoid them. She saw her father sleeping on the sofa. All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door. She didn't move. The knock was heard again, his father waking up. He stood up and opened the door lazily.

A very plump woman and a young woman stood. The older woman nodded and said today she already promised to introduce a new maid to Marina's mother. Marina's father looked confused and looked toward Marina who was standing still among the pieces of broken things. Then he asked them to wait and sit on the veranda.

***

It had been almost one year since Marina smelled orange and saw her mother. She asked her father why her mother never came home, but he simply said that Marina didn't need to remember her mother again.

"Why?" asked Marina.

"Because your mother is very busy enjoying her oranges."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't ask again." Said he. "One day you'll understand."

Now Marina lived with her father and a maid named Marni. And her father no longer worked in the ocean. But once in a while Marina missed her mother who was good at making baked bread with different kinds of jam.

That day Marina went home alone. Marni went to her hometown for four day because her older sister got married. Since the teacher was sick, the class was sent home earlier. Upon arriving at home, Marina smelled long lost aroma. Yes, she remembered - the smell of oranges. Soon she tried to find out where the smell came from. It turned out that the smell came from her father's room. The room used to belong to her mother.

When approaching the door of the room, Marina heard the sound of groaning and moaning. The smell of orange was getting strong. She remembered what her mother did with younger woman. Is she already home now? Marina thought. Her longing to her mother quickly appeared. She wanted to eat baked bread filled with strawberry jam and baked banana. Her mother's cooking was the most delicious of all.

Marina held the door handle and slowly pushed it. In fact, it was not her mother but her father. He was completely naked, hugging a man who looked very young. The young man was also without clothes at all. There was an orange with golden skin in their mouth. They were laughing happily. Some were scattered on the bed.

Marina's body was numb with shock. She was tongue-tied albeit she really wanted to utter something. The sentence only reverberated in the bottom of her heart, "Daddy, why is there an orange in your mouth? I hate that fruit."

The smell of orange was getting more powerful, making her very dizzy. Marina couldn't endure any longer, feeling very much giddy. In the blink of an eye, everything changed grey then black. In a few second, she completely fainted. The very strong smell of oranges had been present in every part of the house.