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I returned there that
night. l longed for my girl, my sweet girl, so skilled at soothing
one's soul. Quickening my step, l turned into the last laneway
and headed for the entrance to the little quarter where my girl
lived. It was so quiet there. A few kids were playing chasey and
two or three girls stood facing in my direction. They greeted
me and l responded with a nod.My girl's house was on the fringes
of this quarter. It was a small house. It consisted of no more
than a bedroom and a bathroom. There was no kitchen so my girl
would buy her food at the food stall outside her quarter, or from
one of the meatball or sate sellers who frequently entered it.
As l remembered my sweet girl l unconsciously quickened my pace
Only one hundred meters from her house, I stopped suddenly. l
saw a man appear in her doorway.
He stood there for a while,' as if he were looking out for something,
then he went inside and shut the door. l was astounded. Had my
girl not promised to reserve this night especially for me? Had
she not assured me that no-one would disturb us? l was still lost
in my perplexity, trying to remember exactly what my girl had
said the week before, when the door opened again and the same
man reappeared at the threshold. Again, he looked as if he were
looking out for something before going inside and shutting the
door behind him. My curiosity got the better of me and l decided
to visit her house anyway. At first, l was going to just go in
the front door, where the man had been standing, but then l thought
better of it. l decided to try to find out who this man was, and
why his behavior was so strange. l would have to spy on him, to
see what he was up to in my girl's house. l was also perplexed
as to why my girl had herself failed to emerge. Was she not at
home, and was the man waiting for her to return? Perhaps the man
was the impatient type, and didn't like to wait... just as l reached
out my hand to touch the outside wall of my girl's house, l heard
the man's voice inside. l was convinced it was the voice of the
man l had seen come to the door.
He had a heavy, rough voice. It sounded like he was angry But
who would he be angry at?
Eventually, l found a little hole near the window. l put my eye
to the hole and tried to see what was going on inside the house.
Straightway, the man came into my field of view. He was
sitting on my girl's bed, facing towards me. l felt l knew this
angry, middle-age man. l tried to think where l knew him from,
but l just couldn't remember. l looked again at his round, robust
face and l was sure l knew him from somewhere. But l just couldn't
remember his name. Then l tried to locate my girl. l looked in
the chair by the mirror on the wall but it was empty. She often
liked to sit in that chair while fixing her hair. My curiosity
was mounting. l took my eye back
to the bed. The man was still sitting there. Then suddenly, he
got up and went to the door. And then my girl came into view.
She was lying face down on the bed. Her face was buried in the
pillow. Her back was heaving sporadically. She was crying. But
why? Why was she crying and why did the man look so angry and
on edge? Who was the man and what was going on here? The man shut
the door again and walked towards the bed where my girl was lying
face down, weeping. When he reached the end of the bed, he raised
his hand to my girl's head. Then he took hold of my girl's long
hair. My girl screened with pain but tried to hold back so that
no-one would hear. Her face was wet with tears. l felt the fire
of rage rise up within me.
l was getting hot. l wanted to break down the door and lay into
the man who was hurting my girl. My body started shaking. Letting
go of her hair, the man began shouting insults at my girl, who
by this time was sitting on the bed, sobbing. The man called her
"a shameless whore", "a filthy pro" and "a
two-faced bitch", and other such words that \should never
be uttered in the presence of a woman, especially a woman like
my girl, my sweet girl, so skilled at soothing one's soul. My
girl didn't utter a word in response, but continued to weep, while
sitting on the bed and hiding her face in her hands.
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PT.
Wijaya Grandmedia
