Bald-headed
Ch. 4
Earlier, that night and a hundred miles away, the girl sat alone on the porch swing of her parents' house, one leg crossed underneath. His seat was a bit damp as he sat down, the rain had fallen before, rushing and stinging, but the clouds were now fading and he looked towards the stars, I wonder if he made the right decision.
He had wrestled with her for days, and fought even harder tonight, but in the end, it was, he knew he would never forgive himself if he let the opportunity pass him by.
Ali, the man doesn't know the real reason he left the next morning. A week earlier, he had signaled to her that he might want to visit some antique shops near the station in the capital.
"Just a few days," he said, "and besides, I need a break from planning a wedding." He felt bad about the lie but knew there was no way he could tell the truth.
His departure had nothing to do with him, and it was unfair for him to ask him to understand.
It was an easy trip from Bandung, a little over two hours, and he arrived before eleven.
She stayed at a small inn downtown, went to her room, and unpacked her suitcase, hung her dress in a closet and put other items in a drawer. He ate lunch for a while, asked directions to the nearest antique store to the waitress, then spent the next few hours shopping.
At four-thirty he was back in his room. He sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the phone, and called Ali. He could not speak for long, he had to appear in court, but before they hung up, he gave the phone number where he was staying and promised to call the next day. Good, he thought as he hung up. Routine conversation, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing made him suspicious.
He has known her for almost four years now.
Everyone did their part, and the girl volunteered at one of the foster schools downtown. He was needed and appreciated there, but it was more difficult than he had expected. The first wave of a group of young teenagers is unconscious at the door of her class, and she spends her days with unusually stubborn young men to conquer.
When Ali, with all her innocent charm, introduced herself at a party, she saw in him what she needed. A person with a belief in the future and a sense of humor who drives away all his fears.
He is handsome, intelligent, and passionate, a successful lawyer who is eight years older than him, and he pursues his job passionately, not only winning cases, but also making a name for himself. She understands her strong pursuit for success, as her father and most of the men she meets in her social environment do too.
Like them, she was raised that way, and in the caste system in North Bandung, family names and achievements are often the most important considerations in marriage. In some cases, that is the only consideration.
Although she has secretly rebelled against this idea since childhood and has dated several men and been described as reckless, it is, he finds himself drawn to Ali's easy ways and gradually begins to love her.
Even though he worked long hours, the man was kind to him. He was an honorable, mature and responsible man, and during his dreadful period of teaching and nurturing, when he needed someone to embrace him, he never refused. She feels safe with him and knows he loves her too, and that's why he accepted her proposal.
Thinking about these things made her feel guilty about being here, and she knew she had to pack her things and leave before she changed her mind. He had done it once before, a long time ago, and if he were to leave now, he was sure he would never have the strength to return here again.
He went to the bathroom and started taking a shower. After checking her temperature, she walked over to the dressing table, removing her gold earrings as she crossed the room. She found her dressing bag, opened it, and took out a razor and foam bottle, then undressed in front of a basket of dirty clothes and a tall mirror.
She was called beautiful ever since she was a child, and once she was naked, she looked at herself in the mirror. His body was firm and well-proportioned, his chest gently rounded, stomach flat, legs slender. She inherited her mother's high cheekbones, smooth skin, and black hair, but her best feature was her own. He had "eyes like the waves of the sea", as Ali often said.
Taking out the razor and soap, he went to the bathroom again, turned off the tap, put down a towel where he could grab it, and entered carefully.
She loves the relaxing bath, she sneaks lower into the water. The day was long and her back was tense, but she was glad she finished shopping so quickly. He has to get back to the station with something real, and the things he chooses will work well. He made a small note to look up the names of several other stores in the area, then suddenly hesitated he would need them. Ali wasn't the type to check it out.
He grabbed the soap, soaped it, and started shaving his legs. As he did so, he thought about his parents and what they would think about his behavior. No doubt they wouldn't agree, especially her mother. Her mother never really accepted what happened during the holiday season they spent in this suburb and would not accept it now, whatever the reason.
He soaked longer in the bathtub before finally getting out and removing the towel. She went to the closet and looked for a dress, finally choosing a long yellow dress whose front was slightly dyed. He put it on and looked into the mirror, spinning from side to side. It was a perfect fit for her and made her look feminine, but she eventually decided not to wear it and put it back on the hanger.
Instead, she found a more casual and less revealing dress and wore it. Light blue with a touch of lace, buttoning the front, and although it doesn't look as good as the first, it conveys an image that it thinks would be more appropriate.
She wears a little makeup, just a touch of eye shadow and mascara to accentuate her eyes. Next perfume, not too much. He found a pair of small circular earrings, wore them, then wore the low-heeled brown sandals he was wearing before. He combed his black hair, pinned it up, and looked in the mirror. No, it was too much, he thought, and he lowered it back down.
Much nicer.
When he finished he stepped back and evaluated himself. He looks good, not too stylish, not too casual. He doesn't want to overdo it. After all, he didn't know what to expect. It's been a long time - maybe too long - and a lot of different things could have happened, even things he didn't want to consider.
He looked down and saw his hands trembling, and he laughed to himself. That's weird, he's not usually this big.
Like Ali, he was always confident, even as a child. She remembers that it was once a problem, especially when she was dating, because it had intimidated most boys her age.
He found his wallet and car keys, then took the room keys. He flipped it in his hand a few times, thinking, You've come this far, don't give up now, and almost left, but instead sat on the bed again. He checked his watch. Almost six o'clock. He knows he has to leave in a few minutes—he doesn't want to arrive after dark, but he needs more time.
"Damn," he whispered, "what am I doing here? I shouldn't be here. There was no reason for that," but as soon as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. There's something here. If there was nothing else, he would get the answer.
He opened his pocket book and flipped through it until he found a folded sheet of newspaper. After taking it out slowly, almost respectfully, being careful not to tear it apart, he unfolded it and stared at it for a while. "This is why," he finally said to himself, "it's all about this."