Grandfather Robert's Will
Chapter 25's

Rachel turned to the window again, gouging the latch with all the strength she had. The deadbolt opened and let out a scraping sound of iron clashing, the boxes swaying due to the movement it made. He saw the candle start to slip and then grabbed him. Far from reach, the candle fell out of the box and plunged freely onto the concrete floor. He almost followed the trail of the candle, fortunately Rachel managed to maintain her balance. Rachel found herself perched three meters from the floor in total darkness.

I will not fall, he promised to himself, gripping the small window with both hands. Using his touch to guide her, he pushed the window out and opened, then began slipping his body through it. The first burst of cold air he felt made him almost dizzy. After passing his shoulder, he gave himself a moment to take a deep breath.

Then while grasping the base of the rhododendron plant or rhodies, Rachel slipped her body out the window to the waist. When he heard the sound of a pile of boxes falling, he placed his cheeks on the cold grass. Inch by inch, he struggled to get out, ignoring the scratches and gurats on his skin. Finally, he could lie down in relief, staring at the sky. Shaking, bruising, and tired, he lay there, just breathing. When she was able to, Rachel dragged herself to get up and stepped towards the east porch door.

He wanted revenge, but first, he wanted to cleanse his body first.

...****************...

After undergoing a fairly long journey because the plane was delayed in Surabaya hanpir four hours, Jenson finally arrived in Bali. During the trip to Bali, he kept thinking about his mother who was lying sick, guilt feeling against him.

He rarely met her. True, his mother was just as uninterested in him in terms of seeing each other. But the woman is still his mother. They've been at different wavelengths since Jenson was born, but his mother has taken care of him really well. At least, his mother hired people to take care of him.

Carrying only one backpack to fly, Jenson passed people in the luggage claim section and hailed a taxi. After giving his mother's address to the driver, he sat down and checked his watch, reducing the time zone, because Bali was an hour earlier than Jakarta.

Jenson hopes her mother's illness isn't as severe as it was told in the letter. Especially her mother is young. Then it struck Jenson's mind that he had absolutely no idea how old his mother was, and that left him dumbfounded.

With a feeling of impatience, he observed the taxi gliding across the gates and pillars of the elite area. His career has made him live in Jakarta for a long time, but he still chose Jakarta rather than Bali. There, at least, is a career in pursuit.

He thought of Rachel. Despite living in the same city, she and Rachel almost never meet because they have different activities, they meet only at Grandpa Robert's house, where they met while they were on holiday.

At Robert's grandfather's house he felt comfortable, but in his apartment he felt most comfortable. Silent, he can write about heroes and justice, sometimes harsh, but still human. He wrote, in his own way, about basic values and simple rights.

He grew up with illusions, hypocrisy for wealth, and equally unstable values. He broke away from it all, starting with his own values. His quiet apartment has helped make it happen, because if he lives with his grandfather, it could be that grandfather Robert or Rachel suddenly came to disturb him.

“Wait” he said to the driver then climbed two steps to the door. The waiter answered the new guy there. It was her mother's custom to change her staff periodically, before everything was like they had become too familiar. “I'm Jenson Dirgantara, Mrs' son. Diajeng Sekar's.”

The waiter glanced at the waiting taxi, then looked back at Jenson's tangled shirt and unshaven beard. “Good night, Sir. Have you made an appointment with him?”

“Where is my mother? I want to go directly to the hospital.”

“Now your Mother is not in place, Mr. Jensen. If you are willing to wait, ask him if he can meet you.”

In a fit of annoyance Jenson barged in. “I know he doesn't exist. I want to see him tonight. What is the name of the hospital?”

The waiter nodded politely. “What hospital, Mr. Jenson?”

“Matthew, where did that cab come from?” Wrapped in a crimson jacket, Jackson climbed down the stairs one by one. Next to his hand held a thick cigar while next to him held a glass of brandy.

“Well well Jackson” Jenson said in a wave of anger. “You look so relaxed. Where's my mom?”

“Well... well.. What is this Matthew?”

“There Jenson.”

“Jenson?” Jackson, give money to pay for the cab.

“No, thank you, Jackson.” Jenson raised his hand. At other times, he may be amazed to hear his stepfather struggling to remember what his name is. “I'll use it to go to the hospital. I don't want to bother you at all.”