The Staircase
Alpa

Dad got out of the house before the chickens crowed. My eyes are still tight, hard to open because last night I slept for about two hours. Then I closed my eyes again until a tinge of sun that entered through the gap of the board, awakening me.

My mother was bad luck, sleeping behind me, facing the wall. The exhaustion of watering the house that was a fire last night made the mother not aware of the sound of chickens crowing and it was morning. I did not dare to wake my mother up the way she used to do to me whenever I got up late; shaking my body, nagging, or splashing water. It's the first time I've seen my mother sleep to bad luck. Mother usually wakes me up.

"Where's the father, uncle?" Getting out of bed as he approached the uncle who was lighting a fire in the furnace. Uncle seemed to be very wary when the fire started. Around the furnace cleaned uncle, away from the goods that easily propagate fire.

"Don't know. Before uncle woke up the door was already open small." Answer uncle.

The door of the house is open. This means father went outside without our knowledge. I agree with the mother who slept bad. If it wasn't sunburn and crowing chickens I would still be sleeping. But I didn't seem to sleep last night. I salute dad. Accustomed to incline make father's sleep hours only a little. Eight hours at most, but rarely, more often than not, two to four hours. So no wonder my father's body was so thin. Since then, mom can't force me to take another nap. Every time my mother told me to sleep on the grounds that my body did not want to be fat, I always denied, comparing myself to my body and my sleeping hours. Mom says don't copy my dad, but how else? I'm used to not taking a nap.

Uncle's voice that sounded firm and a little loud woke up my mother. The sound is not made. But it has become the character of uncle. Understandably, uncle goes to the forest too often. You know how to be alone in the woods? If you don't comfort yourself with a kick and whistle, you will feel lonely. Uncle once said that he was almost lost in the forest. Uncle thinks the road he's on is the way home, apparently not. Uncle's going the wrong way. The further the uncle set foot, the more often he went around the same path. Then the uncle shouted with all his might until finally there was someone who returned the shout. Just try uncle's voice is not firm and loud so, it could be dozens of condolences left by the villagers to us.

"What's wrong?" Ask mom while rubbing her eyes.

"Where to go, ma'am?" Asking someone who has just woken up from their sleep is like saying that a blind person leads a blind person. I will not find the answer even though the person asked thought the same thing.

"No idea where." Answer mother.

I searched our house on fire for Dad, but I didn't find him. There were a lot of footprints in the ashes of that burning house. I watched him closely while measuring with unblinking eyes for about a minute. I believe it was my father's foot earlier. Moreover, none of us knew where Dad was going. It's definitely dad's footprints.

For about three hours, I walked around the burning house, looking at who knew there was anything I could take.

Mother raised her head from the doorway, calling out to me. "Aki. Come here, son." Call him a little yell, slowly.

I approached my mother, the smell of gulai jackfruit and sambal terasi evocative. The first morning breakfast at my uncle's house was served. The uncle divided the jackfruit and rice gulai into another bowl, storing it in a wooden cupboard.

"You guys wait at home, yeah. After this I'm gonna go find maculata fish in the woods." Said uncle while chewing.

"Yes. Hope you get a lot. Let's get married soon." My mother replied with a big smile.

I also smiled broadly. The real smile we had not been able to throw out completely to anyone because half of our minds were still shrouded in the shadow of the fire burning down the house. But that smile we can give uncle to encourage him. I am also excited. Really am. This means I can freely borrow uncle's onthel bike around the yard.

Uncle to the forest only armed with an absorber made from a used mosquito net and a transparent plastic bag. Mosquito netting has a very small knit, so it is suitable to attack maculata fish that are no larger than the fish seluang. Uncle walked quickly towards the forest. He moved away, slowly sinking his head between the leaves and the tree. I took out the onthel bike from the parking lot after it was safe from uncle's sight.

"Be careful. Later your uncle will be angry if he finds out his bike is used carelessly." Mother reminded.

"Where are you going?" I haven't had a chance to ride my bike, I saw my mother coming down the stairs.

"To our former home." Answer while stepping foot. Now the burning house has turned into a former house. Mom walked ahead of me.

I pedaled the bike as hard as I could to finally walk slowly on the edge of the pool made by uncle, towards our house that was burning.

"Mom saw my school uniform, didn't you?" I asked while parking the onthel bike in the yard of the burning house. I walked up to my mother who was pulling a wooden branch into a pile of ash and charcoal.

"Nothing, son." Hearing that answer I weakened while back playing onthel bike.

I rattled the bike again until sweat poured down the ground. I enjoy every cent of bike movement. Arriving at the end of the road towards the old cemetery, I returned to the burning house. Traveling around non-stop even though it had fallen several times. My leg was scratched, injured and bleeding. No problem for me.

The sun was scorching, stinging my skin that was jet black, so black that my skin turned red. Mother was still searching for the rest of the fire, even though for hours there was nothing she could find. Niente.

The date on my uncle's calendar wasn't red, but I was still struggling to ride my bike. It's not that I intentionally or don't remember the school schedule. But I don't have a uniform. All burned up. Maybe that's what my mom's been looking for so hard right now.

By late afternoon, I had not yet returned home. Mom's worried. Ask me where dad is. The question he asked was just to calm himself down even though I didn't give him the answer he wanted. Mother stomped her feet, sweeping away the dust on her shirt with both hands. Dust flew, approaching me who was standing in front of my mother while holding the onthel bike so as not to fall. I turned around, deflecting the onthel bike towards uncle's house. I returned the bike to the parking lot before uncle got home.

The earthy ruffled bird beside the house of the bush-dominant uncle. Uncle arrived at his house carrying a large bag of maculata fish. The transparent pouch expands with half the red swamp water, containing maculata fish. My uncle brought the transparent bag into the house. Curious eyes keep me busy interviewing uncle how to take it, where the habitat of this fish is the most, and how to maintain it to last long. Uncle simply replied, just take one or two for me. In my spirit I opened the plastic bag and took two maculata fish and moved them to a transparent bottle, thanking my uncle.

"Where have you been?" Mom immediately interrogated the father who had just anchored his ass in the doorway.

Dad was silent for a moment. Then answer slowly. "From the house of the Tibetan man."

"Well? What's the matter with the Tibetans?" Mom immediately snatched.

"There's nothing. But the Tibetan sir and his family gave this to us." Dad thrust a plastic bag at my mother who opened it with a radiant face, happy.

"This is for me?" Ask the mother with an intonation of a voice of disbelief. Then put on a shirt and pants given by the wife of the Tibetan sir.

Dad showed off his Tibetan shirt and pants. I smiled happily, uncle did not blink for a few minutes, amazed to see those beautiful pants. Clean, neat, without the slightest wrinkles. Smelling clothes beat uncle's perfume. All the clothes I brought looked new and well-groomed even though the father said they were all second-hand clothes.

"Where for me, dad?" From that moment I ruffled the contents of the plastic bag, not finding clothes that fit me. It is bigger than my body. If I force myself to wear it, I will look like a scarecrow.

"You'll catch up, son. Patience, yes. I'll find it for you." Said Dad stroking my hair. I nodded sadly.

You said you'd get me clothes? My mind grappled violently repeating that sentence. Did you just become a beggar at the Tibetan man's house? Asking for mercy? Ah, it's impossible. I've known you for almost nine years, I know exactly how you fought and sacrificed for us.

"It's a shame that it's gone stale. If you had come home early it would still be edible." Uncle chirps, check the side dishes and rice left for dad this morning. Just had time to check it because we just ate twice a day, morning and evening. Have a double breakfast with lunch around nine. We're used to it. Although sometimes rumbling in the stomach is undeniable.

I once held a rumble in my stomach while we were studying seriously with Mr. Mad. As the stomach swerved, I shifted my butt to the left and to the right until the curling motion paused for a moment, spontaneously I cleared away the shrinking abdominal sound. Of course, those who hear my silence will turn to look at me, no problem, as long as it does not make me ashamed. My babble in heart.

Given Mad sir's name, I'm afraid I'm not stuck. I've come so far to think about the face of Mad sir. I've been alpa today. And tomorrow, I don't know how. Most likely I'll be alpa again. As long as there was no school uniform, I did not dare to set foot in second grade.

"I've eaten at the Tibetan man's house, Cil." Dad's wearing Tibetan clothes.

I'm not too sure if you've eaten because I heard a demo in his stomach. Father repeatedly bent his forehead, as if enduring pain. Then lean his back against the wall of the board.

Mom got out of her seat after making her clothes. Cooking noodles for our dinner. Mi, my favorite food. I never forget to buy noodles every time my dad sells rubber to a Tibetan pack. So his hobby is eating noodles, until the stock of four packs can spend it in a day. This time the remaining stock was only two packs, it belonged to the uncle he had stored for supplies the next two days. Uncle told my mom to cook that noodle.

Mother lowered her head in front of the furnace whose fire was deliberately reduced, reducing the amount of firewood that was originally five pieces to three pieces. It didn't take long, boiling water, reminding me of the heat of the porridge that doused me a few years ago - I stayed away. Mom put the noodles into the boiling water, then stirred them, quietly.

"What did you say to the Tibetans?" Ask uncle while sipping his coffee. I looked at the coffee. The color is not too black. But the smell is enough for two adults who are confused and dizzy thinking about tomorrow.

"I'm sorry, Cil. The Tibetans nodded, acknowledging that it was just an accident not intentional." Answer me while blowing coffee, sideloading it when it feels cold. "Oh, yes. Your friends were looking for you, son." I looked at me as if asking, how?

"What did Dad answer?" I approached, curious.

Dad took off his coffee again. "Dad said you studied at home." Chuckles softly.

Good thing you didn't know that I was playing uncle's onthel bike all day. Safe. I nodded in agreement. My mother turned her body towards us who were sitting in a circle. But I quickly turned to my mother as if to force her to lie. Mom smiled casually.

"Revelation!" Father warned with a loud shout, panicking.

Mother was less careful about touching the tip of the cauldron, spilling noodles. "Ouch. How is this." Patting jidatnya.

"It has. Just throw it away." Uncle got out of his seat. "It's dirty." Ban uncle to my mother who hastily put noodles in the pot.

"What are we eating?" Ask mom, confused.

The question of what we eat to me is not right when the stomach is eating. Uncle chopped rice in a can that was black as charcoal.

"We make fried rice." Uncle's idea was brilliant.