Paper Boats Page 8

  The children were divided into three classes. Ami’s class got the big shelter, Ical’s a rather small shelter about a hundred yards away, and Kugy’s was to meet under a tree.

  Kugy scurried around getting her “classroom” ready. She spread out the plastic tarp for the students to sit on, propped her chalkboard up against the tree, and handed out books, pens, and pencils. Sitting before her were five children, ranging from four to nine years old. All of them admitted that they couldn’t read or write. Kugy took a deep breath and tried to figure out where they should start.

  “Good morning,” Kugy greeted them as sweetly as she could. No one responded. One of them was enthusiastically checking a friend’s hair for lice. Another had torn pages out of a book and was making them into paper boats. Another was busy calling to a friend in the shelter nearby. And the last one sat frozen to the tarp, staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost.

  Kugy broke into a cold sweat.

  In Menteng, Central Jakarta, a middle-aged man was heading to his office. He was dressed simply, in loose-fitting pants and a collared linen shirt. This was what he usually wore to work. His “office” was a room sectioned off from the rest of the gallery, which was spacious indeed—for the gallery he owned was the largest in Jakarta. He ran it with the help of his friend Syahrani. She had been an art collector for several decades and had ended up marrying a famous artist, whose sculptures now graced several corners of the gallery.

  “Good morning, Mr. Hans,” his secretary greeted him.

  “Morning, Mia. Is Wanda already here?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s been here for half an hour.”

  The man glanced at his watch. “Wow, she’s on top of things. No wonder she left the house right after breakfast.”

  “Morning, Hans. Morning, Mia.” A bespectacled middle-aged woman approached them. She had hardly any makeup on—just the faintest smear of dark-red lipstick—but her face looked radiant. A batik selendang was wrapped around her neck like a shawl.

  “Morning, Ran,” said Hans. “How was Teguh’s exhibition in Germany?”

  “It was wonderful,” said Syahrani with a light laugh. “They loved it, those strange Westerners. Teguh’s work always does much better abroad. So, how’s our beautiful young curator? She rang me last night. She sounded very excited. Said she found a lot of fabulous paintings in Bandung.”

  “She’s acting a bit funny this time,” said Hans, shaking his head. “She didn’t even want to give me a sneak preview. Just this morning we were eating breakfast together at home, and then she vanished. It turns out she arrived before I did—by a whole half hour no less.”

  “Oh really? Let’s see what she has for us, then.” Syahrani smiled and rubbed her hands together.

  Opening his office door, Hans stepped inside with his colleague.

  Wanda greeted both of them with a grin. It looked like everything was ready to go, including the projector, which was already on and connected to her laptop. She went over to Syahrani and embraced her. “Auntie Rani, I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, dear. Your dad has been telling me that you’re very excited about your presentation this morning.” Syahrani gave Wanda’s cheek a playful poke.

  Wanda nodded earnestly and, without further ado, showed them the slides she had prepared. She began with works by more established painters and made her way through photo after photo, until she arrived at the last batch. She took a deep breath before launching into her commentary. “These are by a young artist. In my opinion, he’s extremely gifted. His work is fresh, authentic. Under good management, I think his prospects are extraordinary.”

  “What’s his name again? Keenan?” asked Syahrani as she read through the files that Wanda had placed on the table.

  “Yes. He’s a friend of Noni’s, Dad,” said Wanda as she glanced at her father.

  “Has he had any exhibitions for his work before?” he asked.

  Wanda took another deep breath. She knew this question would come up. “Not yet.”

  Syahrani joined in. “Which galleries have shown his work?”

  That was the second question she was expecting. “None yet.”

  Syahrani and Hans looked at each other. “Well.” Hans cleared his throat. “If it’s a matter of whether he’s talented, I agree with you. Authentic? Yes, I suppose. But it looks like this young man is still developing. He hasn’t reached his full potential as a painter. From what I see, it seems like he’s still trying to find his identity. Give him one or two more years. Maybe then he’ll be ready for us to show his work.”

  The expression on Wanda’s face changed as her lips formed a pout. “But Dad, I’m positive he has a certain something. He’s like a raw diamond.”

  “Exactly,” her father answered. “Raw. Good—but raw.”

  “I agree with you on every point, Hans,” Syahrani chimed in. “But there is another factor we should take into account, and that’s Wanda’s perceptiveness in spotting new talent. Of course Warsita is famous for its collection of works by established painters, but there’s no harm in providing opportunities for new painters. If this painter turns out well, it’ll be a credit to the gallery.”

  Hans smiled a little. “We’ve had dozens of new artists lining up to show their work here, and we’ve turned them all down. Why should we make an exception for him?”

  “Because he’s different, Dad,” Wanda stated firmly.

  Syahrani examined Keenan’s file again. Attached was a photo of Keenan standing next to one of his paintings. “Because,” she said, “I think our Wanda likes him.”

  Wanda’s face turned bright red. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  “I’m joking, darling,” Syahrani added quickly. She chuckled gently. “This young man is definitely talented. I think he deserves to be given a chance.”

  Hans gave a light shrug. “Fine. We’ll see how he progresses.”

  Wanda breathed a sigh of relief. She was still unnerved by what Syahrani had just said, but she couldn’t suppress the smile on her face.

  February 2000

  His feet were beginning to feel sore—an indication he’d been standing there for a long time now. Keenan considered giving up and going home, but he looked around once again, examining the faces of everyone who passed by. Finally, he caught a glimpse of the person he had been looking for—with her shoulder-length hair worn loose, the same denim jacket she wore almost every day, and the backpack, disproportionately large in relation to her small frame.

  “Kugy!” Keenan shouted.

  Kugy kept on walking. Keenan had to chase her down and tug at her arm.

  Kugy closed her eyes before turning around. Her face assumed an innocent expression. “Hello, fellow agent! What’s up?”

  Keenan looked at her in disbelief. “Where have you been? You know I don’t like being on campus, but I’ve been hanging out here in the same spot every day looking for you, and you haven’t shown up once. Are you really that busy?”

  It was the first time Kugy had heard Keenan sound so emotional.

  “Yeah. Pretty busy,” said Kugy, almost mumbling.

  “It was your birthday,” said Keenan with regret.

  “Yours, too,” said Kugy quietly. “Hey, sorry I didn’t get the chance to wish you a happy birthday. But I told Eko to wish you a good one on my behalf.”

  “You couldn’t tell me yourself?”

  Kugy swallowed. Keenan had asked the question politely, but did so with an accusatory gaze. “It was when Wanda was in town and I didn’t want to bother you. The four of you had your own plans—”

  “And I invited you, too,” Keenan said. “I never said it was meant to be just the four of us, did I? Kugy, you’re my friend. I would never—”

  “Sometimes good friends have to know their place. Like I said, I really didn’t want to bother you, so I—”

  “Are you mad at me? Is that it?”

  “Mad? About what?” asked Kugy uneasily.

  Keenan shru
gged. “Dunno. But as far as excuses go, ‘I didn’t want to bother you’ is kind of lame.”

  Kugy was quiet. How can I tell him the truth? she thought. When it came to being lame, her real excuse took the cake.

  “Actually,” Keenan said. “I have something for you. I wanted to give it to you for your birthday.”

  “It’s okay. Some other time,” Kugy answered hastily, trying to smile.

  “We’re going to the midnight movie showing this week, as usual. Why don’t you come? Mr. Itok has been asking about you.”

  “The . . . four of us?” asked Kugy, cautiously.

  “Probably five. I think Wanda’s coming to Bandung again this weekend.”

  “We’ll see, okay? I’ll try,” said Kugy, trying to sound nonchalant. There’s a 200 percent chance I’m not going, she added to herself.

  “The Warsita Gallery is going to show my work,” Keenan added. “That’s why Wanda’s been in town so much.”

  Kugy’s eyes widened. “Wow! Congratulations!” This time, she really meant what she said. “Keenan Aquaneptuniamania . . . a real painter. Fantastic!”

  Keenan laughed. “Since when has my name been Keenan—what did you call me? Kleptomania?”

  “Aquaneptuniamania. You’ve been officially dubbed so.” Kugy grinned. “Really. I’m so happy for you. Your work deserves to be shown in a place like that. It was only a matter of time.”

  “Come on, let’s get lunch together. My treat. The Hunger No Longer?”

  Kugy took a deep breath. Her stomach had been rumbling, and there was no one else on the planet whom she liked to eat lunch with more than Keenan. “Um, sorry. I’ve got to go. I’m meeting with Ami from the Youth Mentoring Club. Some other time, okay?”

  Keenan was silent for a moment. “That’s the second time today you’ve told me ‘some other time,’” he said slowly. “There won’t be a third, I hope.”

  Kugy didn’t have the courage to look Keenan in the eye. The sense that she was being accused of something seized her. “Good-bye,” she mumbled, then left as fast as she could. She took big strides and kept her eyes fixed on the asphalt. Kugy, if you don’t do this now, you’ll never break free. She repeated the words over and over, until it became her mantra.

  CHAPTER 12

  GENERAL PILIK AND THE ALIT BRIGADE

  March 2000

  The bespectacled man stood at the ready, with four movie tickets in hand. Several more tickets were tucked away in his back pockets. This was now how he usually spent his Saturday nights. Since Eko started commissioning him to buy tickets for the midnight showing, many of Eko’s friends had begun using his services as well. It had gotten to the point where he had to enlist the help of others.

  “Mr. Itok!”

  He turned toward the escalator as Eko and his friends rose into view.

  “Here you go,” said Mr. Itok. “These are for Eko, Noni, Keenan, and . . . Keenan’s new girlfriend.” He handed Eko and Keenan each a pair of tickets.

  The four of them burst out laughing.

  “My name is Wanda, but you can call me Keenan’s new girlfriend if you like,” said Wanda. She glanced at Keenan, who was standing next to her, his face turning red.

  “Kugy never comes with you anymore, Keenan. You officially broke it off, then?” Mr. Itok’s eyes gleamed, eager for gossip.

  “Mr. Itok, don’t be such a weirdo,” Eko said uncomfortably. “Your job is to buy us movie tickets.”

  “Keenan is really something, huh?” continued Mr. Itok. “No trouble getting girlfriends, thanks to his good looks. All pretty ones, too.”

  They hurried away before Mr. Itok could pry into their affairs any further.

  “So you and Kugy were going out?” Wanda asked slowly.

  Keenan only shook his head. He didn’t feel like providing a long explanation.

  “Kugy and Keenan were going out only as long as Mr. Itok was under the impression they were,” Eko chimed in, chuckling. Keenan knew his friend’s words were in jest, but they troubled him all the same.

  “Kugy is really busy these days,” Noni said. “She started teaching at a school run by volunteers, and she’s there almost every day. She always gets back late and stays in her room for the rest of the night.”

  “Strange,” Eko chimed in again. “Does she really teach that late? Do they have a projector and outdoor screen running at midnight in Bojong Koneng? She may be busy, but no one can be that busy, if you ask me.”

  “Keenan, are you okay?” asked Wanda.

  Keenan was startled by this question, and he realized Wanda had been studying him closely. In lieu of an answer, Keenan flashed her a smile.

  Wanda touched his hand. “Let’s buy some popcorn.”

  It was as if he had been hurled into a time warp. It felt like déjà vu. He recognized this scene—this night of the week, this place, this popcorn machine. The only difference was that last time, it had been Kugy holding his hand.

  April 2000

  Josh had been lying on the carpet, watching his girlfriend, for some time now. Her hair had grown out, and her “Lake Toba” T-shirt—her favorite bedtime attire—had become even more worn. She wore wrinkled batik shorts, and her big eyes pored over an excessively thick book by J. R. R. Tolkien. Josh had once joked that a book that thick was better suited for fending off ferocious dogs than for reading. Josh could never imagine reading even 10 percent of all the books Kugy had read—not even if he spent his whole life trying.

  Sensing she was being watched, Kugy looked up. “Do you want to read something, too, Josh? I have some Donald Duck comic books.”

  Josh shook his head. Kugy returned to her reading. He returned to his watching. The room returned to a state of silence. Minutes passed.

  “Kugy?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Kugy looked at Josh. “Yeah. Why?”

  “You’ve been quieter than usual recently. Is something on your mind?”

  Kugy looked troubled by this question. But hastily, she smiled. “Not really. Except for Alit-related business, maybe. We have more students now.”

  “That school keeps you so busy.”

  “I really like teaching there. Those kids . . .” Kugy shook her head in admiration. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the one who’s learning from them.”

  “But you have to take care of yourself, too, you know. You’re losing weight.”

  “I still eat like a horse.”

  “Yes, but you’ve gone overboard with your activities. You have to rest. At some point your body is going to give out.”

  “Nah. It’s just that the anaconda in my stomach is getting larger.”

  “Kugy, I’m serious.”

  “Josh, I’m fine. Okay?” Then Kugy immersed herself in her book once more, and again the room fell silent.

  “Kugy.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You need a vacation.”

  “What vacation?”

  “C’mon! Let’s go to Singapore. Just for the weekend. My uncle bought an apartment near Orchard Road. We can stay there.”

  “Don’t have the money.”

  “I’ll pay.”

  “Don’t want to.”

  “You work with those kids from Monday to Friday. All I’m asking for is one weekend. You really can’t give me that?”

  “It’s Saturday night and I’m spending it with you, aren’t I? What’s the difference?”

  “You’re not spending it with me,” said Josh. “You’re spending it with Tolkien!” And with that, he rose to his feet and exited the room, leaving Kugy in stunned silence.

  Josh didn’t usually wake up early, but he had plans Sunday morning to meet Noni, who went jogging every morning around Gasibu Field in front of the Satay Building. So Josh dragged his body out of bed and drove over.

  He was hanging out by a drinks stand while he waited for Noni to finish her last lap. Before long, Noni ran up to him and began gulping down the bottle of mineral water he had wait
ing for her.

  “You’re amazing. How can you go to a midnight movie and still go jogging the next morning?”

  “I still need to lose weight, Josh. Five more pounds. I have a target to meet.”

  Josh tilted his head. “There’ll be nothing left of you. Women . . . I don’t understand you at all. By the way, your best friend has lost weight and she doesn’t even jog.”

  “You mean Kugy?”

  “That’s what I want to ask you about. Why else would I go through the trouble of getting up at the crack of dawn?” Josh’s expression grew serious. “What’s up with her, Noni?”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “You’re the one who sees her every day. You don’t think there’s something funny going on?”

  Noni thought for a moment. “Well, it’s true she rarely goes out with us now, but she’s so busy with Ami at the Sakola Alit. She’s probably just too tired at the end of the day. She doesn’t even talk to me that much anymore—only if something really important comes up.”

  “You don’t think there are any other reasons, apart from the Sakola Alit?”

  Noni thought about it some more, then shrugged.

  “She . . .” Josh seemed reluctant to continue. “She hasn’t been seeing any other guys, has she?”

  Noni’s brow furrowed. “Other guys? Not as far as I know.”

  Josh deliberated whether he should mention the particular matter that was troubling him. “How about Keenan? She’s not—”

  Noni burst into laughter, almost choking on her water. “Oh no! So you’ve come down with whatever Mr. Itok has, too.”

  “Who’s Mr. Itok?”

  “Never mind,” said Noni with a wave of her hand. “As far as I know, they’re close, and they get along, but there’s nothing going on. In fact, Keenan’s got his eye on my cousin from Melbourne.”

  “Oh yeah? So they’re a couple?”

  “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” Noni chuckled. “I’m their matchmaker, don’t you know?” she added with some pride.

  Josh felt somewhat relieved, but his concern didn’t disappear altogether. “Keep an eye on Kugy for me, okay? If there’s anything, let me know.”