Home (50 page)

“What's all of a sudden?”

“Well, this meeting I mentioned.”

“What is it you're saying, Rama? You're just asking us to meet Rininta's parents, aren't you?”

“Well, not just to meet them, Papa. There's also…”

“
Masya Allah!
” Aji quickly gulped the rest of his glass of milk. Milk dripped from the glass and dribbled from his lips.

Retno stared at her son, suddenly finding a headache coming on as well. “So what you're saying is…”

“What I'm saying is that Rininta and I intend to get married, sometime before the end of the year.”

“Ohmygod, ohmygod!” came the shriek of Andini's voice from
the bathroom followed by a gale of laughter. How could she hear them speak when she was taking a bath?

“Just a second here…” Retno was becoming upset. “You haven't been to this house in more than a year and now you're telling us that you're going to marry your director's daughter. Am I hearing this right?”

“But it's still a long ways off, Mama. The end of the year.”

Aji continued reclining against the back of the couch, a mustache of milk on his upper lip, as he stared forward in a daze. Retno took a tissue from the dispenser on the coffee table and wiped her husband's lip.

“The important thing here is not when you're going to get married,” Aji said in a slow and even voice. “If you want to get married tomorrow, that'd be fine with me. What's important is whether or not, when you started to date Rininta and then came to be accepted by the Priasmoro family, they knew who we are.”

Rama's face grew pale. He hardly knew what to say next. He was coming to the most difficult part of his mission.

Andini came into the room to join the family circus with a towel wrapped turban-like around her freshly washed hair. She put her hands on her hips as she faced her brother.

“Is she pregnant?”

Andini look very much like their mother, with fair skin, a pointed chin, and small eyes. They also both had long straight hair. But unlike their mother, when Andini spouted those sharp words, she resembled, in Rama's eyes, a she-devil.

“Of course not,” Rama growled.

Andini undid her towel and patted her hair, spattering her brother's face with water.

“Well, then, answer Papa's question,” she demanded. “Does your
girlfriend's family know that ours is categorized by the government as coming from an unclean environment? That we are an E.T. family? And you know I'm not talking about ‘extra-terrestrial' or ‘entertainment tonight.' E.T.
—Eks Tapol—
former political prisoner! Do you understand? Even though Om Dimas was never arrested and never imprisoned either, his name is the same. He's an E.T. too, a former…”

“Yes, God damn it, I know!” Rama yelled at his sister.

With her wet hair unkempt and in a mess, Andini remained steadfast. Her small eyes bulged, just like their mother's did when she was angry.

“And who the hell are you to shout at me? You disappear for years and now suddenly show up wanting to get married because you feel the need for a family. Where were we all this time!? And now you're swearing at me?!”

Rama said nothing, but he could not check his rising emotion. He too felt like his pride had been stamped on. Rama didn't know how to explain this to his family, but he had never wanted to deceive either his friends or the family of his girlfriend.

Aji guessed what his son was thinking. “So, the problem now is that you've never told them about your family background. For all the years you've dated Rininta, you intentionally hid our identity…”

Rama bowed his head. For Aji and Retno that was the answer: Rama had concealed his family's identity. Even though Rama didn't say it out loud, Aji, knowing his son's character, knew that what Rama most wanted was for his family to bury its history and life story as deeply as possible.

Aji stood and excused himself, saying that he wanted to lie down. Andini looked at her brother like he was a paddy snake, good only for being chopped in two with a machete. Retno stood,
her body suddenly stooped with disappointment. She went to the kitchen, her place of consolation.

“Mama…”

Rama's mother shook her head, not wanting to talk any more—or at least for the time being. Andini returned to her bedroom and a few seconds later the combined sound of a hair dryer and the music of Deep Purple bounced off the walls of her room. Rama sat in the living room by himself.

Rama had assumed that there would be some emotional upset and uproar when he made his announcement, but he had never thought that his father would end the meeting in silence. How could he fight back or argue when his conversational opponent wouldn't say a word?

Four years earlier, when Rama decided to take the job at Cita Karya, he knew he would have to erase his family history, at least temporarily. That he was able to get away not using the name Suryo and then pass the security clearance without his family background being looked into too carefully had been a minor miracle. When compared to the situation a decade before, the issue of a “clean environment” had greatly subsided. Nonetheless, the policy was still official and very actively enforced in a number of professional fields, especially public-related work: teachers, government religious officials, journalists, and, of course, the military—fields where it was thought that those who were “unclean” might influence the masses. He knew that a number of Alam's friends who worked for the mass media were only able to do so by using pseudonyms.

Rama was just an accountant whose job was dealing with figures. Even so, he didn't want to take the risk. That he had met and fallen in love with the daughter of a company director now
presented a large and very personal risk.

Rama closed his eyes and, without knowing it, nodded off for a time on the sofa.

The sun crossed the sky so quickly that it was early evening when Rama awoke. Through partially opened eyes, he could see the blurred form of his father seated before him, staring at him with a look that could have sliced open his heart. Opening his eyes wider, he saw in the light of his father's eyes a combination of sadness, disappointment, and chagrin. Rama slowly pulled his body up and into a sitting position until he was facing his father.

“Rama…” his father began with a tremble in his voice.

“Yes, Papa?”

“I just want to say that I will not stand in the way of you pursuing a future with anyone who is good and loves you. But I will not condone you lying to the world about our family's identity. This means you have two choices…”

Aji intentionally paused to take a breath; he was not used to issuing ultimatums. Rama's entire body went rigid.

“You must either tell Rininta's family about your family or propose to her on your own. If you can't do that, your mother and I will not be involved in your wedding.”

Rama looked at his father wordlessly. He'd never thought his father would make such a threat.

“At my age, I'm not willing to be part of your lying games or keeping my head tucked down.”

“But that's what we've been doing all our lives!” Rama suddenly shouted, unable to restrain himself any longer. His voice was so loud, Retno rushed into the room and quickly sat down beside her husband.

Now it was Aji who was angry: “Keeping your head down
from the military and the government is one thing, but asking us to keep our head down from your future wife and in-laws is the same as asking us to lie! Do you think that when one day your father-in-law finds out about your family history he's going to respect you? Do you think he'll understand why you concealed your past the entire time you were dating his daughter?”

“He doesn't need to know.”

Aji shook his head. “You're so confused, you're not thinking straight. It would be better for you to tell them straight out. I am sure that if Rininta's father, this boss of yours, is a good man, he will not have a problem with it. What's past is past, and this is no longer the time for judging people by their family history but more by their heart and soul and their daily actions.”

“But Pak Pri is a stickler for regulations,” Rama said in a shrill voice. “I know not much attention is paid anymore to the issue of a ‘clean environment,' but some ministries and state companies still require a security clearance. I completely agree that the time has passed for categorizing people like that, but I'm still not comfortable in being frank about it.”

“Well then, that's your problem, not ours,” Aji said in an equally high voice. “If, from the beginning, you had been open with Rininta and her family, you would have been able to judge whether she and they would be good for you. Whether they could accept you as you are—just as you must accept them for what they are.”

“Rama, I'd just like to say…” Retno, who had always tried to be accommodative to Rama, now tried to instill some clear thinking into him. “I think it's normal for a company or institution to check a person's background to ascertain their professional skills or to see if they have a criminal record. And even then, I feel, a person always deserves a second chance. But all this time—and
this is what doesn't make any sense—our only fault is our link to Dimas. Isn't that right? And why is it a fault when he didn't even do anything wrong?” She sighed. “Oh, well, maybe we can't do anything about that; but for as long as we live, there is going to be a brand on our forehead: “political prisoner family.” And now you are entering a circle of people who view our relationship with Dimas with contempt, as a historical defect. How long will you be able to keep up your act with your future wife and in-laws? If your marriage begins with a lie, what kind of future home will you ever be able to build?”

Aji looked with admiration at his wife. Her argument was brilliant. Rama swallowed. “I've given the matter a lot of thought, Mama. When the time comes, I will open up to Rininta and tell her who I am.”

“But Dini is right, Rama. Nobody likes to be deceived.”

“I'm not deceiving anyone, Mama. I just don't feel the time is right to tell all. I think you and Papa should be glad that Rininta is able to accept me for…” Rama suddenly stopped speaking.

“Accept you for what, Rama?” Retno demanded. “Finish your sentence! Why do you always insist on thinking of yourself as inferior?”

Rama couldn't continue his sentence. Compared with his father's sharp cry, his mother's roar was that of an angry lion. He had to ease the tension. He had to succeed in his mission of getting his family to accept a dinner invitation at the Priasmoro family home.

“You know that I don't have any problem with our immediate family. The problem is Om Dimas whose wacky politic views put us in this position in the first place…”

“Hello! Anybody home?” came the sound of a voice which caused Rama's heart to jump to his neck. He looked around to
see Alam and Bimo coming into the living room. With them was a stiking-looking Eurasian woman. Retno immediately stood up and gave both Alam and Bimo a warm hug. Rama looked on with a sour face but, for the moment, at least, the previous tension had subsided. “Lintang, this is Rama, the cousin you've only ever known by name. Rama, this is Om Dimas's daughter.”

Retno put her hand on Rama's shoulder, a signal for him to stand and to shake hands with Lintang.

Rama stood and tried to smile. Lintang shook his hand and then kissed his cheeks three times—first the right, then the left, then the right again.

“That's how we do in Europe!” she said.

Everyone laughed and invited the others to sit down. The ensuing conversation revolved around the subjects of the demonstrations, the price of fuel which was slated to rise the following Monday, and the president's upcoming trip to Cairo.

Retno noticed how flushed Lintang looked. “How have your interviews been going?” she asked her niece. “Have you had any luck?”

“It's been much harder than I thought.” Lintang glanced at Alam and Bimo. “It looks like I'll have to follow their advice and try to be more patient.”

“I'm sure it will work out,” Alam said with a smile. “If it's difficult tying down the others, she can interview my mother first. That will be the easiest.”

“Your mother? That will be the hardest one, I bet,” Bimo joked. They all laughed, thinking of how prickly Alam's mother could be with the foreign journalists who frequently asked to interview her.

As the others continued their conversation, Rama contributed little, somewhat miffed that his own conversation had been
interrupted. Just then, the phone rang, and later Andini came into the living room.

“Hi, Lintang! Did you just get here? Your mother is on the phone,” Andini said.

“Is something wrong?” Aji interupted to ask.

Lintang waved her hand dismissively. “I'm sure she just wants to know how I'm doing. Don't worry,” she said to her uncle, “Maman is always checking on me.”

Lintang stood and went to the telephone stand in the back. Alam and Bimo then began to talk of how all the university student organizations and NGOs in the city were united and ready to move. “Even the private universities have lined up: Trisakti, Indonesian-Christian, and Atmajaya,” Alam said, looking at Rama when he said it because Rama was an alumnus of Trisakti. Rama showed no reaction.