73: C73 Chapter 73

C73 Chapter 73

RENO0

My flight just landed at Soekarno-Hatta Airport a half-hour ago. This place was always busy and bustling. The voice from the information center kept announcing the flight schedule; the departure and arrival of the flight. People clustered here and there. Some of them did not want to miss an opportunity to take pictures with icons of Jakarta. Others were passing the corridor quickly, catching the next flight. I and other passengers who were just off board rushed to the baggage claim to collect our baggage. After fetching my luggage rotating around a carousel, I marched toward the arrival hall.

I headed to the counter where I could book a taxi. I just needed to tap my fingertip on the screen and chose the taxi I wanted and got the number. It was a queue number that would be displayed on the big screen. It took a while until my taxi came due to the traffic jam.

The taxi driver assisted me to put my luggage into the car trunk. I slid into the car. The driver was friendly. He talked to me excitedly, inquired about many things such as where I arrived from. He looked at me from the rearview mirror in awe the time I told him that I was from the US, transited in Japan before I finally got here. He could not hide his enthusiasm and asked more questions like how many hours of my journey, what I did in the US if I studied or worked there. On contrary, I was not interested in inquiring anything about him. He told me about his family that he had two children in which one of them aspired to be a pilot. He just did that as I was an Indonesian. He would not tell his personal life to foreigners. He surely treated them nicely and genially though. I just conversed and replied to his inquiry in short because I was too exhausted.

The taxi halted once the traffic light turned red. This moment pushed me back to the time I was in the taxi with Ilana. Jakarta would always be the place where I reminisced my past. It did not mean all memories I created were good, some were even worse. Nevertheless, I embraced them all. That was what made me who I was today. If only my father did not send me to the US, my mother would have had more access to hurt me, not physically but mentally. No matter how bad my past was, living in Indonesia upon completion of my study was a plan I had set

I flew to Indonesia for my business as well as Ilana. I could not deny that avoiding Alice was also my reason to get back to my country. I had started my small business in publishing one year ago. It was Ilana who inspired me to choose this business. She once said that she wanted to be a writer. It might be the way for me to reunite with her one day.

The vehicle resumed the route after the light turned green. It carried me to the address I mentioned. After ten years, Jakarta had changed a lot. The park I used to go and hang around turned into huge buildings functioning as a department store. The most interesting of the changes was this city looked greener with its big towering trees protecting the curb and passers-by or the path cleaving two roads. The trees at least filtered the air from the pollution caused by the vehicles' smoke. The place where I was going to live was far enough from the airport, around three hours. I felt tired and a little bit of jet lag after many hours of flight.

"I forget to ask your name. May I know your name?" The taxi driver questioned me innocently when the taxi had reached the front area of my apartment. I preferred to be here, during my stay in Indonesia. This apartment was the only asset my father inherited me.

"I am Reno," I smiled and answered him. "Thank you," I said after he helped me with the luggage. He was not like a stranger to me. We did not know each other before yet it was like we were old friends. He even waved goodbye until his car vanished by the gate. He was an average Indonesian who was genial and kind to anyone including foreigners.

I was staring at my apartment even after the taxi disappeared. Never did I imagine that I would be here in Indonesia without my father, without his anger, care, and compassion. It was only the cultures of being hard working and disciple his legacy. He might be too strict, yet he was caring. And most importantly, he loved me so much even though he never knew how to show it. The moment when he printed a slap on my face due to the accusation of harassment I never did still lingered in my head. I was certain that he did it not because he hated me but he just regretted that I had disappointed him. For me, the slap was his way to convince me that his love for me was just incredible. Words were not enough to describe it. He called and video called me almost every day after I left for the US. He motivated me to take a master's in business administration upon completion of my undergraduate degree. Woefully, a heart attack did us apart two years ago.

I walked into the lobby; the receptionist passed me the key. I dug into my pants pocket and fish my ringing mobile phone out of it. It was my uncle's name appearing on the screen. I did not contact him on purpose when I was at the airport. He was not an unemployed person who had much free time. His job occupied him. I decided to take a taxi instead of calling him to pick me up.

"Hello, Uncle," I greeted him.

"Where are you? How's everything?"

"Great! I am in my apartment right now. How have you been??" I tapped that card on the plate below the door handle to get access to my room.

"I've been well. If you had told me earlier, I would have picked you up," he said.

"It's ok. I know how busy you are, so I decide to contact you once I have reached my apartment."

"Come to my house tonight. I'll cook a great dinner for you. I'll see you at 7." He hung up the phone. I wondered when he could cook. It seemed he had learned a lot about how to cool after his wife passed away. I charged my mobile phone and stepped to my bed. I let my luggage scattered around. Being too tired, I laid down my body on the bed and dozed off.

It was almost 5 p.m., I woke up. My uncle's house was miles away, so I promptly had a shower and changed my cloth with casual attire, a t-shirt coated with a denim jacket, and jeans. As I did not own a car, I booked a taxi which came only in minutes.

My uncle's house was the same, only more plants beautified his porch. A maid, middle aged woman with a dimple on her cheek opened the door and welcomed me with her smile. My uncle went downstairs and hugged me. We proceeded to the dining room where the food had been served on the table. My mouth watered to see that delicious food.

"You must miss Indonesian food,"

"A lot," I responded. The flavor of beef Rendang teased me. On the other side, the roosted rib, and chicken satay also caught my eyes. I could not stand to enjoy them all. "You are such an amazing cook. You can make all of these."

"You know it takes a month for me to learn how to cook these," he giggled. We enjoyed and finished the food. My stomach was full.

"Thank you for the treat. The food is so good. I have long craved for Indonesian food. I tried Indonesian food while I lived in the US, but still, the taste was not the same."

"I am glad that you enjoyed it. Wait, I have something to show you." He walked upstairs and came back in a short while. He gave me a novel entitled "Dark Memory" in red font with a plain black cover and the name of Ilana was inscribed on it. My eyes widen in surprise as well as excitement. Ilana had been a famous novelist. It got me a step closer to her.

"Uncle, why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?"

"Sorry, I was too busy. You know my work...."

"It's ok." I cut it off because I was ecstatic just to gain this information about Ilana. "Do you have any idea where she lives?" I asked him inpatient and excitedly.

"As far as I know she lives in Bandung. Unfortunately, I don't have her address. But, don't worry, she is a famous novelist in Indonesia. It is not difficult to get her address." My uncle's statement was more than enough to make me over the moon. I would find her.

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