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My name is Andre. I'm 25, it's 2001, and for the first time since graduating college, I feel like I'm part of a "real" life. After finishing my education at a state university in Yogyakarta, I refused to return to my hometown. I don't know why, but Jogja gave me a sense of calm, or maybe it was just because I was afraid of going home without answers to my family's questions: where to work? what to do? what to do next? So when a small NGO in town opened an internship opportunity, I jumped at it. The salary was small, but it was enough for food, cigarettes, and the occasional internet cafe fare. I thought, everything has to start from zero, and this was my zero.
When I was in college, I had participated in community projects under the auspices of other NGOs, and that was my foundation now. But quite frankly, the social world I was involved in was very far from sex. My knowledge about it was limited to stories from friends, old reads like Nick Carter, or the occasional pirated VCD that I watched while silently cursing how lonely the life of a boarding house boy was. Until finally a friend introduced me to a site called 17tahun.com - a site that later opened my eyes to stories that were wetter than just imagination. I'm not an addict, but sometimes from there I learned to explore the dark side of humanity-especially the side that I had been keeping to myself. Through those stories, I also started writing, just to channel my imagination, or maybe to laugh at my own curiosity.
That night I had just returned from out of town, exhausted from a field trip to survey a clean water program. The bus from Surabaya dropped me off at the Janti junction, almost ten o'clock at night. Jogja was deserted, and the cold air seeped through my thin jacket. After disembarking, I sat down for a while at a small stall with dim lights. Black coffee was my only choice that night. But when I stood up and reached into my back pocket to pay, I realized that the back of my pants was torn, a big tear, like I'd been clawed by something. Panicking, I couldn't help but grin as I paid with spare change from my front pocket. The shopkeeper just stared in surprise, probably having seen many students or workers like me.
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Just as I started to take a step, stumbling along the almost empty sidewalk, a woman's voice called out from behind. "Sorry, Mas..." she said softly. I turned my head, somewhat reluctantly, but answered anyway, "Yes, Ma'am... what's wrong?" She looked nervous, her breathing a little labored. I couldn't see her face clearly, but from her voice, there was an anxious tone. "Do you know West Melati Street? I need to go there now, but... I'm lost." She took a breath. "Can you give me a ride? I can pay. Whatever..." That sentence made me think. On one hand I wanted to go home, but on the other... this strange woman sparked a strange curiosity. I finally agreed, on simple terms - taxi money and a small fare home. She nodded immediately, her face slightly relieved, and we got into a taxi that night, with no idea where the story was going.
The taxi drove slowly through the city. Street lights glowed in the window, creating shadows that danced on Susi's face. I could see her more clearly now. Her hair was shoulder-length, slightly disheveled, probably because she was in a hurry earlier. Her face wasn't done up, but that was what was attractive-natural, with a look in her eyes that held something I didn't know yet. She was still breathing heavily when she started talking.
"We were on the same bus, Mas. I sat in the middle row. I think you also came from Lamongan, right?"
I turned my head slightly and nodded. "Yes. But I didn't pay attention to where you sat."
She smiled slightly. "I wasn't really paying attention either. Honestly... I'm a bit distracted today."
"Family problems?" I asked, trying to be polite but also probing.
Susi sighed. "Not bad. I just moved to Jogja. I'm going to stay at my sister's house for a while. My husband... is not part of my life now."
Her tone was flat, but her eyes flashed. There was a wound there. A wound that wasn't new, but had yet to heal. I just nodded, not wanting to dig too deep. But in the back of my mind, I noted the widow. Age maybe a little above me. And the faint scent of perfume from her neck slowly began to fill the cramped space of the taxi.
"Where do you work?" she asked later, her voice calming down.
"NGO. Internship, anyway. It's new too. But it's not bad, for life practice."
Susi smiled again. It was warmer this time. "Brave, yes. Not everyone can choose that path."
I just chuckled. "Sometimes it's not about being brave, but not having a choice."
The conversation flowed lightly after that. But there was something else creeping in between. A kind of silence that wasn't due to running out of words, but an attraction that didn't yet have a name. Every now and then our knees would touch as the taxi rounded a corner. It felt normal at first. But after a while, the touch was like a small lightning bolt that traveled through the skin to the deeper nerve centers.
I stole a glance. Her neck was long. Her skin is clear. And the top button of her blouse was undone. It's just one, but it's enough to make naughty imaginations start to take shape in my head. I quickly looked away from the window, trying to hide my racing heartbeat. Susi didn't say anything, but from the corner of my eye, I could see she was also glancing at me silently. Something was starting tonight, and we both knew it even though neither of us said it.
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