And so I changed into a nicer outfit, grabbed my car eyes, checked on the room where I caught my mom sleeping and my youngest sister sitting nicely on the bed. I kissed her on the way out, and went straight into my car without even locking any keys.
The Chainsmokers’ new single featuring Coldplay, Something Just Like This, is playing on repeat: I have this thing of just repeating new songs just to love it. I decided to just go out alone after some few hours of nonsensical misery as I am actually leaving for Melbourne tonight. I am just not ready to finally be alone again, emphasis on the fact that my significant other will no longer be physically present with me. Since I love driving by myself that much — it has always been the situation where I feel the most blessed, as I always felt safe behind the wheels and sometimes, even, I could feel the stirring wheel protecting me from bumping into other cars and things — I decided some hours ago I would take myself for a short stroll.
I drove to a mall nearby my home which I visited frequently when I was younger. I passed through the roads I used to pass daily to go to school, those primary school days when particular tolls were non-existent. Mr. Suparman is the name of my friends and I’s driver at that time; I can still remember his face clearly, one of the few people I know that rarely smiles.
I parked, and walked to the bookstore. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to buy; I was just finished with Ika Natassa’s Antologi Rasa. Being the basic bitch I sometimes am, I chose the author’s first ever published work: Underground, written not in Bahasa, but in English. Interesting, I thought. I’ve liked how she used many point of views in one book and I think it’s just fitting to see what’s her work like in the very beginning. Raw.
Then I decided I’d go to the café I said to my mom earlier I want to visit. Koultoura. I opened Waze and let it lead my way.
I ordered Aglio Olio and their bomb Taro Latte, waited for my beverage to be prepared before I took steps upstairs. It was very hot. Maybe I chose the wrong outfit: TOPSHOP’s moss, almost grey, cropped sweater, and navy blue culotte. I thought this top would be a bit chilly but yeah, yours truly right here never learn from her mistakes so there I was, sweating on my back. And the person I currently love most is still no news.
The spaghetti was too spicy, even when I asked for a less spicy dish. I tried putting in some parmesan, and (skip the rest of the sentence you’ll probably vomit) even some water, which ended up with me not finishing half of it. Then I started reading. After a few chapters, a text from my significant other that he’s on his way, another taro latte, and a heavy rain, I asked for my car keys to the valet man, paid, and was sheltered by his umbrella, I went home. I arrived at 7:15-ish.
He finally arrived at my house, in all-black, and his Joger slippers. He smiled as he hand me the photos he just printed, our agreed LDR goals sheet, and a letter. “Open it when you’re way up,” he said. I almost lost it; not a surprise. These days it’s just so easy for me to cry. I think its the PMS attacking, jumbled with the fact that the distance between us would be even further than just Jakarta–Bekasi. And I’ve had pictures in my mind imagining me going to places we’ve always visited together in Melbourne, reminiscing those nights when our body heat warmed us, and I can add more things to this list but I’ll choose not to.
He avoided being inside my room, so I sat on my piano and after staring at him, could not help myself from crying, started playing. Probably one of the saddest River Flows in You.
At 8:30 we left with my mom and youngest sister to the Airport. I took his hand as per usual, admired his scent once more and gave him the hand massage he always liked. “I’ll miss you,” he said earlier, and all I wanted to do was to hug him and die in his arms.
He dropped us off at the Departure and he parked. I queued for check-in, met some few people, wished the process could go faster. Right after I was done, I exitted and found the love of my life. My mom and sister was nowhere to be found, giving the chance for me to hold his hands and elbows, and kiss him. They were at KFC. After some few minutes, we then decided to go to Hokben first as my mom finishes her meal. More chances.
We ordered. He told me I was beautiful. We sat when my dad and my other sister arrived. Fast forward the dinner I was very not interested in, it was then time for me to leave. My friends had went in, their parents had rushed them, anxious that the immigration would take too long. We walked.
As we approach the gate which I’m going to enter, I pulled out my Polaroid camera to take some shots. He then captured one of me and my family.
Then, it was time for those Last Hugs. I hugged my mom and my sister at once, hugged my dad, my youngest sister. Last, I hugged him, faked smile through all of it, said this is the part I dislike the most, could not help the tears from falling. Then I walked fast, didn’t look back. I wiped my tears away just so the officer would not see. I queued at the Autogate and saw my friends. I wiped my tears again as I sent him the crying emoji.
I apologised for not giving him anything, but I promised him my time. His answer melted me: he said me having enough rest, being safe and happy is enough for him. Long story short, I got into the plane, cried again when the lights are off for take off, cried again when I read his letter, cried again when I finished reading, and cried once more as I read the letter all over again after I went to the bathroom.
I slept, after being interrupted by the recurring thoughts in my mind; my insecurities.
It’s now 4:34 AM Jakarta time, 8:34 AM Melbourne. I’ll be arriving shortly.