Beauty Is a Wound (27 page)

When the school ordered the students to start their job training, Alamanda convinced a number of her friends to intern at Old Kuwu’s mushroom farm. And that was how the two met—on a mushroom farm, in the middle of the hot barn, surrounded by plastic tarps. Alamanda would come to the barn, pretending that she wanted to help with the daily morning mushroom harvest, and there she would meet that man, tempting him with her smile or teasing him by leaving the neck of her dress unbuttoned. The man watched her from the rack on the fourth level of the barn while she stood below, further tempting him with some inconsequential request. The man faced her with a measured calm, brashly admiring her magnificence as if he didn’t care that a number of years ago he had been driven almost completely insane by that same wounding beauty.

They met every day during those weeks, stirring the chaff together, debating how high the temperature should be set, disputing how big the mushrooms had to be before they could be harvested, and arguing about whether the yeast should be sown on top of the chaff.

Standing there facing her among the bamboo poles propping up the racks of mushrooms Kliwon said finally, “Miss, you are pretty but you are so quarrelsome,” before leaving Alamanda and going out to join the other laborers who were resting after their day’s work.

Jerk
, thought Alamanda. That guy wasn’t meant to walk away and leave her just like that, he was meant to seduce her more fervently, pursue her, before she could then toss him aside as usual. Alamanda stood in the door of the barn, watching the man relaxing with his friends, sitting at the edge of the field, passing out cigarettes and lighting them, everyone exhaling the smoke into the open air, talking and laughing.

That was when she lost control of the situation, and for the first time ever she herself was struck by the insomnia of love, every night waiting for morning to come so she could return to the mushroom barn and be with that man, wondering whether the fever of love was still ravaging him or not. When she began to realize that she had truly fallen in love, she was horrified that she had been conquered and tried to kill those amorous feelings by thinking of the most appalling ways to make the man fall at her feet. And whether she cared about him or not she would still toss him aside just like that, in revenge for having made her love him. But every time they met, the man simply accepted the blessing of that beautiful girl’s presence in the mushroom barn without exerting any further effort, as if he was overjoyed simply to have her keep him company.

Alamanda sunk even deeper into the feelings of love that she could not control, enraptured by her discovery of such an unusual man, who looked at her admiringly, who examined every curve of her body with desire, but who still didn’t budge from his business of yeast and mushrooms. Alamanda began to dream about him seducing her, sending her flowers and love letters. She wanted to see him do all the embarrassing things he used to do when she was only eight years old, and she finally surrendered to the fact that she truly had fallen in love with him, no longer feeling the need to resist her heart. But this guy still did not change his attitude toward Alamanda one iota, despite the fact that she continued to make it obvious that she liked him by asking for a ride somewhere in a petulant voice or standing very close to him while he worked, until finally, scared that she was floundering even further, Alamanda convinced herself that her love was unrequited and she decided to give in and admit her defeat.

Okay
, she told herself,
I am not going to try to get your attention
. But just when she had given up, and no longer hoped to have that man for her very own, out of the blue Kliwon plucked a rose and gave it to her. Alamanda’s love once again ran wild.

“Sunday morning we are going to the beach,” the man said. “If you would like to join us, I’ll wait for you behind the barn.”

He didn’t even wait for her answer, just headed toward the group of workers to get a cigarette. Alamanda went home, placed the rose in a glass on the table, and left it there for days, even after the flower grew withered and rotten.

That Sunday morning she was not sure whether she should join the man on the outing or not. A war raged in her heart; her ego as a conqueror said that she had to play a little hard to get, but the other part of herself, which had been burned by the flame of love, ordered her to go because if she didn’t the day would pass without her seeing the man at all. Her legs walked weakly toward the field behind the mushroom barn, and there she saw the man pumping a bike tire. She approached and asked where were the others.

“It’s just going to be us two,” replied Kliwon without turning to look at her.

“I don’t want to go if no one else is going,” said Alamanda.

“Well if that’s how you feel, I’ll go alone.”

Damn it, said Alamanda to herself, and by the time Kliwon was finished with his tire pump, the girl was sitting on the back of the bike, as if the hands of the devil had sat her down there. Comrade Kliwon didn’t say anything, just climbed onto the saddle, and together they headed to the beach.

As it turned out, that day was a very beautiful day for Alamanda. The man helped her relive all her pleasant memories from early childhood. First, like two little kids, they sat in the sand, building temples as high as they could. After those temples got knocked over by the waves, they had a competition to catch the dandelion fuzz that floated over the sand blown by the wind, and then they caught sea snails and had a little race where they each cheered for their own snail, and then tired of all that they threw themselves into the sea and swam joyfully. Lying on the wet sand as the ocean water swirled all around her, looking up at the sky turning pink, Alamanda wished the day would never end, but stretch out in an eternal dusk spent with the most handsome man in the world.

Comrade Kliwon then invited her to climb onto a boat that was docked in the sand. “It’s okay,” he said, “this boat belongs to a friend,” and plus he could steer a boat through any tempest, no matter how fierce. In the belly of the boat there were a number of fishing rods and small fish to be used as bait. “Looks like we are ready to go fishing,” said Comrade Kliwon. So they coasted toward the open sea that bright Sunday, without Alamanda realizing that they would not return home by nightfall. Comrade Kliwon steered the boat far from the beach, until they couldn’t see any land, and there was only the ocean in the shape of a perfect circle all around them. Getting nervous, Alamanda asked, “Where are we?”

“A place where a man kidnapped a girl that he loved, many many years ago,” replied Kliwon.

After that enigmatic statement, Comrade Kliwon lay down peacefully on a cross board, looking up at some seagulls flying in the blue sky. As the time passed Alamanda, who was not used to being in the middle of the ocean, began to shiver from the cold. Her clothes were still wet from their recent swim. Comrade Kliwon told her to take her clothes off and dry them on the roof of the boat, as long as there was still some sun left, because they were going to be at sea for a long time.

“Don’t think you can just order me to strip naked,” said Alamanda.

“It’s up to you, Miss,” said Comrade Kliwon. Indeed his own clothes were also quite wet, and so he removed them piece by piece, spreading them out on the roof of the boat until not one stitch of fabric was left sticking to his body. Comrade Kliwon was now stark naked.

“What are you doing, you stupid man?!”

“You know exactly what I am doing.”

He went back to lie in the same spot he had been before, his genitals drooping with no hint of lust, confusing Alamanda. After thinking for a few minutes, she thought that perhaps she
should
take off her clothes and lay them on the roof of the boat, just as he had done. She would be naked, and if that caused the man to become lustful and force himself upon her, well, whatever had to happen would happen.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Comrade Kliwon as if he could read her mind. “I’m just kidnapping you.”

The girl finally took off all her clothes. She sat with her back to Comrade Kliwon, clasping her knees. High up in the sky, maybe God and the angels were laughing down at them: stupid humans, naked but not doing anything except sitting silently as far away from one another as possible. They continued this standoff until sunset, when they both began to get hungry. Comrade Kliwon went fishing and caught a number of flying fish, which they had to eat raw because there was no fire. Comrade Kliwon had grown accustomed to this during his friendship with the fishermen, and had no trouble, but Alamanda refused and preferred to go hungry. When night fell, overcome by hunger, she too ate raw fish, and gagged.

“You’ll only taste the fish for as long as it is in your mouth,” said Comrade Kliwon. “After it goes into your stomach, you’ll go back to feeling normal.”

“Just like you are only going to be with me for as long as you kidnap me,” countered Alamanda sharply, “and after we go home you are going to go back to being the same pathetic man as always.”

“Maybe we won’t be going home.”

“That’s even more pathetic,” Alamanda continued to bait him, “because you are not even brave enough to come on to me in a place as quiet as this, without anyone to be a witness and with me here naked before you.”

Comrade Kliwon just laughed, and returned to eating the raw fish. Not being able to stand his provocation, Alamanda finally emboldened herself to take another piece of fish and try again. She withstood her queasiness, chewing the fish as little as possible, and quickly swallowed it: and that was how she kept on doing it.

This drama lasted for two weeks as they drifted together out at sea, all alone. They never even encountered any other fishermen, because Kliwon had purposefully taken the boat to a very deep trough, which none of the fishermen liked because it was hard to catch fish there. The weather stayed clear the whole time, without any threat of a storm, but some changes did take place inside the boat.

Alamanda had finally gotten used to eating raw fish and even joined in the fishing on the second day. On the third day the two dove into the ocean together and went swimming around the boat, whooping and laughing. After that, they took off their clothes and lay them out to dry on the roof and sat at opposite ends of the boat: believe me, they did not make love, but at night Comrade Kliwon protected the girl from the cold wind by covering her with his own body, and they slept together peacefully. They were starting to get used to this strange life, and even starting to enjoy it, but on the fourteenth day Kliwon decided to row back to shore.

“Why do we have to go home?” asked Alamanda. “We can stay here quite happily.”

“It wasn’t my intention to kidnap you for the rest of our lives.”

As he paddled, Comrade Kliwon sat next to the girl, but they both stayed mute. There was something they both were thinking about, even though it just spun around and around in their heads, and neither allowed it to come out during the entire journey home. Until finally, when they docked on the beach, Comrade Kliwon surprised the girl with his soft voice:

“Listen, Miss,” the man said, “I care for you, but if you don’t care for me, that’s quite alright.”

Oh my God, here is a man who always surprises me. Nothing he does can be predicted, even by the book of fate
, thought Alamanda. She didn’t say anything, even though her heart longed for her to say, yes, I love you too.

They maintained their silence for the journey back home on the bike. Alamanda interpreted the man’s silence as heartbreak because she hadn’t given him an answer, while Kliwon interpreted Alamanda’s silence as a young girl’s shy hesitance to respond to the love of a man. Alamanda was worried, and wanted to reassure the man that he didn’t need to feel brokenhearted and that she loved him, so that when they arrived at the house, she started to speak. But before one word came out of her mouth, Kliwon cut her off and said:

“Don’t answer me now, Miss. Think about it first!”

That week passed full of happy days. They worked in the mushroom barn together without debating anything, just talking about things that pleased them both. Wherever Kliwon went, Alamanda followed him and vice versa, until the people who saw them began to assume that they had become sweethearts.

The news of their relationship wasn’t discussed only on the mushroom farm, but also by the rice farmers and the corn pickers, and then the talk began to creep past the city walls. Not liking to be the subject of all this gossip when they themselves hadn’t even formally recognized their relationship, one day Alamanda finally said to Comrade Kliwon, “Don’t you know that I love you?” and right then and there Kliwon replied with complete assurance, “Yes, everyone knows it.” And that was enough to put an end to their reputations: Comrade Kliwon was no longer a womanizer and Alamanda was no longer a man-eater.

They continued their romantic relationship for about a year, until Comrade Kliwon got a scholarship from the Party to return to university, and to do that he had to go to Jakarta. The separation was so painful that Alamanda begged him:

“Please ravish me before you go.”

“No.”

“Why not? You have slept with almost all the girls in Halimunda but you won’t ravish your own sweetheart?”

“No, because you are different.”

Comrade Kliwon would not be swayed, and was determined to not even lay a hand on the girl. “Not until we are married,” he said, like a pious youth. During the week before his departure they couldn’t bear to be separated, together from morning until night. Then the day came. Alamanda took Kliwon to the train station. When the engineer was ready and the whistle blew, Alamanda couldn’t keep herself from kissing the young man. They had never even brushed lips before, but now they were kissing each other in a smouldering embrace underneath the almond tree. It’s true what people say, flames shot out of their lips. These were kisses of parting, a parting that proved to be excruciating.

The train began to move and the two reluctantly pulled their lips apart, while all the people at the station stood as still as statues, watching them.