As Darkness Falls, part 2

Laine Berman

I couldn't stomach watching my sweet husband destroy his life, his brilliant mind, his talents, his reputation, his business, his marriage. I just didn't want to know any more. I felt sick, as if my insides were turning to lead.

My legs now felt as empty as my arms had earlier. I sat down next to Anton, held his hand in mine, but couldn't look him in the eyes. I begged the police not to torture him, but scaring the crap out of him was fine by me. Now what?

They found ganja seeds and a bong. Oh, no. Now they'll think I'm also involved and that I knew all about this. I had told them that he never smoked in the house, and now this was proven a lie.

Sure he did. Each night, he'd come home late with friends after I'd gone to bed and smoke in the backyard. Each morning, he'd bathe, fill his bong and smoke out back before ever coming to see me in my office. It disgusted me. He stank from the stuff and I'd always tell him with revulsion, brush your teeth, get rid of that stench before you leave. He never did.

Because of his stupid ganja, I spent almost no time with him. He preferred the company of drugs to me. He preferred the company of drug dealers and users to his old friends. OK. His choice. I stayed busy with my own life, my own work. He had no interest in my life and my concerns and I no longer had any interest in his.

What kind of life is this, I kept asking myself. It was all so embarrassing. Where was the great guy I fell in love with, married, shared my life with, crossed an ocean for, sacrificed so much for? This guy surely was not my sweet Anton. He was just some stupid, mindless druggie who never paid any attention to me, who never created any art anymore, who rejected every suggestion I gave him, who never helped me with anything, who wouldn't even change a light bulb when I asked him to. This man living with me (when he deigned to come home) was some unfamiliar shadow. What did I have to do to get my Anton back?

Part of me, I must admit, was relieved that he was finally arrested. I knew it was coming. It was inevitable. His cockiness was just so overwhelming that there was no way he'd get away with this for long. Now what? Do I hold good on my threats?

"Anton, remember I warned you not to count on me for anything," I said, still avoiding his gaze. "I'll call your father and ask him to take care of this."

He squeezed my hand and whispered, "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd listened to you."

I looked into that familiar, sweet face and saw the fear in his eyes. Oh god. I can't do this, Anton, I thought to myself.

"Call papa, and call Gus."

"Of course I will." You make this huge mess, and I'll obediently clean it all up for you.

"Remember when we first rented this house and I said, what on earth will I do in such a huge place all alone when you get arrested, and you said, don't talk like that? You should know better than to ignore my words by now."

"You're right, Len. I am really sorry."

"Sorry because you got caught or sorry because you've destroyed your life and mine?"

He gazed at me in silence.

The police finally took him away at about 9 p.m. I was alone. Now what? Do I hold to my promise to let him rot, or do I move?

Move. Or at least start. First, call papa.

"Pa, I have some bad news."

Papa is no dope. He also warned Anton. But what made things worse was the sound of this calm elderly man wheezing and gasping for breath.

"Laine, I can't help you. My asthma. I can't do anything now but struggle for breath. I'm sorry. You'll have to do what you can. Please don't let my child rot in prison. Do whatever you can to get him out of this."

"Sure papa. I'll do what I can." I started to cry. There went my first option: leave it to papa, like I'd threatened.

Papa tried to calm me. "We'll send mama tomorrow morning."

"Thanks pa."

OK, next. SMS Gus: "Gus, Anton was arrested. Can you help?"

Gus telephoned immediately. "Tell me what happened."

I told him. Thank god Anton has powerful friends.

"OK, leave it to me. I'll find out who's connected to the arresting division."

Thank you Gus! Now what? My cell phone buzzed with calls and SMSs all night. Things were definitely rolling. Only I had no idea or hand in it.

For the next five days, I spent every moment I could with Anton, visiting him in prison, being friendly with the police so they wouldn't beat him and cleaning up the mess he left behind. I negotiated with the village head, neighbors and owners to reopen the shop for business, and called a meeting of Yogya artists to make sure they didn't catch flak for my husband's stupidity.

For these five days, I didn't eat one bite of food and had absolutely no sleep. No time, no need, no desire.

Efficiently and systematically, I took care of everyone but myself. Everyone called to ask about Anton, but no one asked about me. No one seemed to care that I helped the others who were arrested with my husband, supplying them with toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap and clothes when their own families did not. No one thanked me for calling their parents to inform them where their sons were when none of their friends had the courage to do so. Anton and all his friends were fine because I took care of everything.

No one asked about the police calling me constantly to say, pay for this and that or my husband would be beaten. No one seemed to think it was rude to ask me to pay their sons' fines so they could come home when my own husband could not. No one cared about the strange men riding slowly past my house at all times of the day, watching. No one took seriously my worries about being a foreign woman, all alone now. None of Anton's friends stopped by to just be here with me.

The Javanese are afraid of setress, others would explain in their defense. Of course I was setress. Isn't that why they should have come?

After 12 years living in Java, the gulf between me and them has expanded. My eyes have been opened so far and so wide that the strain seems permanent. Yet, I already know that when this is all over, I will receive them again in my home as old friends.

Together, we will laugh and recollect these events of the past as if I had absolutely no part in any of it. Yogyakarta June 14, 2004