Being a guest

By Dewi Anggraeni

Wieke checks that her safety belt is correctly fastened. A flight attendant is demonstrating the safety routine beside her. His choreographed movements to a recorded voice overhead are too predictable to be eye-catching. Sometimes his elbow barely misses her head. There is muted laughter when he tries to lift the monotony by clumsily hamming a maiden in distress. But Wieke's face is unmoved. She looks straight ahead. Not at a spot where another flight attendant is pretending to blow a whistle, but beyond a curtain separating economy class from business class, to an imaginary line where the fence around reality gives way to the realm of memories.

* * *

"Mum, I don't want you to get married!" Martin suddenly said, his hand splayed on her chest as though her heart was going to seize up.

Still stunned, Wieke pulled the small hand slowly away from her, holding it tight in her hands. "But why, sweetheart?" she finally asked.

Martin didn't answer. Wieke immediately despised herself for asking, for putting her son on the spot. How could a four year old articulate his fear, his irrational fear of losing his mother's love?

"Darling," Wieke took a deep breath, "Uncle Bram will be a good father for you. I thought you liked him. Do you?" Martin rubbed the side of his head against her shoulder, allowing the comfort of her embrace to rub off some of his worry.

"Hmm? Martin?"

"Yeah. I do." Then he slipped off his mother's lap.

* * *

It is puzzling how memory works. For years, she had forgotten about that conversation, which she privately labeled as one of Martin's childish whims. And as far as she could recall, Martin never brought up that issue again.

Wieke was lucky. Since she lost her first husband, her two sisters had rallied around her, taking turns looking after Martin, while she returned to work.

"I can honestly say that as far as I am aware he has generally been happy," Wieke mumbled to herself. How could he have been unhappy when he was thriving in his development? In school, he was always top of the class, in the playground he was generally a leader, and in the sportsfield he excelled.

To everyone's relief, it was obvious that he accepted Bram as his father, without reservation.

Martin was so good that Wieke began to spend more time accompanying Bram on his business trips. Sometimes she missed his interschool badminton matches, and wasn't home to share his jubilation at winning, or comfort him when he lost. However, by the time she and Bram would have returned, all the emotions would have subsided, leaving mere ripples, something with which to spice the occasional dinner party or family gathering.

* * *

"Would you like a drink, ma'am? What would you like?" The voice of the flight attendant seems to be coming from far away. Wieke looks absently at the trolley of refreshments blocking the aisle, then at the neatly dressed brunette whose face is already registering impatience.

"No, oh ... oh yes, thanks! Do you have tonic water?" Wieke's flustered reply only embarrasses herself. Nobody else appears to care. The bitey taste of the tonic water doesn't bring her back to the present reality. She sighs with regret.

"I overreacted," she whispers soundlessly.

* * *

The moment she saw Martin come in the back door and go straight to his room, she knew he was trying to avoid her.

"Martin! Come here!" she yelled.

She knew she shouldn't have let him go to that brat Ronnie's birthday party. His parents had more money than sense. "They're only thirteen for God's sake!" she thought angrily.

"Martin! Tell me about the party!" she yelled in his face. "You took drugs, didn't you?"

Bram was out of town and she was nearly hysterical, feeling the enormous burden of responsibility.

"No I didn't! Honest, Mum! I swear! I only had a few beers."

She could have breathed a sigh of relief, but instead she maintained her rage, partly because she felt she had to, partly because she deemed Ronnie's parents irresponsible for letting the children have beer.

"Only! So beer has become only, eh? What do you usually have? LSD? Marijuana? What? Tell me!" She shook Martin by the shoulders, staring at him straight in the eyes.

The humiliation alone caused him to cry. He was aware of the servants watching from behind the kitchen door. Then suddenly, he grabbed his mother's arms and pushed her away, before running to his room and locking the door behind him. Wieke was momentarily glued to the spot, shaking, from what, she no longer knew.

Even that incident eventually receded into a virtual box, where unpleasant events were shredded into bits of rags, or compacted into unrecognizable balls then stashed away.

When she told Bram about it later, he shook his head slowly. "You must control yourself, Wiek. You tend to overreact."

Wieke had to turn away to hide her anger. "How dare he accuse me of overreacting? He wasn't there. What would he know?"

* * *

Wieke hands her empty can, which she put inside the clear plastic cup, to the flight attendant. As she takes them from Wieke, the flight attendant thrusts a stiff form at each of the passengers in that row of seats. "Frequent flyer form?"

Wieke takes it without thinking and is momentarily absorbed in by the contents.

* * *

"Muuum! I've been selected to represent my school in a mathematics competition in Sydney!" cried an excited Martin, waving a piece of paper as soon as he burst into the house. Wieke took the paper from him and read it. It was a form for her and Bram to fill out.

"Mum! Mr. Sumardi says some of the other kids' mums are coming with them. Do you think you can come?"

Wieke was so flattered that her fourteen-year-old son wanted her to come with him to Sydney. Rina's and Teti's teenage children made a point of telling them they didn't want their mothers to tag along wherever they went.

"Martin! What wonderful news! Of course I want to come! I wouldn't miss it for the world! What an honor!"

The following week saw the family buoyed with excitement. Bram told everyone at the office that his son was representing his school at a prestigious international mathematics competition in Australia.

"If he wins this one, he may be asked to represent the school again at the competition in Washington," Bram boasted, though he had only heard about the Washington competition recently from a colleague, in a casual conversation.

They were almost packed when Bram was diagnosed with brain tumor. Wieke's reaction was so calm that Bram thought she hadn't heard him correctly.

"The doctor said ... ," he was going to repeat, but Wieke cut him short, "I heard."

"He interpreted my numbness as incomprehension," she thought furiously. Then almost immediately her body slackened with contrition. "What sort of monster am I? He is ill, and I am angry with him for being ill?"

She moved toward him with slow deliberate steps, giving herself time to assume a loving, wifely caring disposition. "I am sorry Bram. I'm so sorry. I guess I was just shocked. So what did he suggest we do?" She held her arms out.

Bram's embrace was warm from perspiration. "He wants to operate as soon as possible."

"Of course," she said feebly, already mentally unpacking. "Rina can go in my place."

The following week Wieke had two occasions to make her happy. Martin won first prize, a holiday for two in New South Wales, and Bram's operation was a success. But she felt frustrated and deflated all at once.

Martin used his prize straight away and invited Rina to be his guest.

"Sweetheart, that is wonderful! And it's so lovely of you to invite Aunt Rina, seeing that she came with you!" Wieke fervently prayed that Martin couldn't tell over the phone that her throat was nearly seizing up from excruciating disappointment and irrational jealousy.

"Why did he have to use the prize now? Why can't he wait until I am free to go with him? Is this his revenge for my putting him second? Can't he understand that his father was going to have a life threatening operation?"

When they came home with stacks of photographs, Wieke couldn't find one that pleased her. Martin was standing too close to the edge of a peer. Martin was incorrectly dressed for the weather. Martin looked too glum for someone on holiday. All about Martin. It was as if Rina didn't matter, or wasn't there at all.

Though she didn't utter a word to express her displeasure, Martin quietly collected the photos, stuffed them into their respective envelopes, stood up and turned to go to his room. Just then Wieke had another attack of self-disgust.

"You must put them in an album, Martin!" she managed to call out, her voice slightly husky. Martin didn't stop walking. "Yeah," he said.

When he had gone from the room, Wieke rushed to the bathroom to wash her puffy face.

Martin became rather sullen in his late teenage years, often overwhelming Wieke and Bram with fear and suspicion that he was on drugs. They reassured each other that it was impossible because, academically, he was a high achiever.

As she watched her son grow, she felt that he was also growing away from her. Bram pointed out to her that Martin didn't show any more love or affection toward him than toward her, but it didn't make her feel better. "I am his mother," she would emphasize, although she was unable to elaborate on what she actually meant.

"It was Wieke's idea for Martin to go to Monash University in Melbourne, Australia, for a combined science and engineering degree. It was received with gratitude by Martin and bemusement by Bram.

"Why, have you given up? So you want to send him away?" he joked.

The mother-son relationship however, improved beyond expectations after that. They became the best of friends, with Martin showing genuine excitement whenever Wieke came to visit. He would confide in her about girls. Wieke felt happy she had regained her son's affection and confidence.

Wieke knew that Martin was finally serious about one girl, when he introduced her to Wieke and Bram, who had just arrived for his graduation ceremony. She was able to see the mysterious smiles exchanged between Shauna, the girl, and Martin. They were conspiratorial, as if they had the power to exclude anybody else. Bram didn't know what she was talking about.

"They're just in love. And you'd expect them to exchange 'mysterious smiles', as you call them."

* * *

The smell of delicious food is so pervasive that it stirs all the passengers. Suddenly, there is definite animation as everyone pulls out their tables and sits up. Happy conversations is struck up all around her.

"Lunch sir? Lunch for you, ma'am?" the flight attendants' voices float into Wieke's consciousness.

* * *

That evening, Bram and Wieke took the love birds to dinner in an Italian restaurant in town. Wieke sensed they were dying to tell them something. She held her breath each time Martin opened his mouth and began to speak.

Finally, just before dessert, Shauna said, "Martin, are you going to tell your Mum and Dad now?"

Wieke felt dizzy. Her throat was furry. She put her cutlery down and waited.

"Okay, okay!" Martin hammed exasperation, then turned to his parents, "Mum, Dad, I've got good news to tell you. I just got a job at MacPhersons. I applied on spec and ... "

Wieke felt her back slacken. She restrained herself with difficulty from reaching for her drink.

"Wow! This calls for a bottle of champagne!" exclaimed Bram, who immediately signaled to a waiter.

* * *

Wieke watches the tea pouring from the pot in the flight attendant's hand into her cup. The definite flow, the meaningful splosh.

* * *

When they returned to Jakarta, Wieke felt a swelling emptiness inside her. She had expected Martin to come home after his graduation, even if he had landed a job. She went to visit her mother when the feeling became too overwhelming.

"Wieke, you should know by now. In the family, love is like water. It flows downstream. No, child. You are not a failure. It is normal. Believe me."

"How can you say that, Mum? Have we been neglecting you?" Wieke was becoming more despairing, thinking that she hadn't even been a good daughter.

"Of course you haven't been neglecting me," her mother said. "But when you were all young, you were very preoccupied with yourselves. It wasn't easy for me, but I understand now."

Just when Wieke felt a little happier, she received a call from Martin.

"Mum, Shauna and I are getting engaged," his voice was cheerful and careful all at once.

When Wieke didn't react immediately he continued, "Shauna's Mum and Dad are holding an engagement party for us next month, on the fifth. Do you think you and Dad can come?"

The air bubble wouldn't leave her throat. Wieke took a deep breath and nearly choked.

"Mum?"

The air bubble burst. "Martin, I'm trying to think what we're doing on that date," she lied. "What if I discuss it with your Dad and ring you back?"

Wieke slowly replaced the handpiece in its cradle, then walked dreamily into the study. She began to call Bram, but decided to wait till he came home.

Bram's face froze. "Wieke! How could he do that to us? Let me talk to him. This is not on."

"No, please, Bram. Please, don't do that. I will talk to him. In fact, I don't think we should make a fuss. We'll just tell him we're coming."

"You can if you want to. I am not. I don't like how he just bypassed you and me, his parents! I mean, I don't expect him to ask us to formally ask Shauna's parents for their daughter's hand and all that jazz. Okay, we live in modern times. But to completely ignore us like that?

Wieke felt humbled by Bram's outrage. She had never seen him so agitated. For a long time, she thought she had been the only aggrieved one. How self-centered she had been.

"Bram," she said, tears welling in her eyes, "Bram, I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

* * *

As she walks out of the passenger arrivals area, Wieke immediately spots Martin and Shauna. Martin rushes to her and gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while Shauna looks on.

"You don't mind staying in our apartment, do you Mum?" asks Martin cheerfully as he puts Wieke's suitcase in the boot of Shauna's car.

Wieke avoids his eyes and laughs. "Where else would I stay?"

The apartment is in a very pleasant suburb, a five-minute walk from the railway station. Martin and Shauna joke that they intentionally picked this apartment so that Wieke could go around on her own with ease.

They walk up the stairs to the first floor, Shauna first, followed by Wieke and Martin. Once inside the apartment, Wieke looks around, genuinely impressed by the tasteful interior and furnishings.

"Well, Wieke," says Shauna, "I hope you are comfortable in the guest bedroom. Nobody has ever slept there."

Wieke blinks, then swallows. Smoothing her jacket, she says, infusing humor into her voice, "Lead on then. I shall judge."

She just has time to catch Martin's face slacken to a half smile. She winks at him, quietly nursing the pain caused by the ever-swelling vacuum in her stomach.