News from Heaven

By Teguh Winarsho AS

For almost an hour Popy sat on her porch. Her round eyes flashed to life at the smallest sign of movement on the road in front of the house. Not even the rustling of the leaves on the trees across the road escaped her notice, her eager eyes tracking the wind-blown leaves as they floated to the road.

Her eyes again dimmed and a melancholy returned to them as she took a deep breath, trying to control her pent-up emotions.

"Is he not coming again?" Popy asked in a murmur, her lips quivering. The orange juice in the Mickey Mouse glass on the table beside her remained untouched. Popy was watching the road, waiting for somebody.

Popy shivered from the cold. She turned up the collar of her shirt. Soon it would be too cold for her to stay out on the porch. She had to go inside or she would catch a cold. But she was confused about whether to go into the house and shut the door tight or to stay on the porch shivering like someone who has just plunged into an icy pool.

While she wavered it began to drizzle, and the sky lit up once or twice with flashes of lightning, like the tongues of dragons. But she stayed on the porch.

"Again, he won't be coming?" For the umpteenth time Popy repeated the words.

The drizzle was now a downpour. The rumbling of the rain was torture to her ears. Popy stood up and her round eyes gazed at the road, by now deserted. Nothing had changed, it was still desolate and quiet. There was no hope that anybody would come to see her. So Popy stepped inside, shut the door and locked it.

"He's not coming again tonight ...," she said almost inaudibly.

Popy sank onto the bed. Through half-closed eyes she stared at the ceiling. It was still as white as it was when she first moved into the room. White was her favorite color -- the symbol of innocent love, perhaps also fidelity. But her heart had turned charcoal-black. She was going to sleep with disappointment and dream dreams of frustration. Her wounds were unhealed and her grief had come full circle. She wondered when this agony would end. There was only one thing in which she still believed: Every beginning must have an end.

Popy squeezed her eyes shut, but she could not sleep. She tried to make herself fall asleep, but it was all in vain. She was haunted by a figure that danced in her memory like clock hands. Everything was laid bare in stark vividness:

"Be happy, Pop, I made up my mind today ...." She again heard Bram's voice full of confidence and courage. Bram would stand up on stage under a blazing sun, speaking to hundreds of students at political rallies with the same confidence and courage. His flaming eyes and the hard lines on his face emphasized his seriousness.

"Our love means everything, Pop. Look into my eyes. Look, I'm no coward! I'm faithful to our vow that the love we share is too sacred and too lofty to tarnish with a cowardice rooted in devilish trickery!"

Yes, those words, bombastic as they are, remained in Popy's mind. Popy knew there was honesty behind them, though. Bram's flaming eyes couldn't lie!

The rain continued to fall outside. Inside the room, with its white ceiling and white walls, Popy's vision began to blur. Then everything became dark. Everything became black. Everything ...

"Popy, I can't see you these next few weeks. Don't be mad! You know the movement wants me to be out in the forefront. The struggle against tyranny must not be delayed, Pop. A minute's delay means the loss of a generation. We don't want to lose the battle, even if all we have is courage and truth, the two resources underlying my fight. Don't worry, Pop, we'll have plenty of time to enjoy ourselves when this noble task is accomplished. We'll spend nights on the beach in the moonlight. We'll be happy. We'll ... "

"Sorry, Pop. I simply can't see you any longer. I regret this, but I have no choice. My parents have paired me off with a girl. It's a classic story, Pop, just like a TV soap opera. But that's the reality. I used to think I would never be attracted to any other girl, including one chosen by my parents, because my heart allowed nobody else in but you. You alone! But now my heart is open wide and someone has entered in your place. Forgive me, Pop. I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't want you to hate me. I just want to tell you the truth, that sometimes we have to accept reality. Whatever it is ... "

"Nooooo!" Popy screamed. This nightmare haunted her constantly.

Popy slowly got out of bed, rubbing her eyes. She was still sleepy but her bedroom was already bathed in bright sunlight.

***

"Is he coming no more?" Popy repeated this every time she sat on the porch, her subdued voice intense and her thin lips trembling. She had been on the porch for almost two hours. Her eyes jumped whenever she saw some movement in front of her house.

Broken twigs falling onto the paved road caught her notice. But her round eyes were constantly disappointed and would dim and lose their luster, and her breath would become heavy with restrained emotion. The Mickey Mouse glass filled with orange juice still sat on the table. Popy was more interested in the sight of the lonely road. She was waiting for someone!

The cold night made her moody. Popy was undecided whether to go inside and keep busy with a book and her university assignments, or to remain on the porch and rekindle her hope for the arrival of a loved one. Waiting was boring, but this boredom would vanish the moment her expectations were raised. Popy chose to stay on the porch. The person she was waiting for might show up tonight! She missed him so much.

Who can hold back the rain, though? It can fall at any moment, any second, without compromise, and certainly not with prior notice to Popy. This is what is happening! However loudly she screams and shouts, however hard she struggles to hold back the rain, Heaven has its own will! Its will must be done. Heaven is omnipotent. It's impossible for Popy to prevent the rains, the storms, the wind. She has even failed to see Bram again!

The hope that Popy had rekindled dwindled with the falling drizzle, followed by a cloudburst. Her hopes were shattered. On shaky legs, Popy walked into the house. But before closing the door, she gazed out at the road one more time. Puddles had begun to form. She wanted to make sure the road would stay this way until the morning, that nobody would come in the night. Popy entered the house, shut the door and locked it. "Again, he's not coming tonight ...," her voice virtually a whisper.

***

Popy has been sitting on the porch waiting for three hours. She waits and waits, oblivious to the overcast sky and the imminent downpour. Who can stop the rain? It can fall at any time, even from a bright and cloudless sky. Can she hold it back? Can Bram? No! Nobody can. Not Popy! Not Bram! She is just a helpless girl who can only hope and hope. Bram is just a person up on the political stage, making clamorous speeches. They are but ordinary people. They simply perform their assignments. They have their weaknesses and failings. They are helpless against omnipotent Heaven.

Every night Popy waits for Bram, building up her hopes. Every night she weaves her dreams. Every night she embroiders her reminiscences. She has no idea that omnipotent Heaven has ended Bram's life. A bullet pierced his skull on some deserted road one night ...

Did Bram know that lately Popy has been suffering frequent fits of nausea?

--Translated by Aris Prawira