Nightmare

By Ria Windrati

The night was enveloped by darkness and it was beginning to drizzle outside. The wind blew in occasional gusts. I began to worry lest the strong winds rip off the upper part of my house that was mostly made of corrugated iron.

The clock in the living room struck nine, yet I found it hard to close my eyes. My four-year-old had been fast asleep beside me for the past hour. My husband had gone to his parents' home and would not be back for two days. I was filled with feelings of loneliness and trepidation.

I felt really drowsy, nearly falling asleep, when I vaguely heard someone knock on the door several times, making me feel more worried and apprehensive. I wondered who might be coming over at this time of night. I could not think of any other person save my husband or my next-door neighbors.

My thoughts ran wild. "But what could have happened to my neighbors or husband?" I asked myself. I finally dispelled the thoughts that it was my husband who was knocking on the door as I was sure he was still away from home and wouldn't be back for two days.

Slowly I opened the door, and saw a man standing on the veranda. It was too dark for me to figure out who it was. Only after the man was close enough to me did I slowly begin to recognize him.

I must have seen him somewhere before. He was drenched to the skin, his face deathly pale. I ushered him in.

I felt sorry for him. Every now and then he shivered with cold. I rushed in to get a towel and make a cup of hot coffee.

"I'm Karjo, Mbak, Mas Herman's neighbor," the man said, introducing himself moments after I had handed him the towel.

I sat down in front of him. Herman is my husband. After a slight frown of confusion, my mind flashed back to him, to the earlier days of my marriage when Mas Herman and I were still staying at my parents-in-law's house and to the moments when he and I often chatted.

I was sure he was the same man. Karjo used to work at my parents-in-law's furniture company. He was there only for a while because the company went bankrupt when the monetary crisis hit.

"I've got some bad news, Mbak ..." he added, nodding his head. His face seemed oily and turned paler. I felt blood rush through my body. I suddenly remembered my husband's journey to his hometown and was worried about his safety. Recently my husband had been complaining about his car as it was always acting up and breaking down in the street.

"What's the news, 'jo?" I asked in a hoarse, nervous voice.

Karjo clammed up, his eyes staring at the floor.

"Has something happened to Mas Herman?" I asked.

"No, it is not about Mas Herman".

I felt a little relieved. "Then what?"

"Mom." Karjo answered in a dry tone.

At that very moment I remembered my old and sickly mother-in- law who had been ill with diabetes for the last two years. Her condition had worsened although she had been taken to many doctors. I remembered her once saying to me that she would rather die than suffer endlessly.

"What's the matter with Mom? Is she in hospital again now?" I asked in the silence of the night.

Karjo paused, hesitant to say anything. He gazed at me for a moment and then said, "We were planning to, but it was too late."

* * * *

A fear I had harbored since the beginning was coming true. My mother-in-law had died! I felt dejected, perplexed and anxious. I was completely overwhelmed.

"Tomorrow I'll have to go to the office because I'll have to ask for leave." It is always difficult for the staff to get permission from the company where I work, and if they do get it, it's always earned after a tough and lengthy struggle.

"How about staying overnight here, son? It's getting late and the weather is bad. Tomorrow we'll leave together," I suggested.

Karjo looked startled and nervous. "Mmm ... I can't, Mbak, because I have to inform other family members."

"All right then, I'll set out by myself".

"But ..." Again, for the umpteenth time, he showed his obvious hesitation.

"But what?"

"Mas Herman told me to use the motorbike to make it easier for me to inform other relatives who live out of town".

I nodded in approval. Then I took the motorbike out of the garage. We had bought it on credit and had not yet paid all the installments. At times, my husband used to hire out the bike to earn additional income.

Karjo excused himself after I asked him whether the bike had enough gasoline. Actually, I didn't really know whether the bike had enough gas or not. I rushed inside and came back out carrying a few rupiah notes and thrust them into his pocket. At first Karjo refused to accept the money, but he finally took it.

After he left, I could hardly sleep. My thoughts wandered back and forth with memories of my mother-in-law. It was hard for me to imagine how saddened my father-in-law and my husband must have been. It seemed that all of this had wrought havoc with my feelings.

With my boss' permission, I set off the next day. Despite the short distance, the journey was tedious. The bus was overcrowded and made occasional stops to let off passengers, and I perspired profusely in the heat.

I finally arrived at my parents-in-law's home. The horrible feelings and images that had haunted my thoughts last night were nowhere in sight. I rubbed my eyes to make sure that I was standing at the right destination. And that morning, I could see vividly my father-in-law and his wife sitting on the veranda, their faces gloomy. Then my husband suddenly appeared from behind the door, pulling my arm and leading me in.

"Mom and dad are distraught" said my husband in a whisper.

"I know, I can feel it. Why?"

"Karjo made off with their motorbike two days ago, so you've got to be careful with him. He was once a good boy, but now he is a hardened thief."

At that very moment, I felt dizzy. I felt like the world was spinning around faster and faster. I didn't know what happened to me next. What I vaguely heard was some people screaming hysterically, carrying me.

Translated by Faldy Rasyidie