Personal matters

Toto Dharma

Ita could not remember exactly when it started. Suddenly, she felt hot and bloated all the time. A surge of nausea overwhelmed her whenever she ate.

At first, she thought -- hoped -- that perhaps, at long last, she was pregnant.

Then came the diarrhea.

It was nothing like she had experienced before, this violent, uncontrollable, searing pain, accompanied by the embarrassing need to find the nearest restroom before she lost control of herself.

Now, any time she did manage to eat, the sweat ran in streams from her hairline down her face.

"Too spicy?" asked her colleague, Reni, as Ita nibbled on a few spoonfuls of rice and clear soup at lunch in the office canteen one day.

Ita dropped her spoon on the table and clutched her head.

"No, it's not that. I don't know what's wrong with me," she murmured.

Reni was the only one in her office she could trust. The rest -- Santi, Meisye, Ati -- were all too judgmental and backstabbing to share even the smallest confidence with.

"It must be the change of season, we all get it," Reni said reassuringly, picking up a piece of fried chicken from her plate and offering it to Ita.

Ita shook her head. She got up, her arm held tightly against her stomach, and ran to the bathroom.

***

It had taken Ita a long time to meet Agung. It was not that she was not pretty -- she was slim, had fine features, a sharp nose, and pale skin telling of her Sundanese background.

But, as the eldest of four daughters and the first to go to university, a lot was expected of her. She earned her pharmaceutical degree and went to work in a multinational drug company perched atop one of the towering office buildings in Jakarta.

The years went by and she did well at work, but there was one aspect where she failed. She found it hard to meet men. No, not the silly men in the office who teased and flirted with her like she was a teenage girl, or those men, most of them married, who looked her up and down when she walked by.

So, she spent most of her nights at her boardinghouse, and her weekends back in Cianjur with her parents.

"You're such a shut-in," Meisye, the office gossip, scolded her one day. "You'll end up an old maid if you don't get out there and show your stuff."

And then she met Agung.

"Hey, Ita, my friend, Agus -- you know, the sissy -- he has a friend, we met him the other night," Reni whispered to her one morning as they opened up the office.

"He's a cute one. You know, Agus said he's straight. I think you'd like him. He's the marrying kind."

Ita blushed. She hated having attention drawn to her lack of boyfriends.

"Come on, let me set something up tonight."

Ita was silent, but she was also intrigued. That night, Reni arranged for them to meet at a local cafe.

Agung was indeed handsome, tall and well-built, his body formed by years of playing volleyball for a local team. He worked at a mid-level position at a local bank and, like Ita, he was already 30.

"So, this is darling Ita," Agus said, offering his hand daintily, his fingers curling around in a soft, limp handshake. He was even more effeminate than Ita remembered him, his hair slicked back, his bright eyes betraying the use of colored contact lenses and mascara.

"Here, here, you must sit next to Agung."

Ita was embarrassed by the attention, but she sat next to Agung. He was easy to talk to -- kind, concerned, with a familiar way about him.

And so the relationship began. At first, they all met as a foursome, but gradually Agus stopped coming, and then Reni, and then it was just the two of them.

Agung was so polite, taking her out but never trying anything with her, always respecting her as a woman. She grew to love him, and was only too ready to say yes when he asked her to marry him. Finally, she had found her man.

***

The ceremony in Cianjur was a big one, with Ita's family and friends all on hand. It was tiring and stressful, and Ita understood when, on their wedding night, things did not go as expected.

"Come on, forget about it," she said, as Agung sat on the edge of the bed, naked, his head in his hands.

He moaned something she could not make out.

She lay back on the bed, her mind whirling in confusion. Agung did not come back to bed. From the bathroom, she could hear him sobbing.

A few days later, it did happen. But Agung took her violently, his eyes enraged, his grip rough and uncaring. It was over so quickly, and this time it was Ita's time to cry, alone.

***

Being married was nothing like when they were dating. Agung was quiet and moody, and rarely had much to say to her. He came back late at night, always begging off going to Cianjur with her and preferring to stay in Jakarta.

Ita confided in Reni.

"Oh, he's just settling down," Reni said consolingly. "It's not the same for men as it is for us. They still want to sow their wild oats you know, and then they have to face up to the reality of being married. Be patient."

But it didn't get better. A year went by, and she had not gotten pregnant, but that was no surprise because they rarely had sex. Ita preferred it that way -- it hurt too much, not only physically but in seeing that other, frenzied side to Agung.

Sometimes, she would hear him mumbling in his sleep, garbled words running together, a cry of anguish. Then, one night, she heard him say, "Agus," over and over.

Did he have a fight with Agus? Had he borrowed money from him, and now could not pay it back? Or, as she suspected, had Agus had a crush on him -- why else would they have been friends?

But she dared not ask him. It was too personal.

***

"What's that on your face," Meisye said loudly, pointing to a white mark on Ita's cheek. "It's fungus, isn't it?"

Ita blushed, moving away from Meisye's gaze and finding shelter in the office bathroom. She peered in the mirror, the light shining down on her face. There was indeed a small coin- shaped patch on her face.

It was so strange, because Ita had never been sick like this before. She would keep the fan pointing at her at night, but in the morning, her pillow was drenched with sweat, like someone had poured a jug of cold water over it.

Her hair was dry and brittle now, her body thin and ravaged. It took all her strength just to climb on and off the bus to work. Every step she took left her exhausted.

She felt that everybody in the office whispered when she came close. Even Reni, her friend, averted her gaze when she saw her and made excuses to avoid eating lunch together.

Then, one day, she knew the truth.

The other women were sitting around, watching one of the gossip shows, when Ita walked by. Reni was among them, but she did not look up when Ita took a chair, feebly trying one last time to be let back into the group.

"I was promiscuous, but I also had one boyfriend for many years," the man on the screen said. His face had been obscured, his voice was weak, but there was something about that soft, lilting tone.

"So, how many years have you known you were sick?" the interviewer asked.

"Well, I knew for many years after being tested, but I had to keep it a secret, it was too personal. I didn't even tell my boyfriend."

Under the man's name flashed these words: "Person with AIDS".

Reni, her face white and fearful, turned to Ita.

Shock, confusion and fear swept over Ita. She struggled to her feet, knocking her chair over. She had to make it to the bathroom before she lost control.