Two Women

By Umadah

I never expected to meet Mas Arlan again after those 11 years of separation. We knew each other at the wrong time and place so we could not turn our love into a nuptial knot. I had buried this sweet memory for a long, long time. I had covered this burial place of our love with the falling leaves of each passing day -- days away from sweet dreams, beds of roses and the intoxication of the purest of loves. No! Everything was already covered in the grave of the past. And I ... I no longer knew where this grave of love was.

I cursed this chance meeting. Really! Yet I did not curse my visit to the book shop. I went there to buy books on the lives of the prophets for my youngest child. To me it was simply a religious service. Well, my youngest child was seized by her craze for fairy tales, folk tales and stories about national and world heroes. Before bed time, she could not sleep unless I read stories to her. That day I had run out of stories. I did not want her to be fussy and get in a tantrum for the whole night or cry continually. So that afternoon I went to the book shop.

The call "Mimi! Mimi!" startled me because only one person had called me in this way.

I stood erect at the door of the book shop. I had just bought a book about Noah and was at the point of leaving the book shop. Hearing someone calling me, I was so surprised that I dropped the book I was holding.

"You, Mas Arlan," I sighed.

"Finally we meet again, Mimi. God is great. God is kind. God listened to my prayers all this time," he said.

I could not find a reason not to ask him to drop in at my house. This would mean unmasking my own life and revealing to him that I was married. Well, perhaps he now had a wife and children, too.

My memories of the past were stirred, when I was still in my home town and when I was still going out with him. Eleven years ago my mother, my younger sisters and brothers and I left our home town. My father, like the true fisherman he was, was drowned at sea and his body was never found. His death brought untold misery to our family. To survive, everything was sold. Even the land and our house eventually had to be sold, and the proceeds were used for our move to Jakarta, where my mother opened a food stall. As the eldest child, I had to help my mother and go to Jakarta to run the stall and take care of my five younger sisters and brothers. This is how I was separated from Mas Arlan.

Unfortunately, we did not fare well in Jakarta. Our food stall made little progress. After four months in the capital we decided to move again, this time to Sumatra, where we had neither kith nor kin. For one full week we lived like tramps, under a bridge. Life was indeed hard and hostile to us.

Yet my mother was not a person that could give up easily. She tried hard to find a place to start a food stall business again. God is kind. He always shows us the way. One day a generous gentleman came to our aid. He helped us set up our food stall.

Pak Hamid was concerned about our fate. He provided us with a place to live and to operate the food stall. He even lent us some money to start the business with. He told us that we could repay the loan when our business was running well enough.

Pak Hamid was a rich merchant with an extensive coffee plantation. He had four children, two sons and two daughters. His second son, Mas Andi, had completed his university studies and was helping his father in his business. He often came to our food stall and would chat with me. I began to think that, as he frequently visited our food stall and asked to talk to me, he was in love with me. My guess was right. One day he told me this:

"This is the only time I have found a woman of my liking. Pretty, of good character, and persevering. Also she respects her mother very much."

I could see what he wanted with this praise.

"I'm really attracted by a woman who does not give up easily."

"Well, I am what you think I am because of the force of circumstances," I said quickly. "You embarrass me with such high praises, Mas ..."

"But I am telling the truth, aren't I?"

I could not say anything to get away from him. Worse still, my mother found out that Mas Andi was in love with me. She supported him. But I did not want my mother to interfere. I thought my marriage was my own affair. Yet I was really helpless when my mother persuaded me to give a good response to Mas Andi. "You see, he has a big shop and a large coffee plantation. Your future is assured. Then you must think about the future education of your siblings. Finally, you must always remember that Pak Hamid is our savior," mother would say, until I was unable to resist any more.

When I protested that I did not know whether I was in love with Mas Andi, she said that love was not the only basis for a good marriage. Love is not everything in a marriage, she kept telling me. To get married, one must be mentally and economically prepared as love may disappear half way if you are not economically prepared when building a household, she tried to convince me.

I knew Mas Arlan well. When I left for Jakarta, he had been jobless for about three years. His parents earned just enough for their subsistence. Mas Arman's father, a fisherman, had never owned his own fishing boat. He worked for someone who owned a small fishing boat.

"You must learn to love Andi, Hermi," mother said. "You can if you try. Just remember the future of your siblings, Hermi. I can afford to feed you but not to send you to school. Remember, also, what Pak Hamid has done for us," mother persisted.

Eventually I could blot out the image of Mas Arlan in my mind. I did not think I had betrayed his love for me. As we were in different places, worlds apart it seemed, I finally could erase the sweet memory of him. I began to love Mas Andi, well, partly because he was very attentive to me.

After only half a year in Sumatra, I was married to Mas Andi. I had never suspected that I could live happily with someone who was not my first love. Unfortunately, our happiness was short- lived. Three years after our marriage, my husband had a fatal accident. God robbed us of our peace. When he died, I was pregnant with our youngest child.

Although I had lost a husband, the pillar of our household, I did not want to see my own life crumble. I had to seek God for peace and guidance. I did not worry much economically because Mas Andi had left enough for us. My mother was doing better and better with her food stall business.

"You still remember Ranti?" Mas Arlan startled me with his question.

"Yes. A classmate of mine. We sat on the same desk. She passed our letters to each other, didn't she?"

"We've been married."

"Thank God. She's your match, really."

"Well, where's your husband?"

I was stunned. I had never told him my marital status, although I had introduced my two children to him.

"He's dead," I said bitterly.

"So, you ..."

"What has brought you to Sumatra, Mas" I asked.

"Business. For a year now I have been traveling from Java to Sumatra and back."

It was late at night. He asked for my leave and went to his hotel. The next day he turned up again and touched on our past relationship.

"Come on, just forget what existed before between us."

"You know, Mimi, that I have never even for a second stopped loving you ..."

"Enough, enough. It's impossible!"

"Why?"

"You have Ranti now."

"You must laugh at me if I tell you what I told her before we got married. Once I asked her whether she would accept you if I happened to find you again. She said that she would whole- heartedly accept you and promised to make you a twin sister."

"Impossible," I sighed. "Do you believe her?"

"Very much," he said.

I did not respond. To me he was just past the limit now. Better stop this useless debate, I told myself.

But I could not tell him never to visit me. Every time he came to Sumatra, he would visit. And every time he would tell me again and again of our sweet memories. And, crazily, I received more and more letters from Ranti.

In her letters, she told me how her husband had been ever since he had met me again. He was often gloomy, lazy and day dreaming. He seemed to have lost his enthusiasm so much that he could no longer do his job properly. That was really a crazy turn in life's journey.

"Has Ranti sent you a letter?"

"Yes. Several times."

"What do you think of her letters?"

"She is a noble woman."

"And what do you think about her suggestion that I should marry you?"

"I know she must have been under pressure from you. Yes, you must force her to write such letters."

"No. She has written the letters of her own accord."

"Is Ranti not enough for you?"

"Love cannot be measured, Mimi. It is something holy and keeps the spirit of life aflame. It is this spirit of life that keeps a human being actively improving himself to ensure that he will enjoy happiness here and in the hereafter. Love is something sacred and my love for you is sacred, too, Mimi."

"I don't want your love to be distributed between people. You've got Ranti and your love is Ranti's alone."

"I will never give up until I get you, Mimi," he said, piteously.

Ranti kept sending her letters to me. The same request: Please accept Mas Arlan. And I held my ground. In all my replies I kept saying that Mas Arlan's love was not mine but hers. It was hers alone and could not be shared with me. Unfortunately, the more I rejected her suggestion to accept Mas Arlan, the more insistent she became in her letters. Or, perhaps, desperate. She once wrote something like this: "How beautiful this life would be, Hermi, if two women could live in harmony under the protection of a man as handsome as Mas Arlan. Oh, what a beautiful life it would be. Please, please, Hermi, accept Mas Arlan and then our beautiful dream will no longer be a dream."

As Ranti's letters kept coming in, Mas Arlan's visits were gaining intensity too. Every time he dropped in, he would ask me to be his wife.

"I need your decision, once and for all. I want your firm and definite answer. Right now, Mimi."

"Allow me three months to consider your proposal, Mas," I finally said, giving him some hope. "And in these three months you are not allowed to come here. I want to be able to be left alone and think about this clearly before I make a decision."

Three months passed without even a single visit by Mas Arlan. On the first day of the fourth month, however, he turned up. When he came, I was alone at home. My two children were out at the zoo, taken by a gentleman the same age as Mas Arlan. I was not feeling well so I did not go with them.

When Mas Arlan came, I was not in the mood to see anybody. Yet I could see gloom and sorrow on his face. Saying nothing, he simply gave me a piece of paper. I was surprised when I read what was on the paper:

"I have made the right decision, Mas Arlan. I must leave you and I will take our children with me. Never try to look for me. I'll go far, far away. You will never be able to find me. I have decided to do this because I would like to see you lead a happy life with your Hermi. Without me around, you and Hermi can get married and enjoy the fruit of your true love. Please ask Hermi to forgive me for having taken you from her. Love, Ranti."

After reading the letter, I could not help crying. I held my chest strongly because I felt as if two strong hands were beating it, very strongly.

"I have caused Ranti all these miseries ..." I sobbed like a child. I cried because Ranti had left Mas Arlan and also because Mas Arlan was too careless and daring in fooling around with life.

"You are my only hope, Mimi."

"You let Ranti live in misery, without direction, without a purpose," I said, still sobbing.

"I have been looking for her everywhere, Mimi. I haven't found her yet but I'll look for her again. I won't stop until I find her."

And now, could I afford to tell him the truth? Two months earlier I had got married again. My children had got with their new father to the zoo. Could I tell him the truth?

Kudus, 1999

Glossary:

Mas: literally means elder brother, a term of address used by a wife when speaking to her husband (Javanese)

Pak: Sir

-- Translated by Lie Hua