Chapter 8 — Being Good Is Never a Mistake (Dim Moon in the Sky)

Blood flowed as waves crashed. The shoreline was ravaged, the coral reefs shattered. Salty sweat stung the current. The moon was smothered in bed. The high school girl sank into the deep, darkening blue of the ocean.

“Pay your father’s debt,” Merta’s raspy voice growled above her.

“Father, don’t hurt Bulan!” Bayu pulled Merta away from her.

A hard elbow struck. Bayu collapsed to the floor. Bulan’s mother grabbed Merta’s leg. Her hair was torn, her body bruised on the floor. Everything was a blur, moving too fast. Bulan looked around. Her eyes locked onto the knife on the table.

Stab! Slash!

No ripples. The waves felt like they were crashing against her chest. Blood covered her mother’s face. Merta gasped, clutching his neck, turning to stare at Bulan. Bulan stepped back, her hands trembling. The blood-stained knife fell from her grip.

Thud!

Merta fell with his eyes wide open. Her mother sobbed on the floor, unable to stand. Bayu’s cries slowly curdled into resentment. His father was dead at the hands of the girl he liked.

Whoosh!

Bulan’s daydream shattered; her blood ran cold. Years had passed since that tragedy. Misfortune, however, continued to haunt her like a persistent shadow. Bulan stood frozen while washing fish. Quickly, she composed herself and placed the fish in a basket.

“Be careful on the road,” the catering owner said, handing the motorcycle keys to Bulan.

The basket was tied to the back of the bike. Bulan rode through the roar of traffic. She parked on the sidewalk and carried the basket into a customer’s shop. She worked part-time from evening until night.

Tuk... tuk... the sound of slow footsteps came from Angkasa’s bugged phone, streaming directly to the earphones in Bulan’s ears.

“Where are you, Angkasa?” Angkasa’s mother asked over the line.

Angkasa let out a soft sigh. “In front of the house, Mom.”

“Is Dara home?”

“She’s here... her car is in the parking lot.”

“Take care of your health, Angkasa. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Thanks, Mom... you take care of yourself too.” Angkasa sighed as the call ended.

Bulan lifted the basket out of the shop, tying it back onto the bike. She continued riding down a sharp, winding slope—the very place where the accident had happened.

The door creaked open.

“You just got back, Angkasa?”

“Yeah, I was at the regional office, Dara.”

“Aren’t you exhausted?”

“No...” Angkasa exhaled heavily. “You should have told me you were seeing Bara again. Our child died because of your affair. I trusted you completely, Dara... even if you said it was work while you were at a hotel, I would have believed you.”

Dara sobbed. Angkasa’s breath sounded faint and ragged.

“I’m sorry, Angkasa.”

“Laras has been gone for years. Didn’t it hurt you to see your child crying during the accident?”

“It hurt, Angkasa... what mother wouldn’t be hurt seeing her child die before her eyes? Maybe I’ve gone mad. That’s why I asked for a divorce—and don’t ever ask to reconcile.”

“You should have told me you were in pain.”

“How could I? You were so fragile, like you had no soul left. We were going to break into a million pieces... I wanted to save this marriage just like you did, Angkasa. I stayed strong by your side, trying to comfort you, and that was my mistake—letting Bara be the one to keep me standing.”

“Why did it have to be Bara? He’s the one who took me down... Why him?!” Angkasa screamed, followed by a sudden breakdown into tears.

Angkasa’s sobbing echoed against Dara’s loud weeping.

“It’s like you’re laughing at my dead body.” Angkasa’s bass voice drifted painfully, followed by the sound of his body collapsing to the floor.

“I truly loved you... there are no words for my apology, Angkasa. I feel like something less than trash.” Dara’s breath hitched, equally wounded.

The black sky bunched together. Bulan parked the bike on the sidewalk, brought the basket into the catering kitchen, and returned the keys. She immediately excused herself.

“Are you alright, child? You look pale.”

Bulan didn't answer.

“This is for you... a little extra for your mother’s medicine.” The owner handed Bulan some money.

Without a word of thanks, Bulan pocketed the cash and left quickly. Her shoes scraped against the crowded street. The streetlights flickered low; the night stars dimmed along her hollow journey.

“I’m sorry, Dara. I don’t want to hurt anyone... I want to see Mom. If you go see your mother, remember to come home. Your daughter’s room is cold, longing for the mother who gave birth to her,” Angkasa said, his voice trembling with suppressed sobs.

Hhhhh... Angkasa’s breathing sounded labored, followed by the creak of a door and the rhythmic tap of shoes descending the stairs, leading him out into the noisy street.

“Why did you come to the stall, Angkasa?” his mother asked, sounding worried.

“Angkasa... Angkasa was worried about you.” His bass voice drifted softly against the sound of a chair sliding.

Footsteps drew closer.

“Do you miss your brother, Angkasa?” Chandra—his older brother—asked, accompanied by the sound of chairs moving and the clinking of plates and glasses on the table.

“Yes... I do.”

Bulan’s worn shoes continued to tread the broken road. She shoved her hands into her tattered jacket, trying to escape the cold that felt like it was tearing at her skin.

Tuk-tuk! The glasses tapped against the table. The sound of liquid being poured filled the air. Swallowing sounds mingled with the clink of spoons and the grinding of teeth.

“Too good and you’re haunted by sadness; too evil and you’re haunted by guilt; in the middle and you feel suspended... I thought cheating only happened in novels. Hah! Turns out it happened in my life. Was I too good, Angkasa? Is that why I was cheated on?”

“Being good is never a mistake... even bad people come from good people who are restless, Brother.”

“Cheating is like drug addiction. At first, it numbs the pain, then the dosage increases until it’s out of control. Dependency. One hit, and it’s easy to take another... Cheating is a disease, Angkasa. If Dara cheated on you, don't go back to her.”

Angkasa didn't respond.

“Where is that intern who always stays late, Angkasa?”

Bulan’s steps stopped.

“She... works part-time.” Angkasa’s voice sounded weary.

“She seems to like you, Angkasa... her face is so cold, it always gives me the chills.”

Angkasa exhaled. “I see Laras in her. They are cold because they are holding back the tears in their eyes... Ah! I miss Laras. I can’t be at peace if she’s cold in heaven.”

For a split second, Bulan stood frozen amidst the roar of passing vehicles. Then, she began to run along the sidewalk.

“Thanks for the food, Mom... sorry, I’m always such a bother. Take care of yourself.”

“Make peace with Dara, okay?”

“Yes... Mom.”

Tuk... tuk... the sound of shoes echoed, followed by a door creaking open. Then, the footsteps stopped.

Silence fell amidst the noisy traffic.

“Did you... just get home?” Angkasa’s bass voice vibrated with sorrow.

Bulan stopped, out of breath. She pulled off her earphones and approached Angkasa in front of the Chinese food stall. She said nothing, her eyes fixed on him as she struggled to catch her breath.

“For you and your mother.”

A blue plastic bag was handed to Bulan. Two portions of capcay made her breathing slow down. Meanwhile, a red plastic bag was gripped tightly in Angkasa’s hand—fuyunghai for Dara, his ex-wife. The branch manager adjusted his messenger bag and walked ahead. Bulan matched his pace.

“Did Bayu... hit you again?”

Bulan shook her head.

Silence drifted toward the sky, clashing with the cold wind biting at their skin. Under the dim moonlight, the shadows stretched across the steep, broken road. Someone was following them from behind.

“Live like a teenager your age... smile, talk to your fellow interns. You deserve a proper life.”

Bulan kept walking.

“If you bottle up your feelings... no one will ever know what you’re going through.” Angkasa let out a heavy breath.

“If they had any empathy, they’d realize it from the psychology of a person's face... I doubt anyone would want to be friends with me if they knew I was a killer.”

Angkasa turned his head. For the first time, Bulan had spoken at length. “If you let it go, others won’t care about that.”

“Do you want me to kill Bara?”

Angkasa stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened, clouded with emotion as he looked at Bulan.

“Don’t say things like that... humans must treat one another like humans. He isn't an animal that can just be slaughtered.” Angkasa resumed walking.

Bulan followed. “He doesn't even deserve to be called an animal. Animals still help their own when they're hurt.”

Angkasa shoved his hands into his coat pockets as the cold seeped into his skin. “Why do you hate him? You’ve never even spoken to him.”

“It’s because you don’t like him.”

Angkasa stopped again.

“I will hate everyone you dislike.”

Angkasa looked at Bulan. He adjusted his bag again.

“Don’t. Don’t hate people. Nothing changes when you hate someone... just focus on your dreams. What is your dream?” Angkasa walked faster.

Bulan shoved her hands into her jacket, keeping up. “If I were reborn... I’d hope to be a stone. At least a stone doesn't feel it when it's kicked or crushed.”

Angkasa fell silent.

“And if I’m forced to have a dream... I want to sink into the ocean. To just merge and drown, without having to do anything.” Bulan exhaled, her breath visible in the freezing air.

Angkasa tucked his hands deeper to stay warm. “Be like a tree instead. Keep growing, keep your roots strong... I didn't have a dream once, either. I just worked hard and prayed to God. Who knew I’d end up as a branch manager.”

Bulan hurried to keep up with his fast pace. “I thought my mother and I would be dead by the time I was 18. Sadly, I’m still here... I hate the number 19. It feels like being suspended between being a teenager and an adult. Forced to grow up without a father, even though I’m still a teen who needs one. I want to grow old quickly.”

“I was like that too... but when I got old, I started to miss my younger years. Someday, you’ll look back and actually like the number 19. Live for your mother.” Angkasa stopped at the mouth of an alley.

“You must regret being a good person. Your kindness is a punishment for yourself.”

Angkasa was stunned by her words.

“Go inside, your mother needs you... I don’t regret it.” Angkasa adjusted his bag.

Click!

Angkasa continued walking straight ahead. Bulan turned into the narrow alley toward her boarding house.

The moon shone dimly among the stars. Someone was hiding behind a wall, holding a camera.

☾ ☾ ☾

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