Beyond Rangkasbitung

THE STATION PART II

A dream was a luxury for me. I remembered I stopped dreaming since I was in high school. My sleeps ever since were only distant, blank state of stupors. But I knew that I dreamed that early morning.

Though hazy, I grasped the storyline of the dream: a six-year-old me, tucked nicely in bed, attentively hearing the bedtime stories told by my Mom. I glanced on the book; it was the tale of Timun Mas. I should have heard this story for over a hundred time, I thought. On the door of the bathroom, I could glimpse the shadow of my Dad—brushing his teeth probably.

'Help!' the giant roared out before he drowned in the swamp. Timun Mas was finally free. So, she then immediately went home to her Mom. Ever since, Timun Mas and her Mom lived happily ever after.

Mom closed the book, kissed me on my forehead, turned off the light, and jokingly reminded me to not be so difficult to be woken up since tomorrow was my first day on the elementary school.

I closed my eyes, imagining the new friends I will meet tomorrow.

Then Mom cried out: "Wake up!"

What? Was it morning already?

"Wake up!" her voice turned louder. Only then I realized the voice was not Mom's.

I woke up to a woman's face staring at me. Surely, she was not Mom. For a moment, I failed to attach a name to the face. After I looked around, I realized where I was and who she was.

"Come on, the train will arrive at the station in fifteen minutes!" Kiona said.

Finally woke up, I checked my wristwatch: 5:45 AM. Panicked, I jerked up suddenly and picked up my bag. "Why don't you wake me up earlier?" I asked.

"Sorry, I was carried away on the pond. I lost the track of the time. But don't worry, we'll get there in time... if we run. Follow me!"

So off we went, dashing as fast as we can. I noticed Kiona took some kind of shortcut, thus the path we take was challenging. In the spurs of the moment, I realized that Ramya the skeleton boy was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he went back to the cemetery, I thought.

In the far east, I could almost see the sun popping—which gradually making me nervous. What if I didn't make it? Would there be another train in thirty minutes or an hour? I forgot to ask that. But judging by the haste in Kiona's strides, I concluded that that was not the case. With much annoyance, I blamed myself for falling asleep.

"Almost there!" said Kiona after about ten minutes.

Despite the coldness of the dawn, I was drenched in sweat. But (due to the nap and the foods I ate, I presumed) I was not as outpaced by Kiona as I was before. Several minutes later, I saw a familiar sight: the wooden sign, with the washed-out letters, that I spotted last night. The station!

And there it was, the Commuter Line train, laid noiselessly on the railroad in all its grandeur. Its silvery-coloured cars were covered by the gleaming beads of dew under the early morning sun. From time to time, on my commute to and from work, I found myself chasing down the train that almost departed—but never had I felt this much joy in successfully chasing it as I was at this moment.

"Get in!" cried Kiona.

The moment I got into the train, I saw several people were already inside. Men and women. On my brief inspection, they looked okay—but all of them were staring at me as if I wanted to hijack the train. Genderuwos, I thought, they should be confused since they never shared the ride with human before when they depart from this station.

Then I realized something; I turned my body toward the car door. Kiona. This would be the last time I saw her. She was just standing right outside the door. Suddenly, it struck me: I never realized how beautiful she was. Not because I did not notice before, but rather simply because all those times we were together, it was dark. That was why when the brightness of the sun illuminated her—accentuated her perfectly proportioned cheekbone, highlighted the natural straightness of her hair—I held my breath.

She said: "Sorry for the rush before—making you run and become sweaty like that. But it turns out fine, right? Take care on your journey. Visit us if you have time. Next time, I'll show you the Cikujang flower valley."

"Yeah, thank you, Kiona... for everything. What a night it has been for me. Will do that, but if I came back here, just make sure the old man picks me up again. Otherwise, I'll be lost," I said jokingly.

Dalbo. That what she was. She was not a human, I tried to tell myself.

"We will know if you are coming back, I'll—" Her words were interrupted by the sound of the train horn.

"Okay, you're leaving. Goodbye! Nice to know you!" Kiona said while waving her slender hand.

I was excited to be back. But beneath that particular feeling, I realized, I also felt sorrow. I envisioned myself, after hours of travels, finally arrived on Tanah Abang station. At the time I arrived on client's office, the UAT might be already done (or cancelled, because mostly it was about the part I was working on). Pak Kemal would lunge at me and threaten to report me to management or HR. Then he would give me other tasks to be solved in three hours, even though, in fact, it can only be done in two days by a normal human being. My mind went back to the moment Kiona said something about human and lelembut working together. If only I could teach one of them to write Python codes—they might be able to do it faster. Like what Bandung Bondowoso did; building a thousand temples in one night.

After work was over, I would be going back to my apartment near midnight. By the time I got inside my room, I might be welcomed by the sight of dead guppies in the little aquarium I bought a week ago. Of course they were dead, there was no chance they survived without food for more than 24 hours. Then I would go straight for the bed because I was terribly exhausted. Sleep for three or four hours—then repeat that vicious, ungodly cycle.

What I realized was, that cycle stopped momentarily last night, even for only a couple of hours, when I was in here. Gunung Kencana, I muttered to myself, recalling the name of this place. For a moment I was happy—I was free. No infuriating boss, no absurd deadlines, no stress, no loneliness. Instead of all that, I would be visiting magical places with this charming girl who stood in front of me; I would be eating Nyi Kidang's best-selling foods; I would be DJ-ing for the market animals again (but only on Friday, I assumed). Instead of the polluted air of the capital, I would breathe on the fresh, unadulterated air of the forest. I would have a better life. A happier life.

By glancing over Kiona one more time, I finally knew what I had to do. So, I said to her: "You know what. That flower valley in Cikujang, you can show it to me today."

I stepped out of the train at the same time the door started to close. She was startled. I was smiling ear to ear. This is what I want, I said to myself contentedly. At last, all doors of the train eventually closed. And the train started moving...

Kiona, I thought, understood what I meant. She didn't utter any word. But she smiled back at me.

But there was something...

I knew Kiona was a cheerful girl, so I was accustomed to see her smiling, giggling, or burst out laughing. But at that moment, her smile was different. It was more of a sneer than a smile. Rather than filled with joy, her smile, I felt, was filled with... malice.

I hoped I was mistaken.