To Murder your Love

The Late Apology

Today is the day of our final report of the year. For the sake of the first school report ever in my life, My mom has fitting herself up with one of the prime stock of outfit from her collection. She picks her kebaya for this memorable occasion. It is one revealing choice of clothes for a simple gathering, truly Mom’s character to be proud of. The stitches has covered her torso with glistening thread of silk, with its semi-transparent sewings on her back as the touch of art from its tailor. It is quite similar with a blouse, but with loads of aesthetic engravings on every corner of her body. I can perceive wavy-like design on her shoulder, abstractive motifs on the waist whose construction are framing a blaze of fire and a thunderous lightning in a single glance, and orange-colored thread on the rest of its side.

She also wears her party bracelet on her right wrist, made of 12-karat gold, sign of impression to her one-grader boy and his accolades. Her lips has been polished in red, writing a sense of delight as it glows by the light of our living room’s lamp. On her feet, she has chosen a pair of her most expensive shoes, or mules to be persistent of the selection. To buy such costly apparel, she had to save an extra from her paycheck every month. In other words, she would kill anyone who tries to wreck it if she has an opportunity to do so.

It is certainly too much, indeed, but her happiness would mean no bounds to her fashion, sort of gratitude to my hard work in the full year. She must be astonished by how many hundreds in my pocket for her to be this over-dressed.

As we prepare to go, my mom has realised something. She got stunned by the circumstances, perhaps?

“I forgot we have to use bike to go....”

A fluke for me that the gathering has 4 hours time limit to attend. She has to remove her cosmetics, asking for me to unzip her kebaya as it was fasten from the back, and un-doing everything to dress up with a regular blouse in advance.

---

The chirping birds are chattering from the tree branch as they seeing many humans form a group ahead of our school gate. They might be having their own sort of report of their son from what I could see. Their son, or daughter in this case since I can’t take a look on its genitals from afar, is in the middle of the flocks. From its expression, I could see how disappointed its parents on the achievement it has. You know, bird stuff like pinching worms out from the ground, picking a tasty fruit for lunch, and so on.

From our line, I see Nia Cassandra and her rich parents has been standing in the front row before us. Both of her parents has attending the party, wearing an extensive selection of attire for the plain school report like my mother had before returning to reality of our condition. Yes, their “attire”, since it is mostly hard-to-approach mode of garment that you can’t touch so easily if you’re as poor as my family does. The man, or Nia’s father, has wearing a jet-black slim fit suit, complete with one pair of similar color of shoes that goes sparkling whenever the sunlight follows. His spouse, or Nia’s mom, has also wearing identical form of choice as my mother prompts for the day of my report. It is plainly obvious that she has an otherworldly fashionable and expensive type of clothes to choose from, including the one she has today.

Hoho, I wonder how that goes for their daughter if they see her failing against me.

After waiting for half an hour, the gate has closing by to our favor. The security guard of our school greets us by his obligation-smile, the one you fix if it is your duty to please people around,” Welcome, ma’am. May I know your son’s name?” He asked politely, requesting for my identity beforehand.

“Yuda Sulistyo, and I’m his mother.” She said, returning the made-up beaming expression from the security guard.

“Okay, you can enter, ma’am. Have a good day.” 

My mother nods to him back as the guard begins to open the door. You know, sometimes I have to admit that my mom’s status is the one that saved me a seat in this prestigious school. She is one of the teacher for the middle high, and her position given me a shot on this A-level education with only 5 dollars as a payment. For the others? Eighty dollars is the least-determined value for the most non-rich person in this school.

Not so far of the school gate, I smell something delicious coming from our teacher’s lounge. It seems as they’re holding a banquet in there for the run of the school’s report day. From the small opening, I could see Mr. Susilo feasting over the dessert palette on the table. He is my PE teacher, and his appetite is totally a contradiction to his lean body at the most.

Must be due to his metabolism, I guess.

“Good morning, Mrs. Sulistyo. How are you?” A middle-aged woman welcomes her as we gotten near to my class on the first floor. She is Henry Djoyo’s mother, but the gerbils has going somewhere out of his parents this time. However, Henry’s elder brother is standing beside her as they walk down the corridor to the gate, so my mother could remember who’s the person in front of her in a flash.

“Not much, but thank you for asking. How’s your grade, sweetie?” My mom, without needing a small talk, switched her attention to her son that appears to be absent on her presence. She must be in a bad mood for chit-chat. Could be resulted from her envy to Henry’s mom attire, I suppose.

“...”

To exchange the grim response from her son, Henry’s mom put herself as a patron. I swear to see a slight smack to his back beforehand,“ Hahaha, Don’t worry, Mrs. Sulistyo. He’s doing well.” She said, posting her sincere-yet-readable courtesy of a smile.

“...”

As for me, I have to act innocent and keeping myself occupied with the school fence of the west. To say nothing is the solution for a little boy, right?

Following the bittersweet conversation of us four, Henry’s mom lays a gentle nod to drift away from awkwardness of the situation. From my opinion, it only brings the atmosphere into intensity that we can’t really fix onwards, so her fleeing away is the good opportunity to omit the bad vibes in-between.

By the way, My mom, as she is also a teacher, is handily spotted by her acquaintances from the mid-school grade of the same complex from this point onwards. Most of the person that knowing my mother only bringing their gratitude by their smile, while my mom giving them her nicest return in gesture. After all, some of my friends has brothers and sisters applying for their next study there, so it is pretty regular for them to fill the elementary school’s hallway at this point.

Finally, we have arrived to our destination. Class 1-A, my kick-starters to the hegemony of being a returnee to this world. Our seat has been coordinated to accomodate parents and their children for the waiting list to face the host teacher of my class. 

Mrs. Angel is currently reporting of Amanda Suyono’s total score and her improvements of late.

“So, for our little princess over here....” She exclaimed with herself beaming to the little girl,” She ranked tenth in this class. Congratulations!”

“Really? That’s amazing, Manda!”

“I’m proud of you, my dear!”

Her two majestic-figure of a pair embrace her as a token of Amanda’s accomplishment. Being in tenth brought them into unparalleled happiness, that is for certain, while those pretty faces displayed their elegance to anybody from the back. 

Even the man's mustache is clean and shiny, so envy-able.

On our left side, Nia’s wealthy parents is sitting and being busy with their gadgets. Their daughter, on the other hand, is resting her two palms under the thighs. Surely speaking, her two guardians seem to be so occupied and neglecting the day of their daughter immediately as their phones ringing wildly. I’m upset, but I can’t do a thing due to a relatively tiny hands of mine against their clear wrongdoing.

“Nia Cassandra and her parents, welcome!” Mrs. Angel called the three after Amanda Suyono’s family leaving the fray. Nia’s parents are finally closing their mobile phone and focusing their gaze to the midget proportion of Mrs. Angel by the desk, locking their stern attention to one accountable party for their daughter’s life in this school.

Why am I being the one to be anxious in this battle?

Nia’s father looks at Mrs. Angel’s eyes in a freezing stare,”So, how’s Nia? Does she lead the class for this term?”He shots a barrel to my teacher directly, it seems.

“She’s done well, as expected from your daughter, sir.” She answered the emotionless and straightforward question with a curling smile on her face.

“I’m asking for her grades, not something on that extent.” He continues the barrage while purging her eyes even deeper,” Please be honest, I don’t want to hear a nonsense from your mouth.”

“If you say so..... Your daughter occupied the second place in our class.”

Nia’s mom immediately takes action to the storm. She claims Nia’s mobile phone as the news ringing their bells repeatedly like a buzzing sword to their chest,” Don’t think you have this phone for this year, honey.”

“What have you done? Who’s the first, then?”

“The young boy on the back, Sir. His name is-“

Nia’s father doesn’t even replied Mrs. Angel properly. He tends to scold his daughter even further by the failure,“ How could you do this, Nia Cassandra? To be defeated like this isn’t us, you know that.” Dictated the old wealthy diplomat man against her. His face has turned red by the tension, and he’s completely ignoring me and my mom that staring towards his cheek all the time.

For my mom? Absolute victory. She is grinning silently under his serious expression to the commotion by the teacher’s desk.

“But....But....”

“There’s no ‘but’ in our house, Nia Cassandra!!”

“Huaa!!”

Nia Cassandra left the class and gone teary by the ruckus her parents has initiated. She is too young for such a lass to be interacting against a pressure on her own.

As for me? I can’t chase her up and supporting Nia by this age. Or can I?

‘Console her, Yuda. It is indeed the time for you.’

Is that? Really?

‘Yes, I’m ordering you to find her.’

Okay, if you say so, stranger.

“Yuda!”

I ran, trying to find her as soon as I could. I know of how toxic her parents and it would surely cost her a ton of remorse. The massive burden from Nia’s wealthy blood was dragging her to an unfortunate suicide in her mid-30, such an agony. With her career as successful and mind-boggling to myself, the two devils never agreed to her cause nonetheless.

I could alter her fate, that’s for sure.

For a simple-minded personality of a child, there is only one place on her string. Women’s toilet, that’s the answer for me to locate her at the moment. Or is it?

‘yes, she is in the toilet. How can you be so sure?’

‘duh, I was here fourty years ago.’ I answered the voice in my head briefly. I’m in a hurry, and the unknown adult apparition has told me the truth for my sake.

“Huaaa....Huaaa.....”

(sob-sob)

The echo could not hide her from the world. She shed her tears wholeheartedly, from how her beloved parents treated their beautiful princess in advance. She has debt to pay, of their pride to contain, and she let them down on the very beginning of her adventure.

“Hey...” I tried to comfort her with my purity of a boy,” Are you okay, Nia?”

“Who are you? STAY AWAY FROM ME!!” Shouted her towards me. It brought me to be slightly weary a bit by her instant rejection.

But as an adult within, I have to move along with her fragile self anyway.

“You are great, Nia. I’m sorry.”

She cried even louder,“What great? You are, not me!!”

Ugh, limitation of words brought me into standstill. I have to think of something.....

“I’m sorry for myself to be boastful towards y- Ahem – I’m sorry that I’m too proud before. I don’t wanna make you angry.” I said, attempting to use plain and simple terms as much as I could.

“.....”

(peeing sound)

She’s taking a piss after those effort of mine. So childish.

(Krieeek! Bam!)

“Owwww!!!!”

“Why are you still here? I think you’re not so close to the toilet, Yuda!” Nia yapped at me, despite herself being clumsy and crashing against me on the head.

I forgot that being a boy also brings me to acceptance of my capacity. In other words, her weight on top of my body has hurting my stomach as longer as it gets, “Get over me! You’re heavy!” I protested against her for my own health and well-being. Who knows what this event has given me a permanent handicap on my chest?

“Sorry.”

“What happened here? Oh my dear daughter. I’m so sorry if I made you angry.... here, this is your phone sweetie. I won’t do that to you anymore.” Implied Nia’s mother as she grabs her daughter to repent on her mistakes.

“You have done well, Nia. I’m.....sorry.”

And here I am, standing idle and being a six year old, while my mind has whirling by their late apology.