the short story

Under the Flashy Light

Merah putih, putih biru, and putih abu-abu lined the street. Some had just got out of the car through the back door, some got off the motorbike, some parked their bicycles, while others walked with light steps. Those in merah putih were about to enter the elementary school building whose gates were painted leaf green. Those in putih biru shook hands with several teachers before entering the grey-painted school building. Meanwhile, the taller ones, wearing putih abu-abu, crowd the high school parking lot. Today is Monday, everyone seems busy. However, did you know, there was me who came trudging from exhaustion? Did you know, there's my brother, along with the rang of the bell, holding a rumbling stomach?

I was ever being part of them. Running around and juggling balls around the school yard. Never have I believed that was the bluest sky to cover my youth before the clouds came to pour its rain. Through that busy day, Ibu—my mom told me to buy a drawing book for my brother’s assignment. Ibu gave me a coin, a shining aluminum, covered by a stain of something sticky. It was the last piece that could be given for “things-that-is-not-primary-needs.” Yup. School wasn’t considered a primary need in my family, since we could barely stuff our stomach with rice. I was stopped before I could experience a normal youth with my peers. I wish my brother, Denis, wouldn’t. He loves to draw in colorful paint and we shouldn’t let his picture turn grey. That was why my brother and I cycled through the brightly shining afternoon just to look for a drawing book.

Chirp of the bird was the background music of our happy chatter—believing that we would definitely get my brother a drawing book. Denis hopped off the bike onto the curb in front of the shop with a wide smile. I followed him, who suddenly turned shy after his eyes caught a middle-aged woman lining up in the shop, waiting for her document to be photocopied. I grabbed his arm, “Why are you standing there? Go get your book.”

Withal, he shook his head and kept hiding behind my back. “You go first, Kak,” said he with an almost inaudible voice. My eyes flickered, eyeing him with a little annoyance. Nonetheless, I let my feet walk to the counter, where the seller stood behind it. “Sir,”  I called the seller. He flinched, but then threw a wide smile at us.

“Hi, Buddy, what do you need?” asked him, truly friendly. For a second, I thought that was the most genuine smile ever seen that day.

I tiptoed to position myself to the counter, peeking inside the cabinet. There was a yellow book with the picture of a panda. I motioned my finger there, then asked, “How much is it?”

The seller handed me the book, as he replied, “That’s 5,000 rupiah only.” I was startled by his answer. I reached out my pocket, aside from what Ibu gave me, there was only another coin. Summ those up, there were only two thousand rupiahs in my hand. I could not help but look back at Denis who was still behind my back, trying to hide from the middle-aged woman's sight. I turned my head up and noticed the seller with the warmest smile continued, “Do you want that? What else do you want?”

Hesitated, I replied, “Is there any drawing book that costs two thousand rupiahs?”

Rather than the seller, I could see from the corner of my eye, the woman who was still waiting for her documents was looking at me. It was not the look that I wanted to get in the first place. I hate being poor, I hate the way people look at me with pity. But I know that they couldn’t help it. It wasn’t their fault either for being human with a big heart. It was just me who could not bear with all the embarrassment that I got my whole life. In a glance, I caught my memory flash. While every rainbow appears after the rain pouring and the sun brightly shining, there's a rainbow who always shone no matter what the weather was. It decorated the street. Sometimes, vehicles lining up. Some of them weren't impatient enough and in a way crazily honking. Then there was me. Under the rainbow light, costumed in blue bear, I danced following to the rhythm of music. Besides me, there was always Bapak in his milky-brown bear. Sometimes, hiding in the costume, I could find some of my friends on their bicycle or on motorcycle with their parents. Seeing that under the flashy light, there was also hope.

“Why can't I be like them?” asked me to Bapak, that day on our break. We were walking back to the traffic light after Bapak bought me a bag of ice tea. The ice tea was in my right hand while my left hand handled the head part of the costume.

Bapak seemed surprised by the question that he might not have seen it coming. I glanced at him who didn’t seem to directly answer my question. I turned away from my gaze to the street, trying not to bother my father who looked drowned to his own thoughts. The way back to the traffic light was full of silence. Roaring motors of the vehicles were the friends of our silence.

“We aren’t as fortunate as them,” told my father, breaking the silence when I was ready to put my costume back on. “I wasn’t even able to finish my education just because they told me to grow the crops. The field wasn’t even ours.”

Listening to that confession sounded like a battlefield to me. I wondered, would my path be similar to his? It sounded so familiar to me. What was different was that I belonged under the rainbow light. In the ray of sunshine, the glow of coins would have blinded me. The sounds of music would bleed and deafen my ears while my body jolted to it.

I grunted for the thought. Through the despair, I recall, “Then why are you telling me the same? Do you think that I am destined to always live this way?”

Bapak’s reddened skin, kissed by the sunlight, turned even red from my ingrow disappointment. I know Bapak was getting pissed, but it might be the only moment I could express my feeling.

I told him, “I love being in school. I like to learn a lot of new things, I,” I couldn’t finish what I was saying.

I wish I were ordinary. That was the sentence I couldn’t complete.

Instead, I asked Bapak, “What are we going to have for dinner tonight?”

Bapak shrugged, “Egg. Maybe.”

“I prefer tempeh.”

Well. It was a lie. I like chicken the most, but to afford it means that we had less to pay the debt.

“Would you like one, Dik?” I blink to the voice that breaks through the silence of me and my thoughts.

The voice brings me back to my feet. I looked back at him—the seller, “Excuse me? Sorry, could you repeat?”

“The cheapest is three thousand and six hundred rupiah, would you like one?” he said.

I wasn’t really happy about that. It was too expensive for us to afford–we only had two thousand rupiah. “You can have that, Dik. I’ll pay it for you,” the middle-aged woman asked and I was stunned by disbelief.

I shaked my head, rejected her offer. I wasn’t buying her pity. In other words, I didn’t want to make myself become a clown without a costume. I was and could always be a clown, but I hate being a clown in my everyday outfits. I am human too. I was embarrassed by the notion that we couldn’t even afford the cheapest drawing book for my brother.

“I don’t mean anything bad, I just…”

“No. And don’t,” I said in anger, cutting her mid sentence without waiting for it to finish.

I held my brother's hand to follow my lead to go outside the shop. He frowned in confusion but he did move his little feet behind mine. “Why?” asked him, “What about my drawing book?”

I was struck by the realisation that I have the responsibility to explain anything that happened before to him. Why should I be the older one? Why should I live in this difficult situation? Was it even fair? Well, life wasn’t fair at the very first place.

I sigh, with a burden in my lungs, I answered his question. “We don’t have enough money to afford your book,” I said.

“So, I can’t go…”

“No,” I shake my head. I know what he was about to say, yet I didn't let him finish his sentence. He couldn’t go to school tomorrow. I know it sounds trifling, but believe it or not, not bringing his drawing book to school would matter a lot to him and how his friend would treat him.

“Hey, you know what, I have something fun to do. But make sure to keep it secret. Just both of us, you and me,” I remark, holding his hand with mine.

Later that night, after we got our dinner. It was nothing special for us. Fried tempeh was great that day–it was a brand new tempeh which hadn’t stinky of age. But I just want to spice things up. I want to have a little fun. That is why I want to light up a flashy light—a “firework.” But it wasn’t the same fireworks that people my age used to play. It was only a lighter that I bought using the money for Denis’s drawing book that we couldn’t afford. I walked towards the kitchen and snatched a candle that Ibu always kept under the table near the kitchen. Just in case there’s a blackout. That's what she always said.

I picked up the candle and went to our bedroom—my brother’s and mine. I called him to come closer while I lit up the candle. “What are you doing?” he asked me, full of wonder.

“I want to see the light, up above,” I answered, nodding his head in response.

Light was like a dream of mine. It was a hope. A dream that I hoped to shone bright. As bright as the sun beam in July. Poor me. I was the only one in my family who believed so. Ibu and Bapak were like a sky full of clouds that covered the ray of sunshine. Stuffing our stomachs was their priority. Little did they know, I was craving something else. Something greater than a chicken, fish, or meat. I wanted to be ordinary. To giggle at my mistakes. To cry of my failing grades. To be scolded and praised after all that happened in school. I wanted to be like them, who throw tantrums over their boredom in class. I watched over the candle with the beam of orange colour. Later that night, I let the candle catch fire. As it was my dream, the pour of the rain would never extinguish the flame. It would never end, except all become the ashes. (Ns)