Somethin’ Stupid
by Adena L. Syahraki
Mentor’s Remarks:
At first sight, Adena's story may appear like so many other romance-comedy tales. However, she's spun a love story through the perspective of an observer — a friend gossiping with others — that, while comedic and heartwarming, is also meaningful, layered with a relevant social issue in Jakarta: the unequal educational and career opportunities that exist between private and public school students. Through extensive first-hand research, she carefully brings the main characters' desires and dreams to light; their differences which become a valuable lesson about privilege and struggle, closing a chapter in their lives without each other.
“Speaking of Odysseus and Penelope, I have a similar story,” I whisper conspiratorially, leaning over the café table, so that my quiet voice carries over to where my two friends, Kinara and Bimo, are sitting.
“No way!” Kinara grins, eyes sparkling with interest. “Spill the tea!”
“A real story or did you see it online?” Bimo asks in his normal volume. He doesn’t bother to huddle close to us.
“A real story, of course! These are my next door neighbors.”
“Isn’t that a bit creepy?”
Kinara scowls. “Shh, Bimo! I’m listening!”
—
One rainy day, while Andra’s mother was shouting at him to come inside before the drizzle became a thunderstorm, Andra spotted a moving truck in front of the house that had been under construction for the past few months: house 205. While he was playing with his friends, he noticed houses 205 and 206 being merged together and remembered his friend had made a comment about house 205 eating house 206 or something dumb like that. He knew the person who ordered this must be pretty rich because turning TWO houses into one? You must have a lot of things you need to fit in there. However, that wasn’t what caught his eye.
Before this, he had never seen anyone come in or out of the house except for the construction workers. Today, his neighbors moved in. Andra watched the family of three walk into their new home with the moving crew close behind. A well-dressed couple, gleaming with happiness that only wealthy citizens could accomplish. With them, a little girl followed in a little white dress. She wore her long black hair down and had pale skin that perfectly contrasted it. She already looked so much like the Kuntilanak that Andra often sees in horror movie trailers shown at the local movie theater, and to top it all off she kept peeking out of doors and looking through windows, it was so creepy. The sight made chills run down his spine. That’s when he decided he should tell his mother about the ghost so she could tell the people who lived there. After all, this was a pretty old neighborhood, it would make perfect sense if someone died here a long time ago.
About a week after this, his mother told him to dress nicely because our kind new neighbors invited us to a housewarming. At first, he thought this was a horrible idea! He didn’t want to get possessed or anything. His friend Bagas had gotten possessed before and he said it felt like his body was burning! But then, he realized that he should tell his neighbors in person that the house was haunted. After all, his mother always told him to help his neighbors. So, he dressed in his best shirt and didn't wear his shorts despite his belief that they’d be seeing him in it when he goes out every day anyway. His first instinct when he walked inside was to steal the orange flavored mints they had in a glass bowl on the mahogany coffee table, then he spotted the chocolate covered biscuits and then the rice crackers beside that. Before he could sneak anything into his pockets, though, his mother grabbed his wrist and tugged him to who he assumed to be the people that just moved in.
His mother was talking to the nice lady in the light blue dress, modest and showing her long legs despite the skirt reaching her calves. She was so tall! Much taller than his mother. She looked like the pretty ladies from the makeup ads: skin clear and pale, hair a long and luscious black. As she spoke to his mother, explaining why she had moved here and how she liked the ‘vintage vibe’, he stared at the man beside the woman, perhaps her husband. To contrast her confident stance, standing tall despite all eyes focused on her, there was her husband standing beside her, but with her body turned to his mother, he seemed to be behind her, hiding from the attention. Or as Sara liked to tell me, her mother had promised her father beforehand that she’d be confident enough for the two of them. He seemed nervous, but Andra could tell he was happy. He seemed less intimidating than his wife, so he decided to introduce himself. The boys in this neighborhood have to stay together and all that.
After the man began to loosen up during their conversation about sharks, Andra finally said what he needed to say. There was a ghost in his new home. He then went on to say that he would protect them from the ghost and maybe even make friends with her like in Yo-kai Watch, which I doubt. Andra was scared out of his mind. But, the man seemed to pay no attention and instead tugged at his wife’s hand, whispering the news in her ear as the colour drained from his face. She only squeezed his arms and comfortingly smiled, whispering reassuring words to him in return.
“What are you talking about? Ghosts aren’t real,” the cold voice of a little girl said behind him. “What? They totally—” Andra froze mid-turn as he was met with the eyes of the ghost herself, standing there with a group of friends, some smiling, some scared, others confused. With a loud, girlish shriek, he ran to hide behind his mothers legs, tears in his eyes as he screamed about a ghost and clutched his mother’s dress. Protect them from the ghosts, huh?
“Andra! Don't be rude!” his mother scolded, face flushing as she felt the eyes of the room on her and her son. The married couple seemed shocked for a moment, looking at Andra, then the girl, then each other. For a good minute, they laughed in relief. “Andra, that’s not a ghost,” the man says, offering a hand and crouching to his level as he smiles warmly at Andra. “This is Sara, our daughter,” the woman's calm voice explained, holding Sara by her hand as little Sara stared at Andra like he was crazy.
From that day on, Sara seemed to declare Andra her mortal enemy. She would not talk to him or even look at him because she would rather not associate herself with a weirdo like him. Every time she saw him in his poor people shorts and his market-place-esque tattered Spiderman t-shirts, she would roll her eyes and avoid him. This was fine because Andra didn’t want to talk to her anyway. She was just some dumb rich kid!
Still, envy lingered between the two, a mutual feeling that grew from the moment they met. While Sara tried her best to focus on her friends and her own business (she was a very busy girl, or at least she tried to make herself seem like one), she felt this odd, unnamed discomfort whenever she watched Andra hang out with all the other kids in their neighborhood. There were only like three, but they always looked so happy despite their old, crazily colourful and tacky outfits and their even older bikes and toys. Andra on the other hand was jealous of Sara’s wealth. He was jealous of her shiny car, her clean and new clothes, her nice toys and the tablet she would be playing with whenever he passed by her house. Perhaps this mutual jealousy and their pride were the things that kept them away from each other for so long, like two magnets of the same type pushing each other away.
Soon enough, things would change for the two. When Sara and Andra were about 12 years old, Sara’s father had become the manager of his workplace which meant he had to go to lots and lots and lots of meetings! He’d be home when she was already asleep and too tired to do anything when she woke for school. So, the one way she could spend time with him was when her father had to look for new batik shirts for upcoming meetings. Unfortunately enough, her father had decided that the Mahareza batik shop was the best out of all the others nearby. She guessed she could understand. Their house was pretty close, maybe five or six houses away? That doesn’t mean she had to like it, though.
The shop was pretty cozy, it had antique wooden furniture that made the place smell like hardwood and warmth. Different colourful fabrics were hung along the walls and draped over the furniture, bringing warmth and a vibrant array of colours to really liven up the place. It was hard to admit, but Sara felt comfortable there. It smelled like home. Well, actually, it smelled pretty dusty, but Sara didn’t seem to mind. Luckily she isn't allergic to dust. Save for when Andra was around with his friends, stinking up the place with the scent of sun and sweat, Sara often found herself unwilling to leave.
One day, as Sara was sitting on the bench by the cashier, waiting for her father to finish speaking to Andra’s dad, she decided she’d wander around the place a little bit. She realized that by now she knew where everything in the shop was, but she didn’t really know what the rest of the place was for. Now, mind you, this was a little 12-year-old girl. They aren’t exactly famous for their knowledge of boundaries. When she peered into a door that led outside, she saw Andra sitting peacefully in the sun, a red plastic stool supporting his weight and a white fabric, plain except for a few wax lines made by the canting he held so gently in his hands. The sight was such a far cry from his usual loud, rowdy personality. She didn’t know he could be so different here than when he was outside, so un-monkey like and so unlike her initial shallow idea of him.
She was so surprised that she stared at him for quite a long time, wondering what he was doing with that fabric. She admired the practiced ease with which he moved the canting along the blank fabric, the thin sheet draped over his splayed open palm, barely protecting it from the hot wax he used to draw steady lines and patterns. The way his lips pressed together, his eyebrows furrowing lightly in focus as the sun draped its ethereal glow over him, blessing him with its light and warmth and aiding him in making the patterns. Sara loved movies and this looked pretty damn similar to a scene in one of her favorites. Like something magical from Encanto, or something more naturally beautiful like a scene from Bambi. The duality made her wonder who he really was if not the person she thought.
She watched his eyes follow the easy glide of his canting over the fabric, the smooth lines it created, and then she watched them flick up at her. His previously pursed lips stretched into a grin when he saw her but before he could say anything, before she could register the warm tingles she felt running along her skin like horrifying little spiders, she shut the door with a loud thud! Poor little Andra was just staring at the door like “What just happened?” while her footsteps thumped on the wooden floor, getting quieter all the way back to her father.
The next few days after that, Andra would call out to Sara whenever he passed her house, smiling when she looked out of her window at him. However, she’d always huff and look away, which made Andra even more curious about her. I mean, why wouldn’t he be? In his opinion, she was totally stalking him and then she was looking at him all funky. It was weird. Andra liked weird. Andra loved watching those “10 Alien Sightings (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)” videos on his mom’s phone. To him, she was pretty much an alien. She even had those big, black eyes that looked like voids the way aliens do. So, her attempts in ignoring him just made him more curious.
However, after a few months, she began warming up to him! At this point, he wasn’t even waving at her in curiosity anymore but just out of neighborliness. So, you could see how the small wave Sara sent his way made him so happy. He almost fell from his bike, he was so happy. He finally did it! After three months, she waved back. A small firework went up in his chest, spreading warmth and joy throughout his body in little fizzes like the orange soda he always drank. Hm. Weird. He didn’t know what that was. He only cared that he had made a new friend in Sara. At least she offered a curt nod or a wave whenever she saw him after that. It was the first time she looked past her material things.
Now, a few weeks after this little interaction, Sara’s dad decided he wanted to invite Andra’s family over because of how much they had helped him when he needed it. Sara reluctantly got ready with the help of her nanny and Andra’s parents really just dragged him with them while he was still sweaty from playing and threw on a clean shirt and pants on him. So, now, imagine Sara, perfumed, fresh out of the shower, hair neatly tied up in a ponytail, golden butterfly earrings on to go with her tank top, green outer, and pants and Andra, who was a complete wreck in comparison. His light blue button up was riddled with dark spots from his sweat and his hair was still wet and messy. He smelled like the sun and he sweated like every other boy his age did.
As Sara and Andra sat across from each other, analyzing the other, Sara chuckled in amusement at the disheveled look he was in. The sound was a melody that flowed through his ears and was sent directly to his heart, which skipped a beat in return. He offered a nervous grin in return, feeling the soda fizz in his chest and spread through his body again, causing goosebumps and small shivers. Poor twelve year old Andra was incredibly confused by the sudden rush.
When he came home that day at nine alongside his parents who were asking him why he was so quiet, the realization hit him like a truck. He sat on his couch, still so quiet his parents were getting worried, thinking back on what happened today. He had spent the evening at Sara’s, but what was different from usual? Everything. Mind you, she wouldn’t even look at him for more than ten seconds a few weeks ago. Now, she spoke to him with ease and smiled at him like a close friend. My first thought would have been that maybe she had no friends and she thought the waving meant they were besties now, but Andra is unfortunately nicer than I am. He felt embarrassed for having fallen so hard in one night when he was sure Sara was just treating him the way she’d treat any other guest, with politeness and false warmth. He was pulling his hair out that night, with nothing but “why’d I do that?!”s and “I should have done this instead!”s in his head.
Of course, Sara had picked up on the slight change in Andra’s demeanor. “He didn’t move right,” she told me. In her opinion, his movements always reflected his personality: fluid, gentle, and sometimes careless. At this point, she told me he moved like he was made of wood. He was stiff, blocky, like he didn’t know what to do and when to do it. He’d fidget sometimes, his hands going into his pockets when they talked, then moving into the edges of his shirt, and then behind his back, and then folded in front of him like he just couldn’t decide what mood he was trying to set for the conversation. It made her uncomfortable, confused, which usually led to her staring at him coldly and ended up making him even more nervous. Sara didn’t like nervous, fidgety people. His father always said that they were unprofessional. She was taught from a young age to be still, to keep her body language open and slightly mimic the person she was talking to and make yourself seem relatable. She couldn’t mimic this, of course, so she just stayed still and watched him in slight frustration.
His fidgeting irked her so bad she would rather take his hands and stop him from doing it altogether rather than watch anymore. This caused their conversations to be short and leave Andra questioning what he did wrong and Sara feeling quite unsatisfied.
Good thing that when they were fourteen, their moments of conversation lengthened into minutes and eventually they spent hours sitting in front of Sara’s house drinking tea and eating the latest treats her nanny made. Finally, on Sara’s fifteenth birthday, she invited him over for the second time. That year, she wanted a quiet, small birthday, so she sat on the sofa together with him and they played Mario Kart together on the Nintendo Switch she just got. Let me just say – wow, did it quicken the pace. Mario Kart changes your life, dude. After that day, Andra came by more often. They’d play games together once a week every Thursday, after his student council meetings were over and her debate club position papers were sorted, and they’d play whatever they could together at Sara’s. They’d quarrel, shout at each other, laugh together, and tell the other about their day. Soon, once a week turned into twice, thrice, and eventually he was coming by almost every day, turning down the neighbors’ sons to go to Sara’s house instead.
One particular evening, they sat together on the sofa in front of the TV, a bowl of french fries and dino nuggets between them as Andra scrolled through her Netflix and tried to find something to watch. He was waiting for his parents to come home from a wedding.
“What time will they be home again?” Sara asked for the third time tonight, sitting criss-cross applesauce in her shorts and Taylor Swift shirt.
“Ten,” Andra repeated, glancing at the red watch around his wrist, Spiderman in his signature pose as the background of the face. “Two more hours. You’re really impatient to get rid of me, huh?” he teased.
Sara’s gaze followed his to his watch, cringing at the harsh colours and chipped paint of the old watch. “Good God. When did you buy that? When you were five?” she asked, face scrunched.
“Come on, don’t be so dramatic! It still works,” he reasoned, waving his hand dismissively.
“If I kept everyone that ‘still worked’ in my life even though they were toxic to me, I wouldn’t be here right now,” Sara retorted.
“That’s different, those are people,” he pointed out. “And besides, my watch can’t hurt me!”
“Really? Because my phone says it’s still seven.”
Andra stared at her phone, which clearly stated that it was still seven o'clock sharp. Andra’s watch was a whole hour late! He just huffed and looked away, causing Sara to laugh and send that fizzy feeling through him for the fifth time today. Today proved his suspicions. He was definitely falling, hard and fast, and it terrified him. This was too hard, too quick. Andra finally understood why people liked slowburn or whatever the hell his classmates called it. That must have been way less overwhelming than this.
As they sat together, talking about their futures in different schools and their futures beyond that, Andra wondered silently if she felt the same. He knew that there were much smarter and more handsome boys from all over the world in her international school, but he still wondered if he had even a sliver of a chance. On the other hand, she wondered if he already had someone he held close to his heart. Someone more similar, relatable, someone who can keep him company and comfort him in a way that she can’t because of the significant gap in their contrasting lives.
They didn’t know why it made them so happy, making such childish promises. Andra’s big, white wedding is almost as impossible as the quiet wedding Sara wants with just her, her spouse, and her close friends. Yet, they still spoke about these unreachable clouds like they were definitely going to become solid plans. But, they’re just that. Clouds. They won’t be friends forever. They knew that the moment Andra stepped into her home for another night together. They knew that with every laugh and dream shared. They knew that with every subtle touch and teasing nudge. They definitely knew it with every heartbeat that skipped.
That night, when Andra’s parents picked him up, they took one look at the two, Sara sitting upright and sleeping peacefully with Andra almost drooling with his head in her lap. Sara’s parents, seeing that it was 11 PM and this was the most relaxed they’d seen Sara since she started high school, decided not to move her so she could enjoy the moment. Andra’s parents, of course, also agreed to leave the two alone, just happy that their son finally had someone close to him to keep him company and take care of him in ways they couldn't as his parents.
Of course, their fear of losing each other had increased at the start of ninth grade. It was subtle, but Sara could feel it. Andra was pulling away. He’d make small excuses, that he had homework, that he had an article to finish for this month’s wall magazine, or that he wanted to spend more time with the neighbors’ sons. He didn’t tell her what it was, but she could tell from his averting gaze and the return of his uneasy fidgeting habit. Things that worsened with every mention of her studying abroad.
Her suspicions would be proven right when he wouldn’t even see her off at her farewell party. She couldn’t care less that her parent’s friends brought their sons and daughters, she couldn’t care less that her whole freaking family was here. She knew how it sounded, but it was true. Today, she only really wanted to see Andra. She needed him there. She wasn’t going to come back for who knows how long and she needed Andra and his dumb, naive promises to assure her, if only for a moment, that they would meet again in their short, short lives.
Alas, Andra was at a party his classmate was throwing, sitting on the couch alone with a drink in his hand. Normally, the colourful pink, blue, and purple lights would dizzy him, but this was all he’d been doing lately. He couldn’t bring himself to be around Sara anymore. All she talked about was New York and the things she’d do and the people she’d meet – what about him? It felt like she’d forget about him the moment she was away. He didn’t want that. She talked about what she was going to do when she was there: go to concerts, meet celebrities, get good jobs as a model all while keeping a good academic life. She never said anything about writing, or calling, not even once a week or once a month or once a year. He wouldn’t fit in her big New York City life. He was just some boy from a short chapter of her life.
He didn’t get why it was bothering him so much, he knew it was going to happen someday. Still, even though he thought about her so much it hurt, he wasn’t going to be some pathetic dude waiting around for something that’ll never come. Sara has other friends, he told himself. She’ll be fine. So, to protect himself, he had been distancing himself from Sara. It pained him to see her disappointment when he rejected her offers to come over. It was better this way, he reminded himself again, we were never meant to be.
I know what you’re thinking. “Why can’t men just talk about their feelings? Just tell us they’re scared or just let us know so we can help!” That’s what Sara thought, too, when Andra finally told her what happened half a decade after the debacle. She was so frustrated she almost started turning red! That won’t happen anytime soon in this story, of course, because while Andra was out sulking, Sara was on a plane to the Big Apple.
Within the first week, she had explored her surroundings, gotten a little studio apartment with the money she brought, and checked out her new campus. She also made a few friends who were kind enough to help her out in school. On the other side of the world, it was Andra’s first day of work managing the batik shop. So far, there were five cheek pinches, two aunties coming in to introduce their nieces, and more than a few untrusting glances. He thought that once he got here, he’d actually want to take over the shop, but turns out the daily interactions only left him drained and upset. He wished Sara was here to help. She was great with organizing, socializing, all of the zings. Somewhere halfway around the earth, amidst a crowd of people and booming speakers playing Super Trouper by ABBA in one of her friend’s friend’s dorm, Sara was also missing the other’s soothing presence. The loud voices and even louder lights made her long for a different kind of chaos. Andra’s chaos. His clashing clothes, his loud laughter, and the way he’d gently nudge her and ask if she was okay when she was spacing out for too long — she missed it all. She knew that she’d be having ten times as much fun if he were here, trying to make her toss cheese puffs in his mouth and making crude jokes about the partygoers that she would never dare to say. I’ve heard those jokes, by the way. Foul. Do not get on Andra’s bad side.
About a year or two into their time apart, Sara had decided that it was time to go back home. Andra had decided that it was time to apologize to Sara through text. Two things blocked their journey back into each other’s arms. Andra had typed out a paragraph of apologies and regrets and sent it to Sara’s number only to find out she changed it. “Of course,” he sighed, setting his phone face down after he deleted the embarrassing thing. A sign from the universe not to get distracted anymore, he thought and dismissed it from his mind whenever it came back to him. He was naive to think she’d want to talk to him anymore anyway. That move he pulled was so uncharacteristic, so lame!
I think Sara’s problem was definitely worse, though. Just when she booked a ticket to Jakarta, she heard from the news that the pandemic had started. No one gets in or out of the countries they currently reside in. She almost clawed her hair out in frustration. Why? Why now? Why couldn’t it be after she arrived back home? She was so close! She could almost smell the scent of dust and mahogany and jasmine tea, feeling his skin under her fingertips. A little voice whispered to her, maybe this is the universe rejecting your reuniting. Perhaps this means it’s better to stay far apart. Besides, he must have found someone at this point, forgotten about you amidst the busy life of a shop owner. She dismissed the voice, brushing it off as paranoia.
You’d think that the pandemic ending meant the two were going to meet again, but unfortunately that was not the truth. Over the three years, they had grown increasingly numb to solitary. While they weren’t really alone, they still felt like it. Especially when they got those small flashes, a bittersweet memory of what was and what could have been. The only thing that stopped Sara from coming back was herself. The same goes to Andra and his attempt to reach out.
This barrier was thinning for Sara as the distance between her and the city of Jakarta closed in. Her parents had finally begun adjusting to the post-pandemic world, people were going outside and back home to their families which made her parents miss her. So, she finally booked the ticket home and was currently watching the plane land. She watched the plane get closer, closer to land, closer to home, closer to him. It felt like an eternity before she finally landed, but when she did it was 3 AM and her whole body was sore. She was glad to see her parents when she was leaving the airport, embracing them warmly after so much time apart.
Their first week together was delightful. Movie nights, days spent shopping and eating at nice restaurants like they did back then, everything a family does to bond, they did it. The next week was spent with family, talking and having dinners together to make up for lost time. Of course, the usual questions occurred: Did you meet anyone in New York? When will you bring a boy over to meet us? What do you mean you’re still single? – the usual, you know? Of course, in pure Sara-Andra fashion, her thoughts most likely all went to him whenever she was asked these kinds of questions. Talk about struggling to move on!
The real problem occurred on the Wednesday of the third week. You guessed it! Sara’s mother had informed Andra’s mother that Sara was coming back way before Sara even landed back in Jakarta. Seeing as both their kids were still single and they used to be the bestest of friends, they decided to do a little nudging, you know? Just kinda push them together a little bit, to encourage and inspire. So, here they were, again, at Sara’s house, all dressed up and meeting again as full fledged adults. Again, Andra stood at her doorstep, nervous as all hell to see her – would she be mad? Disappointed? Happy? Please, God, let it be happy! And again, Sara stood on the other side, having a war in her mind about how this should play out.
Finally, she pushed her thoughts aside, took a deep breath, and then she opened the door. It must have been odd to see how tall and strong Andra had grown compared to how small and skinny he was as a teenager. Then again, it must have been weird for Andra as well to see Sara, usually so serious and frail from many nights spent doing homework, so full of joy. He didn’t know what happened to her in college, but she radiated this calm contentment, this understanding warmth that both intimidated him and made him miss her even more.
It frustrated him a bit, how calm she was. She didn’t even ask about why he wasn’t there for her party even though he knew she was upset. So now, Andra is in a grumpy fit because he feels like she doesn’t even care about him anymore despite knowing all of this was his fault. It hurt him very badly to see her so casual with him. He missed her so much and he knew she felt the same way, but she’s treating him like she treats every other guest: no real emotion, just polite small talk. I mean, she didn’t even blink before brushing off his apology.
As Andra sat across from Sara, hurt and frustrated, the girl could only observe and smile like always, swerving away from touchy subjects. When that seemed to make him even more frustrated, the negativity began to affect her as well. Finally, their parents moved to the front of the house and she sprung into action.
“What do you want from me?” she asked Andra, almost pleading.
“I didn’t talk to you for, what, half a decade? You don’t even seem to be upset! Did I matter so little to you?” Andra scoffed.
“What are you talking about? You’re mad? You literally ghosted me at my party,” Sara’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion.
“I sent a card,” Andra reasoned quietly, seemingly aware of his own faults.
“I needed you there!” Sara snapped, standing up in outrage. “Andra, I was leaving for God knows how long. You don’t think I wanted to see the person I’ve been spending the best years of my life with before I left? I was doing it all alone! You promised me that we would stick together no matter what and you ditched my last day here to go to some dumb party with people you don’t even like, as if I even wanted to leave in the first place!”
“You sure sounded like it!”
“Nonsense!”
“New York this, university that!” he mocked. “You know you’re privileged enough to think about all these things, right?”
“I can’t believe how immature you still are!” Sara shouted as her hands gripped the edges of the table, shaking her glass and making it fall over, the red syrup contents spilling over.
“There you go again, you think you’re so much better than me!”
“Don’t project your own insecurities onto me. You have always thought you weren’t worth anything and that is not my fault!”
For a moment, they were silent. Sara’s eyes were sharp and hardened with frustration and built up anger. They met Andra’s gaze, shocked by her statement and suddenly vulnerable. From the way his lips pressed together and his eyebrows relaxed from its usual tense furrow, Sara knew she had cut too deep. Her eyes softened in turn, looking down at the table and gathering herself. That was much too mean and she knew it.
Reluctantly, she looked up to meet his teary gaze. “Look, I know how that came out. I’m sorry,” Sara began, but Andra turned away and immediately walked out the door with Sara calling out to him.
By far, this was the biggest fight they had, and it nipped at their bones.
—
“How’s that similar to Odysseus and Penelope?” Bimo asks, his face scrunched with confusion.
“Because they reunited after a few years,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“Dude, it wasn’t just ‘a few years’. Odysseus left for twenty years to go to war and he faked insanity just so he didn’t have to leave Penelope and Telemachus. Andra was nowhere near that level of manliness,” Bimo says and scoffs as his arms crossed.
“I love reunions!” Kinara beams. “What happened after that!?” she asks, leaning even closer.
“I don’t know yet. That dinner just happened last night,” I say simply, shrugging my shoulders and leaning back in my seat.
“What? Why would you do that!? You can’t leave me hanging!” Kinara demands, hands gripping the table separating us.
“Wait, you were eavesdropping on your neighbors?” Bimo accuses, skeptical gaze scrutinising me.
“Whoa! No, no, no. That is NOT what happened. Sara lives right next to me and my mom just likes gossiping, all right?” I explain, raising my hands in defense.
“Just admit it, dude. We listen and we dont judge,” Bimo assures before pausing. “Oh, wait. Yeah, we do,” he adds. Kinara snorts; that makes us all laugh along, the melody floating through the air like puffs of smoke from our cigarettes.
—
Of course, a few days later, the subject of our conversation bumps into me at a gathering event. Sara’s parents are the host and yet Andra is nowhere to be found. She smiles when she greets me, that graceful toothy grin that makes her cheeks glow gracefully. When she approaches me, I smile back although not nearly as bright. It’s useless to compete with her.
“Sara,” I greet. “Where’s Andra at? How are you guys? I never thought I’d see one without the other,” I comment, eyes scanning the crowd around us. I can see her smile dim, just a bit. The shine in her eyes fades more than she let on.
“Andra won’t be participating today, he completely cut contact. He won’t talk to me anymore and he keeps saying he can’t afford to get distracted when I come by the shop. Have you seen him?” she asks, a flash of worry and hope in her eyes. I used to be close to Andra before she left, after all. She must still remember it that way.
“I haven’t, unfortunately. Maybe you should get him something. My partner always comes around with some sweets and a letter.” I shrug. Her face flushes at the allegation. I nudge her side. “Come on, don’t try to deny it. You’re both obviously perfect for each other,” I tease.
“Oh, please. If he thought so, he would have acted on it,” she huffs, averting her gaze with a hint of sadness. Like she wants that to be true, too.
Guilt creeps in and I squeeze her arm firmly. “He’ll come around. Andra missed you a lot while you were gone. He even told me he wouldn’t ever let you go over something dumb like his pride and fear again.”
She smiles doubtfully before disappearing to find her mother, who is probably calling for her to introduce her to another potential partner. It’s sad to watch her barely hold onto the last strand of her sanity as she talks to the guests. Yet, I can’t help but feel a bit of pride in how much she’s grown throughout the years. It soothes my heart knowing she’s trying to heal.
Andra could definitely learn a thing or two.
