Lina’s room slowly lost its shape.
First, the books.
Then the desk decorations.
Then some of her clothes.
Three weeks before her departure, the wall beside her desk was already empty.
The tape marks were still stuck to it.
The photos had already gone into boxes.
The desk that was usually covered with cables, a notebook, lip balm, and two pens—one of which was always missing—now held only a laptop and a glass.
Arga stood in the doorway carrying a cardboard box.
“Why so sad?”
Lina, sitting on the floor, turned to him.
“What is?”
“Your room.”
“I’m still here.”
“That’s why I’m sad.”
Lina threw a rolled-up shirt at him.
Arga dodged it.
“Rude.”
“Put the box there.”
“This is the fourth one.”
“Yeah.”
“What do you even have?”
“A lot.”
“This is just one person moving, right?”
Lina stared at him.
Arga raised his hands.
“Okay.”
Mom wrote a category on each box with a black marker.
BOOKS.
CLOTHES.
DESK.
MISCELLANEOUS.
Arga looked at the last box.
“Miscellaneous is the most dangerous category.”
“Why?”
“It means nobody knows what’s inside.”
Lina opened it.
“These are cables.”
“Why didn’t you write cables?”
“There’s a charger.”
“Then electronics.”
“There are photos.”
“Memories.”
“There’s medicine.”
Arga nodded.
“Definitely miscellaneous.”
Lina laughed.
They sat together on the floor.
Arga picked up a white cable.
“This is mine.”
Lina looked at it.
“No, it’s not.”
“This is the charger I lost last year.”
“Lies.”
“I bought it at Grand Indonesia.”
“All white chargers look the same.”
Arga pointed to a small mark on the cable.
“See? Coffee stain.”
Lina went quiet.
“Oh.”
“See?”
She reached for it.
Arga pulled the cable away.
“Give it back.”
“Well, it’s been here all this time, so it’s legally mine now.”
“Criminal logic.”
“It’s called relationship inheritance.”
Arga looked at her.
Lina realized what she had said too.
Relationship inheritance sounded like they were already over.
She held out the cable.
“Here.”
Arga took it.
Then he put it back in the box.
Lina watched him.
“Why are you putting it back?”
“Just use it.”
“You said it was yours.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Arga.”
“Hm?”
Lina gave him a small smile.
“It’s okay.”
They continued packing.
Under a stack of books, Arga found a thin brown envelope.
“What’s this?”
“Don’t open it.”
Too late.
Arga pulled out what was inside.
Three photobooth pictures.
In the first photo, Lina was looking at the camera while Arga was still fixing his hair.
In the second, Arga was ready, but Lina was laughing off to the side.
In the third, they both looked presentable.
Arga stared at them.
“When was this?”
“Two years ago.”
“Why do I look so awful?”
“You did.”
“Lina.”
“What?”
Arga held up the first photo.
“You look awful too.”
“Great.”
“Your eyes are closed.”
“Art.”
Arga laughed.
Lina picked up the third photo.
There was a small note in black ink on the back.
November 17.
Arga frowned.
“You wrote that?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“So I’d remember.”
“Remember what?”
Lina looked at the photo.
“That day.”
“What was special about it?”
Lina shrugged.
“Nothing.”
Arga waited.
Lina gave him a small smile.
“We ate ayam geprek. It rained. Then you got grumpy because your shoes got splashed by a puddle.”
“I wasn’t grumpy.”
“You complained for twenty minutes.”
“They were new shoes.”
“See?”
Arga looked at the date again.
No birthday.
No anniversary.
No major event.
Lina had saved an ordinary date.
For some reason, that made his chest feel strange.
“Are you taking this photo with you?”
Lina asked.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because I’m afraid you’ll say it’s too heavy.”
Arga gave her a flat look.
Lina laughed.
“It goes in my carry-on.”
Arga nodded.
“Good.”
They found all kinds of things.
A meal receipt whose ink had almost faded away.
Movie tickets.
A Malaysian coin from who knew where.
An event bracelet from the office where they first met.
Arga picked up the bracelet.
“You kept this?”
Lina looked a little embarrassed.
“Coincidence.”
“In a special envelope?”
“Shut up.”
Arga smiled.
“Romantic.”
“I’m throwing it out now.”
Arga immediately put it in the box.
“Don’t.”
Lina laughed.
“So you’re sentimental too.”
“I’m just preserving evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“That you were the one who fell first.”
Lina grabbed a pillow and threw it.
It hit Arga square in the face.
That afternoon, Ratna called Arga.
“Yes, Mom?”
“You’re at Lina’s house?”
Arga looked at Lina.
“Yeah.”
“Can you come here tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Bring Lina.”
Arga stopped.
Lina immediately noticed the change in his expression.
“Seriously?”
Ratna sounded annoyed.
“I already told you yesterday.”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?”
“Nothing.”
Ratna continued, “Just come for lunch. Don’t come at night.”
“Okay.”
“What does she eat?”
Arga looked at Lina again.
Lina whispered, “Who?”
Arga moved a little farther away.
“Mom wants to cook?”
“Yeah.”
“She eats pretty much anything.”
Lina narrowed her eyes.
Ratna asked, “Spicy food?”
“Somewhat.”
“Vegetables?”
“She likes them.”
“Tempeh?”
Arga held back a smile.
“She likes it.”
Ratna kept asking about food.
Lina started moving closer.
Arga covered the microphone with his hand.
“Mom’s inviting you to lunch tomorrow.”
Lina froze.
“Huh?”
Arga nodded.
Over the phone, Ratna said, “Why are you so quiet?”
“One second, Mom.”
Lina whispered, “I’m not ready.”
Arga whispered back, “Neither am I.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“She’s my mom.”
“Exactly.”
Ratna’s voice came through. “Arga?”
“Yeah. We’ll come.”
“At twelve.”
“Okay.”
The call ended.
Lina stood up immediately.
“What am I going to wear?”
Arga looked at her T-shirt.
“That.”
“Arga.”
“What? Mom doesn’t care.”
“It’s our first time meeting.”
“She’s already seen pictures of you.”
Lina stopped.
“What?”
Arga realized he’d said the wrong thing.
“When?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You gave my pictures to her?”
“She asked.”
“Which picture?”
Arga held back a smile.
“The one where you’re eating.”
“Arga!”
“What?”
Lina hit him on the arm.
“Why did you give her such an awful candid?”
“It’s cute.”
“You think everything is cute.”
“See? That means we’re good.”
Lina glared at him.
Then she suddenly got nervous again.
“Are we really going tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
Lina sat down.
“I’m scared.”
Arga sat beside her.
“My mom doesn’t eat people.”
“Funny.”
“I’m serious.”
“Is she going to ask about religion?”
Arga was quiet for a moment.
“I don’t know.”
Lina stared at the box in front of her.
“What if she does?”
“Answer whatever you want to answer.”
“What if I say the wrong thing?”
“She’s not an interviewer.”
“Arga.”
Arga brushed his fingertips against the back of Lina’s hand.
Only for a moment.
“Just come as yourself.”
Lina turned to him.
“Your answers are pretty good sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Don’t ruin it.”
Lunch at Ratna’s house turned out to be much more ordinary than Lina had imagined.
That only made her more nervous.
Ratna opened the door.
“Lina?”
Lina smiled.
“Yes, Auntie.”
“Come in.”
Arga followed behind her carrying fruit.
Ratna looked at it.
“What are you doing with that?”
“They say you shouldn’t show up at someone’s house empty-handed.”
“Who says that?”
“Lina.”
Ratna looked at Lina.
“Don’t teach him to be so formal. You’ll only make things more awkward.”
Lina laughed softly.
“Sorry, Auntie.”
“Come in.”
Ratna’s house wasn’t big.
It was tidy.
There was a photo of Arga at his graduation in the living room.
Lina stopped for a moment.
Arga noticed.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t take a picture.”
Lina had already pulled out her phone.
From the kitchen, Ratna called, “Go ahead. His hair used to look terrible.”
“Mom.”
Lina laughed.
The tension eased a little.
Lunch consisted of sayur asem, fried chicken, tempeh, sambal, and salted fish.
Arga looked at the table.
“Mom, you cooked all this for three people?”
Ratna gave him a look.
“Eat.”
Lina held back a smile.
Arga took some rice.
Ratna looked at Lina.
“Arga said you like vegetables.”
“Yes, Auntie.”
“He lies sometimes.”
“Often.”
Arga looked at Lina.
“Forming a coalition already?”
Ratna smiled.
For the first few minutes, they talked only about food.
Work.
Singapore.
The apartment the company was looking for her.
Ratna asked, “Are you scared?”
Lina hadn’t expected such a simple question.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Lina frowned.
Ratna continued, “It would be strange if you weren’t scared.”
Lina smiled.
“Arga said you got mad when he told you.”
Ratna immediately looked at Arga.
“You told her that part?”
Arga focused on his chicken.
Lina almost laughed.
Ratna said, “I was mad at him, not you.”
“Yes, Auntie.”
“Three years, and he only just told me.”
Lina looked at Arga.
“I only just told Mom too.”
Ratna paused.
Then she nodded.
“Then you’re even.”
Arga sighed.
“Why am I the only one on trial here?”
“Because you’re my son,” Ratna said.
Lina laughed.
For a while, everything felt easy.
Then Ratna asked, “Lina.”
“Yes, Auntie?”
“Have you and Arga ever talked about what comes next?”
The table grew quieter.
Arga stopped eating.
Lina knew what she meant by what comes next.
She chose to be honest.
“We have.”
“And?”
“We don’t have an answer yet.”
Ratna nodded.
She didn’t look satisfied.
She didn’t look surprised either.
Lina continued, “I don’t want to change my beliefs just because I’m afraid of losing Arga.”
Ratna stared at her.
Arga turned to look too.
Lina held back her nerves.
“And I don’t want Arga to do that either.”
Ratna was still quiet.
Then she said, “Good.”
Lina could hardly believe it.
Ratna continued, “When you have an answer, it should be because you truly believe in it. Not because you’re panicking.”
Arga lowered his head.
Lina nodded.
“Yes, Auntie.”
Ratna reached for the sambal.
“That’s all.”
Arga looked at his mother.
“That’s all?”
Ratna looked back at him.
“Do you want a speech?”
“No.”
“Then eat.”
Lina held back a laugh.
The heavy conversation ended just like that.
There was no approval.
No prohibition.
But Lina went home breathing a little easier.
That night, they returned to Lina’s room.
The boxes were still there.
Nothing had changed.
Lina sat on the floor.
Arga leaned against the side of the bed.
“Arga.”
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For telling your mom.”
Arga looked at the cardboard box.
“It was late.”
“But you told her.”
“Yeah.”
Lina picked up one of the photobooth strips.
“If I take this one, what do you get?”
Arga turned to her.
Lina held up the photo.
Arga thought for a moment.
Then he picked up another strip.
“This one.”
“It’s ugly.”
“That’s why it’s mine.”
Lina laughed.
They split up the photos.
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t neat.
Like most things in their relationship.
Lina slipped her half into her wallet.
Arga put his in his phone case.
“Seriously? In there?”
“So it won’t get lost.”
“Cheesy.”
“Give it back.”
“No.”
Arga smiled.
The cardboard boxes around them were full of things that had to be decided.
Take.
Leave.
Throw away.
Keep.
Their relationship didn’t have labels that simple.
Maybe that was why they stayed sitting on the floor until nightfall, busy choosing small things because the biggest choice still couldn’t fit into any box.