Before Rian had even turned off the car engine, the front door of the house was already open. A middle-aged man with tan skin and a black peci perched casually on his head stepped outside. Babe Firdaus, wearing a white T-shirt and kawung-patterned sarong pants, stood on the porch with his arms folded.
"What took you so long, Rian? You only got here this afternoon. Was traffic bad, or did you stop to buy some pecel ayam?" Babe Firdaus's distinctive deep voice greeted Rian and Zainab as they got out of the car. Zainab immediately smiled, walked over, and reverently kissed her Babe's palm.
"The intersection by campus was insanely jammed, Be. Then I dropped Caca off at her street first."
"That explains it..." Babe nodded, then gently patted the top of Zainab's hijab. "You look awfully sour, Nab. Tired from being chased by your thesis, or tired from thinking about those Integrated Islamic Elementary School kids?"
"Both, Be," Zainab replied with a quiet giggle. "It's nothing, Be. I spaced out a little on campus earlier," Rian added as he took the laptop bag from the back seat. He gave Babe a meaningful look—a secret code between the men in the house that his little sister was not in a very stable emotional state.
Babe Firdaus, who understood his children perfectly, merely let out a short sigh before patting Zainab on the shoulder. "All right, hurry inside. Your brother's already put fish-head curry on the dining table.
"Wow, there's so much, Be! You really knew my stomach was growling like this. There are so many dishes—what's the occasion? Did you cook all this yourself, Babe?" Babe had been an excellent cook long before Emak passed away. But ever since then, he had only cooked a few side dishes, never this much.
Suddenly, someone whose face looked remarkably like Emak's came out of the kitchen, accompanied by her husband and child. Someone I hadn't seen in a very long time. "Surprise! Happy birthday, Auntie's girl!" (Cing/Encing: a Betawi term for an aunt, specifically one's mother's younger sister.) "Oh my God... Cing Salmah, Uncle, Brian... and handsome Cleo! How are you all here?" "We deliberately didn't tell you. If we'd told you, it wouldn't be a surprise. So, do you like the menu?" Cing Salmah hadn't visited Indonesia in a very long time—ever since Emak passed away, to be exact. My eyes immediately filled with tears as my overwhelming longing came rushing back. Cing Salmah and Emak looked exactly alike. Without thinking, I threw myself into her arms to make up for all the time we'd been apart. "Come on, blow out the candles already. My arms are getting tired from holding the cake this whole time," Brian cut in, putting on an exaggeratedly annoyed face. "Hahaha, okay, okay, sorry, Brian. Cing, is there really no way to change this kid's accent? You can still hear his French accent so clearly." "He was born with it, Nab! Hehe..." Cing Salmah replied with a giggle. This evening brought me immeasurable happiness by having them here with me.
Ding! A text message came through on my phone. "I got your number from Caca, your best friend."
Huh, Caca?! Just wait. Tomorrow I'll turn that girl into a potato fritter! This has to be revenge because I wouldn't let her sit in the front seat of the car this afternoon!
Wow, Caca really loves handing out people's numbers. Anyway, who is this? What do you need my number for?"
"Hmm, I just wanted to remind you that you have a public lecture tomorrow. You can't be late again."
Still wondering who he is? --------------------
"Hey, what's wrong, Nab? Why are you yelling at yourself?"
Encing always treated me like her own daughter. I had to get away from the crowd downstairs because I was already annoyed with Caca Marica. Her phone was off. That only made me more annoyed.
> Rayna: "Caca...! Watch it. Your life isn't going to be safe with me." One check mark.
"That Caca Marica has been Reyna's best friend since kindergarten, and now they even attend the same college. She gave Ray's number to the teaching assistant without permission."