Sea (21 page)

 

Deni and I avoided each other like the plague all day. Dad watched over me so closely that I didn’t even dare try to catch Deni’s eye. I taught art, participated in teen group and ate my meals, where I made polite conversation with Team Hope.

Dad couldn’t suspect anything more than he already did.

Finally, Deni gestured to me outside the dining hall after dinner with a snap of his head toward the river. I nodded, knowing we’d meet there after dark.

Saying good night to Team Hope at dusk, I headed back to my room. When Dad hugged me and whispered in my ear that he was proud of me and my good decision, I winced with guilt but still didn’t change my mind.

 

One of the street kids stood up in the moonlight and walked on top of the concrete wall next to the river, holding thin arms out to the side like he was crossing a balance beam.

“He will fall,” Deni predicted.

I watched the boy. He was about thirteen years old, his face anxious determination. “Maybe not.”

Deni pointed knowingly. “Watch.”

Sure enough, the boy lost his balance halfway across and slipped. Grabbing hold of the concrete wall just before he fell feetfirst into the mucky river, he awkwardly scraped himself back over the wall.

“How did you know he wouldn’t make it?” I asked.

“Some people don’t learn from their mistakes. That boy is not smart. He tried the same thing last night. The wall is still too slippery, and he is too unbalanced. He tries every night. Every night he fails. He should give up trying.”

He was telling me something. Something I should get.

“Deni ...”

He held his hand up, stopping my words. “You come here like an American angel hoping to rescue me. You know ... I cannot be rescued.”

And then I knew he was talking about me going with him to Aceh.

The scrawny street kid, defeated, picked up a handful of pebbles and chucked them into the water, dragging on his cigarette silently.

“He will get up and try again,” Deni said.

“Deni,” I said, a push in my voice. “Please listen to me. I want to take you and see where you lived, where all this happened. I’m not trying to rescue you. I’m trying to help you.”

“You heard your father. I don’t want any trouble for you.”

“It’s
my
decision. You have to take risks for people you ... well, you care about.”

Deni reached over and took my hand. The boys across the street huddled together. The boy who fell looked happier now that he’d joined his friends.

When I finally got up the nerve to look at Deni, his eyes told me more than his words. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said.

But the way he was looking at me also told me he understood that it was too late to say no. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck.

“We go tomorrow, then?” I asked.

His lips breathed into my ear. “We go tomorrow.”

We’re naked except for my hair, which is wrapped in a lime green
jilbab.

 

The plan was to pack and sneak out of the
pesantren
with Deni before anyone figured anything out.

So I announced over fried-rice lunch, “I’m off to town to take some pictures, so don’t expect me at dinner, okay”

“Fine,” Dad said in a voice gruffer than usual, “but don’t forget you have Vera’s group this afternoon.”

“Well, it might take a while,” I said. “Mind if I skip?”

Vera looked disappointed. “I was hoping you would share your story,” she said. “And you’ve already skipped a session.”

My stomach lurched. I had forgotten I’d said next time I might share. “Sorry.”

“We can talk about it more tonight, about you sharing tomorrow,” Vera said. “You’re moving into my dorm; Nada is moving into your bed. She feels perfectly comfortable and wants to try it alone. The transition, like we talked about.”

Into Vera’s dorm?

Nada’s taking my spot?

I guess I knew this was coming, but I felt bad. I’d no longer be there to see Elli and the girls wake up in the morning. I’d no longer tuck them into bed at night. Then I realized how ridiculous I was being. I was leaving anyway. I was already going to miss them.

I got ready to sputter out an argument. But then I stopped.

Maybe this
was
a good thing—now Elli and the girls wouldn’t miss me tonight. But it could also be bad—if I was supposed to room with Vera, they would know I was gone earlier.

Under the table, I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants.

Dad avoided my eyes.

He was
really
pushing it with this Vera thing.

“Just move your stuff over whenever,” Vera said cheerfully. “It will be fun. Like a slumber party!”

“I’ll move it over right now,” I said. “My stuff.”

Everything except my backpack. That stayed with me.

It’s not like I could haul a whole suitcase to Aceh anyway.

Dad looked relieved that I didn’t make a scene, while Vera smiled like a cat who’d just gifted her owner with a fat mouse.

I saw them both through my camera lens: Vera with her skunk pulled back in a tight bun, Dad with his morning eyes and icky hair.

Just like he promised, that evening Deni was waiting for me on the other side of the gate, leaning against the motor, a woven bag slung loose over his shoulder. “You have not changed your mind?” he asked.

“Not a chance,” I said. Without another thought, I hopped on the back of the
motor,
put my arms around his waist and leaned into his back just like before.

When he started the ignition, the engine rattled loudly in the hot air.

“Should we walk the
motor
until we are off the grounds?” I asked.

“They will not hear.”

“I told Vera I had to wash my hair in the
mandi
and not to wait up for me,” I said, which made him laugh. “She offered to come and help me. Thank God I talked her out of it.”

But he wasn’t listening anymore. He was looking up. “Rain is coming. We go.” He looked at me hard. “Do not let go of me.”

“I won’t.”

We took off down the dirt driveway and twisted onto the streets of Yogyakarta.

We’d only been riding a few minutes when it started to rain—really rain—like a total downpour. The streets were slick with oily water and I was holding on to Deni for dear life.

“Is this too dangerous to drive in?” I yelled.

“It is only rain,” he called back.

 

Twenty minutes later Deni pulled the
motor
into the chaotic loading zone at the airport. Buses and taxis zoomed around us, splashing water as they sped by. I was soaking wet but relieved we made it in one piece. Besides, I had other things on my mind, like:
Will my dad show up and drag us back to the orphanage?

Deni left the motor at the curb and we walked under a shelter. “My friend will get the
motor,”
he told me.

“Will it still be here when he arrives?” I asked, unconvinced.

He shrugged. “I hope so. Ready?” he asked.

I sucked in a deep breath. “I guess so.”

We approached the ticket counter and I read the phrase directly from the transportation section in my book:
“Saya mau dua tiket ke Aceh dan satu tiket Aceh ke Yogya.”

I want two tickets to Aceh. And a one-way ticket from Aceh back to Yogya. For me. For when I flew back without Deni.

The man behind the counter started typing. Deni translated to me that the first leg of the flight for Aceh left in about an hour. We were lucky.

I showed the man behind the counter my passport and handed over my credit card. The man looked at us funny, maybe because of our ages? But the credit card was in my name and matched the name on my passport.

That’s all I needed.

I paid for both tickets, and soon Deni won the agent over with his good humor. As he handed us our boarding passes, I figured we’d spend tonight traveling, one night in Aceh, and then I’d return to Yogya in time to fly home to America. Simple.

“What are those?” Deni asked as we passed luggage carousels.

“For luggage, suitcases and bags. If you pack a lot of luggage, they store them in the bottom of the plane.”

“What would someone need that much luggage for?”

I smiled. “Well, a lot of people pack a lot of stuff for trips. Our bags are small; we’ll just carry them onto the plane.”

Deni followed my lead through checkpoints, past security guards/soldiers dressed in camouflage, holding machine guns, and to the gate, where we waited to board the plane.

I couldn’t believe it was only a week ago that Dad was holding my hand through the airport, which seemed so ridiculous now. Why had I needed to hold Dad’s hand?

I scanned the airport, expecting to see Dad or Tom or Vera scouring the terminal for us, but they weren’t there.

“Are you okay?” Deni asked, leading me toward some chairs to sit once we’d found our gate.

“I’m fine ... just a little nervous.”

“Me too,” he said, tugging on the strap of his bag.

“Really? Well, don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

We sat quietly for a second. It wasn’t too late. I could say I made a mistake. Nothing had happened yet. The
motor
was still outside. I hadn’t actually left for Aceh, so they wouldn’t be too mad, right?

But then what about Deni?

I tapped my foot on the tile floor.

He already had his plane ticket. He could fly up to Aceh alone.

But then we’d have to say good-bye here at the airport. Right then.

No. Couldn’t do that.

But what if something went wrong up there and nobody knew how to get in touch with Dad? What if I got lost and he couldn’t find me?

Deni looked over at me. “You feeling better now?”

“You know when you decide to cross the street how you can’t chicken out halfway and run back to the curb?” I asked. “How you have to keep moving forward so traffic will know what you’re doing? So you don’t get squashed like a bug? I guess that’s what I’m worried about. Chickening out halfway there and not ending up on the other side of the road in one piece.”

He studied my face. “You, Sienna, will always land in one piece,” he said thoughtfully.

“I hope so, Deni,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder.

 

The plane was rickety and old. I tried to forget Tom’s casual comments about Indonesian in-country flights not meeting FAA standards and enjoyed Deni’s expression as the bucket of bolts vibrated into the night sky. Watching him reminded me of Spider when he caught his very first wave. Exhilarated.

Once we were safely in the air, Deni said, “At home, planes are only for the very rich. We would ride buses to travel to the next village.”

“At home, I didn’t fly much either.”

To think this was my greatest fear less than two weeks ago.

This time, I tried to ignore the danger and rolled with the sensation, like on a wave, like on the
motor.

“Before the tsunami I never left Aceh,” he said, staring out the window. “I wonder what it is like now. How much has changed in the time I have been away.”

“Well, they’ve been doing a lot of work. I bet it’s better now.”

He looked doubtful. “How can you fix something that has been destroyed?”

I wanted to hold his hand but didn’t want to risk being inappropriate and have someone question our traveling together.

A flight attendant came by and handed us each a small plastic cup of water and two sweet rolls. I wasn’t sure if the water was purified, so, disappointed, I pushed it aside.

“And everything is free?” Deni asked me, grateful for the extra roll, which he tucked into his bag.

“Well, you have to pay for the plane ticket first,” I said.

“Thank you, Sienna,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” I said, leaning into him.

Switching off the light above our heads, I grabbed a blanket and laid it across our laps. Everyone else on the plane was nodding off, so I reached under the blanket and let my fingers find his.

When we switched planes in Medan, I wasn’t the only white person on board.

The small plane to Aceh was full of health care workers, engineers and contractors, basically volunteers from all over the world. A mix of languages filled the cabin: French, Japanese and English.

While I was shoving my bag under the seat in front of me, Deni started chatting with some Australians across the aisle. “We’re with the World Doctors organization and volunteered after the tsunami, and we’ve returned twice since,” a woman with a pixie cut said. The man sitting next to her was a handsome rugged type with an easy laugh and a scar on his cheek. He reminded me of Indiana Jones, the way my dad looked before Mom disappeared.