The Beginning and The End

I assume, you would say it was a meeting of two friends. I was not sure, I never asked. We were, or are, probably friends, to say the least. We were never settled anything, not then, now or ever. But you were not quite a friend to me, you were something more. I had not seen you for over five years and we barely exchange words for the last two years, but when I received your message on Facebook whether or not I was in town the other day, of course I agreed to meet you; as if your disappearance two years ago never happened.

To see you in flesh brought your fading existence firmly back on the ground. I thought you were gone. I am so close to convinced myself to forget we were never happened. Again, I did not know why I said yes to meet you at this freshly refurbished coffee shop in South Jakarta. This place seemed to be the best place to meet; a safe place where we are not bound to stay too long but just about to have enough hour to talk.

We started off with light conversation. A series of what you have been up to. You said you are working on a project back home. The other home which has been yours for over ten years. You inherit the same cultural background and race as I do, but the definition of home stretched far apart across the map. I can also hear through your accent, you pick up the accent that sound apparent in few words. I like accent, it tells a different story in a language.

One thing lead to one another, we ended up sitting in an American fast food restaurant, nibbling chicken chunk out of orange-pink plastic plate and a bowl soup for comfort, lasting longer than I thought. But we had gone quiet for the last three minutes. I hid behind every spoonful of carrots and corns, "I've figured it out now." Your eyes brighten up as you put down a bottle of Coca Cola on the table. My silence gave away the question and a shock, waiting for you to proceed. "I know how human mind's work. They remember best what happens in the beginning and the end."


You continued, "You know, even though nothing really happens, they will remember the day as it is. That matters, and that too." you glanced to your left, pointing at a family of four on the table across us having their crispy chicken dinner then at the waitress with purple-orange hat that was sweeping the floor after cleaning the table next to us. Before your eyes went back to mine, and said, "As if suddenly, everything matters."

The warm soup traveled funny down my throat causing me a mild cough. Tonight is your last night before a morning flight calls you to work. This is the end of your short trip back to the South East, this is the end that you were talking about. I have been trying to keep my thoughts not to misbehave the whole night, but bits and pieces of memories I have got of you, flashing in ruptured montage. I was nine and you were fourteen when the first time I saw you. Your hair was sleek with the colour of dark raven's wings. It built up to the point that struck me silent. I remember why I wanted you.

If they matter, would that leave me under the same umbrella, too? Am I part of  everything? Are you saying that you will remember me as I am, as we are tonight sitting across each other on your last night before home calls you to work? Feeling slightly off my feet, I give myself away in a nod. Showing no intention to argue, I would settle to be remembered as your last night in Jakarta because I have missed you too much. And knowing, for once, I matter.