Fucked in Jakarta (Part 8) -- the true story of my fantasy times in Indonesia
What had I done? Holy fuck, what had I done? I knew better than this. Didn't I know better?
I had been walking to work every morning like a zombie, looking at everyone in the crowd, imagining they were all staring back at me. Which one would it be?
I tried to catch my breath as I climbed the steps to the overpass, but it stuck thick in my throat. I swallowed hard and tried to blink away the feeling, but it wouldn't go.
Three days in a row, it had been like this. I was certain Hannah was going to have me killed.
As I reached the top of the stairs and rounded the corner onto the overpass, the man on the opposite end of the overpass stood out like a sore thumb. His khaki colored jacket was grimy and creased, like it had spent a lot of time on the floor of a lower class apartment in one of Jakarta's many slums. It was at least 30 degrees out, way too hot for a jacket. I could barely stand being in my long-sleeved business shirt in this heat.
Yep, this was pretty much exactly how I imagined he would look. He gazed back at me with an intense hatred.
I realized I had stopped walking. People were bumping me from behind in an effort to push past. I resumed walking, my eyes locked on the guy in the khaki jacket.
What would it feel like when the bullet tore through me? How would it sound? Would I go numb; into shock? Or would it hurt so bad I'd collapse in a heap. Maybe piss myself in front of all these people?
The guy in the khaki jacket loomed closer and closer, as I was swept forward helplessly by the crowd on the busy overpass.
He reached into his jacket, and I closed my eyes.
Four days earlier, after finishing with Gavin, I closed the laptop and reflected.
He had accepted what I had told him, and admitted that he had found it a bit suspicious that Hannah had been able to go on holiday and buy a bike. He had insisted on getting receipts, but she had been ready for that.
I felt so stupid, I should have known when she took the receipts for the hospital bills. I wondered if she'd been planning it from the start, if the sickness had been faked? There was also a thought in the back of my head that I wouldn't even allow myself to consider. Had Seven been in on it?
I decided to keep it simple and just believe Hannah had really been sick, but had realized she could make a bit of money out of a bad situation. Seven had shown nothing but loyalty to me, why should I believe otherwise?
At the end of my Facebook chat with Gavin, I asked him what he was planning to do. He said "I guess I have to break up with her."
She was going to know exactly what I had done.
I continued to see Seven each night after work, and things got better and better. I could feel us bonding each time, creating all those little inside jokes and gestures that couples do that make everyone else vomit into their cornflakes. We were totally comfortable together now, like we'd been together for years.
After a couple of good nights, I had almost forgotten about Hannah and what I had done. But then, while I was at the office, a text came in.
Hannah said, "I want to give you your money back. Can you meet me today?"
I wasn't sure what to say, and I was in the office, so left it for a while. Eventually, I replied, "Sure, but are you mad with me?"
"Yes, but I want to pay you back. I have the money. Can you meet me today?"
I was pretty fucking scared, I must say. It felt like a setup, but what could I do? I had been told I'd have to stay in Jakarta another week, and she knew where I worked, so I couldn't avoid her forever.
And anyway, wasn't this a test of my resolve? If I felt I had done the right thing, shouldn't I be able to look her in the eye, and take the money back?
I courageously thought, sure, I'll look her in the eye, but in a public place with security guards and lots of witnesses, and maybe a flak jacket.
I replied, "OK, meet me at lunchtime in my office building. The restaurant on the ground floor, 1:30pm."
Afterward, I immediately texted Seven and invited her too. She hadn't been talking to Hannah much recently, but I figured maybe she would be a calming force. She agreed and said she would shared a taxi with Hannah.
Lunchtime came around pretty quickly, and I went down to the restaurant. I took a table right in front, not too far from the entrance and where the waitresses could see me easily.
I had no real plan for what I would do or say. Maybe I'd just tell Hannah to keep the money, point out she'd traded a good boyfriend for it, so it was hers to keep. Maybe I'd explain that I'd done it for her own good, that a relationship based on deceit can never work and that I'd saved her from certain pain down the track.
But at the end of the day, this was Hannah's meeting, so maybe I'd just look her in the eye and let her say whatever it was she wanted to say.
Seven texted me saying they had arrived. I waited.
It was weird seeing Hannah again. I hadn't seen her for so long, I'd almost forgotten how pretty she was. I loved Seven, but Hannah's stunning piercing gaze still managed to relegate her to her friend's shadow.
Seven sat on my right and Hannah took the seat directly opposite me. She locked eyes with me and I gazed back, desperately trying not to pee my pants or shit myself.
It was that penetrating gaze that had attracted me to Hannah in the first place, but I never considered that it could also be used for evil. She was still, but I could see her facial muscles twitching with hatred. Some of it spilled into her eyes and they glistened with moisture.
I decided to break the silence. "So, say what you want to say."
Hannah tilted her head, then picked up a fork from the table and raised it shoulder-high. She looked at my hand, my chest, my face. I didn't react, just said calmly "there's a security guard over there at the door, this doesn't end well if you do that."
A tear spilled onto her cheek and she lowered the fork. Then she took breath and began to speak.
I'd tell you what she said, but almost all of it was in Bahasa Indonesia. I heard a few key words in there -- "Gavin", "Bulé", "boyfriend", "break up" -- but I didn't really need to hear the words. I could see it all in Hannah's eyes as she offloaded onto me at the top of her voice.
Everyone in the restaurant backed away slowly. I was conscious that whatever she was saying, most of the staff in the restaurant could understand it, and so could Seven. I tried not to let myself feel embarrassed, just listened calmly to Hannah, and watched her hands to make sure she didn't pick up the fork again.
But I knew she wasn't going to. I could see real heartbreak in her eyes, it filled the air. She had been hurt badly by what I had done, and all she could do was scream.
After what seemed like an eternity, Hannah's voice started to peter out, and eventually, she stopped talking. She just sat there breathing, tears in her eyes, looking at me with hatred and pain.
I guess I figured I'd make it worse, just to fuck with myself, because I heard myself speaking. "You can blame me all you want. Hate me, make it all my fault. But I'm not the one that stole money from someone I claimed to love. Eventually, I hope you'll understand that all this happened because you lied. This is something you did to yourself."
While you're at it, why don't you sharpen the fork up, hand it back to her, and hold your eyelids open so she can get a nice clear shot?
Hannah's lips began to tremble again. "Don't you get it!?" She said, in plain, unmistakable English. "Don't you fucking get it!? YOU ARE BULE! I am prostitute! If you want to fuck Indonesian girl, you have to PAY! Don't you see, YOU HAVE TO PAY!"
She stood up, slammed an envelope down on the table in front of me, and stormed out of the restaurant. Seven looked at me for a second and I motioned for her to follow Hannah. Seven rushed off.
I stared at the envelope in front of me. Now that the stress was lifted, I went into a kind of shock. My hands were shaking, I could barely breathe.
It wasn't so much what Hannah had said or even the physical danger. I had had to face my own choices, and I realized now that I was less sure of myself than ever. There had been so much pain in Hannah's eyes, and I had caused it. I couldn't remember another time in my life when I'd deliberately caused that much pain for another person.
Everyone in the restaurant appeared to be frozen. It felt like they were all staring at me, maybe they were. I knew I would be embarrassed tomorrow if I came back to eat here, but today all I could think about was how much damage I'd done.
I opened the envelope. It was full of cash. I counted it, and it was just over 7 million rupes. I was two million or so short, but I guessed that was the cost of Hannah's holiday.
Seven came back, and we didn't speak much about what happened except to say "Wow" a few times and make light of it. I asked Seven if Hannah would be ok and she nodded. Slowly, we got back to normal and finished our lunch.
Things were ok, but a thought occurred and wouldn't go away.
I wondered if two million rupes would be enough to hire a hit man.
This post is the 8th of a 9 part series. The FINAL part will be posted soon.
If you want to start the story from the beginning, go here: https://steemit.com/life/@krackerkarakas/fucked-in-jakarta-the-true-story-of-my-fantasy-times-in-indonesia
I believe story is the key to human knowledge -- the native unit of storage that is understood by our brains.
So I share this personal story, despite the fact that it makes me vulnerable, because I believe someone out there might learn something from it in a way I can't even predict or understand.
If you get something from it, please leave me a comment. Or, even better, share your own story and give me a link to read it.