Chapter 55
Tshabina
It had been several days since Tsabinu and I had returned to Indonesia. We decided to fly home two days later once we heard Dad had been admitted to the hospital.
The plan had been to spend the whole holiday there, but as always, life had other plans. What was meant to be joyful turned into chaos. On New Year’s Eve, not only did Dad fall ill, but Mama Nadine’s medical test results came back.
Thankfully, it wasn’t what we had feared.
At first, we suspected Mama Nadine had a heart condition, especially after the day when she clutched her chest in pain, breathless, and we had to rush her to the hospital.
But it should have been good news when the doctor dismissed Zioh and Zeraiah’s fears. Yet, judging from their faces and those of Grandpa Ethan and Grandma Morag, it clearly wasn’t.
As usual, I didn’t know much—just fragments. Phrases like Mama Nadine needed a new doctor or being moved to another hospital. Then, I was sure a fight had happened between Grandpa Ethan and Uncle Bakti over the phone. Grandpa Ethan was furious, berating him about something.
New Year’s Eve was the last night I saw warmth on Zioh and Zeraiah’s faces. It was the last time their expressions carried light before Mas Bibu, and I had to return home.
Even when Zioh hugged me and said goodbye at the airport, I knew it was only a mask—a cover for a soul that was anything but whole. He’d brushed my cheeks, but his touch was shaky.
I wanted to stay. Gosh, I really wanted to. I couldn’t bear to leave him, but Dad needed us.
I remembered how tightly I held onto him and Zeraiah, trying to tell them, without words, that I would always be with them, even if my body had to be away for a while.
When we returned to Indonesia, we went straight to the hospital.
The hospital corridor carried the sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic, a scent that had become familiar after I returned from London, and it burned my throat.
We’d kept walking in rigid silence until I saw Mum and Uncle Bakti talking there.
Mum’s face was haggard and worn down, making my brother and me rush into Dad’s room. But once it was explained that Dad’s blood pressure was dangerously high and he needed rest, I forced myself to stay calm. However, my twin did not.
Lately, my brother had grown quieter, as if his mind was filled with something he couldn’t shake off. Whenever I asked, “Mas… is everything alright?” He would only give me a faint smile and say, “Yeah. I just need rest.”
But I knew he was lying.
They were all lying to me.
None of them were fine.
Nothing about any of this was fine.
I wanted to scream, to shout at them, to make them stop shutting me out and make them see that I was one of them, too.
I wanted to understand. To do something.
But they kept trying to keep me in the dark.
Uncle Bakti kept coming to the hospital and meeting me because I spent almost all my time there, staying with Mum while Mas Bibu had his lessons.
The man often brought food and supplies, though we told him Mbak Mayang had already done so.
He would still come and sit with us in the evenings once Dad was asleep.
Yesterday, he even offered to buy iPads for Mas Bibu and me so we wouldn’t be bored at the hospital. Of course, we refused straightaway.
Yet strangely, my chest tightened with a dull, heavy hurt.
Because the ones who needed Uncle Bakti most weren’t us. It was his family in England.
His children, who had been hurt and broken in London.
His wife, who had been ill and bedridden.
How busy could Zioh’s father be that he never went to England when his wife and children needed him most? Zioh’s family there had everything: comfort, security, anything money could buy. Grandpa Ethan’s people could handle everything. But…
I knew.
Zioh and Zeraiah didn’t need money. They needed their father. Their father’s presence.
Mas Zaeem flew over a few days ago, when Mas Bibu and I returned home. Knowing there were more people around Zioh and Zeraiah should have steadied me.
But… it didn’t ease my heart.
In fact, none of it allowed me to breathe properly.
Zioh never replied to my messages and barely answered my calls. Even Zeraiah, usually glued to his phone, fell silent.
I knew I ought to understand. To be patient. I told myself that again and again. But I couldn’t calm down. Sleep evaded me, as did eating or doing anything at all.
I wanted to contact Mas Zaeem directly, but we had never been close. He was always busy. Especially after he went abroad for uni, he’d come home only for a moment before leaving again.
We only met when he returned, at big family gatherings, or when we played golf together. Even then, Mas Zaeem usually spent more time talking to Dad or was buried in his laptop and phone.
But sometimes, the distance wasn’t only his doing.
Sometimes, it was Zeraiah’s fault.
There were moments when Mas Zaeem tried to blend in with us, but Zeraiah’s antics drove him away. Once, while Mas Zaeem’s phone was unattended, Zeraiah stole a fortune in pocket money from his account to buy toys. Mas Zaeem had been furious.
Another time, he had taken his beloved car keys and disappeared, who knows where. Then he used his debit card to run off to Singapore, skipping classes simply because he was bored.
Even in small ways, like spilling things on his iPad, MacBook, and work papers.
Or perhaps the biggest reason was that Mas Zaeem smoked and drank.
I once found him tucked behind a big tree, smoking in secret, and hid on the farthest balcony of his house to drink, and I understood he was trying to keep it from us.
I sat on a garden bench outside the hospital, chewing on the straw of my drink. My eyes stayed fixed on my phone, on the unanswered messages to Zioh. My fingers tapped against the screen as if that would summon a notification.
Sighing, I snapped a quick photo of myself. Then, I sent the photo to Zioh.
Tshabina: Dad might be discharged today. I’m bored, Mas Bibu’s at lessons and Mum went out to buy food. Dad’s fine now, he’s watching TV in his room. He told me to go outside and get some fresh air.
Tshabina: How’s Mama Nadine, Zi?
Tshabina: Still cold over there?
Tshabina: Don’t forget your hot chocolate. The one Mas Bibu bought was delicious. Should I ask him where he got it?
Tshabina: Oh, and thank Grandpa Ethan for me. Dad and Mom loved the gifts he gave!
Tshabina: Zioh…
Tshabina: I miss you.
No reply.
My breath turned shallow as my heart kept pounding, not knowing what else to do.
At one point, I even thought of asking Mum to ask Uncle Bakti why he never visited his family in England—or at least to ask him how things were there. But I knew she was still anxious about Dad’s condition.
I clenched my phone in my hand, sadness crawling up from within me, heating my eyes. My chest ached as I searched my contacts for another name.
Tshabina: Zer
Tshabina: Zeraiah, did you know? Uncle Bakti offered to buy iPads for Mas Bibu and me.
A lie. A bait.
But still… no reply.
My trick didn’t work.
I chewed my lip and wiped my eyes. Kept releasing breath after breath, hoping the heaviness within me would slip out with them.
Everyone knew how strangely possessive Zeraiah was about his father. He usually shared everything with me, giving in to my requests (with plenty of grumbling), but mention his father, and jealousy always flared. Usually, that was enough to provoke a reaction.
But not this time.
Tshabina: Zer… I miss you. So much that I’m willing to listen to your weird rock songs till my ears go numb.
The memory of how we were laughing happily only weeks ago made my tears flow uncontrollably.
I didn’t want to be here.
And then—a notification.
Zioh!
My heart leapt. My fingers flew faster than my thoughts. I opened his message while holding my breath.
Zioh my hero: I’ll be back in about two weeks. We’ll talk then.
My lips curved into a big smile.
I wanted to reply straightaway, but then a shadow passed before me. It was my brother. He had returned from lessons, but his appearance made my body stiff.
His glasses were gone, his clothes and hair dishevelled. Faint traces of blood stained the corner of his eye and lips.
Mas Bibu walked fast, hurried, his breath uneven, and went straight into the hospital.
I rushed after him, fear and dread tightening around me with every step.