Her: It isn’t. But the doctor says I am.
Me: Have you had sex with anybody else?
Her: No.
Me: But the doctor says you’re pregnant?
Her: Yes.
Me: Have you had a test?
Her: Yes.
Me: And?
Her: It’s positive.
Me: So, you’re pregnant.
Her: No. It’s impossible.
Me: It’s late. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.
Click
So, there I was in England, living with my mum, in love with one woman thousands of miles away (Jolie) while unable to escape the clutches of misery another one (Yossy), also thousands of miles away, was causing me, and on top of all that I was missing little Tess so much it was physically hurting.
What a mess.
In the words of the late, great Dusty, I just didn’t know what to do with myself. Every which way I looked I couldn’t see a way out of my troubles. If I did what I believed 99.99% of other men would do, then I would walk away from the marriage with Yoss and never look back, and I knew that was what anyone I asked would advise me to do. Perhaps it was for that reason, that of not wanting to hear the truth, that I never did ask anyone for advice. I never once let on to my family or friends, whether in Indonesia or England, exactly what was happening back in Indonesia. Nobody was any the wiser about how bad things had become between Yossy and I, or of her medical condition or even the very existence of either Arin or Jolie.
Thinking about the three women in my life: Jolie, Yossy and Tess, brought about a whole range of emotions. I loved Jolie and wanted to be with her, but I didn’t know if that was practical or even if that was what she wanted anymore. When we’d been together in Surabaya we’d loved each other. Really properly loved each other, I mean, not just uttered the platitudes. Back then she’d listened to me, held me, advised me, loved me and then loved me some more. Now though, we were half a world apart and had been for some time, and time and distance can do things to the strongest of relationships in the best of circumstances.
Jolie was sweet and innocent in a way that took me back years to the way Yossy had been when we first met but she was also different to Yoss in many ways. She had more of an easy-going personality for a start, and seemed to be someone who could quite possibly go through her entire life without ever once really getting angry or saying anything mean to anyone. At 23 she was still young and hopeful for what the future might hold in store, whilst I was already feeling my age and in danger of becoming jaded and an old man before my time. Despite my rather jaundiced outlook on life, however, Jolie did love me. She’d told me that often when I was living in Surabaya, and again now over the phone while I was in England. She was a candle of hope for me in what was becoming a rather bleak winter of discontent.
Tess was breaking my heart. Breaking it in a way neither Yossy nor Jolie, or any other woman come to that, could ever do. She’d always been a ‘daddy’s girl’ and the miles and months apart couldn’t change that. I carried her pictures around with me everywhere I went and I never passed up an opportunity to show them to anyone and everyone I came into contact with at the flimsiest of an excuse. Many was the bemused taxi passenger or English-language student who, upon making the most innocuous of remarks, found themselves practically being forced to wade through a collection of snapshots of my five-year-old princess while being regaled with anecdotes of her amazing talents, skills and abilities.
Yes, I guess I was kind of boring at times.
Yossy, though, that was different. I felt so many conflicting emotions regarding her. I worried about how she was looking after Tess, I worried that people were taking advantage of her naivety and bad business sense. I was also disappointed in her, in what and who she had become, and how she, I felt, used people up. I often remembered our very first conversation a dozen years earlier on Kuta Beach when she blithely informed me that she subscribed to the viewpoint that some people were just out for themselves and to see what they could get from others before moving on to someone else, and it pained me. I knew that there was a part of me that still did, and always would, love her, but did I miss her? No, not at all. I really didn’t, and that was what was saddest of all.
I guess I had been hoping that going to England would somehow make things clearer and lift the fog a bit, and in a way it did. The phone call from Yossy certainly had the effect of bringing things to a head, if nothing else, and I realized I couldn’t let things go on the way they were: I would have to go back to Indonesia, even if temporarily, and sort things out once and for all.
So I booked the cheapest flight I could and headed back to Indonesia. On the plane I went over my plan again: I would fly into Jakarta and then on to Surabaya where I would accompany Yoss to the doctor, get a proper scan and find out just what the heck was going on. Then, depending on what the scan showed up, I would make my decisions and take back my life. I had it all worked out. I really truly loved two girls and I wanted them both. I was, I decided, going to do anything necessary to get them both.
Needless to say, it all went tits up. Again
First, I stopped off in Jakarta on the way to Surabaya to see if we could sort out what was up with
