The only time we did have one conversation in which he opened up a bit to me, however, came a little later and in hindsight considering what was to end up happening to me, I wished I had paid more attention to his words them.
One night we were sitting together in the reception area of the apartment building just filling in time and trying to stay awake when Pak Neil suddenly said, apropos of nothing:
‘You a dreamer, Jack?’
I was a bit confused by the suddenness if not the meaning of the question and so didn’t answer immediately. Pak Neil for his part just looked at me sideways and then closed his eyes.
‘Ah sorry, Jack. None of my business. Ignore me. I’m just in a funny mood today.’ It was true that he looked different than normal; more ill at ease or uncomfortable, if you like. Less self-assured, possibly.
‘Why, Pak? Anything the matter?’ I tried to help.
Pak Neil kept his eyes closed. ‘No, not really. It’s just that … … Well, sometimes, life doesn’t go the way you think it will, does it? Then you end up over compensating for disappointments.’
Well, I found myself struggling to keep up, but I felt he wasn’t really looking for much of an input from me anyway.
‘Has something happened, Pak?’ I timidly ventured.
A sigh: ‘No, that’s the trouble. Nothing’s happened. A whole lot of nothingness and emptiness.’
I chanced a glance at Pak at this point and to my eyes I have to say he seemed far away; distant even. For the first time in the period I’d known him, Pak Neil looked less than in control. If it didn’t sound so silly I’d even say he looked down beaten, as if life in general rather than anyone thing was getting him down.
Again I tried: ‘Really, is there anything the matter? Anything I can do for you, Pak?
‘No, Jack. Just promise me a few things, will you?’
‘Sure. Anything.’
‘Just don’t hope for too much in this world, mate. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, and never, ever depend on anyone else for your happiness. I did that and now look at me.’
I found this last statement particularly confusing. I mean, it looked to me that Pak Neil had everything a man could want. He was rich, important, good-looking, owned many properties and businesses, and seemed to me to be living the ideal life. I risked a little and told him this.
‘Ah, Jack,’ he reasoned for the second time in a matter of minutes, ‘appearances can be deceptive, you know. But, at the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?’
‘What?’
‘Appearances, young Jack, appearances. I appear to have it all but, in reality, well … let’s just leave it at that, shall we?’ This last utterance was accompanied by a finality that indicated I had no say in the matter and so no response was required or forthcoming.
Over the next few weeks, Pak Neil started coming round a bit more often and he seemed to step up his liaisons with young ladies. At one point he had a steady stream of late-night companions who would be on his arm as they arrived and then accompany him upstairs to his apartment.
This wasn’t really his own apartment, as such, as he never stayed there alone but it was the one he used when he was, ahem, entertaining. These girls would invariably leave the next morning or later the same night. This was quite a regular occurrence for him and I didn’t really think that much of it one way or another, after all, who was I to be moralistic about making love with a ‘naughty girl’ for money?
Anyway, one night he brought another girl home with him and as they went to the lift together I happened to look at her and she caught my eye. Instead of giving me a grin as most of the working girls did in that situation, she sort of scowled at me. I didn’t think much of it at the time and when the same girl arrived back in the reception area an hour or two later I made the mistake of saying, ‘Sudah, Mbak?’
This I shouldn’t have said because it means ‘Already finished, Miss?’ and in the wrong circumstances it can be very rude.
It turned out that this was the wrong circumstance.
The girl was very angry now and stopped walking to look directly at me.
‘Apa, what?’ she asked me.
I was really embarrassed and said, ‘Tidak apa apa, non, nothing Miss.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘What do you mean ‘already finished’? Tell me.’
I hesitated again, but when she clenched my fist and took one more step towards me I finally answered.
‘Nothing, Miss … Just that Mr. often has …’
‘Mr. often has what, Mas?’ She asked me, still clenching her fist.
‘Erm … girls come to his room and I thought …’
‘Ah, really? Are you sure? Ha! You thought I was a pelacur or a gadis nakal, naughty girl, didn’t you?’ she screamed at me.
‘Maaf, Mbak, sorry, Miss’ was all I could reply.
It was not my finest hour, and I felt guilty and ashamed for a while and I also worried for a long time that she would make a complaint about me, but in the end she didn’t. I did learn from that experience, however, not to judge people or to be quick to rush to form opinions of them.
During this period still I made sure that I kept in close contact with Heri as
