4 Ludwina & Andrea (Part 2): Separation

"I will only take this job for two years," Andrea said that night, squeezing my hands softly.

I nodded. I didn't bother convincing my husband that I couldn't go with him to London. Maybe he thought one day I would change my mind and follow him, just as I would change my mind about having children.

After five years together, he still hadn't realized that I rarely change my mind.

I drove him to the airport that night and took off with a smile. Andrea would stay in a hotel for a month until he found a suitable home to live in. The company paid for everything.

Come to think of it, my husband was indeed an extraordinary person. During these five years, his career had been progressing very rapidly, far beyond other Indonesians I know who were not from a wealthy background or had a strong backup.

I have read on the internet that he was currently the best security expert in Asia Pacific. My father actually wanted Andrea to be his successor in running many of his companies, because my older brother preferred to devote himself as a doctor and, I told you, writing was my calling. We were not interested in business. But Andrea did not like nepotism and refused my father's offer gently.

I was almost back at home when my phone rang, and Andrea's voice was heard on the other end.

"I miss you already," he sighed softly, "I will be boarding soon. I'll call you when I land at Heathrow."

I just brought my laptop and several clothes then left for Indonesia. I couldn't stand living in our apartment on Beach Road where all the memories were scattered about. I also could not go home to my parents and deliver the bad news about our separation. Finally, I decided to go to Sumba where my brother opened a clinic with his best friends.

My eldest brother, Johann decided to become a doctor when my second brother, Wolfgang, died of meningitis when he was 14 years old. We were all devastated when the doctor brought word that the sudden headache that Wolf was experiencing caused by the meningitis virus in his brain, and he died after being in a coma for days. His death was unexpected and devastating to all of us.

My father and mother became more protective of the two of us, but also became more lenient towards us. As children of a conglomerate family, our lives had been decided from birth.

Johann, Wolf, and I were arranged to be married to the children of my father's friends, fellow conglomerates, for business purposes, and our way of life had been set from the beginning: where we would go to school and when we will take over which company.

Wolf's death opened the path of freedom for us because mother and father realized that they did not want to lose either Johann or me because we felt forced to follow the path they set for us.

Johann was given the freedom to study medicine, date the girl he loved. While I could focus on becoming an aspiring writer and later marrying Andrea who came from a humble background.

Ah, thinking of Andrea made me sad. For years, he was in love with a girl whose family thought he was unworthy of her. While my family ... we accepted him unconditionally.

"Hey, why are you coming here all of a sudden, Win?" Johann asked when he picked me up at the airport. "Are you here to find inspiration to write?"

I just nodded. I didn't say much during the trip from the airport to his clinic. Johann opened this clinic 4 years ago after traveling to Sumba and fell in love with the Lakey Peak area. The villagers around the coast were very poor. Also, infant and toddler's mortality rate in the area was so high that it touched his heart.

With the help of our father's money and the support of his friends from university, he set up the clinic and spent half his time there. Another half he was in Jakarta to manage Medicine For The Poor foundation, where he helped channel young doctors who wanted to volunteer for several months in remote areas, which had little to zero access to healthcare.

"There is no air conditioning here, but we have cool breeze from time to time. The beach is walking distance, and the scenery is very nice. You must like it." said Johann, while taking my handbag and placed it in the room. "Seriously, you only carry this one bag? Do you want me to go to Bali for shopping with you?"

"Thanks, but I think I have enough." I shook my head and kissed his cheek, "I'll sleep now... I'm tired after flying with two transits."

My understanding brother left me alone. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. I tend to sleep a lot lately. It felt like my body was exhausted and always demanded me to rest.

When Andrea arrived at Heathrow and called me, I was sleeping. It was only with my strong willpower that I could arrive in Sumba today, but then the stress was unbearable.

***

I slept for a long time and I hardly left my bedroom. It went on for weeks. Johann then understood that I was depressed and didn't bother me with unnecessary questions. He just made sure that food was always available and I didn't lack anything.

I saw many incoming calls from a UK phone number but I could not pick up the phone. I really didn't want to talk to anyone.

When I finally opened the e-mail, there were several e-mails from Andrea expressing worry.

I imagined how he would be in London. Of course, now he had moved from the hotel to a new home. I wondered if he chose a home that was close to the girl and her child. Maybe, he already spent every weekend with the girl and her child.

I once looked for the girl on Facebook, but just like Andrea, she didn't use social media either. I only knew her name was Adeline Surya and she was the only daughter of the Surya family who controlled the palm-oil plantation industry in Kalimantan. She had been living in London for seven years and now worked as lifestyle editor in a magazine there. I couldn't find much information about her online.

***

"Hi, Wina. Are you feeling better? Do you want to go to the beach or not?" Johann asked when he saw me coming out of my room carrying my laptop. "It's nice there if you want to write."

Before I replied, he had taken the laptop from my hand and pulled me along to follow him. In only 10 minute walk, we had arrived in the beautiful Lakey Peak Beach. There was a small gazebo with comfortable chairs facing the sea and Johann invited me to sit.

Some white tourists seemed to have fun surfing in the ocean. I saw the children playing on the beach cheerfully and some of them were also carrying surfboards. Strangely, there were some children who have blond hair and mixed appearances.

"Many children here don't know their fathers," Johann explained before I asked. "Lakey Peak Beach is famous for its waves, and many foreign tourists come here to surf. Some are 'dating' the local girls and go home after the surfing season is over. So many children are born as mixed-race bastards, and never know who their fathers are. One or two of them ended up being reunited with their fathers and have a happy life, but those are rare cases. A lot of kids here are good surfers. With surfing, they can improve their lives. In fact, there is one local child who has become a professional surfer and got contracted by R*pcurl from this area."

I watched the children playing on the beach with happy faces. Their smiles and laughter were pure, even though this area was plagued by poverty. Hearing Johann's story, I understood how those bastard mixed children felt.

Andrea was not ashamed of his status as a bastard, but that did not mean his childhood was easy. He had to deal with children his age who could be cruel and kept asking why his skin was not brown like theirs and why his father never came to school.

His naive mother fell in love with an Italian guy when she was working in a hotel in Bali and became pregnant. The man just left when he found out the woman was pregnant and returned to his home country. Andrea was raised by his mother alone. It left a deep mark in his heart that he was determined that he would become a good man. He didn't want to be a jerk like his father.

I know his heart ached when he learned that, without his knowledge, he had abandoned a child out there, and only learned of his existence after 7 years too late. That was why I let him go to London, so he could fulfill his promise to himself to be a good man.

It hurt my heart to think about how difficult it was for me to make that decision. I knew this was my own choice, but I never thought that it would be this painful.

My chest felt tight, my heart was filled with longing, so I refrain from calling Andrea. I was worried that I would be selfish and demanded him to come back to me.

***

I tried to keep myself busy with writing. I just wanted to take my mind off of Andrea and fill it with novel characters. I created a country called the Water Kingdom. Taishi was the crown prince, who had to ascend the throne when he was 9 years old after his father, the king, passed away. Taishi was locked up behind the palace wall while the prime minister ruled as the regent until he turned 16 years old and got married.

The lonely life in the palace without parents and friends made Taishi determined to leave. For years, he planned to escape the palace that he considered his prison. He could not wait for the turn of the century festival when security was weakened, and he could leave his life in the palace behind.

He ventured alone in disguise as a commoner, looking for his mother, who left the palace 15 years ago. He did not expect his reputation as the king outside the palace wall to be very bad, and his heart was touched to see how his people greatly suffered under the tyranny of corrupt officials and the ambitious prime minister.

Taishi then had to choose between living quietly as an ordinary citizen with the girl he loved, or return to the palace and marry the princess chosen by the prime minister, so he could take power. Because of his great love for his people, he finally chose the latter and went back.

The characters and plot flowed smoothly from my mind. I could easily write about Taishi and the Water Kingdom and other characters that he met throughout his journey. Somehow, I was reminded of what Andrea told me five years ago; that I could not produce good work because I never struggled.

Maybe he was right... Now I can pour my heart into my writing because I am struggling... And suddenly I could write good things.

***

My editor at Genta Publishing really liked the last script I sent her, and without much revision, they agreed to publish it. The book was very well received and soon became a bestseller. My mother was very proud and sent it to everyone she knew. I also received an email containing a photo of Andrea, smiling proudly while holding the book on his chest, a few months later.

'I am so proud of you' was the caption of his picture.

I received that email when I was at a museum in Aarnhem, The Netherlands. I was researching for my new novel. My next book will be set in WWII period, and I had been traveling to several countries in Europe to get research material from museums and archive centers.

I sat on a park bench and pondered while reading his email on my cellphone. Very precisely like clockwork, he would send me an email every Sunday when he shared with me how he was doing in London.

So since it was only Wednesday, I didn't expect to receive this email. In my heart, I was happy because, apparently, Andrea knew I had finally achieved decent success with my book.

I'd never replied to Andrea's email. I also never picked up his phone calls. So, he must now understand that I still couldn't talk to him. My lawyer said he already received the divorce papers six months ago. Until now, there had been no response from him on our divorce.

Even though Andrea seemed to try to slow down the process, I knew that sooner or later, we would formally separate, and the day would come when I could finally look into his eyes and talk with him.

After reading his email. I was prompted to explore social media one more time to try searching for news about Adeline Surya. This time, I saw that her social media account was already active. Adeline looked happy as she was sharing her life in London with her son.

In her profile photo, she, Andrea, and Ronan, their son, were photographed in front of the London Eye. There were a lot of comments in the photo from their old friends who were happy for them. Many were also praying for their happiness. They looked like such a perfect little family. He was handsome, she was beautiful, and their son took after Andrea. They were lovely to look at.

"Whaa... finally, you got yourself a Facebook account! This is Adeline and Andrea from High School 7, right? How are you guys doing? Now you're all staying in London?"

"Wow ... You guys are true relationship goals. You started dating when you guys were.. what, sixteen, right? I didn't expect puppy love can turn into a happily ever after, like in fairy tale. You both have such a handsome son too!"

"Adeline! I haven't heard from you for a long time. Please tell us when you are going home to Indonesia so that we can catch up!"

I now understood why Adeline disappeared from the public and shut herself away from her old school friends. She didn't create any online social media account for years until only recently. She certainly did not want their friends to know what happened 8 years ago.

She carried all the shame and pain alone. Andrea did not know what happened until last year. Now that Andrea had returned to her side, Adeline could finally chin up and face the world.

I really understood her and felt sorry for her. I also felt sorry for Andrea. I also know that I should be the bigger person and let them be happy together.

Thinking about my husband and his first love made me feel so miserable. Finally, I could only bury my face in my hands and sob. I remembered my friends in school used to call me "the girl who has everything", but now I feel like the poorest person in the world.

Ever heard of the saying, "Some people are so poor, all they have is money"?

I felt like I was one of those people.

***

My second book also won me praises and acceptance in the market. There weren't many works on war-time romance in my country's literary scene, and some critics considered my novel a breath of fresh air.

For the first time in my life, people started to recognize me on the street as a writer. I was quite surprised when I was walking alone in Central Park, New York, one afternoon, a group of Indonesian tourists greeted me enthusiastically.

"You're Ludwina Baskara, aren't you? Are you here looking for inspiration for your new book? What will your next book about?" they all surrounded me excitedly and kept asking me questions.

I was stunned because I did not expect that some people from my country would recognize me, here in New York, halfway across the globe from home.

"Eh ... how do you know it's me?" I asked in surprise.

"Well, you posted on Instagram that you were looking for inspiration to write in Central Park," replied one of them. She opened Instagram on her cellphone and showed it to me. "You're so cool! You went to the Netherlands today; fly to Spain the next day, and a week later, you were suddenly in Japan, and now, here you are in New York..."

Ohh. I just remembered that my social media manager was always posting updates about me on various media. My publisher hired her as part of my second book marketing campaign. I hadn't touched social media ever since I married Andrea.

As an internet security expert, he made me aware of how dangerous it was to let big technology companies to mine and store my personal data, so I quit social media entirely. I almost forgot that there was still an Instagram account under my name out there.

"I'm no longer looking for inspiration to write my books," I replied kindly, "I was just missing New York. I used to study at Columbia University."

"Ohh ... that is so cool."

After taking a mandatory group photo and I gave them autographs, the group walked away happily. Once they left, a realization suddenly came to me. This is it! I have finally become a famous writer. It was a dream come true.

When I was an aspiring writer, hoping to see my book published, I had always dreamed of getting recognized on the street. I thought that would make me happy. Unfortunately, when the day actually came, I was still feeling sad.

***

It's been a year since I last saw Andrea. So much had happened in my life and career. I did think things would get better over time, but somehow my broken heart did not recover.

An email came to my cellphone from Andrea. Hm ... This is not Sunday. Why would he send me an email?

[I was invited to speak at an international cybersecurity conference in Bali next month. Would you like to meet?]

Oh ...

I remembered 6 months ago Andrea also asked permission to go back to Indonesia and meet me. Finally, he was able to take time off from his new job. As usual, I didn't reply to his email, and he understood that I still didn't want to meet him.

Seeing his email, I was touched. Even to this day, Andrea still had not changed. He respected my wishes and always asked for consent when he wanted to invade my privacy. I didn't have to worry that he would suddenly appear in front of me when I was walking in Central Park like this.

He could track my location anywhere in the world, but I knew that he would never do that because he respected me.

Six months ago he asked me if I wanted to meet him, but this time he told me that he would be in Bali next month. It meant, regardless of whether I wanted to see him or not, Andrea would still fly to Bali. This a statement, not actually a question. The email made my heart restless.

Would I like to see him? Of course, in a heartbeat.

Should I see him? Could I see him?

Those are the million-dollar questions.

Finally, I decided to reply to his email.

.

.

>>>>>>>

From the author:

Sumba is a really beautiful island, located in the eastern part of Indonesia, near Bali. But contrary to the popular and well developed Bali island, Sumba is quite underdeveloped and some parts are stricken by poverty.