I was sitting on a bench in Pelangi Park near my village. I liked spending my spare time in the afternoon reading a book in that park. Not many people came there on working days. I, therefore, preferred to read my books in that park than in my room with a bunch of noisy children playing in the front yard, because they ruined my concentration. The weather was nice. The wind blew slowly, the sky was clear and blue. A paper bag full of snacks and a bottle of mineral water accompanied me. I continued my reading of Tere Liye’s novel, Pulang, on page 20.

I had been reading for about 15 minutes when a chick poked my left leg. I was startled to watch it pitter-patter around my legs. Like a reflex I kicked the chick. Some other chicken and their hen came after it. Feeling upset, I kicked them also.

“Hi, what are you doing?” somebody said.

A tall handsome boy suddenly appeared beside me. He wore Chino trousers and a white T-shirt. It went with his light skin color. He was about my age, and I had never met him. I didn’t know why he was looking at me angrily.

“They are only chicken. Why did you kick them so brutally?”

“They disrupted me,” I replied to him nonchalantly.

“Yes, they did. But you should not be cruel to animals. They are only chickens. They will not harm you.”

“I know, but I don’t like chickens.”

“Why? Ah, Rika. You must stop your habit of kicking chickens,” he said.

“You know my name?” I asked him surprisingly.

“Yes.”

I was thinking of when and where we had met before.

“Someone told me about a girl named Rika who dislikes chicken,” he continued.

Blank. It was confusing to know someone I never knew blame my bad habit.

“Come on, Rika. You may have difficult moments in the past. But, they are only chickens. We should care for them. They haven’t done anything to you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I said.

I looked straight into his eyes, trying to figure out what that boy was talking about. He just smiled like an innocent creature who wanted to get involved in my personal life.

“Sorry, Rika. This is because I don’t want someone to hurt animals.”

I took a deep breath remembering the worst moment of my life. My family and I had a simple life. My father was fired from his job as a book lay-outer for a small printing company. During my father’s unemployment, my mother sold cakes and snacks to fulfil our daily needs. However, it was not easy. We lived miserably in lack of money every day. We often had to borrow money from our neighbors. That morning I found my father restless. He had been restless for a few days. I did not know what he was thinking about. I was too young to understand his problems.

“Dad, I’m going to a new school tomorrow,” I said.

“Yes, of course. You’ll go to your new school tomorrow. I’m going to take you to the school early in the morning,” he replied while stroking my hair.

“But, have you got my uniform?”

He was silent. He looked concerned.

“Dad, if we you don’t have money…” I said warily.

“No…no…you will get your uniform today,” he replied quickly.

“Are you serious?”

Happily, I imagined myself going to school wearing a new uniform and school bag.

“Sure. My beloved girl is going to school tomorrow with a new uniform and bag. She is now a junior high school student,” he said.

I hugged and kissed him. Then he went out and came back late, possibly at 11 p.m. He woke me up and asked me to try on my uniform. That night I said I loved him very much several times.

Early in the morning, after our small breakfast, he took me to school. He said many things. I had to obey my teachers. I had to be friendly to new friends. I should not be lazy. I had to study seriously. He hoped I would be a successful person in the future. When leaving my school, he waved at me.

I thought everything was OK with him until my mother picked me up after school. I was anxious about why my mother came instead of him. My mother said my father had just got a new job out of town. I was very happy, but it seemed my mother wasn’t telling me the truth.

A week later, I discovered that my father was imprisoned. I understood it was the reason why some neighbors were talking about my father behind our backs. I cried and went to my mother asking for an explanation.

“Yes, your father was imprisoned on the first day you went to your new school. He stole one of Mr. Abdul’s favorite roosters,” she replied with tears in her eyes.

“Mom…”

I was terribly sad. It broke my heart.

“He had tried hard to borrow money for your admission fee. He even asked Mr. Abdul. But no one lent him money. Desperately, he stole and sold one of Mr. Abdul’s favorite roosters.”

My sadness broke into deep weeping. Tears fell down my face.

“After taking you to school, he went to Mr. Abdul and begged for forgiveness. He had no choice except to steal the rooster. But Mr. Abdul took your father to the police. He was then imprisoned,” my mother continued.

I knew Mr. Abdul was the richest person in this village. He had many kinds of roosters, but he was also quite stingy. My mother wiped her tears with her dirty right hand. She had not washed her hands from the wheat flour dough.

“Sorry, honey. I should not tell you about this. Listen! I’m telling you not to hate your father. Never! I know he has made a mistake. For any reason, we should not steal anything. This is because your father and I want you to go to school. We want you to be a successful person in the future. You must live a better life than ours.”

I did not know what to say.

“I know, mom. I know how much you both love me,” finally I said to her calmly.

We hugged each other in tears.

“Now that your father is not here, would you please help me make the cakes?” my mother asked.

My life was not the same as when my father was at home. Usually, he helped my mother do things. Now it was my job to help my mother after school. I was not interested in going anywhere and playing with my friends. Not anymore. At that moment, I grew to dislike chicken very much. Any kind of chicken. Roosters, hens, even chicks. None would be safe from my kicks if they came around me. I did not care about other people’s complaints. I knew they were just animals. They should not be blamed for what happened to my father. My father just had bad luck. But, it was a rooster that got my father imprisoned.

I bit my lip. It was always painful to recall the bitter moment in my life. Even when my father was released from jail and a significant chunk of time had passed, I was still unable to forget it. It was unfortunate that Mr. Abdul would not lend him money or allow him to pay back his rooster as a debt. I was so sad that my father was in prison for several months.

“So, are you an animal lover?” I said.

“No, I’m not fond of animals. I only believe that a pretty girl like you must have a kind heart,” he said with a smile.

I was a bit flattered.

“I’m Ibrahim. Call me Ibra. I live in that complex,” he said.

“You already known my name.”

“I want to let you know that…” he stopped for a while.

“What?”

“If…you ever need a friend, I will be pleased to be your friend. I will listen to you,” he said.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Would you mind if I ask you to stop your habit of kicking chickens?”

I did not pay any more attention to what he was saying. My family and I now have a better life. My father works for a bigger company and gets paid well. My mother owns a bakery. I also know that I cannot blame chicken all my life. It is only difficult to forget that particular moment.

“Please. I really believe you are a good girl,” he said.

“I’m not sure. But…I think I will try.”

He smiled again, showing his white teeth.

I took my book from the bench, ready to leave that park. That conversation had taken away some of my feelings. I felt that I needed to go home and rest. I was about to ride my bicycle when he stopped me.

“Can I meet you again in this park?” he said.

I was a little bit bashful. I didn’t say anything but I nodded my head and waved my hand.

_______________

Heni Kurniawati is an Indonesian writer. Her latest novel, Passion in Sop Buah, was published in cooperation with Kaifa Publishing in November 2017.

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We are looking for contemporary fiction between 1,500 and 2,000 words by established and new authors. Stories must be original and previously unpublished in English.

The email for submitting stories is: shortstory@thejakartapost.com

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