A Voyage Through High and Low

Chapter 1: Past and present. Time is tricky.

"She's still unconscious. If you need anything from us, just press the blue button near the table lamp beside the bed," said Dr. Faizal.
I nodded. I felt a wave of relief when I finally got to see my mother, but still it's tough to process how she got cancer. Cancer, just like what Dr. Siddharta Mukherjee said in his bestselling book The Emperor of All Maladies, remains impenetrable despite modern medical advances. But I had to look strong in front of her. There was no time to feel sorry or sad. She needed me, and I would be there now. Nurse Imel pursed her lips and gave me an approving nod.

There I was sitting by Mom's side, two souls lost in a world where no one else gave a shit about us. She was beautiful in spite of all the tubes marring the view. A portion of brown, long hair blocked half her face, so I combed it aside with my fingers to avoid disturbing her sleep. She looked calm and peaceful, but I knew inside she was violently fighting to regain her consciousness back. I could no longer hide behind my mask. I broke down and sobbed like a child again.

"Hey Mom, I'm here. Don't worry. Yusak is here."

Silence. I gently squeezed her tiny hands.

"Can you hear me there? I hope you can..."

Silence.

I traced her left arm from bottom to top, trying to remember everything. There were scars and cigarette burns all over her arm, causing it to appear similar to the blood moon. One night, Dad came home at 3 in the morning with a pack of cigarettes on one hand and a bottle of wine on another. Mom scolded him and demanded answer to where he had been. He dismissed her while shouting at her. Stuck in the operation theatre, he said. Well, I certainly did not learn to lie from him. He was a terrible liar – his shirt smelled of girls' perfume and the sweet, sickening smell of alcohol. Get in and shower. I don't want Yusak seeing you like this, Mom said. She didn't know that I had been watching the whole time from my room upstairs. God, you're so controlling! Just go to hell, he said. Dad swang his glass bottle and hit Mom on the shoulder, and she winced at the pain. Even when she's feeling pain, Mom was always trying to protect me – she didn't want to wake me up. The abuse didn't stop after that night. It only got worse, and Mom only stayed just for the sake of keeping the family intact. For me to have two functional parents. She couldn't let herself realize that we were, in fact, a dysfunctional family.

It was 5.30 AM. The night sky had made way for the glorious sun to paint it light orange. The quiet city had now awoken and announced to the public that it's Tuesday. Soon, the streets would be crowded with colorful cars and motorcycles, and it would become the Jakarta we always knew once again. The city landscape was Mom's favorite scene. I remember back when I was in primary school, the three of us would always book a table in a luxurious restaurant every Christmas Eve. It was a French restaurant perched on the highest floor of Jakarta's finest apartment – North Hill. Mom's ritual there was to carry her plate of escargot to the glass balcony and savored it there. She would say, isn't Jakarta beautiful? We had been to Singapore, Melbourne, and other wonderful cities, yet Jakarta remained her favorite city. It's sad that this beautiful memory was now a distant one. But, the saddest element from these distant memories was the gradual change of my father from being a loving husband into a cruel jerk. This was one part of an abusive relationship that most people got wrong. Such relationship was almost never abusive from the start; otherwise, why would my Mom marry my Dad? He used to be decent, always making time for family despite being overwhelmed by work at the hospital. But life got in the way. People change. They always will – it's just a matter of time when we can no longer control our own inner demons.

Looking at Mom's limp body, I was tempted to call that jerk using the hospital's phone on the bedside table. Dad left us two months ago, and we were told by a friend that he moved to another city. He might still have some money that we could use, I thought. Ah forget it, he doesn't care about us anymore, I thought again. It appeared that I had been so caught up with my own inner monologue that I didn't notice a hospital staff knocking on our door. The staff was neither a nurse nor a doctor – he was wearing a white shirt and khaki jeans. He's wearing a different kind of nametag than the other hospital staff. A social worker perhaps?

"Yusak Abimanyu?" the man inquired.

"Yes. That's me. Is there any problem?"

"Not at all, Yusak. My name is Mr. Abi. We just, uhm, we need you downstairs to help deal with some administrative problems. Can you come with me?"

I glanced at my mother, worried. Hang in there, Mom. I will help you get the treatment you need. I kissed her forehead and followed the man outside. Shit, shit, shit, how are we going to pay for the treatment? Are our health insurances still active? My father could have cut it off already.

"Wait here for a while, Yusak. I need to go to the bathroom quick," said Mr. Abi.

The corridor was now half-empty. There were only a few people left waiting outside. A bald man covered in black cassock immediately caught my attention. I assumed he was in his 50s, because he didn't look much older than my father. I didn't have to attend church every Sunday to know that he's a priest. But there's something weirdly familiar about him; it's as if I had known him all my life. He was talking to a doctor, but he shortly realized that I was paying attention. He excused himself from the doctor and walked towards me with a blank expression.

"Hello, son. You need any help? Are you lost?" asked the priest.

"Hi, Sir. No, no, sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

Before I could further explain that I was waiting for the social worker to come back, the priest looked over the window. "Is that your mother?"

"Yes. She's sick, and I–"

"Cancer?"

I was taken aback. "Y–yes, Sir. How do you know?"

"I just spend a lot of time here in the hospital, so you can say I have a good intuition. I serve as a hospital chaplain. I offer patients here spiritual guidance. To find meaning in life."

I was sure I had met this person somewhere. Maybe he used to be a priest at my church some years ago?

"Do I know you? Sorry, I get the feeling that I saw you somewhere in the past," I finally asked.

"The past?" the priest tilted his head. "Ah, don't put too much faith in time, son. Time is tricky."

"What do you mean?"

"I can see that you're worried that you're unable to pay for your mother's treatment. If you come with me now, I can help you with that."

"Look, Sir, I really don't want any problem. I'm just waiting for a social worker to come back from the bathroom and escort me to the admin desk."

The priest's expression didn't change. He remained calm and composed. But this time, he lowered his voice. "Yusak, 15 seconds from now, that man will come back. If you come with him, I'm afraid that your mother will only get to stay for three days because you can't pay. This hospital is kind, but that doesn't mean they don't need money."

My heartbeat grew faster. How does he know my name? Before I could ask him further, he told me something that I could not resist.

"You can change this. You can prevent your mother from getting sick with cancer. You can even choose the kind of life you two want to live. It's now or never."

**

Hi everyone! I am now back on Wattpad, and I have published some early chapters from my new book, A Voyage Through High and Low.

Please leave a like, comment, and feedback! Do you like it? What are your theories on the plot? Feel free to share with me your opinion; it means a lot to me! 

I will publish the next chapters in the following weeks :)