Page 57 of The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties

“Sorry, uh, can you—” What the hell is the word for “repeat” in Indonesian? In the end, I settle for, “Can you say that again?”

The operator repeats herself, slower this time, and I get the gist of her question: What is your emergency?

Oh god. It’s in this moment that I realize I have no clue what the word for “kidnapping” is in Indonesian. “Uh, my aunt, she was—uh, she was taken.” But I’ve used the word “ambil,” which technically should be used on objects, not people, as in “ambil the bag” and not “ambil the aunt.”

“Do you mean that your aunt was picked up?”

“No, not picked up. Like, she was taken. Diambil.” My voice is getting louder. Oh, the irony of the situation. I’m always telling Ma that repeating herself louder doesn’t actually help her get understood, and now I’m doing the exact same thing. “Kidnapped!” I blurt out in English, hoping against hope the operator understands it.

“Kidnapped. Diculik?”

“Yes! Diculik, that’s it. Yes, my aunt was diculik and you need to—ah, mail people before my whole family is killed.”

“I thought you said your aunt was kidnapped, but now it sounds like your whole family has been taken as well?”

I sputter wordlessly for a second, hurling myself over the mental hurdle of getting myself understood in a language I’m not used to speaking. I’ve taken for granted the fact that I’ve gotten comfortable with just listening to Indonesian and not speaking it, and now that I’m under the haze of panic, everything I know about the language has gone out the window. Of course, even if I were relaying the information in English, it would still take a lot of explaining, because how the hell do I convey to anyone what just happened?

In a halting, broken Indonesian, I say, “It’s a long story. My aunt was diambil—diculik, then we tried to get her back by uh—we entered the kidnapper’s house and now we’re stuck in here and you need to get us out.”

There’s a moment’s silence. “So your aunt was kidnapped, and instead of calling the police, your whole family stole into the kidnapper’s house to get her out, but now you’re caught?”

“Yes! That’s exactly right.”

The operator gives a long, tired sigh. “You do realize that prank-calling 110 is a jailable offense?”

“No, wait—this isn’t a prank, please. I—” I struggle to think of the words for “I swear.”

“Mhmm.” Even through the phone, I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “And where is this kidnapper’s house located?”

“It’s—I don’t know the address, but it belongs to Kristofer Kolumbes Hermansah.”

She cackles. She actually cackles, like a demented witch. “Oh right. Of course. Yes, Mr. Hermansah, the guy who owns all those hotels and malls and schools and all those charitable organizations? He kidnapped your whole family and you want us to storm his house, am I right?”

“Well. Yes!” I cry desperately.

“Listen, count yourself lucky that I’m in a good mood and I won’t be pressing charges for this prank call. But do it again and you’ll be looking at prison time.” With that, the call is so abruptly disconnected that it takes a second for me to realize she’s hung up.

I stare at the phone for a second, swallowing the urge to scream. I shake my head, trying to clear it, and instead, dial Abi’s number. He picks up after the first ring and doesn’t even let me speak.

“Do you have her? Is she alright? Tell me she’s okay!”

“She’s fine.” I hesitate. “Ah, well, she was fine. But Abi, listen, we didn’t manage to get her out. Things got bad.” Myvoice comes out shaky, and I have to pause to take a deep breath. “Everyone’s been taken, including Second Aunt. Everyone, that is, except me, and I’m stuck in a room and they’ll probably find me soon. Well, and Big Aunt, but she’s all the way down in the kitchen and I have no idea what she can do anyway, there’s only two of us against all of them.” My voice breaks, tears catching in my throat.

“This is going too far. I shouldn’t have allowed this to happen. I knew it, it’s time for war.”

“Wait, but if you go to war, what if he hurts them—” I realize I’m speaking to a disconnected line. This time, the shriek tears itself out of me before I clasp my hands over my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my hands trembling against my tear-stained cheeks, and gasp in and out. I try calling Abi again, but it goes straight to voicemail.

What have I done? What the hell does “war” even mean? What else can it mean? An all-out fight, of course. Bloodshed. And who can tell what Kristofer will do when faced with that? He’s got hostages galore; he doesn’t have to face Abi in a war, all he has to do is bring out Nathan, Ma, Second Aunt, and Fourth Aunt and threaten their lives to coerce Abi into admitting defeat. And then what will happen?

I can’t bear it. This can’t be real. I can’t possibly be in a situation where I’m about to lose literally every member of my family. Everyone I love. (Well, minus Big Aunt, but really, what are the chances she’s going to make it out of here safely?) I feel like a caged animal, awaiting the return of the hunter who caught me, knowing that things are about to get much worse. I sag against the wall, hopelessness taking over, making my limbs feel heavy.

But deep inside me is a kernel that refuses to bend. A tinyember burning brighter and brighter until I find my legs shifting under me, pushing me back up. I’m not just going to sit here and wait for Kristofer’s men to find me. No matter how futile, no matter how outnumbered I am, I need to keep trying. Isn’t that what my family has always done for me? Even when we all thought that Staphanie and her family had everything on us, we refused to let them win. We’re fighters. And after everything, the least I can do for my family is try.

17

I stand up and look around, forcing myself to count breaths as I take in my surroundings. Maybe there’s something here that I can use.

Sturdy, dark-colored shelves line the walls, each of them holding leather-bound books. The room is dominated by the largest office desk I have ever seen. It’s as big as a six-seater dining table, with a chair behind it that’s so large it’s practically a throne. This is where Kristofer conducts his business. Maybe I can find something useful. I don’t know what, but no harm in looking.

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