Page 43 of Next Time Will Be Our Turn
“This is amazing,” I said to Parker.
He smiled, pulled me to him, and kissed me softly on the lips. “You’re amazing. Most people here hate hiking.”
I wondered how many girls he’d taken hiking out here but chose not to press, not wanting to ruin the moment.
One Friday evening, he texted,Pack enough hiking clothes for three days.
I freaked out then and demanded that he tell me where we were going, but all he would say was that it would be the best thing ever and that he’d asked my parents for permission and they’d granted it. I ignored the churning in my gut and clung instead to the excitement sparking in my chest. I’d never been with anyone who cared so much about me that they would go to such lengths to plan surprises for me every weekend.
Parker picked me up and took us to the airport, where we caught a domestic flight from Soekarno-Hatta Airport to Juanda International Airport. I still had no freaking clue where we were, except that we were in Indonesia, at least. When we landed and walked outside of the airport, Parker spread his arms, grinned, and said, “We’re going to hike up Mount Bromo, Maggie!”
I didn’t like the nickname Maggie but never bothered to correct him because it seemed like a petty thing to do. Anyway, I was floored by the reveal. “Holy shit, for real?” Aside from Bali, I had never been outside of Jakarta. Sentul didn’t count. I was ashamed to admit that I had no idea what the rest of Indonesia was like.
It took no time for me to fall in love with the beauty of the Bromo Tengger Semeru National Park. The area was like nothing I’d ever seen, nothing like the rugged, lush terrain of Yosemite or the serenity of Tahoe. Bromo felt more mystical, a cluster of volcanoes that feel like they’d been around since the earth was born, their peaks hidden by a blanket of clouds.
We stayed at a hotel overnight, and I was impressed to find how meticulously Parker had planned the whole thing, down to preparing water bottles and first aid kits for both of us. He’d even hired a guide for the trek. We woke up at two thirty in the morning to start our hike. It was rough going at first, mostly because hiking in the dark was a vicious and terrible thing. I grumbled to myself and hardly spoke a word to Parker, secretly fuming that he’d pushed me into doing this. But then we broke through the cloud cover just before the first sunrays kissed the skies, and it was as though we’d stepped from the mortal world into a celestial realm. The clouds below us looked like a mysticalblanket and Mount Bromo itself a sleeping god who might wake at any moment with a gentle roar.
And that moment, as I gazed with open-mouthed wonderment at the glorious sight before me, was when I fell in love with Parker. Ellery was magic and air and sweet confusion. Parker was the earth, solid and undeniable. It was easy to lean on him. Later, I would find out it was easier still to break against him. But I didn’t see that, not then. I didn’t see beyond the excitement of discovering every weekend what he’d planned for us. I failed to grasp the fact that he, and only he, had been in charge of things. He never once asked what I wanted to do, and at the time, as directionless as I was, it was a relief to let someone else take the wheel. I blame myself as much as I blame Parker for the way our relationship was. Even now, I sometimes imagine how things must have been from his point of view—how perfectly happy and placid I was in the months we dated, and how betrayed he must have felt when my spirit awoke from slumber and screamed back alive, burning everything in its way.
But for now, standing in each other’s arms at the top of Mount Bromo, the two of us were quiet, content, and happy with each other.
Chapter 14
MAGNOLIA
2006
Parker and I dated for almost a year before he proposed to me. The proposal itself was sweet, but not a surprise because, of course, we’d very sensibly discussed it in great detail beforehand. We’d had meals with both my parents and his where marriage was brought up, and nobody expressed any negative opinions about it. We were, after all, perfect on paper—both of us from similar ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds. We even looked good together; Parker was five eight, tall for a Chindo guy, and when we stood next to each other, people often remarked what a cute couple we made. We rarely fought, and at the time, I thought it was because he was so agreeable and reasonable. I didn’t think of how muted I had become over the years, how it had simply become habit to nod and agree with whatever anyone said.
You know what makes me mad, even to this day? That later, when shit hit the fan, most people thought I had tricked Parker.They thought I’d deliberately hidden my true personality to entrap him into marrying me before shedding my sheep’s clothing and revealing the she-demon underneath. As if I could be bothered to trick any man into marrying me.
Parker proposed at our favorite steak house. It was the kind of place where everyone spoke in a low murmur. I had known he would be proposing then because he had told me, in advance, to “wear something unforgettable.” When I’d read the text earlier that afternoon, Ellery’s voice had immediately popped into my head.Dress like a penguin, Ellery said.That’ll be unforgettable. And I’d grinned and shook my head. In the end, I opted for something safe. An off-shoulder, knee-length LBD. Hardly unforgettable, but I’d been with Parker for ten months now, and I knew his fashion sense veered toward conservative. Mama, who had sensed that this would be the night, squeezed my hand when I came down the stairs. She smiled at me, her eyes shining. I thought she might tell me she loved me, or some other form of motherly affection, but what she actually said was “You have fulfilled our expectations.”
I had, in fact, fulfilled nothing. Aside from getting into a serious relationship with Parker, that is. And that was it, the extent of their expectations. The beast inside me stirred at this comment, then I swallowed and forced a smile, and it tucked its head back into the crook of its arm and went back to sleep. I stepped out of the house.
The proposal came after I had finished my tenderloin (150 grams, medium-rare), the ring placed on top of my tiramisu. I smiled wide when I saw it and Parker went on one knee as the whole restaurant watched. He was obviously uncomfortable; public proposals weren’t really a Chindo thing. In fact, formalproposals weren’t really a Chindo thing. But we were modern, we were Westernized, and we wanted to do things like in the movies. And so he got down on one knee, took my hand, and said, his voice stammering, “Maggie—”
My smile wavered at the nickname, but I shook myself and pumped the smile full of renewed enthusiasm.
“Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
A small voice whispered:Is that all? That was kind of uninspired.
I smacked it down. How awful could I be to not be absolutely swooning at this proposal? Who cared about originality when he’d gone to such efforts to court me and now to propose to me? What the hell made me think I deserved better than this? I had nothing to offer anyone. No real career, no real personality, no nothing.
I was very aware of everyone’s eyes on us, so I made sure to put on a good show. I placed a hand over my mouth as though I were shocked. I blinked hard. And I said in a loud but breathless voice, “Yes!” Everyone cheered and clapped. Parker gave me a swift hug and kissed me chastely on the cheek, then we sat back down, our faces hot from the spectacle we’d just made. We grinned at each other, and I remember, even now, how brightly his eyes sparkled in the candlelight. When I looked at him then, I saw our future rolling out before me, a smooth and safe path, straight all the way through to the end, every bump and pothole easily visible and quickly smoothed over. And I felt myself ripping into two pieces, one saying:I did it. I got the Chindo dream.And the other saying:Is that all?
Papa actually got teary-eyed when we came home and told them the news. Mama hugged us both and said to Parker, “Nowyou can stop calling me Tante and start calling me Mama, you hear me?”
Parker obediently said, “Yes, Mama.” He nodded at Papa and said, “Papa.”
This time, both of them teared up; they’d finally gotten the son they’d longed for ever since Iris was first born. Papa couldn’t stop patting Parker’s shoulder and muttering phrases like “Good man” and “Good job, Son.” We talked briefly about wedding plans—all vague, no real details, because we were still dreamy and distracted then. After a while, Parker went home, and Papa went upstairs, leaving me alone with Mama.
There was a strange atmosphere in the room. I glanced at Mama, wondering what this static in the air was. She should be elated, and I could tell she was, but there was also something sliding under the surface, lurking in the water the way a big fish would.
“I’m pretty tired—”
“You did it, Magnolia,” she said.
