"NO DESTINATION" in "SHORTS"

This is my translated work from my Indonesian fiction of the same title, inspired by a Hoobastank song. Check this link and find the original work on page 4: https://ugc.production.linktr.ee/896be0f7-c5fb-4b66-b814-2e0aad0860b3_vol.35NOV2023.pdf

“I run away … through the dark and empty space … where the wind will erase your memory … / Here in the black … there is no turning back … / It’s the only place where I can get away … “

I remember the first time I bought my favorite US rock band Hoobastank’s “Fight or Flight”. Not only a loyal fan, I’ve been interested since I first listened to their first single “This Is Gonna Hurt” — full of power and rage. It suits my emotional state at that time.

I’ve grown crazy over their other song “No Destination”, although I doubt this song will be best remembered. The majority of Indonesians only remember Hoobastank as that band who sings their all-time ballad — “The Reason”.

I don’t recall when I first developed this habit as I went home alone at night. On my motorcycle, I’d speed by with my earphones stuck to my ears — which were also directly connected to my Discman inside my backpack.

Only that song, “No Destination”, could make me cry — especially when my heart was badly clouded …

-***-

“This is where I know I’m safe … / The road is my escape … / a hiding place from you under the sky … / There’s nowhere else I’d rather be … / The moonlight blankets me … / The starts will be my company tonight … “

“Tired, son?” Mother asked nicely when that man smugly walked into our family dine-in. Behind the cash register machine, I tried hard to mask my annoyance. Since Big Sister started dating him, Mother’s attitude had changed drastically. She’d become extra friendly and very accommodating towards the man who was not even her son.

I could no longer recognize my mother. She was also spoiling Big Sister, who had already been working full-time with a more stable salary. Our family dine-in had just started opening. I’d been a graduate long enough without a dream job yet. So, while sending my work application letters and short stories to some media platforms to earn extra cash, I was helping out at my family dine-in. It was not my dream in my twenties.

Dad had started getting more senile that he couldn’t work anymore. Our dine-in hadn’t earned us as enough income as we needed yet. There were times when they had to cut down my salary. I hadn’t seen my friends for a long time, unlike Big Sister who could still hang out with her friends.

“Yes, Auntie. Very tired.”

How impolite! My mother brought him a cup of hot tea and he accepted it as if he was her employer and she was his housemaid. He didn’t even thank her. I was so sad. How come Mother still looked so happy, as if he was her favorite son?

“Raina,” Mother’s voice suddenly broke me out of my reverie. I could already guess her next instruction to me: “Please fetch Bibi Ani in the kitchen and ask her to fix some rice with fried oxtail soup.”

I’d already known that it was for him. He never paid. Mother didn’t want him to. Our dine-in hadn’t made that much profit yet.

I knew why Mother was pampering that man too much. She wanted Big Sister to get married right away. Big Sister was already 28. She was so afraid of the “old maid” stigma.

-***-

“The further I run … the more I become … weightless and numb … to the hurting … / Worries and fears … hold no gravity here … / It’s the only way, it all makes sense to me … “

“Next time ask if anyone is still using the internet at home! Don’t just shut it off! Apologize to him! You’ve disturbed his work!!” After she’d finished yelling at me, Big Sister slammed down the phone. Not once did she ask for my side of the story. I mean, I’d already apologized. I didn’t know if her husband had trouble hearing or just loved blowing things out of proportion just so he could appear as a victim in his wife’s eyes.

If only Dad hadn’t had a stroke, I would’ve left home to find my place to live right away. I’d have rented a place with even the little money I made at that time. Only for him, I’d pretend that everything was just fine.

Unfortunately, all my best friends had taken the worst of me. I sometimes felt guilty due to the sudden bursts of emotions, shocking them all. I sometimes wondered if I still deserved friends like them.

“I DON’T WANNA GO HOME!” I burst into tears, soon after my meltdown over what had been at home for the umpteenth time. It was embarrassing as if I weren’t a 25-year-old grown woman. I’d returned to being an envious 15-year-old because Big Sister seemed to have always received all the attention from our mother. I thought I’d gotten over such feelings. “My mom still has got one daughter. She won’t miss me when I’m gone!”

“Sssh … Raina, don’t say that …” They all hugged me, trying to comfort me. “Your mother will realize this herself … “

-***-

“No destination … / I have found the calm inside the storm … “

There were already countless nights I’d sat on my motorcycle, listening to the same song over and over. Compared to back then, since Dad had finally passed away in 2014, I got a good job far away from home. Without a second thought, I took it and started looking for a rented place to live.

Mother knew I was angry and hurt, yet she didn’t try to stop me from leaving. She didn’t even comment, just asking me to come home at least once every weekend. I’ve only got one parent left, so why would I want to be insolent?

Every time I return home, all I hear is complaints. Mother’s Favourite Son-In-Law has finally shown his true colors, acting insolent at home but still expecting others to respect him. Strangely, I’ve been mostly quiet this time.

Have I gone numb, perhaps? I still remember one night when I used to live with them:

At that time, I was returning home from overtime at work for my first real job. It was at ten, and I saw that the light in the kitchen was still on. He saw me, I wasn’t stupid. I could still hear the click in the dead of the night before he walked away.

The kitchen door had been locked when I approached it. I phoned Ma, feeling bad about having to wake her up. When she finally opened the door for me, she asked, “Who locked this?”

I mentioned his name angrily and with repulse, before storming into my bedroom. I’m not a cowardly snitch. I” ‘d only chosen to be honest that night. I no longer cared that they’d find me spiteful because I’d just gotten that job far away from home …

• The end –