Promise to Come Home

Joya was furious with her son, to the point where she began recounting the struggle her husband—Kenzo—had gone through to win her over. He had been a playboy who enjoyed changing girlfriends, but he never indulged in casual sex. And when he broke up with Joya, Kenzo changed himself for the better to prove he was worthy of her.

“Mommy is truly disappointed in you, El.” Joya covered her lips with one hand, as though trying to hold back the sadness caused by her son's change.

Langit could clearly see the disappointment in his mother’s eyes. He reached for her, trying to hug her, but she pushed him away, unwilling to accept his embrace. Langit didn’t give up—he wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on the top of her head, which only reached the level of his arm.

“Mom, forgive me,” Langit said, guilt weighing heavily on him as he saw the disappointment in Joya’s eyes.

“Why are you apologizing to Mommy? Apologize to yourself—your behavior is damaging your own soul. Mommy misses the old you, El. The you who always thought positively and never crossed the line. Even when you got into trouble, Mommy could still accept it. But now? Mommy can’t accept this. If you want to stay like this, then forget that you have a Mommy and Daddy.” Joya was truly enraged this time, even to the point of threatening him. She tried to pry off the arms wrapped tightly around her, but she couldn’t—Langit held her too firmly.

“Mom, don’t say that. You know I love both of you,” Langit pleaded, trying to soothe her disappointment.

“Love? What love? If you loved us, you wouldn’t leave us like this. You stopped caring about us just because of one girl. If you want to keep being heartbroken, then go ahead—just forget you have us.” Joya spoke sharply and pressingly. If soft words could not reach him, then she would use words as harsh as her own heart could bear.

“Mom .…” Langit didn’t expect Joya to say something like that.

“What? It’s fine if we no longer have you. Mommy and Daddy can still live together. We used to live just the two of us, and we can do it again. And anyway, Mommy doesn’t only have you—I still have Cheryl. Mommy doesn’t want a stubborn child who destroys himself and can’t think about others. Mommy is disappointed and doesn’t want to look at you anymore. Mommy wants to go back to Indonesia.” Joya kept speaking painful words, though this was her last resort to reach him.

Langit tightened his embrace around her even more, bending down slightly and resting his head affectionately on her shoulder.

“Mommy wants me to come home?” Langit asked softly.

“No, what for? Trying to persuade you is like talking to a rock. Even if Mommy dies, it still won’t get through to you,” Joya replied sharply, still upset.

“Hush … Mom, why do you keep talking about dying? That’s bad luck,” Langit said, almost laughing at how she was sulking.

“I don’t care. Mommy doesn’t care what you want anymore. Mommy is stressed from dealing with you!” Joya grumbled, trying to pull his arms off her and shaking her shoulder so he would stop leaning on her.

“Fine. I’ll come home. But give me some time to take care of everything here before moving,” Langit finally conceded. He just hated hearing his mother mention death to scare him. Or perhaps he was afraid it could happen while he wasn't by her side.

Joya stopped resisting. Then she glanced at Langit, who was still clinging adorably to her shoulder.

“You’re really going home? You’re not lying just to stop Mommy from being angry?” she asked again.

Langit nodded like a kindergarten kid who had just been scolded.

“I love Mommy. If you want me to come home, I’ll come home. I’m sorry for making you angry. Don’t be upset anymore—you won’t look pretty,” he teased lightly.

Joya couldn’t help feeling exasperated at his joking tone. She pinched his sharp nose.

“You really know how to get to me, don’t you?” she said, pinching harder.

“Mommy, that hurts!” Langit yelped, his nose turning red.

Joya let go of his nose and looked at her son, who had now released her and was rubbing the sore spot.

“Promise you’ll come home with Mommy,” she said once more, needing to hear it.

“I promise, Mom.”

I’ll come home—but I’m not sure I can face my past. What does she look like now? Is she still the same, or even more beautiful than I remembered? Bintang, why won’t you truly disappear from me, so I can stop hoping to meet you … and stop loving you again.