Chapter 8 Curious

• I sat on the small sofa on the salon’s first floor, staring at the street outside through the large glass window. Boredom was creeping in—I didn’t know anyone here, and the faint sound of hair-cutting scissors and the soft chatter of customers barely registered. Deciding to step out, I figured I’d find a small stall to relax and have coffee, something more familiar to me.
• Before leaving, Sis Elin had slipped some cash into my jacket pocket, saying, “Use this, don’t spend your own money.”
• I hadn’t counted it then, but as I reached into my pocket outside the salon, I was stunned—two crisp red hundred-thousand-rupiah notes neatly folded. To me, this wasn’t pocket change; it was ten percent of the savings I’d brought from the village, earned through months of sweating in the fields with my father. But to Sis Elin, it was probably just loose change.
• Not far from the salon, I found a small roadside stall. Its rusty tin roof, wobbly wooden tables, and a few men lounging with coffee and cigarettes felt comforting. I chose a plastic chair in the corner, instantly at ease in this simple setting. “Ma’am, one coffee and a pack of cigarettes, please,” I said to the stall keeper, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile.
• “Alright, young man. Just a moment,” she replied, hurrying to prepare my order.
• The hot black coffee arrived with a cheap pack of cigarettes I recognized from the village. I sipped the coffee slowly, its bitter taste grounding me, as my thoughts drifted back to the salon. Sis Elin’s reaction to Siska had been odd—there was a hint of jealousy in her voice when Siska teased me. But I quickly brushed the thought aside. I was her brother, nothing more. Maybe she just didn’t like Siska or didn’t want me bothered. Yeah, that must be it, I told myself, lighting a cigarette to convince myself further.
• Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and opened a new message. My eyes widened, my heart racing—it was an interview call from a graphic design company called “Cinta Grafika.”
• A wide grin spread across my face, joy surging in my chest. Though I was only a high school graduate, I wasn’t clueless about tech. Back in the village, I’d taught myself graphic design through online tutorials, using an old phone and a neighbor’s Wi-Fi. I loved tinkering with images, creating simple logos for village events, and keeping up with digital trends, especially the rise of AI. In the CV I sent yesterday, I included those skills despite lacking formal certification, attaching only small samples of my work stored in my phone’s gallery. Apparently, that was enough to crack open a door.
• I was still smiling to myself when my phone rang again. Sis Elin’s name appeared on the screen. “Riko, I’m done. Where are you?” she asked, her voice soft but with a cheerful lilt.
• “I’m at a stall, Sis. Hold on, I’ll head over now,” I replied quickly. I hurriedly paid for the coffee and cigarettes—ten thousand from Sis Elin’s money—and walked back to the salon, my steps lighter thanks to the good news.
• In the salon’s parking lot, Sis Elin was waiting by her sleek maroon sports car, Siska standing beside her with that same mischievous smile. But my eyes were drawn to Sis Elin—her face even more stunning than before, her skin glowing as if polished by light, her freshly styled hair falling softly to frame her face. The treatment’s results were undeniable, and for some reason, a strange warmth stirred in my heart, though I quickly pushed it away. *Remember, Riko, Elin’s your sister,* I whispered to myself, trying to stay in control.
• “Let’s go, Riko,” Sis Elin said with a bright smile, her teeth gleaming white. She gave Siska a small wave goodbye.
• “Alright, Sis,” I replied, heading to the driver’s side. But I could feel Siska’s gaze following me, pricking my back like tiny needles.
• “El, when I’m off, can I visit your place?” Siska called out suddenly, her voice hopeful.
• Sis Elin paused at the car door, turning with a raised eyebrow. “No way. I know your plan—you just want to see my little brother, don’t you?” she shot back, her tone half-joking but with a firm edge.
• I froze by the open driver’s door, glancing at them. “What’s wrong with me getting close to your brother?” Siska asked, her smile widening as her eyes flicked to me.
• “Mind your age, Sis,” Sis Elin replied curtly, her jab clear.
• Siska laughed brightly, then looked at me again. “Riko, be careful, okay?” she said in a flirty tone that made me uneasy.
• I gave a stiff nod, unsure how to respond. Sis Elin raised a playful fist at Siska, a lighthearted but warning gesture, then slid into the passenger seat. I let out a soft sigh, got into the car, and started the engine.
• On the drive, I glanced at Sis Elin, who sat relaxed beside me. “Straight home, Sis?” I asked my hands tight on the wheel.
• “Let’s grab some food first,” she replied lightly, her eyes on the increasingly busy streets.
• She directed me to a fancy restaurant, a two-story building with large glass walls and modern, glowing lights. In my village, the best eatery was a simple stall with wooden tables and plastic chairs. We went up to the second floor, and Sis Elin chose a table by the window, the city sprawling below us. The aroma of expensive cuisine, foreign to me, filled the air.
• “What do you want to eat, Riko?” she asked, handing me a thick, leather-bound menu.
• I opened it, but the names—steak, pasta, risotto—were alien to me. My face heated with embarrassment. “I don’t know, Sis. Just get the same as you. I’m not picky,” I said quietly, looking down.
• Sis Elin smiled softly and ordered for both of us. While waiting, she suddenly looked at me. “Riko,” she called, her voice low.
• “Yeah, Sis,” I replied, meeting her gaze.
• “Do you think Siska’s pretty?” she asked, her eyes probing my face. I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I chose honesty.
• “Siska’s pretty, Sis,” I answered plainly, recalling Siska’s striking face, short hair, and confident smile.
• Sis Elin’s expression shifted, her smile fading, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you like her?” she pressed, her tone sharper than before.
• I was taken aback, not wanting her to misunderstand. “No, Sis. Like you said, even though Siska’s pretty, she’s older than me. I don’t feel anything for her,” I said quickly, hoping to ease her.
• But oddly, Sis Elin’s face grew gloomier, as if hiding disappointment. I was confused. For a moment, I wondered—did she misinterpret my words? Did she think I also didn’t like her because she was older? The thought made me uneasy.
• “What’s wrong, Sis?” I asked cautiously, curious about her reaction.
• She flinched, then quickly smiled—a smile that felt forced. “Nothing, Riko,” she said swiftly, looking out the window.
• I didn’t press further, but the air grew slightly awkward. To shift the mood, I brought up something else. “Oh, by the way, Sis, I got an interview call for tomorrow,” I said, hoping it would lighten things.
• Her eyes lit up instantly, her smile genuine again. “Really? Where?” she asked excitedly, leaning slightly toward me.
• “Cinta Grafika,” I replied, smiling at her enthusiasm.
• “Great! I’ll take you there tomorrow. I know where it is,” she said eagerly, tapping the table lightly.
• I nodded, but my mind began to churn. If I got a job and a salary, I could move out, find my own place, and chase my dreams. But after two days with her—her kindness, her smile, even her small gestures of care—I felt uneasy at the thought of leaving her so soon. I shook my head slightly, trying not to dwell on it.
• The food arrived—grilled meat with sauce and unfamiliar vegetables—and we ate in comfortable silence. Afterward, Sis Elin took me to a clothing store next to the restaurant. She picked out clothes for me—sharp shirts, jeans, even an expensive-looking jacket. I wanted to protest, feeling unworthy, but her hopeful eyes silenced me. “For your interview tomorrow, so you’ll look cool,” she said with a smile, and I finally nodded, accepting with a heavy heart.
• We headed back home as the afternoon faded. The car glided smoothly through the city streets, and I stared ahead, my mind full of questions. Sis Elin sat beside me, humming softly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something behind her smile I didn’t fully understand.