I think I should write this now before it’s too close to my departure. I know when the time comes I will be too emotional, and I hate showing tears in public. I’m known to be feisty and distant, while secretly I’m helplessly sappy.

Living in Scotland would not be a problem at all to me (well, wait until winter comes and see how it goes, I might runaway to Brazil….), but leaving Jakarta is so damn too hard!

5 years ago when back from Sydney and started to work and live in here, I cursed myself for the first 6 months. I suffered from flu and sore throat for the first 3 months, because after lived in such a clean city like Sydney, my body hadn’t been well adjusted with the infamous pollution of Jakarta. I was back with a great resistance. I complaint about too many and too rude people, too crowded spaces, no orders, no hygiene, no black and white-everything is negotiable, everything is a big chaos. Even for an Indonesian, back to Indonesia is a culture shock. I was so miserable, and just by looking at the picture of Sydney Harbor Bridge could send me in tears.

For the first 6 months I was trying to hard to get back to Sydney. I missed the city desperately, dreamed about going back there someday.

But then I started to grab the sense of the city. I started to have friends, to enjoy my job, to learn Indonesian (seriously, it was a big challenge to write a report in good Indonesian after having too many assignments in English, it’s like being brainwashed!), and to fall in love with the city.

Its road, which is full of guys who sell cigarettes, tissues, snacks, and water, means I don’t need to think about what to bring in the car; when I need water, I just need to pullover for a cold Teh Botol, no need to worry about where to park because practically we could stop anywhere, even below the sign of ‘no stop’….

Its food variety which is open until abnormal time, means when we’re hungry at 1 AM we know that nasi gila in Menteng is still open (well, it’s not the case now).

Its 11 million citizens means when I get trouble I’m sure there are people who are nosy enough to ask about what has happened and to offer some help.

And of course, all the indulgence of having helps, maids, drivers, porters, even supermarket staffs who are ready to take your shopping bags to the car or satpams whose job turn into a parking guy and are always ready to find a parking spot in busy malls and give directions to park, all places offer valet services for only 20 thousands rupiahs so there will be no questions about my parking skills.

All the special treatments to get ID card, passport renewal, driving license: no queue needed, just have someone did it for us, and all we need is to show up for picture taken and documents signed off, and voila!

No rules everywhere, so we could talk on the phone while driving, driving while boozy, and I mentioned about parking everywhere, and if we are crazy enough, we even can hire police in motorcycle to take us to important places (and make us feeling like president!).

And all the luxury of being pampered! We can go to  salon for styling our hair 3 times a week and it’s still affordable, we can go for a massage, spa, reflexology, manicure-pedicure, at anytime we want, most of the time without having to have appointment in advance. We can go to skin doctor and hair treatment specialist, and being treated as princesses with first class service. We can go out for dinner everyday, brunch every Sunday, and no need to book an appointment, no need to queue, no need to face rude maitre d’ who thinks his/her restaurant is the most trendiest place in the world and we are at his/her mercy.

All the happening places, one club is packed on Tuesdays, the others on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and most of the clubs will be crazily busy on weekends. We can go out and dance and have fun 7 days a week, and most of the places are not closed before 2 AM.

Of course I will miss it all.

But what’s the hardest part of leaving? It’s not the city, it’s not the job I love and am proud of very much, but it’s my friends and family.

I know I’m lucky to get such good friends, people who are put up with me even though I’m being bossy, feisty, nagging, demanding, and all that. It’s easy to find friends, but it’s so much hard to find good friends. Throw a party or offer free meal and drink, call everyone and people will turn up in no time. But I’m lucky to find true friends.  Those who rub my back when I’m down, and are ready to offer helps when I need. Those who listen to my complaint about life, jobs, love, and stuffs. I will miss the time of having coffee with the girls and talking bollocks until we get kicked out by Coffee Club Staffs past 11 PM. I will miss the time of barhopping and partying, and know for sure that if I do something stupid (like too drunk to get home), my friends will take care of me and vice versa. I will miss the time of sending totally nonsense SMS about everything, from the size of an artists’ boobs until the color of a guy’s nails. From the shape of someone’s rooftop until the way a bartender’s walk. I will miss calling my friends from work after 8.00 PM and complain about being hungry and demand them to accompany me for late meals. I will miss telling stories about my work to my friends and although they have no clue about what I’m doing, they listen patiently, and although none of us really understands what Prila does, we still try (she’s like Chandler!). I will miss the time of having coffee at Friday night at Coffee Club and suddenly discussed seriously about tax system in Indonesia (no idea what had gotten into us, but the discussion was very serious! Imagine that, on Friday night! Ugh). I will miss the time of slipping out of office for lunch and quick gossip and get back to office after 2PM (and don’t really care of people glaring at me).

See now I’ve got to stop writing…….

I’m leaving.
35 days from now, I will be sipping cappuccino in Starbucks, but thousand miles away from here. The coffee will taste the same, but everything else won’t.

I’m leaving.
35 days from now, I will be typing my blog in an apartment, but thousand miles away from here. I will type the same crap, but the connection will be a lot faster.

I’m leaving.
35 days from now, I will be in a country that is 6 hours different from Jakarta. The land of Mel Gibson’s Braveheart, Harry Potter, men in skirts, bagpipes, tartans, and football mania. I will be able to wear my knee-length boots again.

I’m leaving.
35 days from now, I will be in a city where 10 minutes stuck in a traffic is considered "macet", where everything can be reached in 10 minutes walk. I will be in a city where I could actually see the bright blue sky and not consistent gray like in Jakarta.

I’m leaving.

It was a very hard day, a tough day. I had one conference call meeting at 9.30AM and 7 (seven!!) normal meetings, from one to another without a break, each took one hour, and at 6.30PM was in the restaurant at the ground floor to meet another supplier. The day was particularly tough for me, but I don’t mind. My boyfriend always says I secretly like being busy (and then complain when I get too busy).

What made it hard was when my work was challenged. It’s difficult enough to make people believe that what I do is no game, it’s a methodical system to get the best out of everything. But it’s maddening when the result was not trusted, as if the numbers appear from excel form is just numbers. Challenging my work is one thing, I don’t mind, in fact, I need to be constantly challenged so I know that what I do is acceptable for everyone. But not trusting the result is another thing, especially if it is stated without hard evidence.

I had spent 8 months to develop this, to show that this is what we have, and when it was thrown back in my face was like hitting in the stomach…it is insulting. Especially because it wasn’t my boss or the board of director, or my CEO. Especially, because when asked back, no data was shown to prove me wrong.

The day was particularly tough.  I sipped my coffee  and waited for Melly. Oh well, we’re gonna go for a drink tonight. I needed it. I surely damn well need it.

Then at 6.30 my phone was vibrating. My last meeting appointment for the day. I took a deep breath, put on a smile on my face and my voice, then took the phone. Another 30 minutes then I could go for a drink. Tuna spaghetti, chocolate melt, wine, and nonsense chit-chats.

Another 30 minutes to go.

Jalan toll dalam kota macet total jam sembilan malam, semua mobil merambat pelan. Aku menoleh ke kiri, menatap deretan gedung yang berjejer manis dan melihat sebuah signage besar, berlatar belakang putih dengan tulisan biru.

Sepuluh detik aku terpaku, dan terkejut ketika mobil di belakang mengedipkan lampu besarnya. Melaju pelan, aku meraih handphone dan menelepon sebuah nomer.

Deringan pertama langsung diangkat, dengan suara berat dan resmi. Ia menyebutkan namanya.
"Hai," kataku.

"Carmen, my lady" katanya dan aku menahan napas sejenak. Ia masih ingat suaraku. Nada suaranya drastis berubah santai.

"Masih di kantor?"

"As you know kan," katanya. "Lagi di mana?"

"Jalan. Macet."
"Mau ke mana?"

"Pulang."

"Jam segini?" suaranya menahan geli. Dan aku terlempar ke tiga tahun lalu ketika ia selalu kebingungan melacak jejakku. Biasanya ia masih di kantor ketika aku sudah meloncat ke tempat lain, bersama Yola, or Jeany.

"Iya, capek."

"So," kudengar suara-suara di belakangnya, sahut menyahut, berpamitan pulang. "What’s up?"

"Lunch yuk," kataku.
"Ayo. Kapan?" sahutnya cepat.

"Terserah. Ada sesuatu yang ingin kuberitahukan."

"Oh ya? Apa itu?"

"See you at lunch." Tak kuhiraukan sejuta pertanyaan yang terlontar setelah itu.

Tapi waktu berlalu cepat tanpa ada konfirmasi apapun, sampai tiba-tiba aku mendapat email darinya.
"I just cleaned up my emails, I’d been away for training for 2 weeks, and found your email from 2 weeks ago. I don’t know what to say….". Lengkap dengan icon muka sedih.
Aku bahkan lupa apa yang kutulis, sehingga ku-scroll down layar Dell-ku, dan membaca lagi email yang kukirimkan padanya dua minggu lalu. Lalu tertawa sendiri. Ia bahkan tak sudi mengucapkan kata maaf. Tak sudi mengakui bahwa kata-katanya seringan udara, bisa dirasakan namun tak bisa digenggam. Manusia tak pernah berubah, bahkan setelah tiga tahun.

Ia meneleponku sorenya.
"Kamu mau kemana?"

"Meeting."

"No, silly. Di email, kamu mengatakan selamat tinggal. Kamu katakan bahwa kamu ingin mengucapkannya langsung di depanku. Kamu katakan kamu akan pergi jauh. Meninggalkan Indonesia."

"Yeah."

"Ke mana?"
"Well…" aku mengangkat kepala, dan asistenku memberi tanda bahwa tamu-ku telah tiba dan menunggu di ruang meeting.
Ia merasakan ketidak sabaranku, dan menawarkan untuk bertemu. Kulirik calendarku yang penuh warna-warni janji, dan kukatakan padanya bahwa aku hanya bisa meluangkan waktu minggu sore.

"OK," jawabnya. "See you hari minggu."

Aku tak mengatakan apa-apa. Aku tak yakin ia akan menepatinya. Ia punya sejuta janji padaku dulu, dan tak satupun ia tepati. Tapi di hari minggu ia meneleponku, mengatakan ia sudah ‘on the way’. Dua puluh menit kemudian ia meneleponku dan mengatakan ia sudah di lobby.

Aku terkejut melihatnya, bobotnya turun drastis, kembali ke bentuk ideal. Nampaknya ia mulai teratur lagi mengangkat beban, bicepsnya menyembul dari polo shirtnya, dadanya nampak membayang kuat. Namun senyumnya masih sama, matanya masih sama, dan ia menatapku dengan pandangan yang sama dengan tiga tahun lalu.

"Hai," katanya. Ia tidak menjabat tanganku. Tidak cipika-cipiki. Hanya berdiri sangat dekat, sehingga aku harus menengadah untuk mencari matanya.

"Hai," kataku.
Ia tersenyum, "Been a long time."

Aku mengangguk, "Yeah."

Setelah makan, kami pindah ke sebuah cafe kecil dengan empat sofa berhadapan dan meja rendah. Ia memilih duduk di sebelahku, meskipun ada dua kursi kosong di depanku.

"So, what’s up?" tanyanya, tanpa ijin langsung menyendokkan sepotong tiramisu-ku ke dalam mulutnya.

Samar mencium aroma Armani-nya, tanpa suara kutunjukkan jari manisku. Ia menatapnya, dua menit, tanpa suara. Mengunyah tiramisunya pelahan. Menelannya pelahan.
"I’m getting married," kataku pelan, setelah tanpa daya menunggunya bereaksi.
Kulirik, ia hanya menatap jari-jariku tanpa ekspresi. Berlian di jari manisku berkilau indah di bawah cahaya lampu.

"Sudah kuduga," tukasnya pelan.

"How?"

"I just knew," katanya, lalu menoleh ke arahku tajam. "So who’s the lucky guy?"

Aku melirik jam tangan, kukatakan padanya bahwa ia punya 15 menit untuk bertanya apa saja. 15 menit itu dihabiskannya dengan melontarkan 3 pertanyaan, selebihnya kami banyak diam.
"Giliranku setelah ini," aku tersenyum. "Aku punya 15 menit tanya jawab."

Ia memperbaiki letak duduknya, dan lagi-lagi Aqua di Gio-nya menggelitik hidung. "Shoot," katanya sambil tersenyum.

"Giliranmu kapan?"

"Aku? Menikah? Tahun ini."

Jantungku berhenti berdetak, "Dengan siapa?"

Ia menggeleng, tersenyum, "Tadinya sih rencananya dengan kamu."

"Whattt?"
Ia tertawa melihat reaksiku, senyumnya selalu seperti sebuah teka-teki yang menunjukkan bahwa ia tahu lebih banyak daripada yang ingin ia ceritakan. Aku benci senyum itu. Aku pernah berada di bawahnya, kehilangan di dalamnya, dan harus keluar dari perangkapnya dengan susah payah. Sisa luka itu masih terbuka, dan aku tak ingin menyentuhnya, tak ingin mengingat betapa sakitnya.

"Well, to be honest, I feel like it’ time. To settle down. House with white fence. Baby next year. You know, all those stuffs," katanya.

Aku menggeleng pelan, "Amazing."

"Yeah, amazing, karena aku belum menemukan orangnya."

Aku tertawa, ia mengucapkannya denga santai, seperti sebuah deadline presentasi yang menentukan hidup mati perusahaan tapi who cares, itu bukan perusahaan kita sendiri.

Dengan pelan ia meninju lenganku, "You’re doing good, girl, you look happy."

"I’m happy," kataku, mengangguk pelan. "I am."

"Good," ia tersenyum. "Dan kalau semua ini tidak berjalan lancar, kamu selalu bisa pulang ke Indonesia."

"Heh?"

"Well, ada yang punya target menikah tahun ini, kan?" ia meringis.
Selalu begitu, aku tak pernah bisa menduga apakah ia serius atau main-main. Aku tak bisa tahu rahasia hatinya. Bicara dengannya seperti harus punya kemampuan membaca seribu tanda di baliknya, mengurai makna yang tersirat. Bicara dengannya melelahkan.

Ia mengantarku berjalan ke lobby.
Aku merasakan setitik air membasahi rambutku. "Mau hujan."

Ia hanya berjarak lima senti dariku, bejalan pelan. Kudengar ia mengatakan, "I’m gonna miss you."

Aku menengadah, "Apa? Gerimis? Belum deh, kayaknya."

Kepalanya menoleh ke arahku. Senyumnya mengembang lagi. Aku menunggu, tapi ia tidak mengulangi kata-katanya.

"Take care," katanya di depan pintu lobby. Matanya sekelam malam. Ia tidak menjabatku. Tidak cipika-cipiki. Hanya berdiri sangat dekat sehingga aku bisa…

Lalu berbalik, berjalan ke arah mobilnya.

Aku mengangguk pelan, "take care too."

Mungkin tidak sempurna, tapi telah kuucapkan selamat tinggal kepadanya. Tiga tahun lalu kami selesai secepat kami memulainya. Namun ada yang tertinggal, entah apa. Sampai saat ini. Telah kuucapkan selamat tinggal kepadanya.

A closure.