Both Parmadita and Lukman was given forty eight hours to prepare before their mission. It's customary for an agent to finish any remaining businesses before departing on a long journey. They went their separate way, but before departing, Parma stopped Lukman in the middle of his walk.
As insensitive as she is, Parma could sense something is wrong with her new partner. She doesn't care that much of course, but it nevertheless intrigues her. His eyes were frowning ever so slightly, his breath is heavy and longer than usual.
"You're going somewhere?" Asked Parma in a flat tone. A question akin to formality, business-like.
"Only to a place that I care about. See you in two days, back in HQ." Lukman hid his destination, then disappeared into the crowds. It's clear he is walking towards the airport where his rented loon resides. He bought the first ticket back to the mainland, away from Roze and all its worldly entertainment. This sudden change of course was done because Lukman must meet a woman.
His destination is two hours bus ride away from Calculus, at a small town of around fifteen thousand people called Senory's Peak. The town has a low air density, and lower amount of people living in it. Few lucky ones found the place to be perfect for leading a slow life. Men and women at the age no less than fifty is walking along the sidewalk. They are hoping for a cloudless day, after their area were bombarded with heavy torrents of rain.
Their slow way of living does create a problem, mainly regenerating their dying populous. Young members of society would rather be in a city like Calculus, where practically the list of opportunities and interesting places are endless. The government tried to put festivals, facilities, and modernizing the town here and there. But it was never enough for the new generation to even bat an eye.
After getting off the bus, Lukman walked uphill for another ten minutes right into the gates of a nursing home. There's no security outside, just some old people playing cards on a long wooden bench. They are laughing at one another, mouths open without teeth, and barefooted while feeling the green and well cut grass beneath them. One of the old men noticed Lukman as he walked along the man made path.
"Lukky-boy! Ahoy! Where have you been?" He shouts out with his hand in the air, trying to get Lukman's attention.
"I've been around Jimmy! Do you know where Salma is?" Lukman shouts back, his hand is also raised above his head.
"She should be reading at the backyard!" Jimmy's eyes doesn't need to see the cards of the others, he know he is going to win. Lukman replied with a nod and went inside of the building.
It's a single level house, perfect for old people who are afraid of stairs. The price of land here is dirt cheap, and the cost of construction woods are next to nothing. The house is large, full of rooms, and plenty of space for activities.
Old folks requires constant amount of supervision. As they get older, their behavior became irrational, just like a child. Employees are watching them around the clock, tending to their needs. From changing their diapers, physiotherapy, a conversation partner, giving them their prescribed drugs, and much more. These employees are distinguished by their uniform. Muted green scrubs, one of those garments nurses wear, with a large name tag near their left breast.
One of the nurses is leaning at the back of the building, an open space where old people do cardio and generally mucking about. She is assigned to watch over an old lady by the name of Salma. Her name only consist of a single word, from a time and place where having a family name was a luxury.
Despite her being older than the invention of sliced bread, Salma is still up to date with the happenings outside of her town. Politics, celebrity drama, tragedies, the bunch. Everyone dotes on her because of her low maintenance attitude. An ancient yet very capable soul, trapped inside a decaying body.
Salma is sitting on her favorite chair. The sky is hitting her book with just the right amount of light without blinding her. On the tea table beside her is two cups of a perfectly brewed tea, and a vacant seat. She is resting her eyes by taking a good look of the nature in front of her. The birds are chirping and flying away from thin branches, mountains staying still in the background, and myriad of colors reflected from the aggregates of leaves, stones, and clay scattered on the ground.
Lukman took the liberty and sat on the vacant chair, while gesturing the nurse to step away for a moment. She obliged and went inside, closing the door behind her. A private conversation between a mother and a son.
"You left me here, you know." Not a word of introduction, as if they are continuing a long conversation that was paused just minutes ago. Salma swung her words to Lukman, expecting some damage to be dealt.
"I did it, and I will do it again, mother." He doubled down on his persona as a bad offspring.
"Have I done you wrong child, have I became a bad mother? Aren't you the product of my own teaching, this brave, and strong young man?" Salma then close the book on her hand and place it near the edge of the table.
"Diamonds were made by pressure, that's true. But I've seen flowers bloom in the warmth of light too. You've seen that love can work, yet you decided to murder my childhood. I see no remorse nor accountability within your eyes, mother." Lukman took a sip from the vacant cup.
"I was not the best mother-", "I concur." Lukman interrupted her words right in the middle. This is the first time he did it to his own elder.
"Was not the best, but I did my best, with what I have. You have a husband who are addicted to gambling, two dead siblings, one from drug overdose and the other by suicide. I don't have anything in my life beside you, a blank slate untainted by the world, and myself. I'm sorry for making you feel bad about your childhood. It was not the best time for me either, but I will turn hell cold just to break the chain of suffering!" Salma crumples a single page of her book, her eyes are looking straight to the ground.
A stream of old and often replayed consciousness crashed into his mind. Bad memories of what little childhood he once had. He is reminded of an event when Salma threw a tantrum, crashed out, flinging everything she can grab a hold onto. A vase, made twenty years before their marriage, flew which then broke on a nearby wall in blink of an eye. Sharp white and blue the glass-like ceramic pieces bounced all over Lukman's hiding place. He is still a child back then, no more than five years old. His genetic and early development gave him an earlier point in life where he can understand adult conversation. The good, and bad kinds. He understood almost every single point of contention his mother is screaming about. Her already broken relationship with her husband. The debt collector's letters piling up in front of their house. Lukman's unpaid school tuition. Any sane woman will be overwhelmed by the situation, understandable, yet tragic. Lukman remembered that day as if it happened yesterday. He can clearly draw the shape of the vase pieces scratching his head, tearing it open.
"Is that what you are here for, payback? How about you stop paying this nursing home and kick me to the streets? I have zero to my name, not even these clothes on my skin. My son, the only solace I supposed to have, is acting like an impolite and ungrateful tyke. You may take nothing from me, except my own life!" Lukman doesn't want a prolonged discussion about this matter. He decided to take a moment and enjoy the silence which came after Salma's answer.
If a story can have an anti-climatic ending, it would be one of Salma's. Back then, she was a famous radio celebrity, interviewing famous men and women from every inhabited islands. She concealed her own identity as a down to earth bourgeoisie woman called "Rosaline Epine". Her fan base were called "The Rose Bearer", hundred of thousands in size, with at least ten of thousands dedicated members singing praise of her appearance in any piece of media. The Rose Bearer described her as a soft spoken lady that could extract juices of information from her interviewees without creating awkward situations. Some people equates her talk show like a public confessional for famous people, highlighting the madness of the industry, humanizing the talents, and clearing any bad airs if there are any. It was a successful show, no one could predict where it would go next, beside becoming the most listened to show of recent time.
She penetrated the thoughts and minds of billion of people, shaping an entire generation's vocabulary and trends. The product she endorsed flew up in profit, her marriage with another prolific actor add fuels into the rocket, no one wanted or could to stop Salma's rise to stardom. But luck and fame goes together, and hers stopped in the middle of a bright morning after coffee. The whole world was shocked by an article published by Sunday Times, a newspaper agency. Salma was caught abusing Lukman, then still three years old, when they were out on a vacation.
This is not the first time a tabloid-like news hits her. Cheating scandals, embezzlement, and her connection to troublesome politicians. She gave some clarification for the big ones and the public sided with her of course, no evidence was good enough to incriminate her. But this one is different.
The whole world seems to be against her. Even the president of The Rose Bearer stepped down in disappointment, effectively disbanding the then one hundred thousand large community. What follows is one of the most humiliating ego strip down of all time.
Thousands of people took it to the streets, chanting slogans and putting boards of protest against child abuse. Religious leaders, athletes, movie actors, and even politician gave their piece of mind towards Rosaline. The authorities were not able to do anything beside concealing Salma's family identity. They were effectively ousted from society.
That's in gist, how a dying star is spending its last warmth with a bunch of walking carcasses, wandering aimlessly in the middle of nowhere. Her last hope, Lukman, has come bearing some news. He has been preparing, his words were curated. He wrote the points down on a paper in his front left pocket.
"Mother, this might be the last time we will see each other. I'm going far away for work and I might not be able to visit you again."
"You, going away? Huh, you were never around anyway. Not for the last thousands of years. Nothing changes, not for me." She replied in a stern voice.
"In the meantime, I've been married to someone." He said it flat.
"A man need no blessing. You can do whatever you want, I can't stop you." Her voice falters.
"She is a wonderful girl, I think." Salma doesn't answer. Lukman continues, "They gave me a rundown for the job. It's going to be a long one, unlike the usual. If everything goes well, I will visit you again in the future, preferably with all my limbs still attached. It's dangerous, but necessary. Before the worst happened, I just wanted to say good-bye. Sorry, for being a headache."
He said it as if talking in a confessional. His mother, like a good sister, said nothing in return and let him be. Her eyes still fixated to a point, far into the mountains. Lukman left his seat and walked away. Before he departs, within an earshot, she whispered a sentence he will never forget.
"I will wait for you, right here."