Feeling bored, Ratri opened the window. She saw Jamal, the new gardener from the kampung behind the vacant lots. He looked to be about the same age as Anton when he died. Jamal’s strong and tanned arms gleamed as he planted rose seedlings. He was shirtless and in low-waisted trousers. Her eyes ran over the curve of his shoulder blades and the outline of his slim hips.

Less than two weeks after Jamal arrived, the door to Ratri’s room lay open. Jamal appeared in front of her, his hands smeared in soil and his body smelling of the sun. Ratri beckoned him to close the door.

There were firsts for the both of them. Jamal had never touched a woman before. And Ratri had never had so many soil stains on her body.

—

Jamal was so obedient, so patient, so quick to learn. And not only in the garden. Ratri’s feelings for him grew. She made him a household servant, gave him a room and raised his salary. Jamal accepted on the condition that he be allowed to go home to visit his mother on weekends. The young man lightened Milah’s workload by sweeping and mopping every evening. He rose early in the morning to wash the car before Bambang left for work.

Between their lovemaking sessions, Ratri listened to Jamal talk about his life. In his kampung he had been known as a tourist guide of sorts. He often invited flocks of timid teenagers on excursions to look around. Outside the kampung he showed off his knowledge of who lived in the estates lining nearby Jalan Baru. This one belongs to a celebrity. A former minister lives over there. He called Ratri’s home the ‘the tax director’s blue-walled mansion’.

Jamal gained broad insights from his connections. He be-friended the security guards who popped outside the gates to smoke clove cigarettes together, and the maids who shopped in the local bazaar when their employers didn’t visit the supermarket.

He’d had no intention of becoming a gardener. He wanted to be a driver. Until he started working for Bambang, he had supported his mother and younger siblings by driving a public minivan to and from Pasar Rebo. But he grew restless and harboured other dreams: to become a chauffeur for the owner of a Jalan Baru mansion. After becoming friendly with Mang Yayan, Ratri’s guard, Jamal mustered the courage to ask about the possibility of working in the house. Unfortunately, said Mang Yayan, Mr Bambang was not looking for a chauffeur. Besides, the one who worked for him had years of experience. But Mr Bambang was looking for a gardener.

Ratri asked, ‘How long have you wanted to be a chauffeur?’

Jamal blushed, arousing Ratri’s passion. The answer to her question was postponed.

—