We're Latitude

Our Latitude - Part 5 Latitude

Section 5 Latitude

WAKE-WAKE, it turns out we have arrived in the Sibolangit area. Fresh air infiltrates the nasal cavity. Taking a deep breath, I moved my body to look out. The window was constantly opened. The view here in-dah.

“Laper, Lin?” Without waiting for me to answer, Pa-pa said again, “We stopped by to eat in Bandar Baru only, yes.”

I'm coming along, even though I'm not hungry. There is the voice of Mother Ret in the head. I'm glad he finally came. She was a motherly figure who protected us all. The woman was about fifty-four ta-hun with a slightly fat body. He likes to wear wiron and kebaya. Her hair was also always bunned like sinden. I like to hear how he talks. Soft and medok Java. He did come from Solo and was still a descendant of the palace.Papa turned, then parked in the yard of a large restaurant right when Mother Ret was getting closer. My head's circling.

Alter Bunda Retno (Female, 54 years old).

I closed my eyes for a moment so that I could not feel some kind of displacement shock. Once I was sure, I opened my eyes slowly. I heard a man beside me. At first the sound was slow and blurred. But the longer the brighter.

“Lin, are you okay, son?”

I gave him a smile and a hor-mat nod. He must be the latang papa. I am always clumsy when dealing with an unknown person like this, especially if he is a man.

The man intersected the nice face looking at me while frowning for a few minutes. It was like he was looking for something. I smiled again. He returned my smile.

“This who?” he asked while putting on a panicked expression like people would be robbed.

Indeed, there is no alter other than Jaka who per-well met this man. “I Retno. Commonly dipang-gil Mother by children.”

The man gave a loud snort in response to my answer. Maybe this felt very strange to him. It's also very strange for me to admit myself like that. All this time, we agreed to sound ourselves. Anyone who is currently on ‘depan’, we must claim to be Lintang Kemuning. Poor sweet boy, he shook his head, snorted, then gnawed again. With a resigned voice he finally said, “Come, we eat first.”

The latitude dropped first. Slowly, I followed. I have never been to this place. Have you been to that new place? A week ago, Lintang left a message in the journal for us to read. Journals are our way of communicating other than gathering at Tree Houses. Journals are useful for important things that if not recorded, can be forgotten. Because latitude also often experience temporal am-niceia. Journal is also needed as material for psychologists who handle Latitude study per-development Latitude.

Writing in a journal, he wanted to start a new day in a new place called Berastagi. He thinks di-Rinya is an adult. I laughed when I read it. For me he was a little baby forever.

After we had a discussion at the tree house at the nutmeg-Lintang, we decided it was a very good idea and it was worth trying. Back then the members were complete, there was Jaka, Mer, Civa, Uncle Weirdo, me, and of course his latitude. Uncle Weirdo who usually appeared, came at that time. We are very happy to meet this ‘day new’. And, it turns out that this is the day that is waiting for it.However, there is an awkwardness. I felt a sense of unease in the heart of Lintang. Whatisit? I'll find out. Now, I've been sitting at a two-bed table with Papa Latitude. It's a little awkward. I have to make sure of something before I leave.

“It's Been Pastaged?” ask me. “Not yet,” the answer is short.

I looked at the wavy hair and I - for example, reminded me of my dead husband. She really looks like my husband.

“Sure. He's my son. Why shouldn't I be a rius?” he said it was less than happy.

I sighed, “Bapak left her since she was a baby, didn't he?”

Replace him who sighed. I can feel uncomfortable with my question. I felt I had to ask that to make sure Lintang was okay. It's my responsibility.

“That's the past. And remember, I didn't leave Lintang.” He was furious.

A waiter came to us and put all kinds of side dishes in small plates. The conversation stopped. My sight then faded. Missing.

Latitude, Controller.

I sat in the dining house. I stacked the two elbows on the table and the palm gripped the head. It was like a giant hand was squeezing my head. It's so heavy today, really, really.

Papa is talking to me. I realized a moment later.

“I realize, I was wrong. I gave up too soon and left. I'm coward. I'm just selfish. Everything I do from now onward is to make amends for my past mistakes,” said Papa de-ngan, piercing my eyes.

I digest slowly and the result is not exciting. I often find people talking to me about things he talks to my alter.

“I know, I wasn't a good man all along. But I'll try to be good.”

Segan interrupted, I finally let Papa talk. I also show the gestures of different buh-buh so that Papa is aware of himself if I am not Mother Retno. Unfortunately, he didn't really recognize any of us. He spoke continuously with explosive emotions.“Pa...,” I said finally. “Udah can eat, be-lum?”

All of a sudden, he stopped talking and held me up like he was researching aliens. Both of his hands were raised to his head and with a quick movement scratched his head in frustration.

“Udah.. eat, eat,” he replied with a pitiful expression.

It made me smile wide. Funnier. Just this time there was a person who was so emotional when responding to me. If Mama or Aunt Lea—kboth flat-faced women are a normal— if I hurt the sikan I dissociate. If I have severe anxiety, with a flat face like the iron slab of the bridge, they give me medicine or immediately turn the car keys to take me to the psychologist. Just like a car breaking down. Mo-gook car, then take it to the workshop. The car broke down and was still given a panicked or sad expression. For me, whatever it is. Ordinary aja.

I'm still smiling. Smiling turns out to be fun. Papa doesn't seem too shit, really.