“Peace be upon you!”
Mrs. Ayu appeared at the front door of Mrs. Ambar’s house, panting for breath.
“Sorry I’m late!” the middle-aged woman said.
“We were almost growing mushrooms waiting for you, Mrs. Neighborhood Chair,” Mrs. Indah teased.
“Hehe, sorry! There was a third world war first,” Mrs. Ayu said by way of explanation. “But it’s over now!”
“What world war, Mrs. Ayu? Now I’m curious,” asked Mrs. Mira, whose curiosity level was right up there with Mrs. Asri’s.
“There was, okayyy! You’ll hear about it later, Mrs. Mira!”
“Okay, then. I’ll find out.”
“All right, then. Let’s start drawing!” Mrs. Ayu urged, already eager to get her hands on the money.
“Let’s go! Let’s go!” the nineteen women chorused enthusiastically.
Just like Mrs. Ayu, they all wanted their names to be drawn—except, of course, the woman who had won the month before.
Mrs. Ayu quickly sat down among the women who had already gathered.
On the table were cakes, fried snacks, bottled water, and, naturally, plastic cups covered with paper that had tiny holes poked in them.
“Should I draw right away?” Mrs. Siska asked.
“Yesss!” the women answered like an elementary school choir.
“Yes. Everyone’s paid,” replied Mrs. Ambar, the homeowner.
Mrs. Ayu picked up the plastic cup filled with rolled-up name slips.
“Let me draw!”
“Mrs. Neighborhood Chair really wants to win,” teased Fadil’s Mom, who had won the month before.
“If my name comes out, I’ll treat all of you!” Mrs. Ayu declared.
The women laughed.
Mrs. Ayu shook the plastic cup several times.
“Please let it be me…”
A rolled-up slip came out. She slowly opened it.
“The winner of this month’s neighborhood savings pool is…”
All the women immediately leaned closer.
“Mrs. Subagja!”
Mrs. Subagja, who was sitting in the corner, simply waved her hand.
“Oh, don’t pick me.”
Everyone turned to look at her.
“Huh?” Mrs. Ayu frowned.
“Just give it to someone else. I don’t really need it.”
Silence.
Mrs. Siska blinked.
Mrs. Ambar glanced at Siti.
Mrs. Asmuni busied herself by reaching for a pastry.
“Seriously?” Mrs. Ayu asked.
“Yes. Maybe someone else needs the money right now.”
Mrs. Subagja smiled triumphantly.
“My children always send me money.”
“Oh…”
Mrs. Ayu nodded in understanding.
But apparently, Mrs. Subagja wasn’t finished.
“My oldest sends me five million rupiah every month.”
The women began exchanging glances.
“My second one isn’t any less generous. They said, ‘Mom, never let yourself go without.’”
“Wow…”
“And my youngest is the most generous of all. They just transferred ten million last week.”
“Thank God,” Mrs. Asmuni said.
Mrs. Subagja beamed.
“That’s why I said this neighborhood savings pool money should go to the women who really need it. I’ve got plenty, you know!”
Mrs. Ayu loved money, even though money never seemed willing to stay in her wallet for long, and now she wanted to stuff a pastel into Mrs. Subagja’s mouth.
But Mrs. Subagja continued, “Luckily, I raised them right, so they’re all devoted to me.”
Siti smiled stiffly.
“You’re very lucky, Mrs. Subagja.”
“I sure am!”
“Very lucky,” Mrs. Siska repeated with an emphasis that, for some reason, sounded a lot like sarcasm.
“That’s why I never worry about money.” Mrs. Subagja apparently didn’t realize she was being mocked.
She leaned back proudly.
“If I want something, all I have to do is say the word.”
“Well, in that case, how about the money stays with Mrs. Subagja, but we all use it to go out for meatball soup?” Mrs. Ayu suggested.
“Oh, no! It’s mine!”
Mrs. Subagja took the neighborhood savings pool money and tucked it into her bra.
That afternoon, Mrs. Subagja’s house looked deserted. She did, in fact, live alone.
The only thing on the dining table was a boxed meal she had bought for herself.
Mrs. Subagja sat alone.
In front of her was a small piece of cake.
It wasn’t a birthday cake.
It was just a simple sponge cake she had bought at a shop near her house.
She stared at the calendar on the wall.
That date had been circled in red.
Her birthday.
Her phone lay on the table.
There were no messages.
No phone calls.
No birthday wishes.
Mrs. Subagja opened the family group chat.
She read the last message from her oldest child.
Mom, the transfer went through. For your expenses.
Her second child had sent money too.
Her youngest had even sent more.
None of her children were ever stingy.
They always sent money.
They always made sure their mother had everything she needed.
But that day…
Not one of them wished her a happy birthday.
Mrs. Subagja smiled faintly.
“My kids are busy…”
She tried to convince herself.
Then she lit the small candle she had stuck into the sponge cake.
“Happy birthday, Subagja.”
She gave a little laugh.
But her eyes began to well up.
“May you always be healthy.”
She drew a breath.
Then she blew out the candle all by herself.
“Mrs. Subagja!”
Fadil’s Mom’s voice made the woman quickly wipe her eyes.
She opened the door.
“Fadil’s Mom?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m here to collect the trash fee.”
“Oh, right.”
Mrs. Subagja took money from her wallet.
Fadil’s Mom took a step inside.
Her eyes caught the dining table.
A small cake.
One plate.
One glass.
And one candle that had already gone out.
Fadil’s Mom fell silent.
“Mrs. Subagja…”
“What is it?”
“That… is it your birthday?”
Mrs. Subagja gave a little laugh.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
Fadil’s Mom didn’t laugh with her.
“Your children didn’t come?”
“My kids are busy.”
The answer came so quickly.
As if Mrs. Subagja had practiced saying it over and over.
Fadil’s Mom nodded slowly.
After receiving the trash fee, she said goodbye.
But as soon as she reached the front gate, she pulled out her phone.
She called Mrs. Ayu.
“Ayu…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Let’s not make any other plans tomorrow, okay?”
“Why?”
Fadil’s Mom took a breath.
“Tomorrow is Mrs. Subagja’s birthday.”
“What?”
“None of her children came.”
Mrs. Ayu fell silent.
“Seriously?”
“She celebrated all by herself.”
“Oh, my God…”
“Ayu, let’s throw her a surprise.”
There were several seconds of silence.
Then Mrs. Ayu’s voice came through.
“Tomorrow, we’re throwing the biggest birthday party in all of Unforgettable Memories Estates.”
The next day, Mrs. Subagja had just opened the door when—
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
“AAAAAA!”
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MRS. SUBAGJA!”
Mrs. Subagja froze.
Almost all the women from the neighborhood complex were standing in front of her house.
Some carried cake.
Some carried balloons.
Some carried a cone-shaped rice platter.
Mrs. Siska was even carrying a bouquet of flowers so large it nearly covered her own face.
“What… is this?”
Mrs. Ayu immediately hugged her.
“Your birthday!”
“But…”
“Don’t say your children didn’t come,” Fadil’s Mom cut in.
Mrs. Subagja fell silent.
Her eyes began to well up again.
Mrs. Astuti held out the cake.
“Blow out the candles, Mrs. Subagja.”
“But I…”
“That’s enough! No more excuses.”
The women laughed.
Mrs. Subagja finally smiled.
She blew out the candle.
“Yayyyy!”
Applause filled the yard.
Mrs. Subagja covered her face with both hands.
Tears fell.
“Why are you crying?” Mrs. Ayu asked.
“I… I thought no one remembered.”
Fadil’s Mom smiled.
“Your children may have forgotten the date. But your neighbors didn’t forget that you’re here.”
Mrs. Subagja sobbed.
Mrs. Siska immediately hugged her.
“There, there. Don’t cry, Mrs. Subagja. You’ll make my makeup run too.”
Everyone laughed.
Mrs. Subagja laughed along as she wiped away her tears.
Not long afterward, her phone rang.
A message came in.
It was from her oldest child.
Happy birthday, Mom. Sorry I only just remembered. Your sibling reminded me. We love you.
Mrs. Subagja stared at the screen.
Then a second message came in.
Then a third.
This time, she truly began to cry.
“My kids remembered after all,” she whispered.
Mrs. Ayu patted her shoulder.
“Well, now you have two kinds of gifts.”
“What?”
“Money from your children.”
Mrs. Ayu pointed at Mrs. Subagja’s phone.
“And a gift from us.”
She pointed at the women who had filled the yard.
“One makes your bank account fatter.”
Fadil’s Mom jumped in.
“And the other keeps your heart from feeling empty.”
Mrs. Subagja fell silent.
Then she smiled.
“Thank you…”
Mrs. Ayu held up a plate.
“All right, all right! Don’t get emotional forever. Cut the cake!”
“Hey, but the cake is so small.”
Mrs. Siska immediately called out,
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Subagja. We brought a cone-shaped rice platter too.”
Mrs. Subagja laughed.
For the first time that day, her house truly felt full of life.
And it turned out…
Sometimes, a person doesn’t need more money.
They just want someone to remember that today is the day they were born.