It was only seven-thirty in the evening when Bandot arrived at Rumiyati's home. He had deliberately taken the motorcycle around the back way and stopped in the rear yard. Rumiyati hurried out of the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re here already. Hang on, I’ll get ready real quick, Ndot.” Rumiyati rushed inside. She hadn’t expected Bandot to arrive early. She hadn’t gotten ready at all.
Bandot patiently waited on the motorcycle. To stave off boredom, he lit a cigarette. The young man curled his lips into a crooked smile as he remembered meeting Mbah Siman earlier that afternoon.
“Grandpa, you have to set her up with me, no matter what. Let my life change, you know? Please, Grandpa,” Bandot begged, pleading with Mbah Siman.
“All right. For your sake, I’m willing to be a last-minute actor. What do I need to use? Should I pretend to be a shaman?” the old man asked in return.
A perfect curved line appeared across the young man’s face. He immediately rose from the living-room chair and took a small brass bowl from atop the short cabinet belonging to Mbah Siman. “Use this, Grandpa. Just say it’s a magic bowl. Then fill it with water. And tell her that Rum has to marry me to ward off misfortune. To get rid of the bad luck—that’s the gist of it. Polish your wording so it sounds more convincing, okay?”
The two men laughed together. Mbah Siman was still related to Bandot. He was Bandot’s grandfather’s younger brother. On top of that, the two of them were quite close.
“Come on, Ndot. I’m ready.” Five minutes later, Rumiyati stood before Bandot, who was still wearing a smile. The woman still looked beautiful despite the night’s gloom. A crescent moon cast a dim light, not nearly as bright as on previous nights.
“Let’s go, ma’am. Hop on!” Bandot looked extremely excited.
Rumiyati had deliberately worn pants so it would be easier to ride pillion. She placed her bag between her body and Bandot’s back. Either way, she had to be careful around men.
Bandot drove the motorcycle slowly along the raised embankment. The red motorcycle, with its unmistakably vintage look, cut through the rice fields behind Rumiyati’s house. Neither of them wanted the other villagers to find out they were leaving. It could be dangerous. Rumors would spread throughout the village in no time. People might even say Bandot and Rumiyati were committing adultery. Bandot didn’t want to make Rumiyati uncomfortable, causing her to pull away and avoid him. What a disaster!
“Ndot, put out your cigarette! The smoke—ugh.” Rumiyati coughed as a cloud of smoke rushed into her face.
“Whoa, sorry, ma’am. I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. You don’t like cigarettes, huh?” Bandot tossed away the cigarette pinched between the index and middle fingers of his left hand. “Your favorite cigarette must be the kind that doesn’t need to be lit, right?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Rumiyati lightly smacked Bandot’s shoulder.
The two people heading in the same direction but with different agendas kept joking throughout the trip. It had to be admitted: Bandot was good at making things feel relaxed, light, and easy. The nearly hour-long journey passed without them noticing. Before they knew it, they had arrived in front of Mbah Siman’s house. It was a simple building with a dim yellow light out front. Lightbulbs were still the favorite choice in the village.
There was no frightening aura, let alone anything ominous, like Rumiyati had imagined. Everything looked ordinary. Normal, just like any other villager’s house.
After turning off the motorcycle, Bandot knocked on the door. They heard footsteps approaching, dragging slightly. Not long after, an old man appeared behind the door, which had opened a crack.
“Peace be upon you, Grandpa. How are you?” Bandot immediately took the man’s hand and kissed it when the door opened wider.
“Oh, Bandot, is that you? Praise God, I’m fine, son. How many years has it been since you last came here?” The roughly seventy-year-old man looked delighted to see Bandot.
“About five years, Grandpa. Oh, and I brought a guest.” Bandot gestured for Rumiyati to come closer.
The woman immediately extended her hand, and Mbah Siman gently accepted it before inviting them inside. The old man shuffled over and sat down in the living-room chair.
“I used to have lots of visitors. But now I don’t want to receive outsiders anymore. I only help family and close acquaintances. I’m old, after all. I want to get plenty of rest.” Mbah Siman spoke first.
“Rum is a close friend of mine, Grandpa. She’s practically family. So please help her out.” Bandot moved to sit beside the old man and began massaging his shoulders.
The old man fell silent for a moment. He stared intently at Rumiyati from head to toe. He looked like a scanning machine examining its target.
She’s really beautiful. No wonder Bandot’s smitten, Mbah Siman thought.
“Yes, Grandpa. I just want some guidance so my life can be more peaceful. There are a few things I’d like to ask, if you’re willing.” Rumiyati tried to coax him.
She assumed Mbah Siman had truly retired from the shaman business. From what she had heard, Bandot hadn’t been here in a long time—about five years. It made sense that the young man didn’t know the old man had retired.
“Your aura is incredibly dark. You must be dealing with a lot of problems. Poor thing. You’re young and beautiful, but your life is so difficult. All right, since you’re still Bandot’s close friend, I’ll help you. Wait a moment.” Mbah Siman rose to his feet.
Slowly, he entered the front bedroom, then returned carrying a brass bowl filled with water. The old man placed it on the table.
“Don’t tell me anything. Just put your hand in here. Only for a moment—the right one,” Mbah Siman instructed.
Rumiyati followed the old man’s orders. She placed her right hand into the water up to her wrist. It felt extremely cold. Ten seconds later, Mbah Siman waved his hand, signaling that it was over.
The old man then lifted the bowl and set it on his lap. His mouth kept murmuring for several minutes. Rumiyati looked uneasy as she waited, surrounded by curiosity.
“Dump this water out front, Ndot,” Mbah Siman ordered. Bandot obeyed.
After Bandot returned to his seat, Mbah Siman began to speak. He said Rumiyati had been struck by a misfortune she had unknowingly received at birth. The curse would make her fall into poverty, live alone, suffer from illness, and even die before reaching the age of thirty.
The old man also said he saw the figure of a handsome man who had recently died—less than forty days ago—sitting beside Rumiyati. Only Mbah Siman could see and communicate with him.
“W-who is that, Grandpa?” Rumiyati began to panic.
“His name is Subandi, ma’am. He says he’s your husband.” Mbah Siman spoke softly.
Rumiyati was instantly stunned, convinced that the old man truly possessed extraordinary powers. She immediately asked about the late Subandi and whether her deceased husband had any message for her. Tears flooded the woman’s cheeks.
Bandot held back his laughter at Mbah Siman’s highly convincing performance. Of course, he had given the old man all the information about Rumiyati and her husband’s death earlier that afternoon. The old man wasn’t merely firm when he spoke; he also pretended to walk with difficulty, even though he was still nimble.
“Wh-what did he say, Grandpa?”