“We can plant a memory garden, say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair.”

https://open.spotify.com/track/3UMrglJeju5yWyYIW6o99b?si=877050fab4304dfa

Bogor, End of August 2024.

Alexa had never brought anyone to visit her father other than Derian and Nicholas, but today, she came with Atlas. This was the part she concealed from the world, even more hidden than the affair she had. It was easier to tell people that her parents were both dead than to explain his condition to those who would never understand.

Because until this day, she also had not understood yet.

“The place is nicer than I thought.”

Alexa shrugged. “It’s the only decent mental institution I could find in the whole country.”

Alexa used to dream of a house like this: white castle-like building, arched windows, nestled on the edge of a hill, far from the busy streets. The asylum was surrounded by evergreen trees that served as home to endemic birds, creating a peaceful environment for the patients inside the building. And yet, Alexa wondered sometimes whether this place felt more like a prison than a healing place, but then again, everyone here had their own set of prison inside each of their minds.

To say that her father’s condition was improving felt like an overstatement; he wasn’t getting worse, but he wasn’t getting better either. He still refused to talk, he wasn’t showing any signs that he remembered Alexa or his wife, as if he was still locking himself away from the reality and chose to settle on the safe haven he created inside his mind.

Reminding him of his wife’s death was no longer effective. It used to trigger little response, as if his eyes were saying something, but these days they were just completely dark and empty of any knowledge—of his wife, or his daughter.

The same man who used to raise her, who used to take her to see the world, who introduced Alexa to the world of photography, who celebrated each of her milestones—now felt like a stranger. His skin was cold and strange to touch, as if the warmth of him had dissipated together with his memory.

Atlas stood near the bench while Alexa and her father were sitting down. The old oak tree shaded them from the sun, and despite its harsh light, the wind was quite cold. Alexa brushed her arms to get some warmth, and Atlas noticed her. He took off his jacket and put it on her shoulder. She looked up and mouthed ‘thank you’ to which he replied with a pat on her shoulder.

“Pah… I came with someone today. I told him about you, about us, if you don’t mind. His name is Atlas.”

Atlas came closer to say hi, even when Alexa’s father didn’t seem to regard him. “Halo, Om.”

“He has the big-guy job, kalian pasti nyambung banget ngobrolnya, soalnya Papah juga suka dunia finance dan investment gitu. He used to watch stock exchange on TV as if he understood anything, tapi ternyata cuma suka liat kesibukannya aja.”

His eyes were still empty of reaction, and Alexa sighed. “So, this is my father, Laz.”

Atlas squeezed her shoulder lightly, a mean of courage sent through light touches. His heart ached for her—somehow, this was worse than death itself. To see her father was still breathing the same air, but he was just a shell. He suddenly understood Alexa and her tendencies to seek warmth in all the wrong places: her home was empty and cold.

“Lex… Do you need time alone with your Father? I could go wait for you in the lobby. I do think that you need to spend time alone with him.”

Alexa nodded. “I won’t be long.”