Episode 5

Overwhelmed by the constant shrieking, Dimas finally stood up and walked toward the source of the noise.

Reaching the living room, Dimas spotted Satrio, still disheveled from sleep, clutching a broom and frantically chasing something unseen.

"Satrio, stop!" Dimas snapped, irritated by the early morning commotion. "There are so many cockroaches, Dim. They're creeping me out," Satrio replied, his face etched with panic.

Dimas exhaled roughly upon realizing cockroaches had caused Satrio's outburst.

"Just cockroaches, and you're this hysterical?" Dimas couldn't fathom his friend's reaction. "I've got a cockroach phobia, Dimas. I freak out seeing them ever since one crawled into my ear as a kid, causing it to bleed," Satrio explained.

Understanding the reason for Satrio's fear, Dimas sympathized, though he himself was free from any phobia.

"I'll handle the cockroaches. You better shower. They're probably attracted to your odor," Dimas teased, with a suggestive smile.

Satrio sniffed himself, realizing indeed he reeked of sweat.

"Fine, I'll go shower then," he agreed.

Dimas no longer engaged with Satrio, focusing instead on dispelling the few cockroaches. Satrio had made it seem like thousands, a stark contrast to his athletic build.

After exterminating them with spray, Dimas promptly disposed of the carcasses.

*

Come the midday break, Dimas chose the canteen for lunch after his prayer. Riko and Satrio were out on fieldwork.

Ordering meatball soup, with an additional serving of rice cakes for fullness, Dimas was approached.

"Hey Dimas, can I sit here?" a voice said, standing by.

Halting with a meatball poised for eating, Dimas looked up to greet his visitor.

"Hey Clarissa. Have a seat," he welcomed warmly.

As Clarissa settled, Dimas refocused on his meal.

"Do you live with Riko and Satrio, Dim?" Clarissa initiated conversation.

"Yes, we share a place," Dimas replied, engrossed in his soup.

Soon, the soup bowl was empty.

Drinking down his orange juice earned Clarissa's laughter.

"Why the laughter?" Dimas inquired, baffled by her amusement.

"Just funny how you drink, really thirsty?" she smiled, showcasing her pearly teeth.

Dimas smiled back, nodding in agreement.

"Y'know, that staff house used to be my family's private home," Clarissa divulged, capturing Dimas's curiosity.

"So, why's it a staff house now? Did your family sell it?" Dimas probed further.

"We sold it cheap to the government years ago, and it's been a staff house ever since," Clarissa revealed, perhaps more than she intended.

"Why sell it cheaply? It's spacious, should have been a high price, right?" Dimas pressed on.

"An incident persuaded my family to sell and move," Clarissa responded.

"What happened? Did your family plant that banyan tree out front?" Dimas's question made Clarissa visibly uncomfortable.

Realizing her unchecked chatter, Clarissa excused herself to the restroom.

"I'm not sure. Anyway, I need to use the toilet, then back to work. Excuse me, Dim," she departed hastily.

Dimas wished to follow up, but Clarissa was reluctant to share more.

Dimas was puzzled by Clarissa's employment in government – wasn't she from a wealthy family that once owned the staff house?

The puzzle pieces in Dimas's mind refused to fit together, especially when recalling the pleading woman he encountered by the banyan tree.

He felt certain things had transpired in the house and involving the tree.

And who was the figure in the bathroom Dimas saw so different from the one near the tree?

Were they connected?

Dimas ruffled his hair in frustration, still bereft of answers to the banyan enigma.

*

Post-shift, Dimas returned to the staff house via ride-share, as Riko and Satrio were using the service vehicle.

The residence seemed empty on arrival, though it was just past five, still dusky bright outside.

Dimas's step was heavy; it had been a taxing workday filled with bureaucratic tasks.

“Assalamualaikum.”

He greeted the empty house to deter anything unwelcome from following him in.

Inside his darkened room, neglected that morning, Dimas flicked on the light.

After a cleansing shower, with a precursory prayer, exhaustion claimed him on the bed.

He slipped into slumber, and barely half an hour later, the daylight succumbed to evening's gloom, yet Dimas was reluctant to stir from sleep.

His dream was bizarre and disconnected from personal life.

His expression tensed; this dream was no fantasy.

The dream centered around a girl named Bening, struggling against her greedy uncle to save her family's legacy.

Dimas recognized the setting from the dream as that of the staff house he resided in.

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