Thirty minutes later, I found myself in the dining table with my mother. She rambled on about what happened during her monthly arisan that day (the highlight was one of her friends that just had a divorce for the fourth time). I lost count of how many arisan groups she joined. On weekends, she was hardly at home—she would be found at high-end malls in Jakarta wearing LV bag and Gucci shoes and all. Sometimes she'd like me to come along, but I never wanted to. Seeing her cheerfully talked like that made me doubt my theory that she was capable to do things I accused her of.
Suddenly, I felt the urge to blurted out some things that was on my mind. I thought that it was okay to bring up the topic, considering she was in a good mood.
"Mom, do you know where Dad is now?"
Her face grew weary, "why are you asking about him?"
"Just curious," I said while examining her expression.
"I don't know. Maybe he is somewhere abroad." It was obvious that she loathed this topic.
My barrage of questions went on. "What was his job back then? How did he get—," I gestured to our surroundings, "—all this?"
I could feel Mom sensed something was wrong, her attitude changed. "What is wrong, Wenny? Why all of a sudden—"