"I fall in love everyday, may be even twice. And you know, being me, it's very torturous."
Paul sips his coffee, Arabica coffee mixed with some exotic spice. And of course, he spilled some to his white shirt. He took some tissue and tried to wipe it off. And of course, the stain only became bigger.

But being clumsy is the least of Paul's problems. People say he got the ugliest smile in the world. His friends will never have dinner with him because when he smiles, they will lose their appetite. Some rumors said that the birds who lived in cages at his house stopped singing after he was born. Neighbors who came to see baby Paul were disgusted by his smile. Even his parents were disgusted. So they kept baby Paul crying all the time. When grew up, his parents always tried to make him depressed. The problem was, Paul was a happy kid. When his parents took away his TV, he started playing with imaginary friends. They were all clowns and the best jokers in the world and they kept Paul smiling. His teachers always made him sit on the corner and put the biggest kids in front of him so he would become invisible. Alienated from his class, Paul would write stories in his notebook. Funny stories. Sometimes, he could not help but giggling. And of course, by reflex, his classmates and his teachers looked at him. And of course, they would regret it immediately.

The first time I met Paul, I was at the movie watching an Indonesia horror film. The film was very stupid and people were laughing. But somebody right behind my seat was howling the loudest. When I turned my head, that was the real horror. The sound that the man was making was undeniably laughter but the face was so repulsive. Of course, being a collector of the grotesques, I immediately befriended him. He was sitting at the cafe at the movie theater, at the most secluded seat in one corner and I asked if I could sit with him. He was surprised but happy to have a friend. Since then, we always meet at that cafe to talk.

Paul never took his smile as a problem until recently. He started to fall in love. Everyday, he always meet a girl he will immediately fall in love with: when he walks on the sidewalk, when he buys groceries at Carrefour, or when he goes to the park to feed the pigeons. Sometimes, he succeeds at getting the girls's numbers. Sometimes after they talk for hours on the phone where he tells funny stories, they will promise to have a date. Paul will try his best not to smile. But at one point, he always does. And of course, the women will make an excuse to go the the toilet. And of course, they never return to the table. Paul is still in love with those girls, even though he can never contact them again. Some of them changed their numbers. Some of them moved to another city.

"But you know what? I found out a way to lose a feeling toward any girl I fall in love with." Paul raised his hand to a waitress and asked for another coffee. She never looked at his face.

Paul told me that now he always brought a pocket digital camera with him. With that, he would take pictures of the girls whom he fell in love with. With those pictures, he would plan the worst masturbation sessions. Sometimes, he would work out for five straight hours at the gym until his hands trembled. Then he would go home and jerked off to the pictures. Of course, his hands would be tired only after a few strokes. And he would have to quit while thinking that the girl was the worst lover ever. Sometimes he would masturbate five times in the morning before he went out of his house. When he met a girl he fell in love with, he would take their photos and went to a public toilet to stroke his penis. And of course, nothing left in his spurting system and his brain would think that the girl was the lousiest lover in the world.

This morning, Paul's mother called me to tell me a sad news.

Paul had fallen in love with a woman he met a movie theater. Soon, they started calling each other on the phone. They would talked for hours. She sounded to like him very much. She loved his funny stories. Of course, she had not seen him smile. The woman had asked Paul if they could go on a date. Paul knew that if they met, it would be the end of their relationship. Eventually, Paul told her that he got the ugliest smile in the world. The woman thought that Paul was only joking and Paul then tried to sound as serious as possible. They continued only to have a relationship over the phone.

One night, the woman begged Paul to go on a date with him. She assured him that she would still love him no matter what. Paul tried to convince himself that this woman might be different. After a while, he was sure that this woman was the woman of his life, the one who would be able accept him the way he was.

They met in persons on a Friday night at a restaurant that Paul never went to. They sat on a table right beside the window. The night was very beautiful and Paul tried his best not to smile. She became curious how bad Paul's smile could be so she started cracking jokes. Paul was still not smiling. Then, she said "I love you." Paul smiled. When he realized what he had done, Paul had become so worried. The woman shed a tear and told him that his smile was alright, and she would still love him. Paul cried. And more tears fell from his eyes when she excused herself to the toilet. And of course, she never came back.

Lucky for Paul, he had taken the woman's picture.

That night, he staged another bad jerk-off session. Since he felt very fit, he slice his fingers while masturbating to the woman's photo. But he kept on jerking off. In fact, it felt very good. He ejaculated gallons of sperm that night, mixed with blood, and he became even more in love with the woman. The next night, he tried another bad masturbation. He burned his dick with a candle while jacking it off. He still came with sheer pleasure.

Last night, Paul made a rope of his belt, hang it on the door, and put his neck in it. He masturbated while hanging on the door. His mother woke up after hearing Paul's feet kicking the door. When she entered, she found Paul was dead with sperm everywhere on the floor. His mother was shocked especially when she saw Paul's face. His smile was so beautiful.


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By Joko Anwar. The Story of the Man with the Ugliest Smile in the World is part of the stories in 24 Frames per Heartbreak, a book about life and love in Jakarta.

I am sitting on my rattan mat, the same mat which I have been practically live on for five years. Five full years. For all this time the mat has been here in front of the door to my flat. Well, not exactly mine. If I ever admit that this is my flat, it means I lose and they win.

They burned down my house five years ago together with many other houses, they took away my land, and then they built this cheap nine-stories red brick apartment on it.
They did not give me any compensation money instead they gave me a flat on the eighth floor. But it can never be a substitute for my old house.

It is not because my house that they burnt was a big house. In fact, rich people would not even consider it a house. It was small with cheap wooden-plate walls and corroded zinc roof. But I built it with my bare hands. It was my masterpiece. The only masterpiece which I would ever made. I was only a pedicab driver then. There weren’t many chances for me to make a masterpiece.

My marriage is certainly not a masterpiece. My wife is stupid and I am stupid. We never know how to communicate right. We never went to school. May be that’s why.
My three kids are certainly not a masterpiece. My oldest son has already disappeared. He stabbed someone when he was fourteen and was arrested. I don’t even know whether he has been released from prison or not.

My second son stays at home, all the time. He is nineteen now and doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t go to school. None of my kids go to school. May be that’s why.
My seventeen year-old daughter, the youngest. Well, she is close to what can be called as a masterpiece. She has beautiful smile, dark skin, she is very pretty despite lacking skin treatment. What skin treatment, my family even struggle to get food.

My wife does laundry for several people live in the apartment. I never see her doing it but I guess she does it with her bare hands. Those people should be grateful because my wife is here so they can go to work without being worried about their dirty laundry.
Yeah, these people. They bought their flats cheaply from people who originally lived here. People from my old neighborhood and people from other parts of Jakarta whose houses were burned down, too.

Most of the original occupants have left, mostly because they don’t feel comfortable to live among these people who work in some offices. They do not know how to speak to this educated, rich people.

I could not help looking at their interiors sometimes. They got nice furniture, big televisions sets, refrigerators, even VCD players. The size of their flats are the same as mine, five by five meters with small bathroom and a tiny kitchen but somehow they manage to make them look luxurious. I never have the chance to arrange the interior of my... family’s flat. I never steps into the flat. Never. As long as I live I will never come in. If I do, it means I lose and they win. So I stay here on my mat. Once in three days, I will go dowstairs to have a bath in a public toilet. I also use the facility to do other urges of nature.

Sometimes I would take a walk but as days pass by I feel I’m become weaker and weaker. Now I almost bones wrapped in dark skins. My family still feed me and they still make me coffee and tea but I keep losing my weight.

People think I have gone crazy. My family think I have gone crazy. May be they’re right, I don’t know anymore. What I do know is that I have not spoken a single to anybody for five years since the took my property away from me.

Most people would pretend that I don’t exist. Many people would prefer not to pass my spot if they could and if they had to, they did not even have the courage to look at me, or may be the did not want me to feel embarrassed. Embarrassed? Yeah right. Those people who took away my land and house from me, they’re the ones who should be embarrassed.
However, I am sure that my family is embarrassed by me. Especially today.

My daughter has found a suitor. He is a motorcycle taxi driver in daytime and sells martabak on a wheeled-cart in front of the apartment in the evening.
He has been here several times. He is a short guy, has darker skin than most Javanese men do. He does not really have any quality which could pass him as a handsome man but he got a business. That’s good for my daughter.

He and his family are supposed to come to my family’s flat to ask for her hand from my wife and suppossedly from me. Since my family knew that they could not expect too much from me, so all they have been bugging me with is that I should be in the flat when his family arrive. But if I do, it means those people win and I lose. As long as I’m alive I can not do that.

“Just come in for a couple of hours. When they leave you can come back to your mat” my wife said again this morning.

My middle son was more harsh to me.

”Or may be you want to talk a walk when his family arrive,” he told me as if he could not see that I have been having a heavy fever for the last two days.

“Do it for your own daughter for God’s sake,” my wife added. She sounded more upset than ever.

My daughter. Yeah I love her. I always knew that she was the one who would turn out to be something significant. She will have a husband who owns a good business. May be he will be able to make her a wheeled-cart to sell martabak on her own. I can only imagine how much money they will be able to make everyday.

They will be able to afford a house, have kids and send them to school. Ah, what a bright future ahead of them. But first, they have to get married. This means that today’s meeting between his family and mine has to go smoothly. It means I have to come inside.
But if I do, it means those people who burned down my house win and I lose.

It’s two hours before my daughter’s future in-laws will come. I am still undecided. Is there any way that I can do something to help my daughter without giving up and come inside?
I can force myself to talk a walk but it will not look good, will it? My daughter’s future in-laws will wonder where I am. They will even think that I am avoiding them.

The clock keeps ticking. I can hear my wife cooking something for our guests. Once in a while she would come out to tell me to go inside and take a bath to make myself more presentable. I am still here, sipping my coffee from last night.

My middle son has also scolded me several times. Today everybody suddenly shows their annoyance of my existence. But I am sure my daughter will not be bothered. I know she will understand my persistence. I know she will be able to make her future in-laws understand.
I haven’t seen her since this morning. May be she went to a beauty saloon to make herself more presentable. Please, she does not need to go to any beauty saloon. She is beautiful already.

Finally, I see her coming. Yeah, she’s been to a beauty saloon. She even looks more beautiful. She walks very graciously toward me.

I know she will understand and let me stay on my mat during the meeting.

“Oh my God, Dad. You’re still here? What are trying to do, repell my future in-laws?” She sound angry.

I am so shocked. Even my own daughter who I have been very proud of doesn’t understand.
She goes inside. I can here her complaining to my wife. But I can understand her. Today is very important for her future and I should not be selfish. What should I do? What should I do?
Finally I stand up. I can see the sun shines brightly at the end of the hall way which lead to a balcony where I always look at the city once nad a while.

I feel weak but I force myself to go there. Slowly but I finally get there. Ah, it’s so beautiful today. This is a good to make a sacrifice for my family.

The rail is not that high. I can easily climb it. Woops. Now I’m up here. There’s no doubt. This is what I have to do. As long as I’m alive I will never comes into the flat. But if I’m dead, I will not know if they carry me inside, right?

One... two... three, I take the leap and I’m free-falling down from the eight floor. But everything seems to be in slow motion. May be because I am so light.
Do I lose or do I win? I am not sure. Either way, I don’t think that anybody will miss me.


(April 2000, For an old man who never steps into his flat)


By Joko Anwar. Previously published in The Jakarta Post