The Right Measurements

The sharp, metallic sound of a steel measuring tape being pulled out again and again broke the quiet of the late afternoon on Aruna’s front porch.

Mas Bayu, the tent vendor Aruna and Danar had met two days earlier, walked backward from the corner of the garden toward the end of the carport. An assistant followed close behind, busy recording the measurements on a clipboard.

Bram stood near the porch steps, his arms folded across his chest. His eyes followed the red dot of the laser measure as it moved from one side of the yard to the other.

Beside them, Rianti seemed even busier. She trailed after Wibowo, Bayu’s assistant, craning her neck to see the numbers he wrote down before occasionally tapping something into her tablet.

“The clear width of the yard is six meters, Pak,” Bayu said, wiping his forehead with a small towel draped around his neck. “From the edge of the garden to the carport is twelve meters. So we can cover the entire area with two six-by-six-meter sections of transparent tent roofing.”

Bram nodded slowly, then looked around the yard. There was an old mango tree near the fence, a golden pothos vine climbing the side wall, and rows of neatly arranged potted plants along the porch and the edge of the carport.

Actually, not many of the plants would be affected if they used the yard for the wedding reception. Most of them could be moved to the back of the house.

There was just one thing still bothering him.

The mango tree.

“If the wedding dais goes over there,” Bram said, pointing to a corner of the yard, “will it face the carport?”

“Yes, Pak.”

“And what about my mango tree?”

Bayu smiled.

“Don’t worry, Pak. We won’t touch the tree. In fact, Mbak Aruna said she wants to make it part of the wedding dais.”

Bram frowned.

“Part of the wedding dais?”

“Yes. We’ll design the platform around the trunk. Instead of moving the tree out of the way, we’ll adjust the platform to fit around it. The tree can stay exactly where it is.”

“So the platform will have a hole in it?”

“More or less, Pak.” Bayu chuckled. “We’ll make it to order. The tent roof will have an opening, too, so the trunk and branches remain safe. We can hang lights from the branches.”

Bram tilted his head back to look at the mango tree. For some reason, hearing that it wouldn’t have to be cut down made him feel a little relieved.

“In that case, all right.”

Bayu then pointed beyond the front gate.

“For the guests’ tent, we’ll use a plain white Roder tent. Six meters wide and fifteen meters long, so three sections in total.”

“Fifteen meters?”

“Yes, Pak. We’ll make use of the entire stretch of road in front of the house. We’ll leave a little space on either side so rainwater won’t splash directly onto the chairs.”

Bram immediately turned toward the road.

“So the road will be closed?”

“On the wedding day, yes, Pak. But during installation, we’ll work in stages. This type of Roder tent doesn’t have center poles, so we can still manage vehicle access while it’s being set up.”

Bram stepped outside the gate. The residential street in front of his house was fairly wide. Across the road stood Pak Guntur’s house, its garage opening directly onto the street.

“If we close the entire road, we’ll block Pak Guntur’s garage. And the residents from the inner blocks won’t be able to get through, either.”

“We’ll coordinate with everyone beforehand, Pak. There will have to be a temporary road closure on the wedding day.”

Bram let out a sigh.

“We’ll need permission from the neighborhood head, too, won’t we?”

“Yes, Pak.”

Seeing the concern on her father’s face, Rianti, who had been busy with Wibowo until then, hurried over.

“If you need someone to handle the paperwork with Pak RT, I can do it, Pak.”

Bram turned to her.

“You know Pak Topan?”

“Of course! I used to deal with him a lot when he was the head of the youth association. And when I was on the committee for last year’s Independence Day celebrations, I had several meetings with him, too.”

Rianti held up two fingers. “Besties. Obviously.”

“Besties, my foot,” Bram grumbled. “He’s an older man, not one of your playmates.”

“Fine, fine. I mean we know each other well.”

Wibowo, standing near Bayu, tried to suppress a smile. At last, Bram nodded.

“All right. I’ll ask Pak Guntur and the other neighbors for permission. You talk to Pak Topan,” Bram decided.

“Roger that, Boss!”

“Don’t call me Boss.”

“Roger that, Pak Boss.”

“Rianti!”

Rianti giggled and returned to her tablet. Bram shook his head as he looked out at the street.

They hadn’t even finished arranging the tents, and already it felt as though he was organizing a neighborhood-wide celebration.

He turned back to Bayu.

“Aruna said she wanted a transparent tent roof with lights. The event should be over by around seven. Wouldn’t the lights go to waste, Mas?”

Bayu chuckled.

“Not at all, Pak. We can switch them on during the day. They won’t be as noticeable in the daylight, but they’ll still give the place a warm atmosphere. Then, as evening approaches and the sky starts to darken, the lights will begin to glow.”

Bayu pointed toward the mango tree.

“Especially if we hang them from the branches. It’ll look absolutely beautiful at night.”

Bram looked at the mango tree again.

Then at the yard.

Then at the road.

He glanced at his watch. It was half past four.

“All right. Just make a note of the proposed layout for now, Mas. Let’s wait until my daughter gets home so she can see the measurements for herself.”

Bram sighed.

“She needs to realize that our yard isn’t as big as a convention hall.”

Bayu smiled as Bram headed back toward the porch. Meanwhile, Bram began calculating something else in his head.

Not the cost of the wedding.

But how many neighbors he would have to visit to keep his daughter’s wedding from turning into a neighborhood dispute.