Anila For Anala
CHAPTER 30 - WE'LL BE OKAY
Anila was forced to go home empty-handed. Oh, no, of course there's Mami's hand. Wejangan Mami's success continues to spin, like the only song in his memory playlist.
Women with knit cardigans and toad pants enter deserted homes uninhabited. Not knowing why, this house feels colder than ever before. Not because it is in a highland area, but there is no warmth from its owner.
Anila's black net swept every inch of that vintage industrial house. The walls, the floors, the trinkets, everything feels foreign. Stranger than the first time the young woman set foot in it. Who do you guys have? Why am I the one who has to take care of you? The black woman muttered in her heart while touching every object she passed.
A long breath came out after Anila flopped down on the black leather sofa. A wide-screen television that its owner rarely watches. "Your father, never watched the same one who bought you. You know, mending tetep in the store, yeah." Anila spoke for herself. His hand grabbed the remote on the table right in front of him. His thumb pressed a few buttons looking for a fun channel. Comedy movies are certainly the best choice right now.
According to an article, watching a movie that contains elements of comedy can reduce anxiety, at least that's what Anila knows. Just really. Miraculously, a loose laugh could come out, but along with the roar of tears flowing down the river. Since when did Anila have the ability to issue two different types of emotions at the same time.
The first azan. Signs entering the final third of the night. The article is a lie, the comedy only invites laughter, not tranquility.
A cold that touches the nerve endings of the hands and feet instantly restores Anila's focus. When the cold gets into the breathing hole, making the path to the lungs uninhibited, oxygen smoothly enters into, making it relax. The coolness washed away her face and the entire limb as if pulling Anila back to reality. Do not run away by diverting to something else that is useless.
Anila performed the qiyamul lail prayer, asking for good inspiration about the problems she was facing. He only needed calmness to be able to think clearly without ruining something he had started.
Salat is continued tilawah and dawn prayer. Perfectly restored his consciousness. All emotions have been exhausted along with the vaporization of hope prayer sentences. Every sentence of the Lord's love letter, he felt he was talking to the writer of the scenario of life. Surrender, surrender, follow the direction in which God will take him. That's the best thing for his life.
Just as the ritual ended, Anila's phone shook. A message came in from Mas Rana, "Everything is okay. Don't worry. She needs me."
Perfects. A sinister laughter adorned Anila's lips. Her cheeks are wet again. Destiny is playing with her feelings.
***
The young woman was ready to wear a flannel shirt and a toad as usual. Only the black pashmina had yet to close the scattered mane. The sound of the door opening then closing back, not stopping the activity that was being done in the room.
"An, where are you going?" ask the heavy voice that just entered the room. She wondered why Anila packed her things into a large suitcase. The same suitcase when entering his house.
Masygul's breath became the answer to that heavy voice question.
The called woman halted her activity for a moment and turned to look at the face of the owner of the heavy voice. The man's face was very tangled. He was tired and didn't sleep all night. Goodgood. At least they have one thing in common now.
"To Jakarta. Nyelesein TA–Final Task," Anila answered immediately while continuing the activity of putting clothes in the suitcase.
"Bring her clothes, how much?" interrogation Ranala.
"Let's spit it out," brief Anila.
"Kan ngerjain here can also. The house is empty."
The flannel-looking woman delayed packing her clothes. She lifted her head undaunted and approached her husband–Ranala, who was still pecking at the door.
Anila let out a heavy sigh through her mouth, "Sometimes I think I'm more suited to being a villa keeper than a wife, huh." Anila noticed the change in the look on Ranala's face as soon as she heard her sentence. "I can only take care of the house, not my husband."
"An, please. We have already discussed it before." Ranala reminded.
"Failure, Mas Rana once said, that Mas Rana put his heart on him." Anila did not want to mention that name. "But that's the past, Mom. Before I became my husband. Now my status is as my husband. So Mas Rana should be more concerned with me than him."
"I'm still trying my best."
"O yeah? I did not feel Mas Rana trying to love me, or even maintain our household. Me, tuh, I feel like I'm…." Anila was unable to continue her sentence. He tried to hold a sob that turned out to cause pain in his neck. Anila tried to catch her breath before continuing. "...kayak I'm building my own house, continue .. Mas Rana came and destroyed everything…."
"Viona is divorced," Ranala explained, cutting the sentence, successfully making Anila freeze. "Viona failed after 20 more years of maintaining her marriage." Ranala explained listlessly. "It is not easy to remember 20 years together, especially preparing the mental children. I ask you for help, once again understand me. I can't leave him at the toughest time of his life."
Ranala advanced closer her body to Anila until it was not far away. He immersed the girl who was only as tall as his chin into the deck. "We'll be okay," sure of the man. Instantly make Anila forget and .. surrender obediently.
***
