Forced to endure

Chapter 7

Finished delivering Keisha, my heart was struck by turmoil. If I go home it means that I will only be alone with Mas Adji. He will definitely look for my attention and make me always have to accompany him. I know how effective he was when he was sick.

I ended up riding my motorcycle in no direction, anywhere from not to home. Unknowingly I stopped in front of the fruit vendor's stall. I bought a lot of fruit.

Mas Adji has to eat a lot of fruit, I thought.

Even when I was angry, he was still on my mind. My subconscious always reminds me of him.

After getting tired of going around in circles alone, I decided to go back to Keisha's school. I'll wait for Keisha at school until her school hours are over.

While waiting, I sent a message with my best friend Likha. He reminded me if a regular funeral service is held at his house later tonight. We young mothers in my village do hold regular arisan once a month. This is not just a show, but also a show.

It just so happened that Likha and I were friends since childhood and also friends working when I became SPG. So I was closest to Likha among the other mothers .

This smile expanded after reading the message from Likha. This is what I need, hanging out with friends and chatting. Maybe it makes my mind fresh.

"Yuk Ma, we go home" said Keisha.

Without realizing it, he was standing in front of me. I nodded in spirit. I was like getting a fresh breeze after these few days tired of thinking about the condition of my household.

Her night...

I've been grooming and preparing to go arisan. Of course I've prepared dinner for Adji's mas first.

"Well, where are you going?" Mas Adji observed my appearance.

"I want the arisan at Likha's house."

"Keisha?"

"She didn't want to come, transfer to mother's house. So now there's the same mother."

"Should it come, Win?" tanya Mas Adji.

"I'm sick again. When do you want to leave me alone at home?" Mas Adji looked at me with a pleading gaze.

"If I was sick, would you wait for me?" I copied Keisha's answer this morning.

"I have to work, I can't wait for you at home, right?"

"I knew. But where did you come home from work?"

Adji could not answer.

"Do I need to ask you again where I gave birth to Keisha?

My resentment overflowed every time I remembered that painful night. The night I gave birth to Keisha but I had to go through it alone because Mas Adji was out of nowhere and his phone couldn't be reached.

At that time, at midnight, I felt my stomach ache. I called Mas Adji many times but couldn't. His friends' numbers I couldn't call either, like they had agreed to turn off their phones. The pain sometimes comes away so I can still hold it.

I forced him to ride my motorcycle to the hospital. When the pain came, I stopped my bike and pulled over. After the pain had lessened I continued my journey to the hospital. Like it was over and over again.

I dare not ask my parents or neighbors for help for fear that they will ask my husband whereabouts. What do I have to say if they ask me where my husband is at midnight?

There was no way I would answer if my husband was gambling or maybe drinking with his friends. There's no way I'm lying he's still late, because it's midnight.

So I shut up and face everything myself. I covered my husband's bad habits from others including my parents. And now I realize it was a mistake.

By the hospital I had seven openings. Luckily the doctors and nurses acted quickly to help me with my delivery. Shortly after, I heard the sound of crying baby, my own baby.

All the pain I had previously felt seemed to vanish the moment I saw my baby, the tiny baby curled up in my chest. I was amazed, like I couldn't believe this little baby was coming out of my stomach.

My tears flowed at that time. Not because of the joy and amazement I was feeling. Except from the other pain that came after I realized I had been through all this alone. There is no husband beside me.

At three in the morning Mas Adji called me. He asked me where I was. Maybe he just came home and didn't find me at home, so he was looking for me.

It was not until thirty minutes that he was already standing in front of the door of my room in the infirmary. The smell of alcohol burst forth as he stepped into the room. So I told him to come out and just stand in front of the door. And maybe because of his guilt, he followed my orders.

I immediately carried Keisha because I did not want Mas Adji to touch her. Like a lioness protecting her cubs, I held Keisha very tightly. I feel like I'm protecting my son from his own father. Never mind to touch, I don't even let Mas Adji see his daughter's face.

Mas Adji kept begging to be allowed to come closer and see Keisha's face. But I told her that I would not let her near my baby until the alcohol scent of her body disappeared completely. I don't want to, the scent that Keisha first breathed from her papa was the scent of alcohol.

Mas Adji sat down in front of my nursery door. He cried and apologized for what he had done. He also promised to abandon his bad habits for the sake of our daughter. But I doubt he said it was because he felt guilty or because of the influence of alcohol on his body. He clearly promised to change.

But it was just a promise. Not even a month old, he has returned to his bad habits. That's why until now I don't want to have any more children.

I kept this secret tight so that Mas Adji remained impeccably visible in front of my family, his family and in the neighborhood where we both live. Now if I think again, what was it that I risked my life and the life of the baby in my stomach for the good name of my husband? Stupid right?

"I've prepared your dinner. Medicine and fruits I have prepared everything at the dinner table," I said after I regained consciousness.

I didn't want to look at Mas Adji's face because it made me hate him even more. After that, I put my feet away.

"Now don't be late, Win, who knows I'll need you."

I stopped my steps hearing Mas Adji's words.

"I often need you, but you were never there for me" I replied coldly.

I hurriedly left Mas Adji so as not to think more and more about the other painful events I went through alone.