High School Autobiography (Hero Generation)
CHAPTER 7: TAKE ME TO MY HUSBAND ...
”Sorry Brother, know where we are from in the mall?“ tanya Anka investigated.
It's a bit strange, in fact, Kak Farka can come on time.
Brother Farka is still stinging, with no meaningful response. Though I think, it has been more than four seconds he was silent and I still do not know what his expression was like.
One thing is certain! The smell of roses is exactly like my husband, as fragrant as in this car, unfortunately, I feel like Kak Farka is both wearing the same perfume as my husband, for me this is certainly annoying, I feel like Farka is both wearing the same perfume as my husband, that means he's trying to rival my husband.
”Kakak stalked me huh! Brother is also trying to rival my husband huh!“ I'm inflamed upset. How not, during the presence of Brother Farka I even seemed to feel always supervised.
”First, you're at the mall, you're in your boutique, so almost every week you see your silly behavior, second, you don't want to stalk anyone, third, you don't want to rival your husband, is that clear young lady?“ said Kak Farka with emphasis in every word, who still turned his back on us, he defended himself.
Unfortunately, I still do not accept with every word that is said from the mouth of Kak Farka, more than that, I immediately got out of the car, without a farewell, without a thank you, which is clear, clear, I was riled up and for some reason, a feeling of hate began to grow in me, for now, I hated the presence of Kak Farka - his presence that even preached to us - as if he was never young, that was all.
Surely Anka my best friend also came out of the car, the difference is, she thanked Kak Farka, maybe it was just a custom of politeness, or maybe Anka was grateful for the help of Kak Farka.
I stepped onto my bike which was a little far from Kak Farka's car, too, waltzing with a saggy face, followed by Anka from behind, like a dog following his master.
The atmosphere in front of this Japanese restaurant is quite quiet, but the parking lot has been crowded by private cars, when I arrived next to my bike which is shades of sky blue, but the parking lot has been filled with private cars, standing cross-seeking and putting up a saggy face is my doing right now.
My creamy long hair was blushed by the gust of wind, blown out danced hair with the wind, even for that, my gymnastic skin, feeling the coolness of the wind, how cold this time, my puffed-up anger, my coldness, like being muffled only by the wind, but unfortunate enough, when in fact, my anger can not disappear that easily.
My blue net, directed at my loyal friend, he approached me like I was his lover, Anka's smooth face seemed relaxed, but a thin smile he had developed, expanding only for me, he said, a smile that was fine, that was what he did for us, more than that, he seemed to be able to accept the whole rebuke of Brother Farka, he was a man act, just like my husband, like my husband, but not with his good looks. I was so grateful to have a loyal friend like her, I loved Anka, and I loved her, but it was just love and affection for my best friend, not more like my feelings for my husband.
”Let's go home,“ I said loudly and firmly, of course I'm still sad.
Anka nodded, accepted my request without any protest, she hung back her carrying case on the handlebars, as well as revealing the standard of the bike, she also rewinded the bike looking for space to make it easy to go, then, she said, I sit back in the back seat, sit sideways with back cross-sections, I brush my hair, strengthen my back bag to stick firmly on my back, make the condition as comfortable as possible.
'KRING-KRING'.
The bike drove, we went home, but wait, unexpectedly, as my eyes looked at Kak Farka's car, I found a cheerful young woman, coming out of a Japanese restaurant, moreover, his appearance also looks dazed with a red dress, complete with tote his snake skin tote bag, he approached right towards Kak Farka, whether he was ready Kak Farka, which is clear, he was, they look familiar.
In the end, today we have managed to vent the excitement in downtown Artana, I had intended to buy more sea fish, only, the fear of my husband's anger was what stopped me from doing so, so, the party at the mall, to cover our excitement, but anyway, there are still some more rituals to perfect our excitement, such as playing in the rides downtown Artana, or watching a movie in the cinema.
How unlucky I was, my atelophobic disease immediately relapsed, making my mind very agitated, my thoughts of reprimand Kak Farka, gave me the suggestion that today the activity is not perfect, walking is not perfect, indeed, there is a time to get back to having fun, even though my mood has deteriorated, then going home is the best way for the sake of reconditioning my mood, Anka did not complain, she knew my character, she said, so he went along, silly, because my thoughts are against imperfect today, I blame even Brother Farka who has messed things up, the strands of his words have offended my young soul, he's responsible for this.
I started to bite with fret, my jaw hardened, I grabbed my knee face as hard as I could, I couldn't stand my thoughts, maybe there shouldn't be anyone to blame, not even myself, just, just, dissatisfaction makes it hard to get through this.
Or maybe this is just the turmoil of my emotions as a young man who is free, does not want to be restrained, does not want to be scolded, does not want to be ruled, just wants to be independent, enjoy youth without intervention, without interruption, without interruption, without interdiction, and enjoy it until satisfied.
Until my feelings of anxiety covered my consciousness, forgetting the important parts of the scenery of the trip home, feeling the time folded quickly, and jerking the daydreams of my anxiety, making me shocked unexpectedly, he said, if in fact we have arrived in front of the gate of my house.
”Nah, see you tomorrow, Laisa,“ said Anka while getting off the bike while still holding the handlebars.
I came down with a saggy face, my eyes twinkling on the handlebars of the bicycle, bitten with a frenzied breath, my subtle mind still moaning uneasily, the shadow of imperfection lingering in my mind, in such a state, I grabbed the handlebars of the bikes, and Anka was wearing her school's carry bag.
”Today is perfect, because we managed to have fun,“ said Anka trying to calm me who had indeed realized my anxiety, he was the most understanding friend, of course understanding, because he was the only friend I had, he said, he was even my friend since childhood.
I reflexively turned my grateful face to look at him, intending to see what his countenance was like. The narrow black eyes were in harmony with the color of her short, slightly curly hair, on her smooth face had been the smile of the knot of the sign everything was fine, uniquely, his eyes would be closed if he developed a smile, Anka an oriental-faced man, a child who was smarter than me but not smarter than me, had a rather chaotic family, he said, it was so chaotic it was a bit horrifying to tell about his childhood life.
His mother is a writer, his father is a police officer, but, his parents often bickering about the father who is often with other women, even the husband does have a female friend who is quite a lot, he said, until one day, his mother wrote a lot of poetry, to the point of confining herself to three full months just for the sake of writing, and every time she finished her poem, the mother at that time would also immediately recite her poem, her echoing voice always made Anka peek out of the slit of the door just to see the strangeness of her mother, the narrow eyes of Anka could not blink, she was carried away by the aura or words of the mother, however, she was, how sad to know that in fact, every mother finished reciting her poem, a blow accompanied by whining will be done by the mother, beating herself because she could not make her husband feel at home, he said, the mother always tortures herself every time she completes a poem, all her turmoil she pours in poetry, until she forgets that there is a starving birth child. On the 30th night, when Anka peeked out from behind the door, she looked at her mother who was on the floor, reciting an enchanting poem, her tears had dried up feeling exhausted by her own feelings, her hair was as disheveled as porcupine fur, her face was pale, and her voice was stinging, though her appearance seemed messy, but the mother was so confident in deciphering her poetry, to the extent that Anka shuddered in horror, the fear that chime in was gobsmacked, but it was a pity, when the strands of words had met their ends - when the whole verse of poetry had been uttered - when it was finished reciting its poetry, I don't know what she had in mind, the mother killed herself with a samurai piercing through her chest.
Well, from there Anka began to really hate poetry, paranoia finally phobia, for him, poetry is just a waste of time, nonsense to be embedded in precious value in a word, even though it is in fact for me, he said, Anka is just traumatic, he will always be imagined the horror created from a sebit of poetry, both romance poetry and religious poetry, it is all just as terrible for him.
I have one of the books written by Anka's mother, I did not buy it, but it was freely given by Anka my best friend, the title of the book is; Poetry Deliver Me to My Husband.
A book filled with poems of despair, arrogance, and death, out of dozens of poems he made, there was a single stanza imprinted on my head.
Poetry, take me to him
Take me now to her whine that haunts dreams
Up to one sentence of apology can make his soul peaceful
Take me to my man
Then bring me a poem, bring me together with him ...
One thing is important! Her husband was dead before the wife could write a poem, and I could not tell her the moments of his death, it was disgusting and too horrible for me.
”Hem.“ I nodded steadily with a wry smile, at least enough to make my dimples appear to bend.
”Ya already, drugs ...,“ said Anka saying goodbye as she waved her right hand.
”Iya dada,“ reply.
Waita minute! I just realized, if I was taken to my house, but the promise was, we should have been to the meeting place earlier this morning, so Anka was not too far back home. I saw that the step Anka had taken had already taken within ten meters of me, for some reason she was stepping hastily.
”Anka!“ call me out loud, this is done so that Anka really hears me without sideburns.
Anka immediately turned her body back, her face still radiating brilliance, facing me while walking backwards.
”Thank you!“ I shouted thankfully, but there was no need to shout in this matter either, but for today, I want Anka to know that I am truly grateful to be with her.
”Remember! Today is perfect! Dadah ...,“ replied Anka who again waved with a smile until her eyes closed.
I waved my left hand, waving it impulsively, I was happy again, instead, thanks to Anka my atelophobic feelings slowly faded, but that did not mean lost.
Anka had returned home, had returned, and this perfect holy day was over, I moved the gate of my house with a restless feeling muffled by the words of an Anka, the heavy weight of the gate was light when I realized I was going to meet my beloved husband, when the gate had shifted to give enough space, I pushed my favorite bicycle strong, entered the area of the house in a grateful smile, I pushed my favorite bicycle firmly, into the area of the house in a grateful smile, I'm still grateful about Anka calming me down, I admit that she's my perfect best friend.
Parked my bike in my garage, walked into my house, drank a bottle of mineral water, lay on my bed checking my smartphone, without washing my legs, without changing clothes, and letting a carry-on bag lie on the bedroom floor, that's what I used to do after school, to the point that it almost became a culture, it was fun, life without burden was fun!
But wait, before long time to turn, somehow suddenly my shoulder felt the urge repeatedly, even my eardrum got a familiar sound vibration.
”Build ... already maghrib.“ My husband's voice, Harfa.
As a result, reflexively my eyelids opened, how unconscious I was, the slumber I just did.
Obviously, I rubbed my eyes, opened my eyes a few times, the effort to eliminate my blur was successful, right next to the mattress, I saw a handsome face like Tom Cruise had stood looking at me, the peaceful smile that rose on his face, made me rise up.
The wall lights in my room had shimmered bright white, revealing all the darkness that had surrounded this room.
”Come, first pray ..“ take my husband in a gentle tone while stepping towards the bathroom in this room.
I scolded my messy beige hair, and yawned as a sign of drowsiness still rippled through my mind, not forgetting, I clenched my phone lying sweetly by my side, checking it out.
At 18:12 pm, plus five unread messages, two of them from my schoolmates, the rest from Anka.
However, I put the phone back in the bed, I went to the bathroom, preparing to perform the maghrib prayer.
After the Maghrib prayer was over, my husband and I were always serious about it, not daring to joke around just for the sake of a reality called laughter.
Even a sword of love is unrequited
Even the harmonious flow of the word love must fall
Even with a strong promise of love can not settle
Let life not want to feel the pain of love must end
Fuck the incomprehensible love
To hell with outright rejection
My desire will still not disappear
I will have you complete with your soul
