Hot Couple: Inara's Love Story

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My younger brother, Ihsan Satria, is an employee of a publishing and printing company. Ihsan is athletic, her hair is black, her skin is quite white. The shape of his face is similar to mine, especially when we were little, like twins of different genders. She lived with my mother in one of the complexes in Pademangan area, North Jakarta. I usually only meet Ihsan on the days of celebration, or when I meet my mother, every three to six months. And we only talk when there's something important to discuss.

Ihsan called me the day after I met my father by accident. I immediately guessed that he called me because it had something to do with my meeting with my father yesterday. After pressing the call option, I immediately asked if he was calling me. Sure enough, my guess fit perfectly without missing a single bit.

The man who claimed to be my father contacted my aunt who lived in Bogor, because it was through him that my only father could ask me and my sister, just to ask. But this time what he did was out of bounds, as if I was a child raised by him with both hands. Though the oath of death, even though he had not come to see me for twenty-two years, even more, even nearly twenty-three years.

Ihsan said that my poor father told my aunt that I was in Surabaya and living with a man. He asked my aunt to tell my mother, complete with the message that my mother was not to educate me, his daughter, until I was judged to have sinned and made the honorable father feel ashamed. I wanted to tighten her tie so hard that she was suffocating and in pain.

I hate his goddamn attitude. If it's true as he thinks, he should think it's his fault, not my mother's. He should admit mistakes, not just blame. After all it was a pretentious gesture, whatever my mistake he should have realized that he was the cause, he was the one who sinned because he had abandoned me and abandoned me. He's a saint, he's more sinful than I am. Want me to tell him if I make a mistake, it means downhill from his bad nature. And if I do good, it is in no way a departure from its nature.

I told a detailed incident the other day to Ihsan, how I was forced to endure hunger just because I wanted to escape from there. "Tool! I should have called security and told them to take the man away. After all, all the resto employees I'm his future wife Mas Reza."

"Ha Ha Ha!" Ihsan laughs. "Cruel!" said spying.

Whatever. "By the way, how did Mother respond?"

"relax. Mother does not pierce. He believes we're good kids. But Mommy said, your marriage is faster the better. So that stranger doesn't have to be busy thinking about you."

I'm just saying, "Yes, yeah, yeah."

Unfortunately, my handsome brother called me on his lunch break. So we can only chat for a moment. He'll call me back later tonight when he gets home.

I picked up a notebook, where I wrote down my behavioral desires. There are many things I wrote in the book, such as: building a house, no need to be big, small is okay as long as my mother can live with me. And that day with some emotion I wrote down my new wish, plastic surgery, so that my poor father would not recognize me again. But, moments later, I crossed out the two words I just wrote. Of course because I remember my mother and Reza who loved this face, a naturally beautiful and sweet face, without the slightest improvement, just a little mekap thin. I need to stop running. Must.

Well, at eight nights my phone rang again. Ihsan actually called me again that night, even though I thought he was just a small talk. "Know not, what's the story about your father's terrible furore?" Ihsan asked suddenly.

"I don't really want to know."

"But?"

"Yes, okay. Please tell me."

"Your ears are fine. Ready it?"

"Emm," I muttered.

"She.. wants."

"Waw," I said, without being startled without shouting.

"Not surprised?"

I shake my head strongly. "No, but upset. He could've been like that, would've ruined me twice."

"Hush! You haven't seen it...."

"What?"

"You know, the longer you see it...."

"Mmm-mmm...."

"He looks more handsome than the real Reza Rahadian."

It sucks!

Ihsan's laughter is exploding across the street. "Cieee, who's already in love," she teased me and broke down.

Not funny!

"Seriously, you get married quickly. She'll bring you a future husband next week. He's already asked for the address of this house from the aunt."

Kupijat. My head's pulsing. "Whatever! I won't care" I said.

"I know you won't care about that matchmaking. But you must have felt disturbed because of your father's behavior."

Ihsan always called the man "your father." It is clear that his wound is still felt. It's just that he can be wiser than me. Maybe because he's a guy, he's good at coping with his feelings.

I asked Ihsan, if he already knew I was going to be disturbed, why is he still talking to me about it?

"I didn't mean for you to be disturbed. But.. lest you take a quick step, lest he trouble you again. Because you know -- that means he also bullies Mother. I hate it when it's like that. Understand, right?"

I took a deep breath. "Yeah, I get it."

I couldn't sleep that night, but I couldn't go anywhere, my legs were glued to the floor by my past, and not a single prayer in hell can release it from its shackles. I still wake up late and watch Reza Rahadian's movies, because watching Reza Rahadian's acting is a powerful way to comfort my broken heart. I watched Critical Eleven, Twivortiare, and When to Marry?- all of them.

I actually have seen all three films. It's just that I really like it and it doesn't matter if I re-watch it. Like the Critical Eleven movie, I love the totality of a Reza Rahadian in Ale's character who makes a friendly outing with his wife after Ale's birthday party. The scene of the shawl made me cry alone. I think someone who is in a state of solitary life must love the romantic parts in the movie Critical Eleven, as well as Ale's hand grip in the film that reminds me of Reza Dinata.

After that movie I watched Twivortiare. There is a scene that became my favorite scene, which was when the first dr. Beno kissed Alex. I used to love that scene, and became more like it after I experienced the same thing, the first time Reza kissed me. The situation is different, it's just the same apology, both in a gerogi state, feeling guilty, embarrassed, but actually want to enjoy again. I often reply the scene, no boredom. It's just that I want to protest against Alexandra Rhea's full name, because Rhea's name reminds me of the woman who took part in ruining my life. That woman took my father from me. I often swear to him that he may be left cheating on me by my father, or whoever he loves. Just like the pain my mother felt.

After the Twivortiare movie was over, I still couldn't sleep. I went on to watch the movie When to Marry?- and I liked almost the whole story.

Similar to the Critical Eleven and Twivortiare films, Reza Rahadian as Satrio in the film When to Mate?- also reminds me of Reza Dinata, only in the Reza part presents a song for Dinda, who is also a member of the group, like Reza Dinata who gave me a song.

I was pensive, before the presence of the figure of Reza Dinata reminded me of my favorite actor, because his face was as handsome as Reza Rahadian. But now it is Reza Rahadian who reminds me of Reza Dinata. There was a longing that began to permeate the niches of my heart. Longing for the presence of Reza Dinata. Feels claustrophobic. If he were here, I would have slept well in his arms by now.