Lightly Longing

Jakun Pak Arbi's

Mr. Arbi thrusting a folded t-shirt. I can already guess, if it's a white T-shirt made by children like him.

"For me, sir?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Lho, why do you love me."

"It's okay, Mom. Just want to give the children's work to Mom."

I frowned confused, also wondering. Am I the only one he loves? Or there is another teacher who was also given this. I don't want to be special in other men's eyes.

But, if showered with attention and small gifts like this, I could save the taste. It should be Satria who showered me with little attention as well as a gift of thanks.

A hand shrugged off my sight. I flinched from the daydream.

"Mom Ananta?"

"He uh?"

"The shirt is a flower."

"Thank you, sir."

"I deliberately chose a painting of carnations for Mom. I hope you like it and understand its meaning."

"I-I mean, sir?" I stammered, Mr. Arbi just smiled knot and passed. Only his broad back I still stared intently at.

I opened the shirt I was given. Flowers that have beautiful and wavy petals.

Sometimes, people refer to it as a paper flower because of its smooth texture and looks like a piece of paper.

I immediately google it, looking for the meaning behind the painting on the white t-shirt. The flower is painted in red.

White carnations have a sweet and lovely meaning, and red flowers are 'I will never forget you.'

"Soddy," I nodded my head slowly. Mr. Arbi's attitude is unusual. He who is still a bachelor, should give it to fellow Bu Afifah who is single.

Plus, Ms. Afifah is single. Mr. Arbi too. So they can fit in with each other.

"Mom Ananta," called Ms. Afifah who patted me on the shoulder, so I gasped. I saw that he was holding a t-shirt that had been spread across his body.

"Mom can you get kids' t-shirts too?"

"Yes. Mr. Arbi is loving."

I took a breath of relief, thank goodness. It turns out I wasn't the only one he gave. I can ignore the feelings that Mr. Arbi considers special.

I frowned looking at the painted flowers. Similar to mine, it's just that Ms. Afifah looks like she has two colors. From what I read earlier, the meaning that has two colors can be interpreted 'Can't be with you.'

What does it mean Mr. Arbi gave this flower painting with the meaning of its withdrawal. I know clearly that he's a biology teacher, but why code through pictures. Ah, it's up to Mr. Arbi alone, I thought.

***

Sunday morning like this, I relax for a moment and still continue to lie on the bed. Same with the man in front of me. He sleeps on his back, his head tilted towards me.

I looked at him closely, a form of regret sometimes present to say hello. His coldness, his mysterious side, I really don't know the man I've been with for a decade.

He began to rub and rub his face. Suddenly the phone rang, I saw the name on the screen, 'Former.' When Satria woke up, I was nervous just looking for the existence of my flat object.

Groping under the pillow. It only rings once, indeed. However, it seemed to have managed to put Satria's suspicion on me. I deleted all incoming or outgoing calls. Eliminates traces.

Satria immediately got up and grabbed the blanket. He stood up asking for my phone. I thrust. Obviously, he opened the call log.

"Yes, that's all, Bang."

"Why removed?" his tan ruffled his waist, then threw out a rough face.

"You're cheating, right? Yeah, right?!" the accusation immediately snapped at me.

"You're crazy!" I answered, who went straight to the bathroom near the kitchen.

"What's the name if it's not cheating!" he said again that pulled my wrist, I turned back. Eyes have condensed, blinked a little, shed tears.

I'm not cheating, not more precisely not yet. Maybe that's what I can describe with all the coldness of Satria. I'm just an ordinary woman, what's wrong with expecting warmth from my own husband.

Although a lot of love comes, but I can close my eyes as well as ears. I avoided the fight. Satria was crazy, she threw my flat object on the floor. Stained, messy.

I went straight into the bathroom. Turn on the motor and leave the house. I'm actually confused where to go. The atmosphere was also still early in the morning. A thousand maki caci can be held by a wife, but not by a husband.

I drove the bike, had no purpose. Stop at the lake far from home. I parked there, then walked over the bridge and sat on a wooden chair under a shady tree and stared at the calm water that lay.

I was crying a mouthful. It breaks my heart, the accusations are unfounded. Also, he should have heard what I said yesterday.

I bowed deeply, not infrequently removing fluid from the nose and returned to crying. It was obvious that warm water escaped from the eyes. The shoulder also shook because of the pain that hit the heart. Sometimes it is just a matter of cheating.

A tall, skinny shadow wearing a hoodie hat was seen in the lake water. I glanced towards the white sports shoes next to me. Then sweep towards the top. The black cloth pants showed half his thighs. From his suit he is, jogging here.

Mr. Arbi stood sculpting with both hands placed in an ash-colored hoodie bag, complete with a hat that fused with the sleeveless t-shirt. His arm muscles are perfectly formed.

He stared straight at the lake. My eyes were looking at him who was now looking at me. Thin mustaches seemed to fill around his lips and chin.

"Sir Arbi?"

"Yes, I."

I quickly swept away the remains of the tear grains with the back of a hand. Trying to neutralize a sick heart. The veined hand thrusts a handkerchief.

"Thank you."

He landed his ass next to me without asking. His gaze was sad, but it managed to intimidate even without asking.

"Ah, I-I ...."

"No need to explain. I understand it."

"You could have misunderstood, sir."

He seemed to take a deep breath. Long enough silent, his eyes moved following the movement of my eyeballs. Then he gulped down a bottle of mineral water that he took out of his pouch.

His wet chin and jaw made me swallow heavy saliva. I don't know why there's this weird swish that's running warm.

"Now, for you" he said, drawing another bottle of water from his left hand.

He didn't say anything, asked why I wasn't here. It's so strange that this man, I'm not interested in a mysterious man.

I took water from him, and he got up. "Where are you going, sir?"

"Don't you want to be alone?"

Right, what Mr. Arbi said.

"But, if you want to accompany me, you may," I said, stopping her steps, turning to look at me.

"You have a husband, Mom!"