Love For The Actor

Love For The Actor
If there is birth, there is death.



Riding a plane from Bali to Jakarta, after a few hours finally arrived also at Halim Perdana Kusuma Airport, I deliberately chose the airport, so that more quickly arrived at the mother's house that night.


When I want to go home, I did not have time to buy souvenirs for Mom and it is impossible that I came out of hand, without bringing anything.


Because it's not good to meet parents without hands, that's what he always told me when I had a job out of town, when he was working first.


Because I never brought her souvenirs, I was too ignorant and always hated her.


I always blamed my mother. Why is my life suffering like this? Why am I born in this world, just to be miserable, that was what I always told him if I had a lot of trouble.


I used to hate my mother a lot, because I never took good care of me like other mothers.


My mother never gave me love and never taught me about religion, about how to read the Quran, how to pray, never asked me to teach, she always gave me a bad example, she said, start getting married, save a brondong, cheat, get drunk, snatch people's husbands after the money runs out. Then, he left.


These are the examples I always see from my mom. But this time, I wanted to make peace with her, and hoped that my mother would accept my intentions well.


I wish my mom hadn't thought of me as a money-making machine again like she used to.


When leaving the airport, no more shops are open because it is too late at night. I think it's better to wait until tomorrow to see my mother if I come now with nothing that means I'm no different from the previous Ririn.


I decided, looking for an inn for a break that night, while waiting for the store to open.


Choosing a simple inn, if I choose a luxurious one, I'm afraid Virto or Marisa happens to be there.


*


When morning came, I rushed out of the inn, and there happened to be a store that was already open. Buy some kind of mother's favorite cake, and one basket of fruit as a hand.


For now, I think that was just the beginning. Later the rest let me give money and perhiasan to mother’, I said in my heart.


Still with an alert attitude, I ordered an online-based vehicle to drive me to my mother's contract, in Kampung Baru in Cimanggis Depok.


While in the white vehicle, I began to feel very tense, nervousness and the feeling of attacking Marisa's shadow more strongly haunted my mind. This hand is always cold sweat every time considering the thugs who pushed his eyes to death.


Several times I took a deep breath to relieve the nervousness, to the point that the driver's father turned his head to the windshield glancing at my pale and agitated face.


“Mbak is okay?” ask the driver to start the conversation


“It's okay sir,” said I put this up in the back seat to close my eyes.


About forty-five minutes finally the car stopped at the point of application I ordered.


“Mbak we have arrived,” said the Father stopped in front of the house rented mom.


The sound of this heart, the more it beats not because I am reluctant to get out of the car.


“Wait a minute sir, if my mother is not at home, I will join the father again later, I will not be long," I said while getting out of the car.


“Good mbak,” said friendly.


I took a deep breath, before I stepped, I turned this eye, to the right and left. The rented house we stayed with my mom, in a Texas neighborhood, there were many cafes that opened live music every night.


The noise from the sound of the breaking system sound has become a sleep delivery for us every night, my contract with my mother is only three doors apart.


The house looks deserted, as if uninhabited, the front porch of the mother's contract looks dirty, seepage of land from splashing and sand due to rain, dirtying the mother's contract, and the, it was as if it had been for days without being swept away.


‘What does my mother go?’ in my heart, I put the fruit basket and red bag containing the favorite cake on the contract barrier.


I tried knocking a couple of times, I thought, 'When my mother goes to the cafe drunk again and goes home in the morning .


Tok ... Tok ….!


“Mother! Mother ...!” Call me a few times. However, there is no authorization, even though I have bought a new phone, to call, but I forgot my mother's gawe number.


I tried to knock again, suddenly people came out of the rented house, the row of mother's rooms, he approached with a face full of questions. I still remain steadfast with my disguise.


“Who to find Mbak?”


“My mom, uh I mean her Official Mom where is she?”


“Mbak ready?” mbak Nur asked her neighbor, the woman did not recognize me because I was wearing a wig and sunglasses.


“I'm a friend of his son, Mom,” I stammered.


“OH...emang mba do not know, if Ms. Lasmi has died”


Like being struck by lightning in broad daylight, that was my reaction upon hearing that.


My hand dropped the bag containing fresh fruit of my choice, I deliberately chose it good for my mother, hoping my mother was happy when I gave her souvenirs. But what is this .. what am I hearing this. Did I hear wrong? My mind screams bitterly.


“Whataa?”


“Lasmi's mother died a month ago,”.


My body is still staring at the door leaf light brown, scribbles using black marker that is the work of the hands of my son Darma.


He was always dogging to scribble the walls of their grandmother's contract, making the middle-aged woman hiss annoyed whenever her granddaughter came to her rented room, but left many scribbles ranging from the door to the wall to even the table. But for his grandson he was never angry, whatever he was to me but for my children he was angry, that is my mother.


Although giving scribbles in every corner of his house he will not be angry.


“Mother!” Call me soft, my eyes don't cry but my knees feel helpless.


I sat down with my gaze staring at the fruit neatly arranged in a rattan basket, I looked at the red bag, mother's favorite cake, cake sprinkled with fruit slices, it was my mother's favorite. Too late.


It was too late for me to say one sentence Sorry to Mom, she was gone before I apologized to her. Smell it again


He died the same day my son was born. Happy way Mother.


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Sorry not updated yesterday because busy dealing with leaks and sales. next time hopefully more diligent updates, until the story is finished . But don't forget the support, yes Brother let me get more excited again.


Good wishes to all my readers.