Masalalu Story
chapter 15
continue the story in chapter 14 and this ends briefly in chapter 15
I remember very well, in bad condition, Diajeng thrust cold water to me. “Drink first, tired huh? So don't speed up on his bike,” said Diajeng while showing off his phenomenal smile. It was true that my fatigue suddenly evaporated into the air and was replaced with happiness in the chest. With my hands still left over from the lubricating oil of the bike chain, I grabbed the glass that Diajeng thrust and then gulped it down greedily, venting my thirst. He watched my spontaneous action while smiling and shaking his head.
As a “stars class” there is no difficulty for me to teach math problems to the woman of love. Although my concentration sometimes crumbles because I often enjoy the charm of his face rather than seriously teaching mathematics.
Although unspeakable, from the look in his eyes I know, Diajeng also likes me to always be near him, sharing and telling stories about many things. And we both keep that feeling hidden in the depths of each other's hearts, whole and elegant. Love does not have to be expressed verbally.
When the Marwah had to go to another city, my heart withered and was wounded by it. I did not have time to express my deepest feelings even when the breakup came just days after our school breakup.
On the last day I met him, we shook hands and promised to send word to each other. There was pain in his eyes. He looked furious as he pulled back his hand that I had held for a long time. I smiled with embarrassment. He laughed softly then nodded as I said softly, “Don't forget me huh?”. With a gontai step I left the terrace of his yard where I used to teach him mathematics. He was still standing there when I looked back. He waved his hand and cried. Ah, a piece of my heart was left there..
Two days after Diajeng left, I fell ill for a week. Both my parents were confused, their eldest son suddenly became ill, went on hunger strike and went on a school strike. It is difficult to rebuild a broken heart because of the first love that ended heartbreakingly like this.
That loss is so hard to deal with. Even when entering High School I chose to concentrate more on learning and taking care of OSIS High School rather than having a love relationship (read the story of “continuance” this story in "love me to". I still harbored hope in Diajeng who at that time often sent me letters. In the second year after his departure, I lost track and we never sent each other letters again.
The memories of first love are unforgettable. And the warmth is still felt today. I mark the most beautiful moment in this piece of an episode of my life as a precious monument. Whether at some point (maybe after we are both old), when we finally meet again, I want to invite him to remember those good times, he said, while humming the old song Iwan Fals “First Class” Window that I often kicked with a longing to shake while pedaling a bicycle to his home teaching Mathematics
Sitting on the back row bench
Classes are full of conversation
Always messing with the pace of the imagination
From the classroom window that has no glass
From there I began to get to know
The seraut of the face contains the reverie
