Mom's Not a Prostitute

The Incandescent Life that Dimmed

Assalamualaikum, dear reader.

Sorry in advance, for the next part until the end can only be read in the Community Can Write App. Please find my account there (Ansar_Siri).

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Greetings 😊🙏

Ansar Siri

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I am glad I found a new me. The mother who had disappointed her son was no longer a biduan or a laundry worker, but one of the owners of Warung Dua Widow who was on the rise.

 

Watampone, 2014

I'm sure my son will come back one day. And when that comes, I don't want to let her down a second time. That's why I should be better. I decided to stop being a female. To make a living, I became a washing worker. Every morning I walk around the village, looking for people who want to leave their dirty clothes to wash for a potluck fee. In the afternoon, I went back around the village to deliver clothes that had been washed clean and perfectly dry. So next. At night, I spent more time contemplating, remembering my son. There is hardly a night I go through without crying before going to bed. And after falling asleep, I always met Tiara in the dreamland.

Watampone, 2015

Today the sad news came back. If fate had not said otherwise, tomorrow after Siska would have entered into a marriage contract with a single child widower whom he had known for the past six months. The man works as a traveling clothing trader, often visiting us when we gather with neighbors in the afternoon. That is where the introduction between the merchant and the buyer takes place. Until one day the man came without any merchandise. It means purely wanting to meet, establish further intimacy with Siska. I don't know what advantages the man who is no longer young has, until Siska is willing to open the door of the heart. But all this time he always kept his distance from a creature named man. The past traumatized him. More or less the same as me.

Thanks to knowing the man who was going to marry her, Siska decided to stop being a biduan. She said she wanted to enjoy her time as a wife. I am very happy to welcome his decision. Her prospective husband gave her the capital to build a food stall around the market. Since then, her days have been cheerful. He was smiling everywhere.

But nahas. Earlier this morning her future husband died on the spot after a motorbike he was driving every day in search of sustenance collided with a truck at the crossroads of the road to the port of Bajoe. Hearing the news Siska instantly fainted. Now, he ceaselessly roared, as if to blame fate that was so willing to play tricks on him. As a friend who is also fragile, I try to strengthen him.

The months passed fanning the gentle wind. The times of recuperation for Siska have passed. His smile had returned, though not as wide as it used to be. Now is the time to pioneer a food stall that she used to want to manage with her late husband. Instead, he invited me to work together. From the beginning he could not bear to see me as a washing worker. Of course I feel happy and very grateful. The money I saved from the first for the cost of Tiara going to the university I gave it to Siska for additional capital. But he refused, he said later if the money he had was not enough.

A month later the simple shop stood firm. We were glued in front of him while embracing with teary eyes—ful gazing full of haru. I hope this is really a new beginning. Hopefully this stall will cover all the grim stories that have been exhausting us all this time. Above the entrance is a board that says Warung Dua Widow. Yes, that's the name we pinned to a place we hope can bring this blessing. Rather tickling indeed. We intentionally. The goal is to lure customers.

Alhamdulillahot. In just three months the name Warung Dua Widow had already spread everywhere. The delicacy of the food we serve is a conversation. Especially among motorcycle taxi drivers, pedicab makers, benders, and shopkeepers in the market who often eat in our shop. Siska claimed to have returned the capital. It's really a blessing. God finally showed His mercy.

Every share of the results I received from Siska I painstakingly saved. This money is for Tiara's college tuition when she returns one day. I am glad I found a new me. The mother who had disappointed her son was no longer a biduan or a laundry worker, but one of the owners of Warung Dua Widow who was on the rise. If Tiara had been here, she would have been happy.

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