My husband is not my first love
Village Flowers
“Degree now, Nif?"
The young man called, Nif, stopped the movement of the stairs that were sharpening machetes.
I just watched from a distance, two middle-aged women passing by in front of the house with baskets filled with Pat, a tool for tapping rubber sap.
“What we fear is a higher educated wife tend to master, unruly because they feel smarter.”
The smile on the face was an ordinary demon responding to the sentence of the woman standing nearby, then said softly, “ia is even good at making jerky outdoor dishes, hee ... Don't worry Hanif, Wak.”
The young man re-honed the machete, letting the twitching of the two women that soon passed. While away they apparently have not finished worrying about my husband.
"Schoolers usually can't do anything, just brew coffee clear ..."
That is, I often hear some neighbors commenting on the mismatches in our impromptu marriage. Gossip quickly spread and became a crossroads. Typical news of the wind. Villages whose residents are friendly and considerate feel everything that happens is part of their problem as well. As an indifferent woman, I actually don't care much.
I used to be a little more human by trying to adjust to declining ego so as not to get bad comments. Adjust how the standardization of villagers who care for none other because they want to keep the feeling of Umak. Now when he's gone I don't care as long as I don't feel like I'm doing anything wrong, weird or too much.
* * *
"I went to the stall for a while." I said to the man who was still rubbing the machete so it was white.
The young man looked up, smiled then nodded.
On the way I also heard other things, things that interested me.
"I thought it was Hanif, Si Nia. They're a loving couple."
"Yes, Nia is smart to cook, painstakingly take care of the household fits Hanif good and hardworking."
I narrowed my eyes at the chatter that immediately came to a halt with my presence, but the way they looked made me understand they were jealous. What kind of jealousy is this.
At least now know if the sweet girl in front of the house is the candidate that the whole village considers the most meet the criteria of Hanif, my husband.
Realizing indeed, several times the sweet girl across the house stole a glance at our house. It's not because I'm curious, is it?
* * *
Why is something wrong now. Hanif should be straightforward if he falls in love with someone else. Did he go with the Father? Hem, I need to make sure of this as soon as possible before deciding further.
"Si Nia, the girl in front is pretty huh?" I opened the conversation at home.
While changing his clothes with special clothes for service to the garden, a thin black t-shirt he responded, "yes."
"You fit well."
The handle came to a halt, looking at me who was busy fanning brooms against the wall, throwing away the dust.
"Not tried."
"He's good at cooking too." I chased further.
"That's it?"
"Have you tried?"
"Heeee ..." we laughed.
I'm not jealous, just curious. The way makes not hesitate even though he is a few years older.
* * *
Another interesting thing that can be done besides meditating in front of the laptop now is to look at the glass window. The girl in front of the house glanced at our house several times. Noticed is indeed beautiful him, hairy waist with a clean face natural like most village girls. High with a friendly face. He was chopping coconut leaves to make a broomstick.
Sometimes also saw him sitting in the halls, linking the wicker braid to form a beautiful webbing. She's a soft hardworking girl. Hem, are you sorry this humorous young man didn't marry her? Now even married to a woman who can not cook even allergic to mengolek chilli. Kasian is him. I glanced at the figure sitting back in the sopa of the family room. The green and black fan scribbled on the book with pen in hand, certainly not realizing what his wife was thinking.
Do they really have a story, right? Neighboring is common if the girl delivers food to this house, after all she has long lived alone.
* * *
The party in our village takes place at night and during the day. While briefly attending the invitation I heard how the village flower was singing, the Nia meant. Her voice is melodious. The song that was performed also heartbreaking I did not understand the title, just saw him live deeply. Is the song related to my husband?
Why do I even feel like a fight for people's love.
She is called a calculated girl, good at cooking and taking care of the house she is also a party star. Hear for yourself how the mothers praise him who makes beautiful pastries in the house of worship. It grows and grows here, in direct contact with all its traditions. Until transformed into the embodiment of village girls who represent the perfect picture as village flowers.
It must be like heaven and earth with the other woman. This was the first time I felt there was something wrong with my decision, which made being in not my own habitat. Not even doing anything proud. Being a lot of contemplation about the not easy realization of the big decision.
"Thinking something?" Suddenly the front of the nose is blocked by the face that has often been near me these past few days.
"Yes, why don't we buy a blender?"
"Owh, heee ... Your husband thinks there's something more serious than chilli business."
"Of course, I'm worried about marrying someone who other people love"
The forehead in front of me is tied. Like a moment confused by what exactly I want to discuss.
"It's about the front neighbor again?" tanyakanya.
"I'm not jealous, really!" I turned around uncomfortably with those eyes.
"Jealousy is also good." she said with a smile.
"How can you not tell me if you like each other?" I'm pouting.
"Why indeed?"
"And I can pull over."
"This girl, what does she think."
Notya make it clear, after speaking indistinctly instead go to the front door. It wasn't about the secret of love with a neighbor across the street.
* * *
The Earth Raflesia 1616
