My Lovely Driver's
18
"Basic tengil. Don't go near Natasha again!”
Amar continued to target every inch of his son's body. No matter how many eyes there are in the parking lot.
“Ouch! Dad, this shame is seen in person”
“Let's be embarrassed now, than cry later! He wants a fiancee in a few days. Your sense of well being banged up where the hell Lukmaaan..!”.
“Gak bumped Well. It's just birth like this. It's Dad who made me, same mom”
“Lukmaaan..!”
Mr. Amar was just about to pinch his son, again. Until a voice came from the mosque, right in front of the cafe was. Iandang azan began to echo throughout.
“Sst ... Daddyh. Cook another Azan? Prayers yuk?”
Lukman put his index finger in front of his lips. Then raise a smile as wide as possible with a mimic for mercy. Finally, Mr. Amar ended his frustration.
Lukman took his father's hand to cross the road, to the mosque.
As if there had been no dispute before.
Prayer times have saved them.
The mosque is located in the middle of population density is always crowded by worshippers. It was renovated last month. The stairs that are 17 makes Mr. Amar must pause his steps. Lukman spies on his father carefully. The former surgery two years ago still causes occasional pain.
Then continue the remaining steps, stepping into the mosque which is always the best place to calm the soul.
Calligraphy around the reliefs of the building with a charming blend of colors, large white pillars numbering five, and a similar round chandelier belonging to the mosque Aya Sophia in a smaller form, perfect the look of this mosque. The gradation of the whole color really presents an unusual atmosphere.
Lukman stood by his father's side at the first shaf. They have not prayed together for a long time. In the past when I was in High School, this was the second sacred routine, in addition to family dinner. Then Lukman moved to Jogja for college, Mr. Amar increasingly felt dissolved in loneliness. Especially after Maryam married and lived apart, the man had to go through his twilight alone.
The children repeatedly asked the father to remarry, but it never happened. Either as strong as mothers hold their father's heart, so they can not open their hearts again.
After praying and offering prayers, the two chose to sit for a moment. Mr. Amar turned to the large round clock on the wall of the mosque, there was another half hour before Nata was finished with his affairs. He looked at his son closely, Lukman's eyes and nose very similar to his mother's. The shadow of the ex-wife filled his mind now.
“Entah how two or three more years. Dad will probably curl up lonely in that little house, childless, wifeless.”
Mr. Amar rubbed his face, then changed the sitting position a little better by sticking out the second time forward. The line on that face revealed so many years that it had been through. Her hair was partially bleached, not wanting to be hidden anymore.
How Lukman has left his father alone for so long. He felt guilty not living with his father. But the location of homes and offices is very far, through three congestion centers at once. Until when someone offered him costs at a sloping price, Lukman immediately agreed. The owner, who is a teacher, felt once indebted when Lukman helped him during teacher certification, several years ago.
If calculated from since college, it has been almost ten years he was far apart from his father. I should be able to rest and live with him.
“Later to marry me. Daddy stay with me ya”
Lukman looked at his father. Trying a little to raise the father who was polluting his life.
“Then do you think by marrying a rich man, he wants to live in a small house and there is your father in it?”
Silent. Lukman doesn't know what to brag about this time. He imagined taking Nata to live in a small house, it felt impossible.
“Dad believes miracles?”
Lukman tried to comfort himself while massage his father's legs back.
“Wonders?”
“Iya”
“Past I ever wished for a miracle when your mother left. I hope he comes back and we can fix everything. But in fact, that miracle does not exist.”.
Lukman breathed a long sigh, watching his father's bead-looking eyes goosebumps.
“Well, what are you doing right now? Are already happy with his new family”
It has been a long time since he thought about his mother. But seeing the look of longing in the eyes of the father, inevitably Lukman must try to remember again the figure he wants to forget.
“Entahlah .. It's been 22 years since you were in the second grade of Elementary School. I can't trace your mother anymore. Your grandfather said he's been living abroad. It's not entirely mom's fault, I can't make her happy.. Wrong father.”
There's a patch in Mr. Amar's eyes. He took the wallet out of his pants pocket, then pulled a photograph out of it. He put it in Lukman's hands.
An old photo of a laminated father, a woman with dyed hair looks smiling touching her growing belly. The woman was standing in front of the first house they lived in in Surabaya. A simple house purchased from the rest of the savings of the mother while in college, after being completely evicted from the house for choosing to marry Amar, Lukman's father.
She was still in the mother's womb.
“Mother? Even I almost forgot his face.”
Lukman drew the picture, trying to smile even bitterly. It is said that a boy will forever belong to his mother, but that does not seem to apply to Lukman.
“Yes, why do you want to be with your father, even though you are rich?”
Lukman intends to divert the plight by teasing his father's youth.
“Entahlah. Maybe your mother's head hit the Berlin” wall
******
Radit invited Nata to accompany him shopping for furniture at a Swedish furniture retailer located in Tanggerang. He needs some cooking utensils and a sofa to refresh the atmosphere of his apartment. In three days, Radit will be home. But Nata has not yet given certainty.
Life is about the present, and the future. But somehow it is difficult to drive without having to be overshadowed by the past. Radit is too good in the present, but Nata fears a fragment of the past will overtake him into the future.
“Sorry, if I want to year something. You have the right not to answer if you feel this is privacy”
Nata scanned Radit who was in focus behind the wheel.
“Ask what?”
Radit turned his head for a moment, then lowered his speed. The streets are a little quiet tonight.
“Is the woman now married?”
Radit tries to understand who Nata is referring to. Then take a deep breath, as if trying to collect oxygen to help him speak.
“Even a few times I searched for him. He just disappeared. I wanted to apologize, and I wanted to make up for this guilt. But his family moved, his father was a soldier, so it was rare to settle in one region”
“What is he your first love?”
Nata still remembers Radit once said his late wife was not the first woman to fill his heart.
“Iya.. Doesn't it matter first or not? What matters last?"
“So you don't know if he has a family or not, has a child or not?”
Nata's question was a bit surprising. Radit was once worried about the consequences of his sin. Whether or not to sow the seed, but he felt confident doing the right way to prevent it from happening. If the woman is pregnant, she will have to take responsibility. Then he was a little relieved, but the woman never tried to see him again.
“Entahlah. If only I could find out.”
Nata looked at the look of Radit who was moving his head left and right, stretching a little neck muscle.
“Radite.. I don't know what to make. I am very excited about this proposal. I'm I don't know. Still stuck because there is a fragment of your past that has not been completed”
“Istikharahlah Nata .. I will be very grateful if the answer is yes. And I don't have to start a marriage with a lie anymore. If the answer is no, don't worry. I will find another widow. Who likes to eat two apples once swallow”
Radit arched a smile, trying to melt the atmosphere. Both of them looked tense with this heavy topic.
Nata looked out the car glass. See the atmosphere of the night on the edge of the road that has been filled with various culinary folk. Many young couples filled the shoulders of the streets that always lived until midnight.
Nata's eyes caught a familiar figure. The man in a black T-shirt with belel jeans, seemed to be sitting in an angkringan. A woman appeared to be crying, with her forehead against the man's shoulder.
In a hurry Nata opened his messenger application, then typed in a message.
“CONGRATULATIONS, HIS SHOULDER IS NOT IDLE ANYMORE.”
Sent to: Lukman.
