My Prayer From Forbidden Places

Chapter 3: Job Offers at Massage Pans

In the silence of that night I contemplated all that had befallen me all this time.

When I go home to my parents then the strange problems facing me even more complicated. My parents told me to get divorced.

While I also do not want to be seen in my hometown as a woman who failed to live.

"Mama...Mama ..!!"

My daughter woke up calling me crying. At midnight, my daughter always wakes up to drink milk.

"Cup, cup, cup! Yes, son. This is Mama's coming, son!" I said while offering him milk.

"Have you done it, son?" I lay by his side, hugging him until he fell asleep again.

I looked at my daughter's face. He looks like his father. My thoughts raged, between anger, disappointment and longing for my husband.

Divorce ...?

Ah ... Divorce is not the best option for me. He is my husband and his father my daughter. And the case of the quarrel that was not because of the betrayal of his love.

My husband was actually a loving and patient man. But indeed, he was not a tough warrior man. It is easy to escape from problems. Often running away from his responsibilities.

True said people, the time of the household is not as beautiful as the time of dating.

Ah ... When considering the time we dated, I never imagined when the household would be this tragic.

Not only heavy in living husband, but facing the neighbor scorn is no less heavy, when my economy slumped.

Countless neighbor whispers were fired at me, for now I fell into a scrub washerman.

In fact, there was a neighbor who was blatantly poking straight at me, why would I want to be a scrubber.

"Mbak.., how do you want the work of washing rub? Is my husband working on a project out of town? It must be a big paycheck!" ask him kepo.

Asked as soon as I became a dead flea and could only endure the embarrassment. Because before, when they asked me where my husband was, I always said he was working on a project out of town.

I used to face the neighbors for a long time. I must be heartened by the harsh reality that has befallen my life.

I need to focus and focus on how to manage this little money for my daughter's milk. Especially for the treatment of the road which is fairly not cheap medicine. The cost of therapy and others.

Once every two weeks. Once a month of medicine for 600 thousand I must buy. There is also a cost for therapy once a month. Every three or four months my son has to check up to the hospital.

Thinking about it all, my head felt like it was about to break!

Suppose I don't remember God, don't remember my parents, don't remember my only daughter, I don't know, what's gonna happen to me.

Moreover, my son has a fever. His body was immediately cold, full of sweat and his condition was exhausted. I could only tightly hug her body with anxiety, fear, sadness and finally could only cry loudly.

I have no money at all ...

Apparently my loud cries, inviting the neighbors to pity me, then helping my daughter take her to the nearest clinic.

This heartbreaking incident after incident, sometimes brings up the feeling of giving up on going home to my parents.

Sometimes it brings up the desire to call my husband, and say, "Help your wife and daughter, sir!"

When I was in the clinic ...

Suddenly I heard the sound of my HP from inside the bag.

I opened it, and I saw an unknown number 8 calls. I think this must be from my husband. Because before, my contact number was blocked. Maybe he used another sim card.

There was a voice across that was familiar to my ears.

And.....

My crying voice spilled out instantly. I don't care anymore even though I'm at the clinic.

He's an old friend of mine. Her nickname, Diah. My best friend when we worked together at the factory.

I poured everything I experienced into him.

On my cry through HP, she was worried about my condition and my daughter She promised to pick me up at the Clinic.

He tried many times to calm me down so as not to panic.

Diah, my old best friend is in grief.

The next morning he actually came to pick me up. He paid for all my daughter's treatment at the clinic. We also went home together.

Thank God that old friend came as my goddess of help.

Because she is a widow. So he stayed at my contract for a week.

Not long after, the owner of my rented house looked at my daughter, then said that my contract was only 2 months away. His words sounded clear to Diah's ears.

"I'm sorry about your life, Raisa!" Said Diah while patting my shoulder.

"You can't keep this up. You just come with me, work at the Massage parlor," he said, staring intently at my eyes so that I would agree with his invitation.

Diah convinced me with her success stories and her friend who worked at the Massage Station.

He is so good at telling stories. So unconsciously I was inspired to follow in his footsteps. Moreover, my economy is dying.

According to Diah, the results of his work there, can be made to send regular money to his son up to millions of rupiah. I see his appearance now is different from when he used to work in a factory. His hair was straight and smooth, his eyeballs never separated from contact lenses.

My pleasure increased when he often went after the phone call, whether day or night, a few hours later he always brought home a lot by such as milk, mamiri, and clothes for my daughter.

Diah who used to be a good friend, until now he is still very good.

Given that I really need money to extend the rent, the needs of my daughter's life, the cost of my son's treatment, then without thinking I am interested in working in the Massage House.

Without needing to be persuaded again, without the need for me to ask for a more detailed explanation of his work, I volunteered to work there.

"Can I piss people off? Screaming at my husband I can't, let alone ask someone else's mijit." I asked Diah who wasn't sure of my ability to massage people.

"There will be someone there. You don't have to worry. It's so easy, really!" answer convinced me.

-"Diah, if I want to work there, when do I start?" I can't wait to get to work soon.

"Tomorrow direct work, also can. The sooner the better. But ... You look for someone who can take care of your son." Diah's message reminded me to find my daughter's nanny.

"Usually when I go out to scrub, I drop my son off to the next-door neighbor's "Mama. He's already considered my own parents. She must be so happy to take care of my son."

"okkey. Then, tomorrow afternoon we are ready to go there. Oh, ja. If any of your neighbors ask, you work where, just say you work at the store"

"But I work there still can wear a hijab, right?"

#Connected ...