My wife Fat
4
“Sultan Muhammad al-Fatih, 21, has conquered Constantinople. Well you? Age almost 22 years conquer the heart of women alone can not.”
_______
The sunlight dimmed, slowly returning to the contest. The man in the black shirt was still grappling with the scattered files. His office is right next to his room. The door of the room was on the side which could be directly connected to our room.
I knocked on the door without excuse, although the door was not actually closed either.
“Ya, what's up?” asked Mas Rafly without looking at me. His fingers moved to put ink on the papers. Even though office hours are still off. However, it seems that he is indeed busy.
“Mas, later tonight I want permission to come to a friend's wedding can?”
This time he turned his head, looked at me briefly, then put the glasses perched on his death count. Oh, I just realized that Mas Rafly uses glasses when working like this.
“As of you only.”
Well, right, the answer is up to the rich mulu chick.
“Please if you want to go to your friend's wedding but I'm not coming.”
For a moment I thought, it really doesn't matter if I come alone there. But what is not strange if people have not married the same husband.
“Mas is busy again, yes?”
“Busy is not busy I still do not want to come with you to any event. You should have realized.”
The little corner of my heart is slightly sliced. Be ill. It doesn't matter if I'm used to it, right? This is not the first time he has behaved like this.
“Yes sorry, yes. It's disturbing, it's work. Thank you for allowing.”
“Hmm.”
I immediately shuffled out of the room.
***
I wore a dark blue abaya with a simple motif on the waist. People say if you wear dark colored clothes a little calm with a simple motif, very suitable for fat women like me, so as to disguise the body so as not to look too fat, he said.
I approached Mas Rafly who was watching television in the living room, intending to say goodbye. Not yet able to make a sound, he has handed the car keys to me.
“Can bring your own car, right? Pak Prapto again looks at his sick family.”
“I can't take a car, Mas.”
“Continue? Tell nganterin me that? Ck, troublesome once.”
It clucked. Putting on a lazy face. However, Mas Rafly immediately got up from his seat, snatching the key that had been given to me.
“I can take a taxi, Mas. No need to transfer.”
So confused, I didn't ask to be delivered. But, now Mas Rafly actually seems more upset when I say the child took a taxi.
“You'd rather take a taxi than a husband? Oh ok.”
I wave. “Eh, no, Mas. I mean it's better, Mas rest aja, rather than nganterin later tired.”
I'm not sure, but his facial water faintly revealed disappointment. Butwhy?
“Yaudah there,” said Mas Rafly shaking hands, hinting at me telling me to leave.
Immediately I grabbed his hand, then briefly I kissed the back of that hand with reverence, for he hurriedly withdrew his hand.
“Assalamulaikum, I leave first, yes.”
“Waalaikumsalam,” the answer is very clean. However, it is still able to be heard in my senses of attack.
***
Ajeng's wedding reception was held in the ballroom of the four seasons hotel. One of the famous hotels with good service in Jakarta. I swept through the room that was already seen crowded by the invited guests.
“Ra, hey.”
I looked up, the man waved his hand. Fatih, wearing a white shirt wrapped in a black suit, walked closer to me.
“New bride alone, where's your husband, Ra?”
“May busy. Oh, yes, Citra where, he said you leave together.”
“Turnback earlier.”
I'm nodding. The man greeted me with a fluffy smile, revealing his dimples. There was still a subtle debate, when accidentally our eyes met each other. Astagfirullah, remember, Ra. You are married.
“Udah know the latest headline news?” ask Fatih.
“What's the problem?”
“Hagia Sophia.” The man wet his lower lip, while restoring the hair with his fingers. Then continue his words. “Together Fatih clan I am proud, dong.”
“Do not equate Sultan Muhammad al-Fatih with you, yes. Jauuhh lah.”
“Sultan Muhammad al-Fatih, 21, has conquered Constantinople. Well you? Age almost 22 years conquer the heart of women alone can not.”
Fatih grunting. While I was chirping slowly.
“Not able, but not yet suitable. Uh ever found a suitable one anyway but he's married now.”
I frowned, making a frown on the forehead. “Who is your married son. I don't know.”
For a moment he took his eyes off. Then back to looking at me.
“My ex is, yes you.”
“Eh?”
Something in my chest like surging wanted to come out. Bummer.
A second later Fatih's laughter broke. “Canda, Ra. Don't be so serious.”
I'm glaring. “Not funny.”
“Yes sorry, I was just kidding but if taken seriously also not papa.” Fatih curled again.
“Hay, Fahira.” The image that suddenly appeared immediately hugged me. “Kok kangen, yes. I just haven't seen you in a few days. Oh yes where is your handsome husband?” tanyanya shortly after breaking off the embrace.
“Neither come, again busy, Cit.”
“Know gini, you were with me the same Fatih aja.”
“Ya will be home with us, Ra,” bargain Fatih.
***
After shaking hands with Ajeng and her husband I decided to go home soon. Even with Fatih and Citra who had offered a ride.
The silver car was speeding along the streets of a fairly quiet city. During the journey only the voice of the image dominated. He told me a lot of things from the story of the new library that will be built by the campus to the story of him who was close to Pak Adi, one of the management lecturers on our campus. I only occasionally responded, while Fatih only listened while focusing on driving.
About thirty minutes finally arrived home. I immediately went down not forgetting to say thank you. Then the car drove back.
“Assalamualaikum.” I turned on the lights. Mas Rafly sits on the sofa.
‘Ngapain dimatin lights if he still sitting there,’ my inner.
“Dianterin guy?”
“Oh that was my friend. Not just alone, Mom. I was with Fatih there was Citra too.”
Mas Rafly looked at me flatly. “No need to explain I will not be jealous either. You want to be both men or not, yes it's up to you.”
I sighed softly, then sat down next to Mas Rafly. The corner of my netraku glanced at the bouquet of jasmine flowers lying on the table.
“Whose flower is it for, Mas?”
“Make you.”
For a second my heart shook, and then gurgled louder than usual. “Serious for me, Mas?”
“Yes is my wife who else.”
Although he spoke expressionlessly but somehow instantly my heart warmed, which spread in the body.
It's unbelievable. She why? No wind, no rain. Suddenly she gave flowers.
“Oh, I came out too, huh? Where?”
Rafly was silent.
“Why do jasmine flowers, Mas. Not a rose?” ask again.
“Because the word rose is a symbol of love. I'm not in love with you.”
Yes Salaam, can not be romantic indeed he.
I'm nodding. “Oh. Dikasih jasmine fits me well. Do you know what the name Fahira means? Fahira it means Melur flower aka jasmine flower. Jasmine flowers symbolize trust in her partner.”
“Nevent need to know I also already understand.”
“The flower of jasmine is white, beautiful symbolizes purity and beauty of the mind.”
“If the name is implemented to you I agree about the beauty of the mind because I think you are quite good. About symbolizing beauty is true jasmine flowers are indeed beautiful, but I do not agree that it is implemented to you. Because it is inversely proportional to you.”
“I mean I'm ugly?”
He sniffed his shoulders, smiled obliquely, mocking. Then stand up, step into the room.
“Ish, really bad, anyway. Sok handsome,” hisisku slowly.
Rafly stopped his steps. Looking towards me. “I hearder loh, Ra.”
