My wife Fat
5
“Nduk, wong ki will ngunduh woh ing pakerti. Sing important sampean ngelakoni. Whether they are good or not is up to them. Sopo sing nandur will definitely cringe. Pesen pak, there is or is no father of the same mother someday, until dadi wong sing strong.”
_______
A week passed after the jasmine flowers that night, the nature of Mas Rafly is still the same. Like the weather, which likes to change. Sometimes showing the nature as a husband in general, good. Sometimes the cuey even tend to be annoying.
Don't forget. We still roll around the bed to just sleep. Weird right? So even though our one room never sleeps together, in one bed.
This week, we started with our own routine. I'm in college working for Mas Rafly.
The man came out of the room with his office uniform. The fragrance of Caron Poivre's perfume lurked in the sense of smell just after Mas Rafly sat down. He took a loaf of bread that had been smeared with pineapple jam. Then gulp down the remaining water after.
“We will move house,” said Mas Rafly according to wiping mouth with napkin.
“Why, Mas? Isn't it kasian if mom's home alone?”
“Mama will not be alone. Mas Gio will be home soon.”
Mas Gio is the older brother of Mas Rafly who is still completing the study of S-3 Javanese literature in the Netherlands. Because he said the right destination for studying S-3 Javanese literature is a university in the Netherlands not Indonesia. It may indeed sound strange, considering that Javanese is the language used by one of the tribes in Indonesia, namely the Javanese. But the truth is so.
Not in Indonesia there is no study of Javanese literature, it's just that according to linguists to get a master's degree and doctorate in the field of Javanese literature the university in the Netherlands is more appropriate because of its advantages in the abundance of Nusantara material.
I just nodded. Maybe for a rich man like Mas Rafly more comfortable to have his own home. Although actually this house is used by ten people still fit. In addition to maintaining household privacy, comfort may also be more important.
“I leave first.” Rafly moved from his seat.
I immediately grabbed the back of his ladder.
Again, he pulled that hand, before I actually kissed him.
That handsome face's sharpness always changes when it comes in contact with me. Whether intentionally or not. Butwhy? Does he really hate me so much that just touching it has an effect on his body. Even just shaking hands he was very reluctant.
“Mas?
“Why?”
He stopped his steps. A little towards me.
“Mas would you like it if I bring supplies to the office?”
“I'll think about it later,” answered and then continue on.
I stared at the back of it, until the car drove off.
The flat bottom on the table is ringing. Signaling a phone call came in. The name of the image is there. I immediately pressed the green button.
“Assalamualakum newlyweds.”
“Waalaikumsalam, already not a newlywed tau!”
There was a laughing voice across there. “New bride sensi highly. There hasn't been a month, Ra. Still including the newlyweds.”
“It's up to you. What's the matter with the phone?”
“Today is off, Ra.”
“Casak, anyway?”
“Tuh, right. I'm guessing you haven't opened a class. Pak Anggara again there is a coaching event in Medan. Miss Risty is sick, she said. Matkul Pak Anggara next week. Help me find local, yes.”
“You're the teacher's eye?”
“Iya, Ra. Cook forgot, anyway.”
“Ok. God willing I'll help you find local.”
“Eh, Ra. Want to play at your house. But worry.”
“Worried why?”
“Worry to meet you, Mr. Rafly. Mr. Rafly there's some polygamous intention, isn't there, Ra?”
I snort. Samar I still hear Citra laughing.
“Handering, Ra. It's just mad at you.”
The sound of the door being knocked. Is it possible Mas Rafly? But I didn't hear the car coming in. Or maybe my mother-in-law.
“Udah first, Cit. There are guests. Assalamualaikum.”
After Citra answered the greeting, I immediately turned off the phone. Walk a little hastily to open the door. Because the knocking is getting louder. Also the bell that rings repeatedly.
How not sabbath? If Mas Rafly must have stayed in the door was also not locked.
“Loh, Bulek?” I said after opening the door.
I looked to the right and to the left. Make sure who he's here with.
However, the yard of the house is deserted. There's no one. It means he came alone.
“Monggo, Bulek.”
Bulek Lin came in. Directly sitting on the colored sofa kapisa.
“Where's your husband?”
“For work, Bulek. Fahira makein drink first, yes.”
“Ndon't need. I'm here just for a minute.”
“Bulek, 'new travel far. Not tired. If you want Bulek mending nginep here first.”
“I'm here just to ask for money, Ra. I need money.”
The forty-five-year-old woman looked at me sharply. The two eyebrows intertwined together, forming deep wrinkles on the forehead.
“Reason. I need now Fahira,” he said in a voice full of emphasis.
“But I really don't have any money yet, Bulek. I promise you when Mas Rafly comes home I'll ask. Now Mas Rafly is working. Not good to disturb.”
“I told you, I need now Fahira.”
“But--.”
“Basic of illegitimate children. It's usually just hard not to know yourself, yes.”
Like being hit by a stone, my chest really hurt. Oxygen seems reluctant to be inhaled. Stuffy. Oh Allah, he said that to me.
“Kok Bulek could talk to me. I was wrong, Bulek.”
Bulek Lin nodded slowly. His netting stares at me full of hate.
“Because you've grown up I'll tell you about your family. Mas Rendra is not your real father. Your mother is pregnant out of wedlock. He was just a mess with your mom. Ye know? Mas Rendra was hated by our family for marrying your mother but he remained adamant with his opinion. No one cared about you when you were an orphan. I'm the only one who wants to take care of you Fahira. Though you know I'm a widow must suffice my two children plus your burden.”
My eyes were already filled with mist, if I blinked just a little, a clear grain would drip down my cheeks.
“You are useless! Only load for me.”
How can Bulek Lin tell me I'm useless. All this time I have always helped her. The money I made was all given to him. I only use the scholarship money from the campus, sometimes I still give it to him if my salary does not meet.
During school until college I also relied on scholarships. For daily needs while riding with him I always help him. Almost everything he gives is never free.
I have always put my family before myself. They don't know how I make money while I'm in college. All they know is, I have to send money.
For the school of his two children— Regi and Rani—even I bear. Why would he say that.
“You're with your mother it's the same! Equally garbage.”
The words are grim, stuck right in here.
“Please if, Bulek wants to insult me but please do not insult my late mother.”
“Why, are you angry Fahira? I'm also mad at you and your mother.” Bulek Lin smiled obliquely. “You should be grateful that the late Mas Rendra set you up with this family. Otherwise I am the same as them ... will throw you away.”
The woman stood up, and left. Leave pain in the heart.
Long enough, I'm still sitting. Clear liquid continues to flow soaking the cheeks. It was too weak to wipe away tears.
Tried, I tried to stand up. My body staggered a little because suddenly a dizzy feeling attacked the head. Decision to take ablution water. Then perform the dhuha prayer.
Bring all these problems to God. I came back crying in prostration.
***
I pulled the drawer. Take an old photo album. Benakku. Remembering the words of the late father.
“Nduk, wong ki will ngunduh woh ing pakerti. Sing important sampean ngelakoni. Whether they are good or not is up to them. Sopo sing nandur will definitely cringe. Pesen pak, there is or is no father of the same mother someday, until dadi wong sing strong.”
“Mafin Fahira, Sir. Fahira can't take care of the pesen. Fahira is not strong, sir.”
Everything to me feels difficult. My mind was filled with words from Bulek Lin. Am I really a bastard? Is it true that pregnant women are out of wedlock? Am I really not a father?
I sit on the side of the bed. Raise your legs while hugging your knees. Drown your face there.
It was like there was no more hope. This heart is tired. Even with the body and atma that suck.
How I feel. I cannot define myself. Just sick.
“Ra.”
I raised my head straight. Staring at Mas Rafly who was standing in the middle of the door.
The back of the hand immediately wiped away the remaining tears. I don't want that man to see me cry.
He stepped closer, sitting on the lip of the bed. Next to me.
“Why? Any problems?”
I shook my head slowly. “No papa, Mas. Why me?”
“I have greeted you a few times. You are not nyaut. Even diem here.”
“Wah sorry, Mas. Not heard earlier,” I said with a fluffy smile.
“There really is no problem?” ask for the second time, to be sure.
I shook my head again. Tried convincing.
“But if there is no problem why your eyes are as rich as crying?” For a moment he was silent. He took a deep breath, before finally continuing his words. “I know maybe I'm not a good husband. If there is a story problem. Who knows I can help.”
Rafly looked at me. It made me drown into her beautiful eyes.
“Ra.”
This time it was soft. Which actually makes the tears do not feel like falling just like that. I really don't want him to see me cry. But why did the clear circle come out without cue. Makes me look good in front of him.
Slowly, Mas Rafly rubbed my cheek gently. Removing any tears that come out again.
There was a subtle sigh in the chest. When the hand is heavy, touch the cheek.
Astagfirullah. Why am I this. Not to stop crying. It is becoming even more.
Slowly, Mas Rafly grabbed my body in his arms. His hands are soft, caressing my back. The shirt he was wearing was wet from tears.
We were both silent in our arms. Sometimes I sound as excited and he tries to calm down.
My lips feel stifled. Never mind telling a story, to just open your mouth is difficult.
