Not the Story of Siti Nurbaya

Pkk Mother

After all the citizens left Zikra's house. Syifa's face looks gloomy. He went straight into the room. She cried while packing her clothes into the suitcase.

Zikra barged inward as Syifa's crying voice rang out.

" Syifa."

His eyes widened to see the girl take all her belongings out of the closet.

"Where are you going to pack all your clothes in a suitcase?" zikra's search was trying to get in the way.

"I want to get out of here" he said softly.

"Where to?" ask Zikra gently. "what are you going for?"

Syifa wiped her tears. His heart was deeply wounded being slandered by others. Never mind to be good friends, just know each other not.

"Toh, everybody's spun. Mr. RT who intervened directly to all citizens clearly." explained Zikra full of patience.

The girl was silent. Sometimes there is still the sound of his voice.

"Udahlah, do not take heart," Zikra returned Syifa's belongings back to their original place. "sorry if I am wrong. Because I didn't get to introduce you to the people. You see, for now I have a lot of work in the office. That's why I come home late."

"I don't like living here. I want to go home" said Syifa.

Zikra sighed.

"Basic of a child. Have you forgotten or are you senile?" Zikra ruffled Syifa's hair just as it did when she ruffled Aini's hair "your house has been contracted to someone else. If you still insist on going home too, whatever. But I can't guarantee you'll stay there," his eyes soft but felt through Syifa's heart. "maybe for one night, you can still be allowed. If for the next ... I don't know ..."

Syifa stomped her feet on the floor several times to dissipate her frustration. Both of his hands clenched tightly.

"Udah dong was upset," persuaded Zikra. Pat Syifa's shoulder.

Syifa sat on her bed. Wiping tears mixed with sweat.

*

Sunday is a day of relaxing at home. Watching tv with family, or vacationing outside the home looking for a new atmosphere. But it did not happen to Syifa and Zikra.

The newlyweds chose to spend time at home. Although the two have not done the ritual like a newly married couple, honeymoon. They are busy taking care of their home duties.

Syifa takes care of the inside of the house such as cooking, washing dishes and clothes, and sweeping also mop the floor. While the young man who is familiarly called Mas Gan in the surrounding environment works outside the house, watering plants, washing his motorcycle, even if it is necessary to clean the got if the water channel is clogged. Even if what they do is common, they are happy to do it.

Syifa had just finished mopping the entire house. Then bring the rest of the water slowly out to water the plant. Similarly, Zikra who has finished washing his motorcycle in front of the house. Stretched his hand into the air. Then squeeze the kanebo cloth that is still in his hand before being put into place.

"The bike was clean, I took a shower, I changed my clothes, too" Zikra thought about leaving.

Suddenly from the opposite direction Syifa appeared. Without further ado he immediately water the plant half a meter away from him. But the water did not hit the plants, but instead flushed Zikra as it happened. The bucket container fell to the ground in shock.

"Oh my goodness, my goodness, sori, sori," said Syifa deeply regretted. "i didn't intentionally."

"Erghs! Syifa ..." cried Zikra angry.

Syifa immediately fled from before Zikra. But his movements were quickly lost to the young man's catch. Inevitably she had to accept the punishment her husband gave her.

A water hose directed by Zikra gushed about Syifa. Until the girl got soaked. Anger that stopped by because of an incident. Now changed with the sound of laughter. Not receiving constant sprayed water, Syifa snatched the hose from Zikra. Then turn around and water it even worse.

"For you, I will take another bath" said Zikra.

"Just take a shower, no papa kali will use water. Not using fire, can be smeared," said Syifa chuckled small.

Zikra smile. Apparently the attitude of the girl had slowly changed. The hue of sadness slowly faded away as time passed.

Syifa suddenly received an invitation to PKK arisan in the RT neighborhood where she lived. He only sighed staring at the invitation paper he had just received from the local PKK officer.

"Udah, come with me. All of you socialize with the environment around this," Zikra cetus trying to motivate.

"But ..."

Shyness and insecurity paralyzed his courage when he just arrived at the home of the organizer. Moreover, yesterday's events are still fresh in memory. Makes him want to go home soon.

"Mbak Syifa, just arrived?" reprimanding a woman with a syar'i hijab approached.

Syifa nodded while touching her head and smiled shyly. Most of the attendees who came wore hijabs. Syifa is only wearing all-covering clothes without wearing a hijab.

Oh my goodness, the shame ...

"Let's go in," she cried kindly while hugging Syifa's shoulder about to invite her in.

Everyone looked at Syifa. Makes the girl wrong. Some of them brought toddlers. They seem to be busy themselves when their children cry. Unlike the toddler who sleeps asleep, the mother is busy huddling with other mothers.

"But ... I don't wear a hijab, "Syifa is very shy and insecure. "do I go home first, take the hijab, keep coming back here again?"

"No need, it will be too late. If you want to wear a hijab later I give you a loan," said the woman was friendly.

"Please Aunt" said Syifa sunggan.

"Don't call Aunty, the effect is giman. I've called Mama Dio," she said quickly. "the biggest of Mama's kids, your age. So just think of Mama Dio as your own Mama" he added.

Without the command of tears Syifa had gathered in her eyes. He remembered the figure of the woman he often called Mother. Longing filled the empty space in his heart. The family that left left him far away. Hope wants to gather like before is still limited wishful thinking. Despite the distance, space and time communication is still beautifully intertwined through telephone lines.

Zikra was shocked when she saw Syifa coming home wearing a hijab. When we leave, we don't wear them.

"Cie ... is now the mother of PKK?" her babble teased as she opened the door.

"Hemm." put the food box he was carrying on the dining table. After that, he went into the room to store the bag he had been wearing.

"Keep, whose hijab are you wearing? That feeling when you leave you don't use ..."

"Yes. I was introduced to Mama Dio," Syifa said quickly as she closed the door. Sitting on the chair opened the box he was carrying. The box contained putu mayang, lontong, and risoles.

"Huh? Mama Dio's? Who?" zikra's eyes frowned. Zikra sat in the chair opposite Syifa.

"Ah, you know him only as Bu Astuti pray anyway, so, same Mama Dio did not know, " always Syifa. Pouring the cake box that opened wide.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Zikra blushed in shame. Put the cake in his mouth.

"I think I should unload my suitcase" Syifa said.

"Why what?"

"Search hijab. So that if there is an invitation to kayak gini again I am not ashamed. Yes, they all wear hijab. I'm not doing it."

"The age of ABG you also pray."

"Who I said to ABG. They are the same."

"What cooking?"

"Yes, but my babe batch ..."

Zikra and Syifa laughed cheerfully.

"You, there's-there's just one."

"Yes, dong. If there is no name to disappear." bite the tip of the rawit and risoles reach alternately.

Zikra smiled as she looked at Syifa without blinking. I don't know what he's thinking. Only he and God know. Syifa was busy eating risoles with chili peppers. Occasionally he looks grimacing withstanding the spicy.

I don't know when we can be together like this. Until tomorrow or forever. I never knew.

Syifa ... smile! Be happy! Forget the sadness that always comes to haunt you. I promise to look after you, protect you, and make you happy forever.

Connect ....