Renjana Dusk Kala

Chapter 95. Without You, There'd be No Sun in My Sky

Without You, There'd be No Sun in My Sky

(And you, there will be no sun in my sky)

taken from the lyrics to the song "How do i live" sung by Trisha Yearwood and is the OST of the film "Con Air" starring Nicholas Cage).

***

Days Without you

Jakarta

Pocktail

Tama enrolled her in a lifetime class program (a lifetime program) that cost almost 10% of their wedding dowry. He had refused and asked Tama to put it into the basic program (basic) per level only. The same thing is learned. About etiquette, personalization and how to behave when speaking in public.

But Tama insisted. "Don't look at the price, but the benefits."

"Value this big does look pricey (expensive) for now. But my beautiful wife ...." Tama grabbed it into the clutches. "It can feel the benefit for a lifetime."

"Bu oyes (Capolres) must be busy. Most likely not able to take regular classes that schedule full every day," explained Tama with a serious mimic. But he almost laughed when he heard the name Tama for himself. Bu oyes's. Like a child who doesn't speak well. Pue ... Pue ....

"Must take a program whose schedule is flexible. If today is absent class, it can still be taken next week, or next month, or when there is time. Not limited to one opportunity. What is the name if not ... the most valuable investment?" Connect Tama with an increasingly serious mimic.

"I can learn self-taught, Mom." He still tries to refuse. For him, the cost incurred to attend this personality school was too expensive. "There are many books on the science of self-development. Yesterday I had a conversation with Dara kal__"

"Lifetime program yes, book yes, all yes." Tama cut his words. Uncompromising remains to put his name into the program of a lifetime.

And this morning with Agus, he was heading to the place where the personality class was held.

"Astana's Tower, Mom?" Agus asked before turning the wheel into the courtyard of a magnificent multi-storey building.

"Yes." Yeah." He nodded while looking down at the personality school brochure obtained after registration some time ago. "Jalan Jenderal Sudirman, Pak Agus."

Although Tama called Agus only by name without any frills. But he used to call Agus and Yuni by the name of sir and tea. Of course, so that children are used to calling older people in a polite way. Not directly mention names regardless of status or position. Because all older people deserve an award from the young. Anyone and whatever.

"The tower of Astana is only here, ma'am." Agus steered the steering wheel past a large pillar covered in black marble with a giant inscription that read Tower of Astana. "There's no other."

"Oh." He nodded in understanding. Although Jakarta KTP, but for a lifetime has never visited the mereng office area like this Astana tower. His visit to the Avilas hotel during the wedding yesterday became his first experience to set foot in the middle of the elite area.

"You to ...." He mentioned the name of the school personality to answer the questions of the officers who greeted at the lobby door.

"Please." The officer escorted her to the elevator and pressed a button for her. "Floor 31, Mom."

He thanked me before the elevator doors closed. Stand on the left side while paying attention to the floor information cueboard being passed. Three men and women dressed in elegant formal attire joined him from different floors. Seriously talking about things he does not understand about the business world.

Ting!

His feet stepped on the slippery marble that covered the entire 31st floor with a nervous feeling. His hands even started to let out cold sweat. But the greeting of a beautiful woman from behind the reception desk managed to calm him down.

He was directed to enter a room around which the glass. Three beautiful women were already sitting on the red chair. He walked slowly past them smiling and nodding. The atmosphere he felt was very awkward with the entanglement of anxiety. Because worry can't carry itself well.

"Good morning, my name is Ingrid, counselor on the program."

Caroline Ingrid, a beautiful, friendly woman, explains the entire contents of the program in a straightforward, easy-to-understand language.

"This lifetime program includes level 1 to 7 learning that takes almost 30 weeks to complete" Ingrid said. "Participants can choose the schedule of classes in the morning, evening, or weekend on Saturday."

"And to level one." Ingrid lifted the handbook in the form of a thick book wrapped in red up. "We will learn about basic personality development (basic programs for personal development) first."

"Learn how we recognize ourselves. Knowing the advantages and disadvantages. Manage the positive and negative sides to be balanced and not detrimental" continued Ingrid. "Learn how to organize your appearance, etiquette and socialize."

The first class this morning consisted of seven people including him. More like a private program because the number of participants is less than 10 people.

The beautiful face looks like a Korean artist named Cesilia. Introducing yourself as the owner of a number of famous beauty salons who decided to fill their free time by taking personality classes to improve personal branding.

Then there's Grace. Not introduce as anything. Just a name and hobby is baking.

Right next to Grace sat a cute-faced college girl named Hilda. Confessing the new heartbroken because of being left married the lover who is the first love. And decided to take a personality class to forget the pain.

Later Joanna. "Call me, Jo. Just Jo, not Joanna or Anna. Gosh, I hate this."

Joanna who looks tomboyish and always dismissive was asked to take a personality class because of the compulsion of the mommy who wants her daughter to look, "Like a lady."

The last two men were young Devano-age men named Jack and Tobias. They claim to take classes just to fill free time.

And the most exciting moment finally arrived. It was his turn to introduce himself. While tightly grasping the fabric of the skirt worn, he began to speak in a stammer. "N-name s-I P-pocut ...."

Ingrid gave a warm smile. "What hobby is Pocut? Or maybe the reason for taking this class?"

"H-hobby .. mm .. m-cooking ...." He muttered with a trembling voice. Then hurriedly took a seat with a extinguished red face.

He has been practicing in his heart while waiting for the turn of introduction. But when the time came, even confused do not know what to say.

Ah, he complained fretfully. This is how you want to lead a meeting and talk in front of the wives of members like Tama once said. What so? It will only embarrass the husband.

He took a morning class schedule. Every Monday to Friday from 10 to 1 pm. After taking a personality class, he also invited the children to school so that Agus did not need to go back and forth.

The first one to be picked up was Sasa. The little girl had actually been home from school since 11 p.m. He was picked up along with his brothers. Sasa usually goes to Zhie's house first. Or waiting in the keude mamak accompanied by cing Ella.

Second Umay. His second son's school was scheduled to return home at 12:30 p.m. Umay walked straight to the keude and waited there.

From keude they're headed to Icad's school. Lastly, pick up Reka and deliver to the swimming club.

Children usually arrive home after Ashar. Except for the newly picked up by Agus from the club after Maghrib. A new routine is exhausting enough for them.

Beyond that, Tama always calls every night before bed. "What's today? No cape? Kids good?"

A series of simple but meaningful questions. Always managed to shed all the tired and tired that made him back excited to live the day even without the existence of Tama on the side.

"Pocut," said Cesilia when the two of them became first-class residents this morning.

"Huh-yes?" We spent almost a week in the same class. Never once did he talk to one of his classmates. He was too embarrassed to start, preferring silence.

"This time the children will come to the grand opening of my salon's new branch." Cesilia smiled and she felt a sincerity there. "Tube, huh?"

He nodded nervously. Feeling flattered to get an invitation even though they have never talked to each other.

But the plan to start a relationship with a classmate broke when he was enjoying a coffee break in the form of warm chamomile tea and a plate of delicious cake, the phone in his bag vibrated repeatedly the sign of an incoming call.

+62816731732 calling ....

He frowned because he did not recognize the number that appeared on the phone screen. Had pounded thinking it was a call from the Sespimti committee (school staff and high leadership) who wanted to inform about the state of Tama. But can breathe a sigh of relief when you hear the answer from across.

"Hello? I'm Angie from the National Heritage school."

"D-yes, Miss Angie? Can anyone help?"

Before moving the school of Reka to Pusaka Bangsa, Tama had time to tell about, "Your number that I entered into the student guardian data."

He agreed even though they were not officially married at the time. Very understanding of the busyness of Tama that is not possible to deal with technical matters about children's schools and the like.

The next answer was never expected. "Mother is welcome to come to National Heritage now. Because Ananda Gemintang Rekata got into a fight at school."

In a hurry he asked permission to leave the class first on the grounds of important family matters. After previously taking the time to apologize to Cesilia for not attending the grand opening event.

"Maybe next time." Cesilia gave him an understanding smile which was quite a relief.

But his knee immediately limp so found Reka in the Counseling Guidance room. The face is battered with residual blood at the corners of the lips that have not dried up.

"Subhanallah." He almost hugged Reka but stopped because his stepson was evasive. Subduing your head deeply put up gesture does not want to be touched or talk.

"This is the first fight after years of National Heritage dubbed as a child-friendly school" explained the Holy Mother who introduced herself as a counseling guidance teacher. Take her to the room inside while Reka waits outside. And the face of the woman in her early fifties looked filled with anger.

"S-I'm sorry as the guardian of Gemintang Rekata," he replied spontaneously. He must apologise beyond the subject of the unknown. After all, fighting in the school environment was not a commendable act.

"Sorry is not enough." The Holy Mother gave a sharp look. "You should be able to educate ananda Gemintang Rekata to be a child who has a conscience."

He gasped at the stiff speech of the Holy Mother. "I mean how, Mom? I don't understand."

"From the data we have." The Holy Mother showed him a piece of paper with the "Integrated Psychology of the Heritage of Nations.

"Ananda Gemintang according to the information written here is a product of a broken home family. The results of the fingerprint test and the psychotest circuit at the beginning of the entry clearly indicate emotional instability and inability to control themselves."

He gulped repeatedly with his chest pounding.

"And today is the peak. After a week in a row we give a warning letter three times to the Gemintang ananda," continued the Holy Mother with a flat face without expression.

"S-warning letters?" The question does not understand.

"You don't know?" The voice of the Holy Mother suddenly rose. "We gave three letters of warning because the Ananda Gemintang behaved badly."

"First, cheat during daily repetitions and cause a commotion in class."

"Secondly, damage to school property while studying science in the lab."

"And third, break a classmate's cell phone."

He was increasingly surprised to hear a series of words surprising Holy Mother.

"Good for the parents of students whose phones were tampered with did not demand compensation. They don't bother. Ananda Gemintang is given SP 3."

He was getting harder to breathe. His chest felt as tight as a big rock.

"And today ...." The Holy Mother shook her head. "Ananda Gemintang fights with classmates to take their victims."

"Two kids, two stitches each." The Holy Mother looked at him sharply. "We educate high-achieving students, not barbaric broken home kids who don't know the rules."

He listened to all the suggestions of the Holy Mother with a heart of pain. Never once thought that the life of Reka in school was this sad. The other day's reply was, "No friends." It is not just a speech. But the outpouring of a veiled heart that bo dohnya too late known.

Supposedly, he paid more attention to the designer. I always thought everything was okay. Especially at home, Reka never shows excessive emotions or strange gurgles. Reka even became the only sister who often accompanied Sasa to play tea with little pony dolls. Shifting the position of Umay who every day is busy struggling to assemble a new lego gift from Tama.

"Mom Pocut?" Greet a young woman who looks effective as soon as she comes out of the Counseling Guidance room. "Include me Angie, homeroom teacher. Can we talk to you for a second?"

He had a look towards the Reka who was sitting on the sofa waiting with his head bowed deeply. Before following Angie's steps towards the teacher's room.

"I'm sorry, Mom, we have to meet under these circumstances." Miss Angie smiled rattlingly. "I know the big family of Mr. Tama as a permanent donor at Pusaka Bangsa school."

Quite surprisingly. Because he just found out now if the big family Tama is a regular donor at the school of National Heritage.

"How did it go with Holy Ma'am?"

He let out a long and heavy sigh before replying with a slashed heart. "Skors for a week."

He nodded in understanding. It's not really a week-long suspension that's a concern. But the behavior is different between at home and at school. This should definitely be a concern. He can't miss it again later in the day.

"Did the Holy Mother explain the origin of the fights according to the version of Gemintang?" Miss Angie asked with great caution.

He shook. Did not have time to ask the subject because the Holy Mother had first searched it with a row of sentences of judgment-filled accusations.

"The star was angry because of her friends ...." Angie explained the chronology of the fight according to the version of the design with a look full of regret. "I'm sorry if it's presumptuous."

He came out of the teacher's room with a more relieved chest after listening to the true story. Although in an instant again felt tight when walking closer to the Reka who was sitting waiting with his head down.

"Go home, Mr. Agus," he said as soon as he entered the car.

"Lho, how about Sasa and Umay, Mom?" Agus astonishment.

"Wait to be picked up after driving us home, sir. Sorry to bother."

"Oh, ready." Agus chuckles. "Not a problem at all."

Their journey home was in silence. The design continuously casts a glance at the side window. While his tongue also seemed to have no idea where to start the conversation.

"Compressed first," he said as soon as he got home. Finally managed to find the right sentence light to start the conversation.

But Reka avoided when he was about to touch a towel filled with ice cubes. "I can do it myself."

He let Reka compress her own bruises. I decided to go to the kitchen to cook something. Because his brain is not able to think agile and clear. Only able to remember if a problem can most likely be solved by one delicious dish. Gaining the heart through the stomach.

"Eat first, Mas." He shoved a plate of macaroni cheese in front of the still compressing design.

Tama once said, Reka always snack outside. Eat more often at fast food restaurants. This recipe is the first to come up. In addition to the ingredients that happen to be available. It also does not take long to cook.

The design was glued. Not responding to the plate in front. But when he went to take a glass of water, Reka looks to have started eating macaroni cheese made.

He sat himself before the Roses who had just spent the last mouthful. "You want? There's plenty in the kitchen."

Reka shakes. Grab a glass of water and sip it until it runs out. "Udah. Thanks." Thanks."

He sat with a nervous feeling. Likewise, the Reka who busied himself with a towel filled with ice cubes. Back compressing wounds on the face.

"You want to apply ointment?" Just spontaneous. Habits that have been done for a long time, always keep P3K equipment at home. Includes ointment to treat bruises.

Reka shakes. "No need to."

He breathed a long and heavy breath. Just remembered that tomorrow it was time for Reka to return to Surabaya. Accompanying the last moments of Kinanti was in Indonesia. For the next three days, Kinanti and her husband had left for Stockholm. What would happen if Reka met Kinanti with a battered face like this?

"Tomorrow Mas Reka to Surabaya." He tried to persuade. "Mother can be sad if you see the face of the mas Reka battered like this."

Suddenly Reka stopped compressing activities. Then look at him with worry. There's even a little fear trajectory there. "Aunty want to report to me?"

"What?" He did not immediately understand the meaning of the question.

"Aunty would like to report to me if I fight at school?" Repeat Design with pias face.

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Auntie doesn't want to bother you, Mas."

He answered honestly. Tama activities in Sespimpol must be very solid. She did not want to burden her husband with this kind of shocking news. After all, the reason Reka hit her friends is very understandable and understandable. The design reacts because there is action. The problem he thinks can only be muted with the best support from the family. The warmth of the attitude of parents who always embrace their children. Not judging, let alone insulting.

"Dioles ointment?" Bargain again. "Let mother not sad see mas Reka battered like this."

The designer did not answer. But just shut up when he started applying the ointment to the bruises scattered all over the face.

***

Surabaya

Quintessence

Today is the day he has been waiting for. Meet my beloved designer. Spending time together before he and Pram go to leave Indonesia for a long time.

But the appearance of Reka with a battered bruised face made him aghast. "Why do you think, honey?"

"Regular," replied the designer indifferently.

"How common? This bellowing?"

His heart was suddenly covered in heat. How could mas Tama let Reka go home alone to Surabaya with a battered face like this without prior notice to him. Painful, really. Has Tama now forgotten her own biological child and prefers that rowed stepson?

"This ... souvenirs from Aunt Pocut." The design pulls the paperbag that he immediately threw into the rear car seat.

"Not seen yet?" Ask Reka wonder.

"No need" he answered. His heart had been chasing because of anger. "Mother just wanted to ask, Why design, baby?"

"It's okay." The design turned its face to the side window. "Udah, Bunny. Talk to the others."

Sure ain't that easy. "Mother is sad to see Reka coming here alone, battered as a lost child."

"Emang from the beginning wanted to come here alone, right?" The designer asked back.

"Yes, but battered like this?" He really doesn't accept. What mas Tama did in Jakarta until his biological son was neglected is not managed like this. "I should have told people to make nemenin Reka to Surabaya if it's busy no longer able to send it alone."

"I don't want to."

"What?" He's astonished. "How are you?"

"Tante Pocut asked Mr. Agus nemenin, but I don't want to."

"They?"

"That's right, Bun. Can't the other language be?"

Sure can't. Arriving at the apartment, when Reka was watching television in a loud voice, she tried to contact mas Tama.

Long time unresponsive. New on call nine connected.

"What's wrong?" Ask Tama in a hasty voice.

"It's me, Mas. Kinant." He almost cried hearing the stiff voice of Tama. They were like two strangers who had never known each other before. There is no impression that the two of them are ex-husbands and wives. Depressing.

"Yes, know. What's up?" The sound of Mas Tama did not turn soft. Stay firm and .. rigid. "I'm more material in class."

He did not understand the meaning of Tama's words. "I don't accept, Mas, Reka came to Surabaya with a battered face."

"What's? The designs? Battered?"

He had guessed if the Tama mas did not know the situation of Reka. And his guess was proved.

"He didn't tell the same story?"

"I've been in Lembang a week."

"I want to talk to him."

"Don't do this."

"I don't accept this battered design! While you ... you two did not give any news about what happened to Reka!" He started to hysterically. Mas Pram hugging her from behind meant to calm down. "Is this fair, Mom?"

"Hey!" The voice of Mas Tama came up high to hear him scream on the phone. "All you have to do now is wait. Please, Kinan. I'm on assignment again. I finished the material in class. Then talk to Pocut. We'll talk about this tonight. Okay?"

"I asked for her number! I'll talk to him!"

"The matter of design between the two of us. Pocut's got nothing to do here." The sound of Mas Tama is rising.

"But Reka lives with him! And you, Mas .. You haven't been home for a week! I want to talk to him! Where's the phone number! I want to hold her accountable as the mother who nurtured Reka!"

"Ssssshhhhh .. dear?" Mas Pram whispered in his ear. "Take a deep breath, please ...."

Mas Tama closed his call unilaterally. And when he tried to call back, there was no sound at all.

Good, Mas. You deactivate the phone, his mind growled. Directly contact Dara who was surprised to get a call from him.

"What's up, Mba?" Dara was obviously powerless to hide the astonishment.

"I need Pocut's phone number" he replied without further ado.

Dara asked what it was for. He was in charge of talking about something important about the design.

But Dara asked again, what happened to Reka.

Finally the dam broke. Sobbing on the phone tells the arrival of Reka to Surabaya with battered face. And Dara couldn't help but give the woman a phone number.

"What did you do until Risa got battered like that?" He asked without further ado.

And the voice of Pocut across there sounded grazed. "M-mba Kinanti? What, M-mba?"

"I am nanya, Reka why was it so battered? Yes, you did not tell me!"

"B-this, M-mba ...." Pocut explained with a swirling language that made his emotions increasingly become.

"I'm asking for her homeroom phone number, now!" His head almost broke hearing Pocut's explanation with a very ambiguous grammar. How could Mas Tama marry a woman who could not explain in a short language that is easy to understand? It really signifies a low intellectual level. It's so sad for you, Mom. Trapped by uneducated women.

"Mom Angie, homeroom VIII - 5? I'm Kinanti, Gemintang Rekata's birth mother," she said with hunting breath. "I asked for an explanation of what befell my son."

"I've explained everything to Pocut's mother, ma'am."

"I'd like to hear directly from you! I'm her real mother!"

"Sssssshhhhh ...." Pram tried to calm him down.

The voice across sounded doubtful. "Hasn't Pocut's mom delivered it to you yet?"

"You explain it to me right now!" The screech almost screamed.

"Are you sure?" The voice of the homeroom class sounded increasingly doubtful. "I didn't get my heart to explain it a second time."

He screamed again through his cell phone until the homeroom teacher spoke quickly. "The star is angry with her friends for making fun of her."

And his head really broke after hearing the explanation about the origin of the Rinta could be involved in a fight, which made two other students must be rushed to the hospital to get stitches due to hit Reka.

"Calling that Gemintang has a crazy biological mother and stepmother widowed gatel open bo ...."

***