Separate Fence of God

Episode one

It rained today. Not bushy. I stared at the drizzle that danced to the whir of the afternoon breeze. Adi smiled at me when I unconsciously held a grip on her hand.

I have always believed that every human being is given a partner. As weird as anything. As I experienced. People say, every human being is born to have a partner to continue this life, even so on. God is just in every plan, giving heart, and love to every person. Like our love story.

In our differences, God brought us together to complement each other.

For everyone, the love between the prayer beads and the cross is fused so mutual strengthening is a strange thing. We don't care what they think, because the feeling is never wrong. So also our hearts are intervening God.

"How, is it better now?" adi asked with a smile.

"As long as you are, I feel better" I replied.

"I hope the gap between us is quickly completed. Because making a difference is hard. I hope you're still here holding my hand tightly. Do you believe our God is the same?" I looked at Adi's face so closely, his aura of sadness was visible whenever I decided to go home.

"Trust. If this hand were to be loosened to hold you no more, I would have lied to the Lord of love. I've promised dozens of times to always hold your hand as tightly as possible."

"Come, can you accompany me to church tomorrow?" The look on Adi's face still implied guts.

"Without you asking me to always be ready. I always loved you Adi."

We were in a relationship secretly.  You must be angry if you know his son is still in touch with Adi. And vice versa. Both families are strongly opposed to our relationship.

Is this feeling wrong? We both believe, believe in one God, although different ways and names.

"Adi, I have to go home, I'm afraid you're going to be angry" I said.

"Well, do I need to take you?" ask Adi.

"No need!  We have to go home, before our family is suspicious of the relationship we're in" I said.

I took off his grip, then ran through the drizzle that was getting bigger in the city of Bandung. Leaving Adi alone at the bus stop that will take him home.

Leaving him alone is not what I want. I always hoped to go home together, introduce Adi to the family and vice versa. Everything feels beautiful in delusion, but, in reality, it all hurts. 

The relationship we lived in was rejected and opposed by our own family. The reason is the difference in belief in worshiping God.

The rain was pouring more and more into this city of flowers, my body felt shivering as the raindrops clenched me tighter. Running faster to get home on time, so as not to make a scene between me and Dad.

I walked down the deserted streets, no vehicles passing by when the rain came.  As if giving way to get home quickly.

From a distance, you can see the motorbike has been perched comfortably in the garage of the house. So also seen Father sitting in a chair while sipping a drink. With a quick step I walked into the courtyard of the house with a bow, neutralizing the mood that started stirring into a fright.

"Dad would rather you go home alone than go home with your Christian girlfriend" he said, sipping coffee.

"Sir, he has a name!" I clarify.

"But still, it has a name but no purpose!" exclaim the Father while getting up and glazed waist.

"Sir, I know you don't like Adi, but don't keep differentiating the religion we profess! Sir, God is the same, one. Only, the way we believe in Him is different. We believe sir, God understands why we are united and even love each other."

"What did the boy promise you, Syifa? Until you turn into a dissident like this?" He was so angry that he almost threw a punch at me.

"Sir, the cross and the tasbih can be fused. Because the God we believe in is the same, only a different way of worshiping Him! Syifa was certain that one day we would have one faith, worshiping God as our Lord." Lirih I said the last sentence, did not feel clear circle back to break out.

"Syifa, did that kid brainwash you? Forget the line between respecting your parents and choosing a lost man!"

"He's not lost, sir! He submits to his Lord, just as I submit to my Lord. How many times do I have to say, sir, we're one in real unity!"

"Shypha. Now that the choice is in your hands, stay with us then the consequences leave the man. If you choose him, then leave us." The decision made me so complicated to choose him.

"Already sir, this Syifa has not come in and cleaned up, even invited to argue." From inside Mom came out and tried to break up our quarrel.

"Lasti, take care of that your dissident son. Age is an adult not to be a true child but even perverted. All this because you're spoiling this kid too much. If you had followed me to enter the cottage he would not have gone astray and picked a friend to hang out with," said the Father while pointing at me, while Mother only silently received the anger of the Father.

Life in this house is so sick, every time you will be angry to blame Mother for the development experienced by her children, including me.

"Sorry, Mom." That's the only thing I said without trying to defend myself.

"You became a mother who failed to keep and gave her knowledge.  Worth it I work every day banging bones for the sake of family but what I get is only a dissident child!  And  ...."

"Stop! I'm sick of all this, I hate to always blame you for all the decisions I've made, why not give me a chance. Stop sir, don't blame Mom for this.  I was wrong." I screamed as I walked away from them.

I chose to enter the house without permission. Really, so tight this chest when you continue like this. Why is it so hard? Why was I born like this?  I just need a blessing for the relationship we built, not an anger received. I'm tired of fighting all the time in this house.

Every second was like a sledgehammer that was violently knocked down, time seemed to lock me in anxiety and anger.

I love my family so much that I love Adi, the first love that taught me so much about difference. For him, difference is the force that tests us in this relationship. Whether it will be as strong as steel or as strong as a thread that is stretched and then pulled roughly.