Short Story (Cerpen)

Amy

Category: Sad Love Story

Title: Amy

_________________________

'why didn't you come?'

'I'm sorry, I had to look after the store yesterday. Isn't it raining yesterday?'

'just because of that, I'm rained!, you've broken your promise so many times, I'm sick of it!'

'Amy, I'm sorry'

A piece of our conversation through the virtual liaison media was cut off. I was annoyed with him, I had to wait for two hours and ended up fighting with the rain that passed down in front of the orchid stop where I used to wait for kopaja. We want to meet there. Not only that day he did not come, but in every moment where we made promises.

He's my chattinggu friend. It has been about seven months that I shared my grief and laughter with him through the ringing of typing on my laptop. I prefer to share the suffering, to be exact. At first he just texted me, through one of my social media accounts. I didn't recognize her, even harboring bad prejudices on her. But time seems to be king on the throne of reality. He was a good man, always making me laugh. He was also a tombal poet who diligently sent me some poetry verses made by email that make a smile always squash between my cheeks.

I can't stand meeting him anymore. I was tired just to see his face from the thin screen wrapped in a machine. We always promised to meet, but he always refused. He never kept his promise even if only to show his nose only. For a long time the more upset I made, curiosity and admiration blushed over his poems make me more anxious to meet him.

'Amy, I'm sorry. Even if I didn't work at the bookstore, we would've met'

I read that sentence raw on my laptop screen. For three days I deliberately did not reply to messages or pick up the phone from him. As usual, he didn't send me a poem when we were like this, he would send me back that pure strand of the word later. Actually I can't stand being in a fight with him either. A lot of messages have been piled up in my email inbox and mobile phone. But I don't think I can forgive him yet, even though it's still about a problem that I didn't think was trivial yesterday.

'i don't like people who disbelieve very much'

'Amy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that. I'd love to meet you too'

'li lie'

'really Amy. Time is always in the way'

'it's not your excuse' type me with a stomp. He could make an excuse.

'well, we'll meet this time'

'i'm lazy'

'at three o'clock at the station next Wednesday, I'll be home as soon as possible from Jakarta to see you'

'just whatever'

'forgive me Amy, I love you'

I paused for a moment before sending a reply to his sentence. Yes, we have admitted our feelings to each other. It was exactly eleven o'clock at night that he called me on the phone and immediately expressed his feelings. I have no power to refuse, or to be too hesitant to accept. I accepted it, I also told her that I had the same taste for her. Since then, we have also made each other promises to meet, and spread hate because we never met.

Now I'm at the station. Under the large ceiling of the rain barrier that was falling. I was waiting for him from two, but it's past four. The rain was still falling, the smell of the wet earth had eased my anger to wait a little longer. I did not know him directly, we are just chat friends, who often exchange information through a chain of cables accompanied by anxious hopes and longing greetings.

I remember his poetry. Poems about me by him even I was so easy to read if I missed them. There were a lot of poems he sent me. He also loved sending me hopes for us that made me love him more and more. I am not crazy, there are also many men who still want to be in love with me. But I chose him, chose a bookstore keeper, who I never even saw.

Train after train has passed in front of me. Lowering the passenger jeep and changing on the other jejal to be transported. The typical sounds of iron wheeled vehicles make me dreamy in time. The rain was still dripping behind the small cracks of space. I was still wailing waiting for another train to come from the direction of Jakarta, waiting for the look of the face that I had dreamed of in a thin screen in cyberspace. It's eight, eight o'clock. He didn't come again, he lied again.

I walk the road with ease to the house. There were dozens of texts and missed calls on my mobile phone from earlier vibrating. Listed, my mom, brother, my coworker, my other coworker, and, he. I am sick of taking messages from him, what dreams of great hope except the bitter little reality of the end. I hate to see his name on that big touchscreen. I pulled the card out of it and decided to spend my night in the hustle and bustle of the streets, among the rustling of leaves swept by the wet wind.

—

The daydream in the pool water ripples made me sleepy. I don't know how many hours I've been there.

'ma, mama, Rony's home' lamenting voices calling me behind the front door. Immediately I hurried to stand and look for the door lock.

'yes, sorry that mama was in the pool' welcome me after the door opened.

'ma, it was on Rony street that there was an accident, in front of this alley of our house'

'jeez, you're okay, right?' I'm worried about Rony.

'Rony squirms a new fit down from angkot ma. People said he ran out of the stall, just walk again from the stall that his motorbike was directly hit by a sand truck that used to pass around here ma' story Rony hunt.

I cringe while smiling. Not happy because of the accident, but seeing the enthusiasm of Rony who was so hunting. I told him to be careful not to have such an accident happen to him. Rony gave a small nod and disappeared between the doors of his room at the end of the living room. I also went back to my room to turn off the computer that was still on. I just looked through my social accounts and other social media this afternoon. I miss remembering those times. Never imagined that I who always type in front of the laptop screen will grow up until finally have my own family.

I intend to delete all those accounts. For me, those days are past. Let me bury those memories deeply, and I still have a cell phone in my pocket. Starting from the email that I first made, because in total there are four emails that I have. I'm very easy to create a new email if there's a little problem in that account. Whether it's someone insulting me, or whatever it is that pisses me off.

First email was deleted. Just now I was looking through the traces of messages that used to connect me with many of my friends who eventually became memories. I laughed until I finally cried. I went to delete the second email, the content also contrasted to make my eyes stay wet. The rest of the messages from my sister in Europe who was still in school there. Fill in when he left a prayer for my dead mother who was not long followed by father. At the death of my father, a week later he went straight home and told me he would continue his studies in Indonesia, he did not want to lose me too if he did not come home to take care of me.

Now I'm surfing on the third email. It was great to reopen the messages in this email. A lot of my ex-boyfriends and guys want to get close to me in this email inbox. After getting down enough I read, my breath was held all over. There are some new emails that I haven't read yet. I was stunned to see the name of the sender. It's been a long time.

'Amy, how are you?, I've been waiting for you for a long time. I hope you're always healthy and well. Have you finished reading the 'That' ebook in the deep sky' that I sent you? Ah where possible yes, I forgot you don't like reading. But once in a while read it, I know you'll love it. Amy, once again, I'm sorry. You know, I love you. Maybe love you. Trust me, I'll wait for you and see you. So wherever you are, Amy, fine, you're there'.

The last part of the email left me limp. That was the last email he sent half a year ago when I saw the delivery time. I didn't expect him to still send me messages after the incident. Something that made me hate him. There are still many emails from him that I open one by one. He told me about it and told me to calm down because he was okay. He was still working at the bookstore back then, which I don't even know where he was. He also told me he still likes to remember me and wait for me at the station. Wish I read the message to meet there again.

I shed tears, I didn't think for a moment that he still remembered me and even sent me messages faithfully. Maybe even to my number that I broke the card.

'ma, papa came home' shouted Rony breaking my little sob. I'm approaching them right away.

'ma, the stall in front of the alley was a lot of talk about the dead accident' said my husband slowly.

'iya pa, Rony was concerned about the incident even. Mas-mas pa's an accident'

'oh that, he said he's looking for an address again. Bang maman who was asked was shocked to be in an accident. Papa had been to his stall' continued my husband while loosening the ties of his tie that had been shabby.

'his name is Asgar, said bang maman he found an address around the beautiful earth housing, your former housing, ma' I jolted made him instantly.

'Asgar?' I shouted in my heart. The Asgar I just read all the messages? Asgar the maya poet? Asgar the denier? Who was hit by a truck in front of that alley? Maddened. Not likely. It won't be possible. Not going to be possible.

—

The night is still dim. I woke up from my heart just now. The little koi fish seemed to be full. The rest of their food was still floating without the slightest taste they devoured it. I also seemed to be unable to stand the cold, my feet began to appear bluish in the small pool water. I left behind a little memory of him once again, of him, the man I never met. The last poem he sent, I remember it clearly. Just the last part exactly. He talked about dew on the morning branch. It's been a long time. It's too long to even remember.

every morning I wait for you

looking at the sky while praying you appear between my body

but it rained again

make you the new one to come

vanished in a more roaring stream of water

FOR YOU, MY BELOVED, AMY