Silhouetted

4.2 A Confession

ANJELIC

On the way home. The city is starting to get mute. The rain spots that piled. The sound of footsteps that blurted the lights for an instant. Anjeli sits in the back seat of a taxi. He noticed the condensing glass. Then his eyes went down the road that was like flying moving backwards. His heart. At one crossroad he saw two lovers rowing together while running around. Why do they have to run? Aren't they rowing?

Their faces were looking, so cheerful. Wet in the rain because the umbrella seems useless to use. They're kidding. The soles of their shoes hit the puddles and created splashes. But they kept running. Disappearing at a turn and Anjeli only saw once again their backs when swept away by a car light.

Anjeli choked to see the two couples—especially on the woman—really he did not expect to see a strong sense of trust in the woman's face. It was night and the city was frozen. Only one or two vehicles passed by but the woman seemed to entrust her safety to her lover.

Can we trust life to humans who also have weaknesses?

But the instant the couple was invisible again, that instant the question disappeared from his mind. Anjeli turned his eyes forward. The back of the taxi driver covered in a leather jacket.

“Didn't I trust him with my life now? And she's a boy?”

The driver's back kept on looking at him. Without even looking Anjeli still remembered that the man had a shady face. He may be fifty years old, his mustache has changed, his hair is still partly black.

“Sir, I already have a grandson?”

The old driver did not seem surprised to be asked suddenly. It was as if he already knew he would be asked by his passengers.

“Not yet, exactly maybe not.”

“Lho why?”

“My wife cannot have children.”

“Hmm, how many years have you been married sir?”

“There may be twenty-five years huh?” It was like asking yourself.

Anjeli smiled silently. There is a strange side that is unexplained.

“Father not thinking of getting married again?”

The driver shook his head, “Why not?”

“I just wonder the same commitment of people who decide to be loyal to their partners, do they not torture themselves?’

The taxi stopped at a red light. The driver looked. For a moment Anjeli looked at his eyeballs which turned out to have a fatherly highlight.

“Mbak is married?”

Anjeli shook his head

“Have a girlfriend?”

The light turned green. The taxi is running again. While holding the steering wheel the taxi driver asked, “I mean troublesome?”

“I really seem to appreciate a wedding more, sir? Dating in my opinion is more torturous inward.”

“Means?”

Anjeli stared outside, like finding a storyline there.

“Dating leaves nothing, only a deep sense of longing. We can think of our lover desperately, but no one knows that he is thinking of someone else on the other end.”

“Lah, if the wedding? Couldn't it have been an accident? We think of wife while wife thinks of others?” The driver was like testing Anjeli's stance.

“No idea, sir, but I guess even if it happens at a wedding, maybe the percentage is a little, or the possibility is small.”

The Taxi driver nodded, “Well probably too. If we marry at least the core of our mind is only to our partner. You have been married twenty-five years and have never cheated,” there is a sense of pride tucked in his voice, “even though you think of other women, yes only to that extent. After the time it was right to go home with his wife again. And his mind was gone. Free to spend the energy of thinking of other women, who are at home is not over yet!”

The taxi driver laughed to himself. Anjeli just smiled. There's another question that's more tickling

“Kok can last twenty-five years anyway sir?”

“Simple only, because we trust each other also feel each other need”

Here goes! Anjeli jumped himself. They need each other, how is it possible?

“Why can people who meet suddenly feel need sir? I'm still confused if there are people who can feel they need a human.”

The Taxi driver smiled, “I now believe that he is not married or has a girlfriend.”

“Means?”

The taxi driver replied, While the car tire rotation slowed down near the fence of Anjeli's house. “Already until mbak.” he said.

Anjeli nodded, paid, grabbed his bag and walked out. He decided to forget his question.

“Mbak!”

Anjeli turned his head, the old taxi driver smiled through the half-open window.

“Find the lover first, then I will understand myself.”

Anjeli. The car shuts down and the taxi drives.

In the sky the drizzle had stopped.