Tak Semanis Sugarcane Is Not Sepahit Coffee
Chapter 10
5 Years later
I smile at the photo of Dila holding a bouquet and toga decorating the mane covered in a blue veil. Officially my bad brother got his bachelor's degree as a graduate of French literature. A happy roar was clearly imprinted on the faces of father and mother.
I really want to go home but next week it's my turn to graduate. A graduation? Yes, after two years living in Bandung I decided to continue my education. Next week I officially hold a master's degree in humanities.
Five years ago I applied for a job as an editor and less than a year of work I decided to quit and register as a translator. During high school, Amara and I attended a three-language foreign language course. Being offered by a co-worker to become a translator meant that I had to quit as an editor. From the salary as a translator I helped my father college Dila also open a food stall business. From the food stall and salary I decided to further my education.
Now I have one cafe to read after four years as a translator. This master's degree I will probably use to register as a lecturer. He may also be a translator.
“Mbak want more drinks?” The star-student economics graduate I met on the train on the way to Surabaya. Our closeness started when he lent me his jacket because my shirt was spilled with water. From the question he was going to where our conversation came to his rejection from the job application. I tried to repay her kindness by offering a job to manage the small food stall I had first. Who would have thought now the small shop became a reading cafe visited by many young to old.
“Oh, no. Ma'am will be gone any minute. Tomorrow and the next week will not go to the cafe, so if anyone wants to report you contact mbak aja ya!”
“Mbak no service outside the city?”
“No, I'm going to Jakarta tonight to meet an old friend. Do not forget to come to the graduation event next week!”
“Yes, mbak.”
“Cabry to others. If you don't come, cut your salary. No gifts, okay? Until someone brings a gift, mbak also cut your salary.”
“Please yes, we want a photo, yes later mbak must hold a gift from you. Don't want, no one can bring gifts!”
“Oke, later Star alert again to another.”
***
Jakarta-Bandung or vice versa has become a routine in every month for me to visit. Other than the job reasons, there was a little girl waiting for my arrival. This time neither of them was the reason for my arrival. Amara has just returned from Germany after finishing her studies. After five years this is the first time we have met again.
My hands waved at him who was sitting staring at the arrival of the cafe door. Three years ago Amara got married and now a cute boy is on her lap. A Chinese Muslim man who became his senior managed to marry Amara after years of long distance relationship.
“So, when are you going to follow me? Si Dandi also had twins I heard. Never talked to him again?”
“Four years ago last chat.”
Four years ago was our last conversation and after that I chose to stay away. No-no, more precisely forced away. I'm not the one who likes to end relationships. The closeness of me and Dandi makes present anxiety and jealousy to Della who has become his wife.
“You may think of my husband as a friend, but my husband does not. He loved you and I'm sure you loved him too. I blatantly said that I was afraid that Dandi would leave me for you. I was jealous when Dandi was so considerate of you and with me he was too ignorant.
You're a woman, and a writer, you know exactly how painful it would be to do it like this. Please, as a wife I ask you to stay away from my husband because my husband won't be able to stay away from you, so let you give in to stay away. I'm sure love comes from getting used to it, let Dandi get used to me and get away from it. I plead with very.”
Ever since Della asked me to get away from Dandi I started to stay away from Dandi slowly so as not to feel weird. I was busy with work and often ignored his messages. Long time I used to not reply to the message and our peak was no longer communicating when I lost the device. Nobody knows this, let it be my secret, god, angel and Della.
“Why?”
“Since my salary is gone I no longer save contact him.”
“Terus, how is your relationship with Fathan?”
“Keep up to when not to get married? So old man, if you're sincere it feels really good. I still can't believe I can bring Keenan into this world.”
I smiled and rubbed the cheeks of Keenan's puffer that looked even more funny when I fell asleep.
“Mami!” a little girl ran from the entrance to me. Hearing her screams made many pairs of eyes stare at us.
“Mami?” I smiled and nodded at Amara.
There was Fathan standing beside me after carrying Keisya in his lap.
“Mas, this is my friend Amara.” Mas Fathan smiled greeting and sat down beside me. There was no hand answer because he never liked to do it.
“Honey, greetings aunt Amara first!” Keisya went down and touched Amara. His eyes looked at me full of twinkle for a moment after seeing Keenan.
“There's a baby-baby sister!” happy shouting.
“Papi, photo!”
“Kakak what is his name?” ask Amara.
“Keisya. Baby-infant sister what's her name?”
“Name of her baby sister Keenan, sister Keisya.”
“Papi, please photo Keisya! Her baby sister's puffed up, funny.” Fathan took out his gawai and handed it to me. The three took pictures and Keisya exclaimed in excitement.
“Mami, when do I have a baby sister?”
***
I was working in Surabaya that day. On the way to Jakarta to continue work, a little girl approached me who was playing a game to relieve the boredom of waiting for the train. Standing up, he coolly stared at the game on the device in his grasp.
“Mami, borrow!” I think the three-year-old boy was talking to his mother who must have been near the little guy. The same thing he said until I finally looked into the little teary eyes and was ready to cry. I was confused and looked around which people were also looking at me.
I held out my device to her before her crying broke and I became the prime suspect in her crying.
A half-century woman came and scolded the sleeping woman on the back bench of the waiting room for the train. Then came up to me and said this little boy was his grandson.
“Thank you, yes. Her nanny slept so my granddaughter didn't see her. Good thing my grandson is not missing.” I just smiled and took the device back. Keisya, the little girl actually cried as I was about to be taken away by the grandmother.
“Mami, mommy, mommy. I want to be with mami oma, I want to be with mami.” I silently looked at her who was crying as if missed by a mother.
I don't know what made me catch up with the two and bring the little girl with the messy bangs and tears that had drenched her entire cheek into my embrace.
“Mamiii.”
From there, this relationship is established.
