Tak Semanis Sugarcane Is Not Sepahit Coffee

Chapter 15

I looked at the minimalist house that now looks more beautiful in view than two years ago when I bought it. There is a mango tree that grows not too high, orchid flowers are hanging beautifully along a row of roses and paper in a ceramic pot. Dad also made a fish pond.

The house paint was chosen according to my white and blue collar for the front. Blue and pink for the inside. And my room special was deliberately painted with blue, white and pink.

I never liked big houses. I don't know, I don't have a specific reason, but I'm telling you if anything happens it'll be hard to get through the stairs.

Dragging the suitcase into my room I smiled greeted my frame when it was displayed in the old house rented room. The first time I climbed Mount Sibayak with Dandi. I can't believe I got to the top seeing this the first time I made love to nature.

When moving first this room has not been filled anything. Seeing now there is a polaroid photo patch with tumblr lights is definitely Dila doing the decoration.

“Kak, those bags bring room all what?” mama was standing in the door frame staring at me who was still coolly probing the room. I smiled at my mom. Put the suitcase in the front corner of the wardrobe and then follow the mother to the outside of the room. Staring at two tote bags containing hand fruit from Bandung.

“This is a shirt and this is food. From Bandung. Tomorrow, share if a brother comes. Located in your room only?”

Mama helped Dila open the tote bag and sort out which ones to share. I frowned feeling that there was something strange about the house. Like something is missing and lacking.

“Where's the father?” I asked who made Dila or mama stop and look at me. Mama turned her eyes to Dila. I'm waiting for an answer.

“Dad went with his friend earlier. There is work.” Just a hunch or right, I feel like there is something hidden here.

Taking one chip I threw it at the ex who was Dila's friend. The man who was busy with his phone was shocked to receive an attack from me. “Eat the chips, silent mulu from earlier.” I said smiling cynically.

“Dea to go to room. Tired really want to sleep first.”

In the bedroom instead of sleeping I opened a glass cabinet that became home for a collection of novels, stories, and also poems that I used to buy. I looked back at the last novel I wrote before moving to Bandung and decided to stop writing. Not stopping actually. I'm still writing but it's no longer sent to publishers.

In the carry section of the closet I found an old photo album. A photo of a group of married mothers and fathers together with a picture of me and Dila who were children. Photos when I sit on the bench of kindergarten with various competitions that I often take also photos while sitting in elementary school.

My eyes probed the junior high school album that featured my face when I first entered school that reminded me of my encounter with Naufal and our closeness. The Javanese man always managed to make the class crowded with jokes he gave. I stopped at a photo that was faint in memory.

I, Naufal, Dewi, Arhan and a man whose name is forgotten in memory. Wh who? Sick to think about it I again found a photo of Naufal standing under a basketball pole. I remember this, the photo after the football game first. When Naufal lost and he got angry with his friend.

The school used to hold a race between classes when commemorating independence day, teacher's day, and the day leading up to the report. That day, two days after the odd semester exam in second grade, I went to the hospital for tonsillectomy. No one knew I was in the hospital.

“You'll come later at the tournament?” naufal asked as we drank ice in the field after school tired of rowing bicycles. Only Naufal drank Ice, I dodged by saying bring his own tumbler.

“Not knowing. Why?”

“Come?”

“Not knowing Naufal! Why why?”

“Jawab used to come or not?”

“Ish, no. We have finished the exam, lazy to come to school. Mending at home.”

“Basic slackers! Have to come anyway, I want to join the tournament.”

“Dih, can you play?”

“Makanya come and watch!”

Unfortunately that day I did not come because of the operation and the time for the report I prefer to stay at home let my mom take my report .

I heard the news of the defeat when I entered in the even semester. Naufal was seen sitting on me until finally out of nowhere he found out about my tonsillectomy and brazenly he threw me in a canned bottle. Like a reporter, he asked a very lazy question for me to explain.

“Loh, he says he wants to sleep.” Mother stood up to bring the fruit that had been cut.

“See old album first.”

“Thank you yes, ma.” Mama smiled rubbing my head.

“Sleep first, see later. Weakin' tired.”

Washing my face and changing my clothes came to the bed. Turn on the fan installed on the wall of the room. Smiling stared at the ceiling where the light bulb was sculpted.

From first grade Junior High to third grade I always got the same class as Naufal. Unfortunately, when entering High School Naufal moved to Java and continued to study there. We still talk often through messages and meet when he returns to Medan.

There was a day when I climbed with him and Dandi got angry. Whereas compared to Dandi, Naufal is more experienced about climbing. In Java, Naufal has even raised a flag on the top of Mount Semeru.

Talking about them will not end.

There was a day Naufal said he'd take me to Rinjani. Not only Rinjani, he said if I went to Java he would take me on an adventure. His picture while in Sabana Merbabu was the last message he sent before starting to stay away from me.

I think it's because he's busy. Long ago I got used to the alienation that I thought at the beginning. Even up to months of not getting a message from him so it feels normal. Although it still feels flowering when he sends a message even though it is only an apology to congratulations Eid al-Fitr.

News of the departure of wounds without medication. I'm not sure I'll love someone else if everything I do reminds me of him. Too many things I've been through with him. To the extent that when I was in a relationship with another man I felt my ‘ used to be like this with Naufal’ and it made me so reluctant to establish a relationship.

***

I woke up when the clock on the wall rang indicating that it was four in the morning along with stomach rumbling. Ah, I've missed dinner. Cleaning myself into the bathroom I went out into the kitchen looking for edible food.

Village fried rice with omelet I think enough to prop up a hungry stomach. After cleaning the tableware and finishing the plate of fried rice I returned to the room. Unload the contents of the suitcase and start tidying up a little.

Find a carrier bag containing shoes and mountain sandals, flashlights, sleeping bags, mattresses and tents as well as cookware, eating and drinking that I used to use to climb made part of me interested in playing to the mountain again. See how the stars gather. Feeling the thump in order to reach the top with the wind busy hugging presents a cold.

The sound of knocking on the door from mom who told me to get up to prepare for shubu prayers made me go back to tidying up the carrier bag and keep it back in the closet. I took wudu’ and went to the prayer room that my father and mother had filled. Dila is a special time.

After fulfilling the obligation as a Muslim I decided to go to the field of independence by riding a motorcycle that is usually used by Dila. It's not Sunday so only a few people are seen doing a morning run. Usually if this Sunday field will be widely used for people who exercise and also sell. There will be gymnastics, running, cycling, this field is never quiet in the week morning until night.

And on Saturday night towards the week of young people who are kasmaran, or who are crazy photos to put on social media will enliven this field. Not enough to get there, children who are members of organizations or communities will usually also enliven this field.

“I think it's wrong for people, it turns out that Dea is. How are you doing? Forgot?” I who was sitting after taking a stand of mineral water looked at the man who was now sitting on the right side filling the empty part of the field bench.

“Bang Ridho's. Well, long time no see us. Geez, how are you bang?” a helping hand was greeted by Bang Ridho in a friendly manner.

Senior Bang Ridho at my High School used to come with me and Dandi up the mountain. More precisely we who often join bang Ridho ngetrip with his travel friends. To the beach, mountains, even ngamen with the payment in the form of garbage we used to do. We'll be intentional ngamen and who's watching has to pay us with garbage. This is actually to reduce litter.

“Health. Don't you live in Bandung?”

“Only yesterday arrived in Medan. I plan to work in Medan just so you all take care of the parents.”

“Parent's body means you're not married?”

“Hahaha. No one wants to, bang.”

“Your vacuum says no one wants to. Sure I have a lot of guys that you've rejected. Not low to skyrocket.” I laughed in response.

“Still frequent to the mountain?”

“Aduh, since in Bandung I no longer play to the mountain.”

“Ah, very dear dong. In Java many mountains even do not play to the mountain.”

“My office friends no one plays to the mountain, bang.”

“Masa? You are the one who is less sociable for sure. I take a mountain ride at night Sunday want not?”

“Night of the week?”

“Take.”

“You are so stinking!”