Tak Semanis Sugarcane Is Not Sepahit Coffee

Chapter 17

Even though I closed my eyes I knew my mother was crying on the right side of the bed I was occupying. I don't know what time it is but the sun hasn't shown itself. My head still hurts with the mind I try to brush off even though the results actually increase the burden on the head.

On the first day of my return home, I did not find my father in the morning. Two and three days I only met after the magrib and the next morning when I asked my father where he always answered he had gone to work. Days four and five I found my dad asleep on the couch. I went to camp and came home to receive this surprise. I don't know what, but all I know is something's wrong happened.

Feeling my mother's hands holding me with regular breaths I decided to open my eyes. Seeing clearly the rest of the tears on her cheeks without any intention of wiping away the remaining tears in order to prevent mama from waking up. Dark circles in your eyes explain how tired the day has been. What kind of sadness does my mother have that I don't know? What secret is hidden?

Dila. Where is my sister?

One morning and I stopped to sleep again. The head was filled with crazy thoughts and possibilities that were happening in this house. Why and what? Argh.

At dawn and felt the movement of my mother I closed my eyes again pretending to sleep. Wiping my face mama wakes up for shubu prayers. My eyes didn't open to explain that I was really fast asleep. When I feel enough, these eyes open to end the drama of pretending to be asleep.

Didn't answer I immediately waltzed off to go to the bathroom and take ablution. From behind the wall I saw Dila coming out of her room and talking to her right in front of my room. Ignoring that I prefer to quietly walk into the prayer room.

After praying, my mom asked me to talk. The morning clouded as if supporting my empty feelings. The dark clouds are clearly visible from behind the living room window.

“Dad and divorced mom.” One opening sentence from my mom made both hands resting on the knees tremble violently.

Mama looked at the shaking hand and tried to hold it. Kissing the back of my hand but not giving me any results.

One minute.

Three minutes.

Five minutes.

I still feel that vibration. My mother pulled my face to look at him.

“Kak Dea's. Conscious brother! Brother Dea! Don't do this, you realize!”

“Dea, look at mama! Look mama, son!”

I saw mama. I heard Mama and Dilla talking. But my soul seems to be lost from the body. She hugged me with tears that I never liked. It's kind of like I've felt before. The black glint gave me a headache. The air seemed to be forced and I could not breathe.

Saying sorry mom hit me and then I felt oxygen fill my lungs.

“Do not do this, Dea. Don't!” Dila gives white water.

“Mama won't tell you anything like this!”

I don't want to hear any stories either.

I went into the room, locked the door. Leaving my mother with a shout of my name.

Father was also not heard coming to visit this house which explains that father and mother were right to separate. Since when? Because what?

I chose to drown myself in the bathtub. Letting my body sink. What I do this week every night. It felt lighter and slept better after my body shivered in the cold.

Gawai that I had not played for a long time displayed a picture message from Fathan who sent Keisya's beautiful face wrapped in a white dress. The corners of my lips are interested in forming a smile. Fathan also sent a picture message of his wedding invitation card which was held in two weeks. It should have not been spread out but he said he gave me the first one when the invitation design was completed.

  Congratulations, tan. I'm gonna come. Give my regards to the beautiful Keisya as well as your future wife. Tell Keisya she looks beautiful in her dress.

After replying to Fathan, I saw him many days ago, Dandi sent a message asking if it was true that I had returned to Medan along with dozens of calls that I did not answer. Given how Della's attitude was the last time we met I think the choice was right if I ignored the message. Sorry why I gave her my phone number that day.

Can't be like this. I can't stay in the room. I can't just be quiet. I am Dea, a strong woman who does not waver in a storm because I am grass, not a big tree that falls in a storm.

Throwing the sentence in the head, this foot moved towards the door, turning the key. And there, in the living room, I saw Dila sitting hugging her. What the hell's going on? Is my mom crying because of me?

“Kak Dea?”

Mama looked at me with those eyes. What happened to my mom's eyes? Swelling and flushing. I moved closer to wiping his wet cheeks.

“Do not cry!” my mother's hand took me in the warm embrace I missed.

“Don't cry! No crying! Don't cry!”

Not stop crying, my mom is crying.

“I want to hear everything that happened. Don't cry anymore, please!”

Minutes and my mom was quiet. I waited until Mom wanted to make her voice. Until she was calm, I kept letting her talk with a turbulent feeling of anger and disappointment.

 “Your year in Bandung. Dila found a father with a woman. One time until it becomes frequent. Your father's phone was hijacked by Dila and there your father was proven cheating. Mama asked father not to confess until finally mama decided to find out and it turned out. Your father has married Siri. It took me half a year to find out everything. Dad got caught because his new wife was pregnant. Assisted with your grandmother and bude, mama filed for divorce papers. Your father was angry, he didn't accept it and tried to burn down Grandma's house.

“Mama will report it to the police and he threatens. He said, if you find out about this, he'll kill your family. He agreed to our farewell on the condition that you don't know about this. She's afraid you hate her because from childhood she was always more towards you. That's why we didn't tell you about the divorce. On the other hand, mama is afraid you fall ill.”

Now I understand why on my happy day at graduation I found awkwardness among them. I understand why there are no family photos at Dila's graduation. This is the reason why I was busy asking to go back to Medan while in Bandung. The reason is also the pillows and bolsters in the room that you occupy with the father are arranged separately. Because they are no longer the same.

I feel like a fooled little boy.

“Sorry yes, ma. Sorry to have been hurt.”

I'm not gonna ask you how the new daddy's wife is. She is a widow with a child or a young woman. I don't know, whatever. Stupid all that.

I still feel bland with my mother's explanation. There is still a burden on my shoulders. Like something else was missing from this story. And back that black flash hurt my head.