The Primadona Malam

Wanna Go Home

"This is your pay!" said the fat man, thrusting a lump of money in red.

The woman who was still wrapped in the blanket, extended her hand. He took a wedge of money while smiling sweetly. "A lot, Mom," he said.

"Take it THR for you" replied the man. "Come on, get out of here!" her word. "In a moment, I have to follow my wife to Jogja."

The woman whose age was not comparable to that old man, suddenly pursed her lips. "You don't want to drive me home, Mom?" tanyakanya.

"Already, don't sulk! My plane is about to take off. If I have to take you first, I can miss the plane" replied the man.

"Huh, I told you, we should check in at a hotel near the airport. In this case, I am also, 'the one who is bothered, '" the woman complained.

"Now, don't complain much. Do you want us to be raided by the authorities? It's takbir night. The guard must be very strict" the man explained. "Let's get your clothes on!" he ordered while throwing a dress at the woman who was now sitting upright on a king-size bed.

"Hey, is this Mas?!" exclaimed the woman as she spread the clothes thrown by the man.

A simple Muslim fashion, made of rayon fabric with small floral motifs scattered everywhere. The motive that made the woman shudder looked at him. His two belo eyes went through every corner of the room to look for a mini dress, hers.

"Forget your material-less clothes!" reprimand the thick-bodied man. "I threw it away" he added.

"But, Mas!"

"No more protesting. Just wear the clothes. Don't forget, wear the hood too. If on the street you cross paths with residents, and they ask, just say you are ART while being hired to clean up the house by Mr. Subrata. Hear it!" said Mr. Subrata, full of decisiveness.

Kusuma Subrata. 56 Year old man. A wood businessman from Kalimantan who gained success in the city of Jakarta.

Businesses that initially only produce processed wood as a raw material for furniture goods, have now penetrated into a furniture business that has several branches in various regions of Indonesia.

"Huh, shitty!" scowl the woman while getting out of bed.

"Already, Niram. Don't frown anymore. I promise you, once my plane lands at Adi Sucipto airport, I will transfer 10 million as your bonus," said Mr. Subrata as he kissed Niram's red lips.

The Niram Kirana. A 22-year-old woman who works as a night woman in a brothel in Jakarta.

"Promise?" niram's sulk, while wrapping both hands around Mr. Subrata's neck.

"Humph .. yes, dear promise," replied Mr. Subrata, shortly after releasing his pageant.

"Alright, dear Mr. Subrata Kusuma. Let's just say we're breakeven now. I'm wearing this" Niram said as he showed the robe he was holding, "and you transfer me now!" continued, firmly.

"No!" reject Mr. Subrata, "later Honey, se–"

Niram smashed his lips on Mr. Subrata's lips. Sipping it deep, and occasionally playing his sense of taste on Mr. Subrata's thick lips.

"Humph!"

Mr. Subrata pushes Niram's body until their kiss is cut off. "You can burn my passion the most, Miss!" he continued, pushing Niram back to fall into bed.

.

.

Time has shown past midnight. However, it did not dampen Niram's steps to go to the bathroom. For a moment, he stared at Baby G, who was asleep inside his box. By the time Niram arrived home, the 10-month-old was already sound asleep.

Niram wakes up his son's nanny. She was going to tell her babysitter to go home and rest. It's Niram's habit, if he comes home, he's the one who'll babysit Baby G.

Aida rubbed both eyes as she felt a touch on her shoulder. A second later, Aida straightened her body.

"Eh, you're home, Ram?" ask Aida.

"Yes, Mother. How's Baby G, is he fussy today?" ask Niram.

"As usual, Ram. Baby G is not at all fussy. He is a very good boy" replied Aida.

"Hmm, maybe he knows if his mother is working" Niram said. "Yes already, Ma'am. Now Aida can go home. Poor mother, Ma'am. He must be very worried because Mbak has not gone home" said Niram.

"Just calm down, Ram. My house is only in Depok. It didn't take me half a day to get there. So, I intend to go home in the morning. After the Ied prayer," said Aida.

Niram only smiled faintly hearing Aida's words.

"Oh yes, Ram. Don't you want to go home? Go home to your parents? Your parents will definitely feel happy and happy to see you, let alone see the cute baby G" said Aida.

Niram smiled wryly. "I take a shower, Ma'am. If you want to go home, just lock the door." Niram passed from before Aida.

Niram opened the shower faucet. He let the cold water touch his dirty body. It could be hours of Niram standing under the swift air shower. Hopefully, the shower can shed all the dirt attached to his body.

Niram closed his eyes. Aida's question was back in the ears. "Didn't you want to go home?"

Of course I want to go home. I haven't been home for nearly two years. Not only will my parents be happy and happy. I will feel the same when I meet them. However, would they also be happy after meeting his granddaughter? A child born without marriage. Will they accept my present situation? Can they accept my job? Nah! I don't think they'll be able to accept the fact that his son has been destroyed. So devastated that he could no longer face his own parents. I don't think they'll accept me who's already throwing shit at them. I'm just the trash of society. There is no way they will accept the garbage of the community. Coming home, will only make my family bear the shame of my disgrace. I'm sorry Dad, I'm sorry mom!

Both of Niram's eyes began to warm. This is how he is every night. Crying under the shower and dying her fate line.

"Oeeek .. oeeek .. oeeek ...."

As usual, Baby G's cry ended Niram's mandatory bathing ritual. The woman of her late stature immediately grabbed the hanging towel robe. Then he came out of the bathroom.

Arriving at the room, she saw her baby moving here and there. Niram approached the small table and immediately made warm milk for her baby. After that, Niram approached Baby G and brought the bottle closer to his son's mouth.

Quickly, Baby G's tiny mouth grabbed and sucked the tip of the bottle. A few seconds later, the little baby closed his eyes.

Niram looked gently at his son. The sound of takbir continues to roar. His right hand was still holding the Baby G milk bottle to keep it from escaping. He started to lean his back. Closing both eyes tightly. Until some memories, began to wander in his mind.