The Sky for Ara

Mom and Dad Ara

“You know Wak Ansar, the parking lot guy at the side-service clinic Midwife Army?”

Her mother-in-law's voice plan was captured by Indra Aro's hearing that morning.

His outstretched right hand gave an already shabby portrait. Must be a couple, because they embrace each other with a happy smile. Also must have been Ara's mother and father in his youth.

Aro nodded, not only familiar, he also often had coffee with the man who owned the tall body. His black arm from burning sunlight was solid. He is about 48 years old, but still healthy. Aro was close to the Ansar when three years apart from Ara and he often went to the mosque as well as regular Monday night recitations. There he began to get close to the Ansar.

“Just ask him the name of Monde, the machine operator in one of the mineral water companies in the Cicurug area. Thugs in the area, or maybe now retired. Say, Reamandri's son wants to meet.” This time Sita's voice was higher. Like there was a wound on his tone. Emphasis-filled.

“Mami actually doesn't want Ara to know what her father's past is like,” Sita regrets with a bitter smile.

Reamandri Wirasutisna, was a bad boy of his time. The man that Sita said had ruined her world back then.

Aro rushed to the Ansar. The man who had migrated and now chose to become a parking attendant after a long time dabbling in the black world as a thug. Citizens, especially traders in the market.

“New bride, seger pisan euy beungeut. Naek wae jigana?” (it was a fresh face. Keep playing like that?)

“Kudu atuh, Wak. His heunteu tea.” (Must dong, Wak. Honey if not) Proudly Aro puffed his chest.

“Beungeut beuki,” leds Ansar (looking face doyan)

Aro spoke of his arrival at the Ansar. Go straight to the core.

“Iraha, iraha?” (When, when?) Ansar eager to deliver.

“Ayeuna atuh, Wak.” (Now dong, Wak)

At exactly nine o'clock, Aro, Ara and Ansar left for one of the villages in Sukabumi district.

“Tuh, yellow paint beige pager home of the deceased. Nu cet bodas imah the Monde,” explained Ansar pointed to one by one the houses in the narrow alley alternately. (White paint Monde house)

Until finally the three arrived in front of the whitewashed house. The door was brown, shiny. It looks like it was just repatriated by its owner.

“Mas, I deg-degan,” Ara shootout who did not release his grip on Aro fingers.

“More deg-degan fitting I touch, or now?” whispered Aro while trying his wife's smooth cheeks.

“Mas,” whining Ara pinches her husband's belly.

“Don't nyubit, I'm afraid on,” whispered Aro pasted her lips on Ara's ear wrapped in creamy pashmina.

“Mas, joking continues ish.” Ara's eyes glared.

Aro laughed, he deliberately seduced his wife to fade all the pain in the heart of the woman he loved the most. After mother of course.

The door was opened by an eye-glazed man with a thin tall body. Looking at the look of the man, it seemed to be the same age as the Ansar. This man's skin is brighter, natural because according to Sita the profession is a factory employee.

“Tricks?” screech the man.

“Monde, the thug Mekar Sari!” reply Ansar.

“Ngimpi naon aing, sia jor an kadieu?” Monde embraces Ansar's shoulder (What dream did I have, you came here?)

“Ngimpi kissed by Sari. The girl but not a virgin.” Ansar was broken until his shoulders trembled (Dream kissed by Sari).

Without introducing Ara first, Ansar invited the two newlyweds in with the permission of the host of course.

Living room without sofa. It is a brown fur carpet with a round table in the middle. The white paint impressed the room to look spacious. There is an aquarim in the corner with various types of ornamental fish filling it.

On the wall, there are family photos. Monde, and his three sons in uniforms wearing cocoa. There is something strange, there is no figure of mother or wife in the photo.

“Maclum widower, his house is a mess. Boga anak tilu lalaki doang meujeuhna kumudil. Nu hiji captain basketball, tara Aya di imah. Anu two twins, jongjon hareupeun screen hape maen game.”

Monde complains one by one of his children's behavior (Have three boys all, are enjoying playing. The one basketball captain was never home. The twin henchmen in front of the screen have a game)

“Where to serve maneh? Biduan Purwasari,” leds Ansar. (Where is your wife?)

“She died two years ago of uterine cancer,” on Monde.

“Eh, hampura. Dek teu nyaho,” regret Ansar (Eh sorry. I don't know)

“Ieu saha?” tanya Monde slashed sadly because of the wound that just opened. (This who?)

“A ing direct we her?” ask Ansar for approval (me just go straight, huh?)

“Gewat, ntong nyieun heataran!” pinta Monde's. (Quickly, don't be curious)

“Children Reymandri Jeung si Vanya. Incu lanceuk maneh!” firmly Ansar made Monde's eyeballs like they were about to jump out of place.

(Child of Reamandri and Vanya. Your sister's granddaughter)

“Tong heurey, kehed. Lainna the Vanya abortion?” (Don't mess around. Isn't Vanya an abortion?)

Hearing that, Ara pressed her hand against Aro. The man felt his wife's hands sweat. Since then, not a second did Ara take off her grip. Occasionally just stretch, then back to tighten.

Ara's other hand also endlessly gripped Aro's shoulder while moaning to mention her husband's name. Capturing the fear his wife felt, Aro cut short the preoccupation of Ansar and Monde who were talking.

“Sorry, can you not speak in good Indonesian and right? My wife doesn't usually hear harsh sentences.” Aro stroked the head of his wife who was leaning on his shoulder.

“Don't scare my wife,” the door later.

"Don't be afraid, dear," Aro continued whispering to Ara.

“Bagoy, ayeuna age slave can get from tea hornbills!” monde exclaimed at the shoulder of Ansar who was sitting beside him. (Child today, most can talk)

“Kehed, eta nu awewe incu lanceuk maneh. Get the coarse cot!” whispered Ansar reminded (Bro, that's your sister's granddaughter. Don't talk rudely)

Monde slid into Ara's face. He watched the woman carefully. His eyes, lips, eyebrows, and face shape are very similar to his nephew, Reamandri Wirasutisna.

“This is serious son Aa?”

“Serious, Mon. He wants to meet his grandparents. How are they doing?”

Monde did not immediately answer. He recalled the memories of his only nephew who was just as naughty as him.

Monde is the younger brother of Reamandri's mother, Ara's father. His real name is Mohamad Hande, being Monde because it does not correspond to his wild nature.

One of the most famous thugs of his time. Together with the Ansar, they were both famous almost throughout Jabodetabek. Their existence at that time always troubled the citizens.

“Allah, isn't Vanya nonis?” Monde did not take his eyes off Ara. "This child looks really good," he continued.

“Long story, the important thing you should be able to explain to Haji Wira and Hajah Ina.” Ansar patted Monde's chest, telling her it was not good to keep looking at Ara because her husband had started to grow furious with his hands clenched.

After that they went to the house of Hajah Ina and Haji Wira, Ara's grandfather and grandmother.

“Pacar Aa?” hajah Ina Gumam.

“That was pregnant but abortion?” Haji Wira, an elderly man who has a high body also added.

“This is her daughter. Vanya failed to abort her fetus. Look, it's a lot like Aa isn't it?” Monde pointed towards Ara who was smiling with the glass-framed netra. Ready rupture.

"Vanya hid her whereabouts. He lied, because he didn't want his family to know. As soon as the baby was born, Vanya gave the innocent creature to a married couple who could finally lead the child on a straight path." Fiery Monde explains the true reality.

“Cucuku, Father? This is our grandson?” Hajah Ina smacked her husband's shoulder.

“Grandma, Grandpa?” the voice of Ara was heard slowly with trembling lips.

“Cucuku!” hajah Ina exclaimed his hand outstretched, but his knee could not be compromised to stand.

Seeing that state, Aro whispered to Ara.

“Ayok, to grandma. Grandma hug, Babe.”

Ara nodded, she stood with Aro's help and immediately scattered towards the crying Hajah Ina.

The two hugged each other with their hands rubbing their shoulders. Ara was crying loudly. He let freely the tightness that had been filling his chest.

Haji Wira next to him rubbed Ara's back. Aro squatted behind Ara, threw a glance at Haji Wira and exchanged a smile.

Ara broke her embrace, looking at her grandmother's beautiful wrinkled face. “Grandma, sorry Ara just looked here. Grandma healthy?”

“We're the ones apologizing, son. Not trying to find out where you are,” sahut Hajah Ina wiped Ara's tears with his fingers.

“We are too losers because we are only eaten by fake news. We're cowards who hide after our son throws stones. Sorry, son,” regretted Haji Wira who then stretched out both hands. “Guil Grandpa, Son. Let Grandpa feel the blood of Reamandri Wirasutisna in your body.”

“Grandpa!” Ara certainly moved into his grandfather's embrace.

“You are my grandson, our beloved Reamandri has daughter Soleha?” Haji Wira seemed to be in disbelief.

In the arms of Grandfather Ara nodded. Then Haji Wira unraveled his decapitation. His view turned to Aro.

“You're my grandson's husband?” Of course, who wouldn't have thought that Aro was her grandson's husband?

From entering, shaking hands until just now, the man's hand continued to embrace Ara by occasionally peeping Ara's forehead and head.

“Iya, Cake,” replied Aro nodded politely with a smile.

The conversation flows back. Reamandri Wirasutisna. Bad boy in his time who died after Jum’at prayers.

Jum’at the cloudy. From morning the sky refused to smile. The black clouds rolled up making anyone reluctant to leave the house.

“Today there was a practice exam PAI, Sir,” said Reamandri, who is familiarly called Mandri.

“Back school straight back, don't go anywhere!” decalogue.

His son had only recovered from a coma from wounds cut to the head, nape, and stomach after a brawl a month ago.

“You are our only child. Take good care of yourself. Don't worry anymore!” Ina reminded with the index finger pointing at the oriental face of her son.

“God's Insya. I've also been knocked. Want to live better,” I Mandri then leave for school.

Before actually going on a motorcycle to his school, Mandri stopped by his uncle's house which was still single.

“Balik sakola arek manggihan si Vanya. Arek was taken to Jeung's father's mother's. Arek of responsibility, Mang.” The steady voice of a man full of responsibility. (Going to school to see Vanya. Take it to mom and dad. Take responsibility, Mang)

“Alus, so lalaki kudu. Dare to take responsibility. Fortunately, I got pregnant with Hiji. Try kumaha seagrass tiluanan pregnant?” Monde patted his nephew's shoulder. (Good, so men should be like that. Fortunately, only one pregnant woman is pregnant. What if they are pregnant?)

“Sama Vanya I do not use security. Intentionally, because I love him. He always refused if I wanted to know my father and mother. He said he would not convert to Islam. I'm a little bit smirked when Celin told me Vanya's pregnant. They think I don't want responsibility. But, I must have protected Vanya, Mang.” The long-term man who was just about to graduate SMK was talking about love. Miris.

“Ari si awewe hiji deui kumaha? Maneh mah nakakeun arek caplukan in the cafe. Jig atuh at hotel,” ledek Monde. (When what other girl? You're shy, going out at the cafe. At the hotel, dong)

“Udah is normal. Not too fond of pious girls. It's hard to play. He's just a betting ingredient. Anak Mandapa tuh famous alim. It's good, said Mandri can not break his defense. If Vanya is different, he is also actually a servant who obeys His Lord. But, he's engrossed. Ngertiin wants me.” The explanation of the man who did not even know how to support the boy tickled Monde's sense of hearing.

“Treatment, Ndri. Ish, karak 18 year old geus arek. Ari si a.” (Medicine, Ndri. Ish, only 18 years old wants to have children. Basic, you).

The PAI Mandri practice exam gets an A. That afternoon after finishing Jum’at prayer, in the presence of his PAI teacher, Mandri read Al-kahfi's letter verses one to ten three times. Continue reading Surah Yasin, and complete juz 30 marking the day, for the first time Mandri khatam Al-Qur’an.

Breaking through the rain, Mandri did not go straight home. He wants to meet the lover who lives in Bogor city.

For Mandri, that day he wore his SMK alma mater suit and forgot to pass in enemy territory. Although it has pledged to escape from the storm charmer gang as a brawling hobby chairman, it does not make Mandri out of target.

Crossing the area of Cigombong Station, one of the opposing school spies saw the man. Immediately, five motors with two passengers on each of them followed the Mandri.

Mandri felt bad because he was consciously followed. He tried to run his motorbike. Hope to escape the siege soon. Naas, from the opposite direction precisely the allies who followed him also came more.

Mandri chose to pull over the motor just above the bridge under which the river flows with a swift water current. Rather than provoke a commotion that leads to a police station, or a hospital that will actually result in one of his opponents being a suspect, Mandri chose to jump into the river.

Mandri thought, he can swim. Won't drift. Can not die, because there is Vanya with prospective children who need it.

The plan abides the plan, the power of God cannot be denied. Mandri washed away by the swift flow of the river. Mandri's body was found the next day. The man went home dead to his mother and father.

“May God accept your father's repentance, son. Do’ him. Callhis name. Reamandri Wirasutisna bin Haji Wirasutisna.”

They had finished chanting the holy verse on the Mandri tomb. Ara held back her tears so as not to fall on the grave of the father she had sprinkled flowers on.

“Send greetings to your mother. We waited for him to come. Tell him, Mandri loves him. Remember Mandri's kindness so he can calm down.”

Once again Ara hugged her grandparents. Promise to visit often.

“Mas, thanks for kabulin my request,” whispered Ara whose hands were tightly coiled on her husband's stomach on the way home.

“That's my job,” said Aro hugged Ara back tightly.

“If my duty?”

“Birth a lot of children for me,” Reply Aro.

Ara laughed, a short peek at her husband's cheek. The two hugged each other, not caring about Ansar driving. Splitting the Bocimi toll that night with a happy heart. Bringing all relief in the chest.

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Thank you to those who always support. Honestly, I thought I would end the story of Ara and Aro in chapter 90. Actually difficult.

No surprise, here hehehe.

Be healthy, everyone.