The Various Kinds of Stories

Red Hooded Girl - Zulfa (Event)

This afternoon I enjoyed the end of the month at a restaurant, as a gift to myself after payday. A cup containing Americano Coffee is presented on a beautifully textured antique table. Both of my hands were holding romance novels. Black binding of paper tucked between pages.

The air bit a little bit. This tropical country has entered the rainy season. The wind felt moist to the faces of people sitting in the restaurant with outdoor design. My red veil fluttered, in the wind.

"Can I sit here?"

I'm looking. A narrow-eyed young man bewajah chines stared in full supplication. My eyes went around the entire restaurant. Full up. Looks like I really should share a table with this guy.

"Please." I smiled a little.

After a while, I drowned again enjoying my novel that I had just read halfway through. The stories I enjoyed have already begun to enter into conflict. It's too bad if I stop.

"You're a lover of novels?" ask the young man in front of me.

I stopped reading my novel. I looked at him in wonder, nodding in confirming.

"What genre?"

"Now. Romance, action, fantasy, religion, whatever. As long as it's interesting, I like it" I replied accordingly.

The young man's narrow eyes gnawed in surprise while laughing softly. Her laughter was beautiful and warm. Like the sound of the wind. Soft, soothing.

"What novel did you read?"

I bowed, a little embarrassed to respond to his question.

"Romance. Taking the setting of the century

eighteenth, where the background and identity of a people is still held strong so that the slightest feeling of love will always lose in the face of social laws that are too high. This novel takes the culture of two great people at that time," I explained.

The young man nodded, looking interested.

"So, the novel is about a love that culture resists?"

I nodded, again confirming. Rarely do men have an interest in literary works. He was one of the few men who responded to my hobby.

"Yes. The main character is a Turkish girl who falls in love with an Indian man. They are different in many ways. Cultural, background, social and religious."

He smiled, staring at my novel with sparkling eyes. There was a foreign light that glimpsed at a glance in his eyes, making me interested.

"It is certainly the weight of the conflict. Ancient people often glorified their background and identity of greatness. Their actions may be right, but they indirectly get rid of many things that are considered to tarnish their big name . Wrong love is like a disgrace that is taboo to discuss."

A waiter stopped our conversation. He delivered a man's order in front of me that was greeted with a friendly smile and an encouraging speech.

"You're right. I have always been amazed at the group of people who maintain the integrity of the culture and background identity of a people. It's just, I don't think I should be against love. What's wrong with having a special emotion for someone else, even if it's different? but back again, it was just my opinion."

The corner of my mouth twitched as I pulled wider, creating a smile.

"Did the story end in marriage?"

"They're married. It's just that, according to the system taken from women, their marriage is considered less than perfect. Their relationship was considered a moral distortion. They get a pretty heavy social sanction. I don't know what kind of ending awaits them." I shrugged both of my shoulders, showing my ignorance of the continuation of the story. I haven't fully enjoyed the novel yet, so I don't know the end of the story.

We talked back about a lot of things. In a short time, I realized this man was very impressive. He's wily. Whatever discussion I raise, always respond carefully. The knowledge is very broad. He is also not easy to judge things, although there are some differences in arguments that we have.

At the end of the meeting, he looked at my novel full of interest and asked for a thing.

"Can I borrow your novel?" I asked a little unsure.

I blinked in surprise. My eyes shifted to a novel in front of me. This thing in my hand is about eight hundred pages thick. I'm not sure he's really interested in this novel. Judging from his black suit, it was likely that he was a true businessman. Is his interest big enough to spend time with unimportant things like reading these writings?

"It's okay if you mind." The young man stood up, intending to leave.

"OK, you can take him if you want." I handed the thick thing to him. He glanced in amazement, not expecting me to grant his request.

"By the way, my name is Roy." He looked at me politely. I nodded, keeping the name in the memory of my brain.

"I'm Naila"

We exchange contacts, keep each other's new identities in our respective phones.

...

Tonight the moonlight infiltrated the thin curtains in a small rented area in one of the densely urban areas. The night breeze snapped making the window grille crackle.

I was immersed in a novel in the corner of a contract. Enjoying word for word, drifting in another dimension.

Then a knock on the door blew me away. Reluctantly, I opened the door. I peeked out from the small crack to find out who was the bully of my beautiful atmosphere.

That guy.

I call it the squinty eye.

"Can I come in?" Roy holds a novel that he borrowed four days ago.

"When you asked me where I live, I thought it was just a fad. I've even forgotten that." I pointed at the thing in the air.

I opened the door wider, giving him access. He created a wry smile on his lips. His eyes were clear, like a puddle of calm water.

"I intend to return it. You live alone?"

Roy observed the small space I occupied. There was only a simple mat that covered a part of the floor. Some of the others I left unclosed, displaying a dark ceramic color that began to fade and emit a musty smell.

In addition to mats, there is a TV, refrigerator and other basic furniture. Both of his eyes were surprised.

"Yes. During my time working at PT as a production operator, I chose to take a contract. My house is too far away if I have to go back and forth from where I work." I shrugged both of my shoulders, pointing at a plastic mat to let her sit.

Judging from the cut of the suit that Roy was wearing, he was probably from the family. I wouldn't force myself if he was uncomfortable with my contract. As long as this place is convenient for me, care for the devil with the opinions of others.

The man smiled sincerely, as if apologizing silently. He sat in the corner of the room, watching me focus.

"I loved this novel, despite the sad ending" he said later.

"Good."

Roy remained silent. His black net was locked long enough to me. My eyes blinked, feeling strange with his attention.

"You're a unique girl. Twice I saw you, twice did you wear a red veil."

Roy's clear eyes seemed to observe me without basis. His words were light, yet they had a very strong effect on me.

I tried to laugh. Covering my uncontrollably driven heartbeat. Inside here, my euphoria is overflowing with the little attention he gives. My turn?

"I love the way you laugh" he said. The light of his eyes grew stronger, as if pulling me closer.

Either the atmosphere is supportive, or either he is too shrewd to pack things up, making me drown in a lot of interesting conversations.

She's a beautiful figure. The way it lays out things, the way it conveys responses, seems to trap me in new admiration.

With him, even trivial things become felt to have value. It's freaky. In just two meetings, my ego demanded ownership.

After this night passed, he again made a meeting with me at other times.

In this place, a small contract bears witness to how we chatted. With the night breeze infiltrating through the window grille, with a five-watt light bulb, we shared a lot of stories.

One weekend afternoon, the squinty man came back to greet me. A bouquet of red roses he held in doubt. With a look I could hardly describe, he handed it to me.

A small paper with a round picture of tsabit was handwritten by him. Sticking with a flower.

Red rose

For the red-hooded girl

I laugh. Sipping the fragrant fragrance from the thing he gave, feeling a new euphoria that was very foreign.

The squinty man smiled, transmitting happiness. You know, her smile always brings a new warmth to the bottom of my heart. Strange, but that's how it is.

We went back to the contract. He said to me in two days he'd be back in his hometown. Taking time off for a distant relative's wedding. It turns out he's also oversea, just like me. The difference is he wanders as a manager, while I as a production operator.

I nodded, feeling lost. He said he'd see me before he came back to town. The corner of my lips I pulled formed a small smile, accepting his promise.

Justjust right.

That evening the rain hit. The wind was blowing fiercely, making noise. I was locked in a simple contract. Trying to immerse yourself in the latest fictional story.

Roy's coming, paying off his promise. He's standing at the door. His whole body was soaked. He carried a bouquet of red roses that began to look crushed in both hands.

We laughed at each other at the same time. I opened the door wider, letting him take cover under a simple roof with me.

I got a bouquet from him. My feelings started to drift. He was the first man to pamper me this sincere. How do I express my gratitude?

Suddenly something disturbed me. My eyes are confused. A foreign accessory she wears tonight, beautifully coiled in her ring finger.

Wedding rings.

She's she? Could it?

Both my eyes were surprised. New thoughts began to form in my jammed mind. This fact makes my brain slow to work.

"You're married?"

Only God knows how soft my lips are.

Roy lowered his head. As he looked back at me, I saw his eyes dim. There is pain and sadness in it. Both of his hands trembled, as if wanting to make a denial.

"Yes. Sorry."

That fact almost took away all my common sense. My joints seemed to be shed in uncertainty. That fact brought down all my dreams.

I stepped back, away from him. In this soul, there was a deafening cry of heart. Tearing apart my soul in one jolt.

He stepped forward to grab me. Kutepis. I screamed at him hysterically.

What is my meaning to him?

What game did he do to me?

What lies did he create?

The flowers he gave me.

The compliments he gave me.

The look he was pointing at me.

The feeling he was trying to convey to me.

All fake?

I roared furiously. Get him out of contract. I told him not to come back to me anymore. I'm not interested in participating in cheap games.

"Do you think everything I did to you was fake? Do you know how sick I am right now? Naila, I'm more broken than you right now. The feeling I hold is stronger. The adoration I experienced was more intact to you."

He smiled wryly, leaving a scuffed sheet of paper to me before finally choosing to leave. Through the thousands of waters that flutter in the darkness of the night.

My tears melt in solitude. My body shook with the sobbing. My voice sounds sad. It was as if the sadness I experienced sounded from another realm.

After my emotions subsided, I grabbed a shabby paper from her. The paper was almost destroyed by water. The edges are too fragile for me to hold.

I opened the thing carefully, I put it on the floor of the rented musty.

A handwriting from her was etched beautifully, in red ink.

That afternoon after I found your figure

Foreign emotions begin to form.

I thought I couldn't feel this if I hadn't experienced it straight away.

You know dry wood that can burn because of a small factor?

The flames were engulfed in an instant without leaving any remains.

That's what I have for you.

It was a very emotional moment from the beginning of the meeting.

I adore you in solitude.

I spent all my sanity on you.

I found you in a delay.

If only I knew this kind of feeling was present.

I'll wait for your figure.

Looking forward to welcoming your existence.

You don't know how many hundred times I asked God why he created this meeting.

If only it were early.

If only it wasn't too late.

I'm almost at the point where I don't want to believe in destiny anymore.

Nature makes fun of me.

It gets me hooked on things I can't achieve.

You are a forbidden rainbow.

It's tempting to throw away who I really am.

If only I could choose.

I want to keep you even if it's wrong.

Your presence, is the red line I want to strike.

But I do know.

You're not going to be crazy enough to welcome me.

We're just two strangers playing with destiny.

Tonight, I'm opening up the facts for you.

Just to deliver, though,

you're not a game to me.

You might be surprised to find out how big your role is for me.

Pardon,

Over all the limits I have set for you.

For the red hooded girl,

I love you, I love you,

...

After his departure, the sun was no longer the same. The morning light that always turns foreign. The sizzling night wind on the gap of the window lattice sounded awkward.

I learned to lose in a painful way.

If there is a theory that says that loss is only for those who have ever had,

I'll be the first to oppose it.

That loss remains the same, whether you ever had it or just knew it.

As long as you play with the pain, it's still you're going through.

Day changed Sunday. Week changing month. It didn't feel like he was gone for a year from my life. It seemed to last long enough for me. He was present in my life, carrying a rainbow in my wildest dreams.

The man was only present for a moment. But its existence is impossible to erase. No matter how many men come to me, the emptiness is always there. Reminds me of the existence of someone who is clearly off limits.

One day, I came home a little late. I spent three extra hours on mandatory overtime. It was dark when I arrived at my simple contract.

A woman, in a pale purple dress, stood gracefully before my rented door. He was carrying a dark plastic bag. I frowned, astonished at his presence.

"Sorry, looking for who?" my many.

The woman's narrow eyes looked uncertainly at me. His Chinese face reminds me of a figure I once knew. Foreign feelings began to form, disturbing my comfort.

"Maisie?" She pointed at my blood red hijab.

The furrow in me grew, astonished.

"Yes. Sorry who?"

At first glance, I saw the confusion in both her beautiful senses. He cleared his throat a few times, asking for a little time from me.

I opened the rented wooden door. The door rang out loud to me. Friendly, I let him in.

I moved swiftly, brewing black coffee on a chocolate mug. The steam is billowing, promising warmth in the middle of the night atmosphere.

"You like coffee?" ask the woman.

"Very avid"

He nodded in silence. We kept quiet for a long time. Only the ticking of the clock turned into a background sound. That woman is still a question mark for me. Nevertheless, it seemed that he was reluctant to reveal his identity. From the looks, I estimate we are the same age. It's just, the look is more trendy than me.

Until then after a few minutes passed in awkwardness, he revealed a fact.

"I'm Angel. Roy's ex-wife."

I was shocked.

That name, after so long had passed, was still able to shake my heart. Countless times I've called it every hundred nights.

"You remember that name, don't you?"

I smiled bitterly. Remember that? I even made it my special.

"Ex-wife?" my ul isn't sure.

"You want to hear a story?" Angel moved closer to me. Smile of pain expands in her beautiful lips.

"Roy and I got married early because of an arranged marriage. Two years we did well. I think this marriage will work out to the end. But who would have thought things had changed a year ago."

Angel's eyes stared at the ceiling. His eyes seemed to be floating on old memories. I, for some reason, felt cornered by the story.

"I know you guys met a year ago. On his return from this city, only your name was what he often mentioned. He made a confession to me, his heart has fallen deeply on a girl in a red hood."

Angel stopped for a moment. The pain was evident from the look on his face. His two eyes increasingly looked clear, enduring the cries of defeat.

Which woman is not hurt to know her man is craving for another figure? At this point, I feel like I'm the one who shouldn't be present.

"I thought he was only obsessed with you for a moment. Something that is very burning, will usually cool down quickly. A relationship needs a strong foothold, not just a short meeting. However, the more the day the feeling gets stronger. For the first time, I was like a piece of decoration for his life. A display without meaning. Our marriage is at its lowest."

Tears began to pour down her beautiful face. Angel smiled bitterly, reminiscing about the tragedy of his life.

"You'll never know how hard he's fighting for his feelings for you. For the first time, he stood up against our extended family. I finally chose to give up. We split up well. Two months ago the verdict fell officially."

Angel's expression implies defeat. My guilt is becoming more and more.

"Sorry." My head is down deep.

"You don't have to apologize. That feeling is not in your control."

Angel clasped the plastic bag she was carrying. His face showed a new image. He opened his mouth to say something, but was held back repeatedly. Tears were pouring down both of his cheeks.

"Five days ago, he tried to return to this city. I know he must have meant to see you. It's just ..."

Angel took a heavy breath, gathering her soul force. It was very clear that every word contained profound pain.

"He died on the way in an accident."

I saw the woman's defense break down. This contract became a silent witness to the roaring cries of the foreign woman. His body trembled violently, increasingly clutching tightly to the plastic bag he was carrying.

Died off?

My senses suddenly went numb. I'm hard to believe. My eyes blinked repeatedly, rejecting all the reality that the woman was presenting.

"I found this thing in his car after the accident. I think you deserve it. Sorry, I just found your presence now. At least, after all the good things he left me, I feel indebted to convey this to you."

He had a plastic bag in his hand and two small pieces of paper that I thought were business cards.

The woman stood up suddenly, leaving me in confusion. I heard the sound of her footsteps walking away with a muffled sobbing.

I froze for a long time. All my senses seem to be losing function. My brain reprocesses every bittersweet fact that woman shared with me.

Roy's dead? The guy left?

That fact seemed to take all the rest of my sanity. I, like a paper doll tossed in water. Waiting for time only to be broken and scattered.

I took the plastic bag that the woman left behind. I peeked a little before finally deciding to take two things inside.

A bouquet of red roses that have withered. The florets seemed to be ready to break at any time. The color is no longer as red as blood. Now mixed with a dull color of brownish-brown. It'll soon rot.

I sipped slowly, trying to sip the aroma.

No longer fragrant. The foreign scent of blood-like rancor pierced my sense of smell.

Under it, tucked a small paper with familiar handwriting. The paper was as shabby as the bouquet I held.

Red rose

For the red-hooded girl

Naila, bye,

Will you marry me?

I hope our story doesn't end like the first novel I borrowed from you.

My breath seemed to be held for quite a while.

There are other things that accompany the bouquet as well. I picked it up in a plastic bag, watching the little box with red velvet pads. Inside, there is a pair of couple rings, one of which is engraved my name.

My hands are shaking uncontrollably. My gaze was pounded on the two papers Angel left behind. I drew the paper, I found Angel's name, address and contacts neatly stamped in a tiny golden business card.

Another paper bearing the address of a public funeral in one of the cities. Behind it, written black ink scratches manually.

Alm. Roy Sidharta Alexandrio's

It was then that a desperate scream came out from the bottom of my soul. I decay helplessly on a rented floor. My body sank into tears of pain.

I hold a bouquet of flowers that have withered, I hug and I kiss blindly. I didn't care anymore when the flocks started to decay and disintegrate with my sobs.

The smell of it was attacking my consciousness. It was as if I could see a flashback of the blood of the man who was bowing in each of these rose buds. Blood that leads to the end of life.

Before, I thought I had felt the meaning of loss. But I was actually wrong. Nature has taught me the true meaning of loss.

When you breathe, but you realize he's no longer breathing the same air.

When you look at the sun, but you realize he no longer has the same sky.

When you're caught in a cry of pain, but you realize he's no longer reacting to the same thing.

The pain felt sharp. Like a slap coming from the depths of your soul. Crushes you in all kinds of ways. Until your body feels numb, give up in despair.

"I love you too, my little guy." I'm gonna poke my lips without a sound. I hope God will give my confession to her.

Confession is too late. Where only the night wind is a witness. With countless tears.

"Our story doesn't end like the novel you borrowed, because it's all over before we even have a story." I whispered bitterly.

Finishes.