The Woman I Stained

Guilt

"Mas Mandala will come to my village?"

The question of Mr. Wato, my family's driver, as well as my childhood best friend made me break out in cold sweat. Two years ago, events brought back memories. I actually don't remember very clearly. It's just that the red stains on my room's bed sheet can make me conclude, what kind of madness I was doing when I was drunk that night.

The flasback

I was going down the stairs when Mr. Wato said goodbye to bring his beloved daughter home. His name is Nailis, Mr. Wato often tells about his daughter without getting bored. His intention to come to the capital was for a vacation, taking off longing with his Father at most only once a year to return to the village. I want to meet my family, especially my dad. Because Mr. Wato and my father are very close. They were best friends from childhood until my father graduated Junior High. Before then Grandpa brought the hijrah father to the city and settled here until now.

Nahas, Nailis can not enjoy his vacation which is only a few days. The day I arrived at my family's house, the girl had chickenpox. That's what I heard from Mbak Isah, our maid. Because I haven't been home for a few days. Because there was a bit of a problem with my boyfriend back then.

That morning, I saw him wearing a long-sleeved shirt, socks, mask, hat. Maybe to cover up the traces of pox that I saw some blackened on his face that was not covered with a mask.

The girl lowered her head as she shook hands with me, getting acquainted as well as saying goodbye. His hands were cold and slightly shaking. Not much different from me who was filled with guilt. But these lips can't say anything, or just say an apology that I'm not sure I can solve. I'm too much of a loser to just admit to my depraved deeds. My hands were clenched in my pockets, tightly clutching the necklace with the name Nailis on my bed. How fucking I am.

Days pass. I did not have the courage to find out or just ask the news to Mr. Wato who returned a few days later. Only sometimes do I try to paint his shadow by looking at the face of my family's driver, Mr. Wato, his real father. And if you've seen the old man's face. I increasingly did not have the courage to confess my depraved deed to his daughter. I'm a real loser.

Flasback off

I already had a lover back then. Amaya. The beautiful woman I found with pride. The woman who ended up choosing me over the fucking guy who ran me down while still sitting in the First High School. Randy Primary.

Back to Mr. Wato. My driver has dark skin, curly hair elongated and above his lips there is a fairly large mole. Sometimes I imagine the female version of Mr Wato, how it is shaped? Does Nailis look like his father? Even if the skin does not seem to. Because I saw that time Nailis skin can be said to be white in contrast to the dark-skinned Mr. Wato.

Mr. Wato was once joking, more lead to actual ghibah. When I told him about his daughter, it was like listening to a broken radio broadcast. Repeatedly continues until it feels like I want to slam mobile phones so upset.

But that was before. Long ago. Before the incident that night. After that, I was very enthusiastic when listening to Mr. Wato's story about Nailis. Of course this was because of the guilt that kept following me, not because I was attracted to him. I wonder how it's going to be there after that night.

From the story I can breathe a sigh of relief. I heard shortly after he came home he married his girlfriend. I heard also that she had given birth to a very handsome son and it seems that from the story of Mr. Wato, Nailis is fine and living happily, there is nothing for me to worry about. Although there are still those who block this heart. Making my step always feel unsettled through the days.

And hearing the question from Mr. Wato just now, also an invitation from both my parents to look at my hometown, last night. There was a strong urge to see firsthand how Nailis was doing firsthand. At least to reduce the tormenting burden in this self, if indeed Nailis' life is really fine. I can be relieved and calm. At once I wanted to apologize to him, even though it might be too late.

"I'm coming, sir," I'm sure.

***

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