Tidying Up Asa, Inviting Hidayah

3. A Secret.

...How can I pray for you, while the God we worship is different?...

Hara's.

I'm not a romantic guy who used to give seduction with sweet poems to women. I don't even have the experience of conquering a woman's heart. I have never fought for a woman either, for many women came willingly to me, before I asked for her.

I'm not a romantic guy who used to give gifts or flower buckets to women. Instead, I am a man who seems cold and indifferent to women. Compared to Hamzah and Reyfan, only I have never had a story with a female creature.

But seeing Reyfan's happy twinkle when he found out his wife was pregnant, obviously made me envious. Reyfan was so happy, the hue of his face flashed beyond when he managed to win a big tender. I can't imagine if their child was born, Reyfan would be so happy more than this.

Is it happy to get married and have children? Wouldn't marriage just be a burden? Like Reyfan and Hamzah who are now rarely able to get out of clubing or just go to karaoke places like they used to do.

Because of their marriage, they changed. Never mind to go to nightlife, just to smoke they have to be careful. Practically, their lives become limited after marriage. That's why, I so do not have the mind to get married, it will only add to the complicated life. Fighting and sacrificing for others is like nonsense, right?

Made my mind drift far away, remembering my mother and father who were gone. I looked at the ceiling of the room, imagining the faces of my mom and dad smiling at me. How are they doing? Happy in heaven? Were they also fighting and sacrificing each other in order to live together.

I remember a few months ago, when I drove Reyfan to Magelang to meet Aneesha's family. Reyfan asked me to go to town, because the signal at Mbah Uti's house was ugly. While I have to send some important work-related emails.

I very memorized the road in the area where Mbah uti lives, because it is close to the dormitory where I used to school. At that time, I had stopped by the dormitory, met the priest and talked for a while. Before I drove into town just to get a signal.

I choose a restaurant to stop by, to take care of my work as well as filling my stomach. Unexpectedly in that restaurant, I saw someone like me. Although fleeting, but make my curiosity appear can not be held back.

I packed my things, and immediately paid for my food. I don't know what kind of force made me follow the pickup car that just drove vegetables to the diner I stopped by. I followed him, until the car passed the border of Magelang-Jogja. Then turn into a small alley, passing a state primary school and a large mosque located in the complex of a boarding school. Then stop after turning into an alley that only fit to pass one car only.

I stopped the car right behind it, waiting until the driver got off. I looked carefully at who was in the car. And it turns out that my knowledge is not wrong.

A man and a woman got out of the car. With a full gaze both of them looked towards my car. I was still shaking, looking around. My eyes stopped on a house next to a car. The house was still small, only now the wooden planks had already changed walls and there was a small garden in front of it.

After weighing for a while, I got out of the car. The pair of men and women looked at me sharply, then looked at each other curiously. Maybe they're asking each other through a code of view.

I smiled as I approached. I extend my hand to the woman dressed in syar’i with a long headscarf up to her knees, “Mbak Nabila? How are you, Ma'am? Long time ago we did not meet.”

The woman frowned, hesitating to welcome my helping hand. Then I introduced myself, maybe he forgot because we haven't seen each other in years.

“Mbak definitely doesn't recognize me. I'm Hara, Mbak.”

The forehead frowned deeply, as if it were confirming something. “Hara?” said ensure. I'm nodding. Then mbak nabila immediately received my helping hand with a fluffy smile.

“Ya Alloh, Hara! Where have you been? No news, no news. You know you're this cool.”

Mbak nabila scanned my appearance from head to toe. Makes me smile clumsy because the tie is still on the crate of my white shirt. While the man next to mbak nabila looked at me sharply, there was a dislike that I caught from the radiance of his eyes.

“I'm sorry I didn't have time to say goodbye since graduating dorm first.” My words were careful and implied regret. Since I graduated from the dorm, I have never visited them. Though this family used to be very intense to visit me during my time in the dorm.

I was about to greet the man next to Mbak Nabila, but stopped because he looked unfriendly. I didn't know who that guy was, until Nabila introduced us.

“Mas!” Mbak Nabila pulled the arm of the man next to him. Then continue to talk, “ini Hara, yng you ever tell me. She ... my sister.”

I smiled at the way I introduced us. I extended my hand in doubt, the man's face gradually melted and smiled at me.

“Hara! This is Mas Akmal, husband mbak.”

I smiled back at Akmal's smile, “how are you, Mas?”

Nabila's mom invited me into the house. Like many years ago, I sat in the living room of the house in silence. Only difference, now there is a set of tables and chairs in the small living room. An aquarium containing guppy fish, as well as a flat-screen television attached to the wall. Overall this house does not change much, just the arrangement of the room that is neater impressed beautiful and well maintained.

“Please drink the tea!” Mbak Nabila offered me a cup of tea that was still pumping hot steam. And two men sitting with me.

“So now where do you live, Hara?” The middle-aged man who was none other than the father of Mbak Nabila asked me.

“I live in Jakarta, in papa's house of relics, Pak.” Jansawa.

“Ehm .. I don't see Nadia's mom, where is she?” I asked because I was curious about the twin sister mbak Nabila.

“So like this, Hara. Nadia lives with her husband in Jepara. I'm staying here to take care of mr.” Mbak Nabila.

All day I spent talking about various things with the family mbak Nabila. Like all those years ago when I came to that place with my mom, their welcome was very warm. I can say that I am the mother of them. But they are not at all concerned and hold no grudges. I want to see you as their brother.

That afternoon I asked about the existence of mama's tomb in mbak Nabila. A tomb I've never seen before, I've never been to. Almost every week, I go to Papa's grave.

“I'm sorry, Hara. We were forced to separate mother's tomb with your papa.” Say mbak Nabila with a tone full of regret.

Hearing the words of Mbak Nabila, it was me who felt awkward. Mama left the little family because she was tempted by papa's love. And they are still being nice to me even though I am their mother's usurper. It's beautiful for them, isn't it?

We went on a pilgrimage to my mother's grave. A public cemetery located at the end of the village. The usual burial place, only mounds of soil whose edges are given a slide. (natural stones are formed in such a way as to protect the tomb so as not to landslide.)

I followed Mr. Nabila and her husband, crouching in front of the tomb. I read the inscription on the headstone, engraved the name of the mother, date of birth and date of death of the mother. I looked around the whole tomb. Almost the same, all tombs are only mounds of land without kijing (the tombstones are usually placed on top of the tomb). some are given a plesir, some are left alone as a soil heap, some are left as a soil heap, only given bamboo and wooden headstones as markers.

I saw the father leading do’a, while mbak Nabila and mas Akmal raised both hands, agreed. They were stuck in do’a, while I just silently watched the mound of the tomb with flowers. Doubt to join in making do’a, because the belief I have is different from mama.

We were in my mom's grave. Cleaning the tomb from the cluster of leaf and weeds that grow around the tomb.

It's the first time since my mom died, I've been on a pilgrimage to my mom's grave. But what makes me famous is, how can I imagine my mother, while the God we worship is different. Will it come if I pray mama with my confidence? Is there, mama can also mendo’akan me?

After returning from my mother's grave at that time, I became doubtful of my own convictions. A belief I had since childhood, a religion I had believed in since childhood.

I was still looking at the ceiling of the room, until I was not aware of the drowsiness approaching. I can't remember when I slept. I woke up feeling like a figure was standing next to my bed. It made me aghast, almost jumping out of bed.

“Mama?” the figure smiled, without saying anything. I saw my mother's pale face, but a moment later I was stunned. Because my mother was wearing very nice clothes, clean and neat. Just when my mom was alive.

Mama still smiles at me, mama's eyes glare at me. I don't know what she wanted to say to me, what gesture she gave me, I don't know.

I called my mother's name over and over again, but she shook her head. The shadow slowly drifted away, until I heard another voice echoing my name.

I shouted to my mother, not willing to leave me again without saying anything. But the shadow of the mother even more distant, lost, even my hand could not reach her.

“MAMA!” I'm yelling. I felt a hand shake my shoulder until my body seemed interested and I woke up from the sound.

I found Mbok Jum looking at me frantically while shaking my shoulder, “Mas Hara nightmare, huh?” ask me mbok Jum. She was the housekeeper who had been taking care of me since childhood until now. The love of a mother I haven't had since my mother died, I feel from Mbok Jum.

“Mbok, right, told you not to sleep late in the afternoon! Make dizziness when awake. It's even a nightmare of all, right?” this is how Mbok Jum, can lecture me like my mother only.

“Build, Mas Hara! Shower, sana! Tuh, it's been awaited by non Cecilia in front!”

Uh! Mbok Jum's words make me lazy to wake up. Cecilia always interrupted my peaceful weekends. Makes me lazy to see my cousin. Now that she and her mother approached me, Lidya's aunt didn't want to take care of me being an orphan. It seems like after this I have to be strict with cecilia and her mama so that they stop bothering me.

“Mas Hara!” Mbok Jum shook my shoulder again. Makes me look at him with a flat look.

“If not shower immediately, non Cecilia can destroy this house with her voice, loh.”

Jum's warning made me realize. Mbok Jum is right, Cecilia and her mama always have a way to make me comply with all their wishes. It seems I am destined to be a servant who serves everyone.

Not only Reza and Reyfan sir, it turns out that I also can not refuse every wish of my aunt and daughter. And if I wanted to, I could have been indifferent to them. After all, Aunt Lidya was also indifferent to me when I was a child first.

But my instincts can't do that. Because Aunt Lidya is still my papa sister, the only family from my papa side that I have. I couldn't resist his will because I thought it would hurt you too.

I forced myself to wake up, albeit lazily. I said to Mbok Jum, before I grabbed the towel and went into the bathroom.

“Mbok, don't tell Aunt Lidya or Cecilia if I've met your family in Jogja. Don't let them know, yeah!”

“Beres!” Mbok Jum raised two thumbs while smiling.

I could hear Cecilila screaming from outside the room, “Kak Hara! Cepetan keburu malam, here!”

I saw Mbok Jum breathing heavily while shaking his head. Mbok Jum is the one who knows the most about me. My relationship with aunt Lidya and Cecilia was only mbok Jum who knew. My two friends, Hamzah and Reyfan no one knows. Also about my meeting with mbak Nabila, only mbok Jum knows.

I didn't mean to hide anything from my two best friends, only they now have a family of their own. It would be unwise to bother them with my own problems. Let me take care of my own problems, without them knowing.

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Seriate....

Hiya! How are you guys doing? may it always be in the protection of God, yes. I want to say thank you to those who have given their vote to Jenar hehe. Thank you also for not being bored by my work promoin, may kindness be reciprocated by kindness as well. I'm sorry if this story still can't be up routine, still random and not according to expectations. All because of my limitations, hehe.

Greetings dear, dear,

Desi Desma (La Lu Na)