Tidying Up Asa, Inviting Hidayah

48. Can't escape the guilt.

🌹It was difficult for me to forget the past, the guilt was lodged in my heart.🌹

String.

“Pak Hara! Can I borrow hp?” I asked in a whisper, half scared and condolent, “I have to tell my mother Sayumi, she must be worried because I have not come home. Mr. Hara knows, right, my phone is.”

Instead of answering, Mr. Hara stood up to leave the dining table. Feeling ignored, I looked down embarrassed. A moment later, piling up the dirty dishes was about to take her back to wash. But Mbak Nabila forbid.

“Let's just be right.” said mbak Nabila took over the plate from my hand.

Of course I feel bad, already hitchhiking to eat do not want to wash the dirty dishes. “I was the one who washed the dishes, Ma'am.”.

“The water here is cold once, you will be cold, loh.”

“What do you want, anyway, Ma'am? It seems not much different from water in Magelang, deh.”

“Cooler here, already! Let's just mbak. You're a guest here, told to do the dishes.”

“Words if you visit should be polite and help those who have a home.”

“If I say, the guest should be respected should not be asked to clean up, let alone wash dishes.”

I laughed a little, but this Nabila could have been looking for an excuse so I wouldn't help her. No matter how small Naufal is already smart, it turns out he was born by a mother who is also smart and friendly.

“Then sit down. Want to make more tea no?”

“No need, Ma'am. I have to go home soon, afraid that mbak who used to accompany me, nyariin. It can bother me if he reports to my father or telephon. Where hp I say again, can not tell people home.”

“But it's been night once, you know. You think you want to stay here.”

“Sorry, Ma'am. I have to go home. Ehm... mbak have an application for online taxi order is not? I want to borrow.”

“Eh! Do not take a taxi online! Virgin children of these nights can be the danger of taking an online taxi alone. Let Hara deliver, huh? Take the car Akmal, it is impossible to use a motorbike. You just regained consciousness from fainting, must have not recovered properly. Not what, right, ushered in a pick up car? Clean, really. It was washed last afternoon with Akmal.”

Actually I feel bad for making Mbak Nabila and his family bother, especially Pak Hara. Fainted for a long time, after consciously finishing food, now still ask to be delivered home. But true said mbak Nabila, it is impossible for me to take a taxi by myself because the day is late.

“Hara!” mbak Nabila exclaimed to call Pak Hara.

Not long after Mr. Hara emerged from one of the rooms, ready to wear a jacket like he was about to travel.

“You want to drive Jenar home, right?”

Mr. Hara nodded while taking something from the top of the sideboard that turned out to be a car key. He walked over, then reached out the phone to me, his “bater is fully charged. Sorry, I picked up the phone from Sayumi's mom and said that you were here.”

I saw a very familiar phone, instantly my eyes sparkled. “Alhamdulillah,” thanks you for the flat object that I thought was missing, now in front of you.

“Pak Hara found my hp where?” my question is full of curiosity.

“Di pesantren. Fortunately there are santri who found out, next time be careful if you are in a public place. Don't put hp carelessly!”

I just remembered, definitely after being used for a photo together, forgot I didn't put it in the bag. Plus because of the rush to the tomb, to not notice that the cellphone is left behind. Luckily, there are honest people who find.

“Alhamdulillah hp I did not become ilang, Ma'am,” I exclaimed happily.

“Alhamdulillah .. that's the name is still susteki.” said mbak Nabila that I said with a nod.

“Still, yes, Mr. Hara.”

“Thank you not the same me, but the same santriya kyai Ali,” replied Mr. Hara ketus. Tuh, right. He was indeed not able to talk, his attitude was stiff and flat. Can't I thank him? If it wasn't for him, where the santri knew that the phone was mine. The blackboard!

“Let's take you home now!”

After saying that, Mr. Hara immediately walked out of the house without waiting for a response. Meanwhile, I quickly packed my things into a bag. The only person I know well here is Mr. Hara, of course only he can drive me home. There's no way I'm asking you to meet Nabila or her husband, right?

“This is your shirt,” mbak Nabila gave me a black crackle bag.

I received it, “boxes I borrowed first, yes. Tomorrow when washed, I return it.”

“Not to be returned, just make Genar. Looks like the shirt is more pantes worn by you than me.”

I glanced at the red brick dress that I was wearing, there was a logo of a famous Muslim clothing brand at the bottom. At first glance I know that this is a game that is not sold freely in the market, can only be purchased at special outlets that are of course expensive. It doesn't feel good that this shirt is given away for free.

“But, Mbak?”

“Already! Its alright. Consider it our introductory gift.”

I smiled as I thanked him, in my heart I promised to repay the kindness of Mbak Nabila and his family next time. Now I just want to go home quickly, don't let Sayumi report to me. Or pakdhe Teguh suddenly came and knew I had not come home, could be upset me later.

“Once again I'm sorry, it's been bothering here. Thank you very much for everything. Only Alloh can repay the kindness of this family.” I said when saying goodbye to mbak Nabila and his family.

“Aamiin. We're happy, really, you're here. Don't hesitate, yeah! Anytime if you have time, play here.”

“Insya Alloh, Ma'am. Actually still want to stay here longer, because it seems like someone has the same hobby as me,” I pointed to the puppet-shaped wall decoration neatly arranged and maintained.

“What do you like puppets, too?” I'm nodding.

Mbak Nabila continued the sentence while rubbing the head of Naufal, “fit the father and Naufal, nih. They if they have been watching the puppet all day also at home.”

“Same, dong. I also like to watch the puppet show kulit.”

“Oya?” pak Wawan interrupted, “rarely there are young people today who like to watch puppets. Usually they prefer to watch soap operas on television.”

“That's Nabila's favorite, sir. Usually if the young people today, prefer to watch drama series that actors and actresses are both beautiful. What's the name, Dek?” akmal asked Mbak Nabila.

“Korea drama, Mas.” replied mbak Nabila.

“Then I like it too, Mas. The actor is clear and sweet.”

"Lha rupane podo kabeh lanang wadon ngunu, kok, seneng." seloroh mas Akmal. (His face is the same all men are the same women are, really, like.)

"Freshment, Mas. Here there are rarely guys who are clear and white." I replied in a joking tone.

I feel very comfortable in the midst of this harmonious family. Wawan is relaxed, but still looks wise. Akmal who does not talk much but at first glance looks friendly. Mbak Nabila with a chatty but graceful style of speech. Moreover, Naufal, a little child who had not much expression, but the vocabulary that came out of his mouth was unpredictable. Funny adorable.

However, seeing Mr. Hara showing a face of dislike, I feel awkward. Maybe he objected to me lingering here, because it had been a lot of trouble. I'd better get home soon.

“I say goodbye, yes, everything.” I bent down to be in line with Naufal, "when will we meet again, huh?"

"Bak bobok kene wae sing suwi." (Mbak nginep here only the old one.)

Everyone laughed at Naufal's innocent words. Maybe because I feel like I can be a friend, so he's happy that I'm here.

I had just stepped down from the terrace, but stopped because I remembered something. Standing glued on the edge of the terrace floor of the house, Wawan, I just remembered that I would return home delivered by Mr. Hara. That means I'll be just the two of you, close to him in a pickup truck owned by her husband Mbak Nabila. Can I do it?

I racked my brain, thinking quickly about what to do, so that nothing untoward happened. Time yes, I have to faint again and trouble Mr Hara again?

“Yes! Wait what else? Is anyone missing?”

Not yet have I found a way to get home safely without my phobias relapsing, sir Hara has already called out in an impatient tone. I looked around, looking for something I could make an excuse for.

My eyes sparkled happily, when I saw a cluster of plants that spread on the wooden fence in front of the house, Wawan. Small white flower buds grow between the leaves and branches. Quickly since coming out of the house earlier, the smell must be as bright as meets the sense of smell, it turns out to come from this flower bud.

“Wait a minute, sir Hara!”

I turned around to see Nabila standing not far from me. I carefully asked, “sorry, Ma'am. Can I pick up some of those jasmine flowers?”

What is being thought of in the mind is that the smell of jasmine flowers can dispel other scents that may be smelled later. It doesn't matter if everyone will find me weird for asking jasmine flowers to take home.

“True to like jasmine flowers?” ask mbak Nabila.

I nodded weakly, trying to thicken my face in order to hide the real situation.

“A minute, yes!” mbak Nabila hastily entered the house. A moment later came out with a small plastic bag.

He handed me a used plastic bag with the logo of a minimarket, “segini quite not? Coincidentally this morning I finished picking jasmine that had bloomed, so as not to just fall scattered. Usually just save it to smell the room. Now just make Genar.”

I received a plastic bag containing jasmine flowers, “Alhamdulillah .. thank you, yes, Ma'am. Now I really pamit.”

“Iya. May we be given a chance to meet again another time, yes.”

“Insya Alloh”

I walked back two steps, then turned around. Get in the car right when Mr. Hara starts the engine. Replying to the wave of their hands and the cry of accompanying the vehicle that began to drive.

“Alon-alon wae, Le.” (Slow down, son.)

“Be careful on the road, yes!”

“Don't speed, Hara!”

I saw from the rearview mirror Naufal ran out of the yard, his shadow getting smaller, then lost because the car turned on the side of the road. Leaning his back on the back of the car seat, it felt heavy leaving Naufal. Strange indeed, when we had just met for a while, but like already had a strong bond. Maybe because the Wawan family gave a very good welcome to me. So we're like brothers.

The car runs slowly, because it passes through an alleyway that is not too wide. From a distance I saw the minaret of a familiar mosque. Then I recognized the road that was being passed, was none other than the road leading to the Al-Hidayah pesantren. I just found out that the house of Pak Wawan and pesantren owned by Kyai Ali was in a village complex.

I threw a glance to the right side, past Mr. Hara. As we passed through the gate with an archway bearing the name of the pesantren. The atmosphere was quiet, the large mosque located in the front of the pesantren was in a dim state because the main lights had been turned off.

A moment of my memory returned to the moment where I regularly visited this boarding school with my father and mother. Then after I went to college, Ghufron accompanied me to Sowan kyai Ali and Nyai's mom. Unfortunately, from now on maybe I should get used to visiting alone.

If you remember Ghufron, this chest again feels tight. To get rid of it, I turned my face away from seeing the boarding school building. Throwing a glance at the left side window, while taking a deep breath.

However, I was wrong. Because what I'm doing is almost a bad memory of the past. Immediately I breathed a rough breath as the scent re-smelled. Stinging, making my head dizzy. I had to get over it immediately, before my body reacted and the fear surfaced.

“Pak Hara!” doubt I call while holding the handle to set the car glass, “pak Hara mind not if the glass I open?”

Mr. Hara looked over and shook his head. Feeling relieved, I was about to open the glass wide. But the voice of Mr. Hara stopped the hand movement, when the new glass is half open, “do not be too wide! Outside still drizzle, water can enter.”

I said, stop turning the handle and choose to lean back. Trying to quell the turmoil that almost came by closing your eyes while thinking. Usually this method can overcome circumstances beyond the control that are present without permission. Luckily there are jasmine flowers, the smell of which I can breathe to replace the coffee powder I used to dispel the unpleasant smell I hated so much.

The car is going faster, because it is now on the road. Cold breezes felt on the face, complete with small dots of drizzling water mixed with dew. It's okay I'm cold, as long as the memories don't come.

“I sleep it's okay, yes, Mr. Hara. Sorry, my head is dizzy.” I said to give an excuse, so that Mr. Hara is not offended because I suddenly closed my eyes, as if not ignore it.

“Why? Unusual ride in an ugly car that has no AC?”

I smiled slightly hearing Mr. Hara's question in a cynical tone. I answer by trying to talk casually, even though the discomfort has been raised, “not really, Mr. Hara. I'm dizzy not because the car is not air-conditioned, maybe because it just woke up from fainting so the condition of my body is not stable.”

I lifted the bag of crackles filled with jasmine flowers, smelling those very fragrant flowers. Trying to send a calming signal to the brain, because the unpleasant smell was re-smelled when Mr. Hara spoke.

Yes, Allaah give me strength to endure this uncomfortable state. At least, hopefully I can withstand the turmoil, until we get home later.

Just now I feel I can overcome the situation, but it seems like the condition of the body is not wanting to be friendly. My stomach felt bad, like something was moving, spinning, rummaging through the stomach, then gripping firmly. Produces pain at once nausea. I've been trying to hold it, but it seems like the contents in the stomach want to be removed.

“Can we stop for a moment, sir? Looks like I want to vomit.” laboriously I said while grimacing and squeezing the stomach.

Mr. Hara did not answer, but I felt the speed of the car swallow. Not even the car stopped perfectly, I could not hold the contents in the stomach that would burst out. I pulled Mr. Hara's arm while covering his mouth with his left hand, “quickly stop, Sir!”

“I-iya, last. I have to pull over.”

As soon as the car stopped, I got out. Without looking left-right, I ran away from the car. Spewing out all the contents of the stomach on the shoulder of the road, kneading the nape yourself to relieve nausea and dizziness.

What's wrong with my body, always not friendly with the situation. Just because I smelled a man's perfume mixed with alcohol, my body churned. How can I get along with so many people under these circumstances?

I straightened my back, when I felt my stomach was all gone. Wet eyes, runny nose, cold sweat appear along the forehead and nape. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly while raising my head and closing my eyes.

When my eyes opened, I saw a handkerchief outstretched in front of me. I received a handkerchief given by Mr. Hara, “thank you.”

However, just wiping his mouth and nose, that pungent scent was again present. This time it is stronger, because it comes from an object very close to the nose.

“Yes, Alloh!” reflexively I threw away that handkerchief that smelled sharp and hated it so much.

I had to hold my head with both hands, because panic attacks were coming. Trying to control yourself by shaking your head while saying the name of Alloh. Because the memory came back.

“Astaghfirullohal’adzim ..”.

“Ya Alloh, no! Wasn't it! Not me, I'm not wrong!”

Panicked. I walked backwards while continuing to say Istighfar. My steps stopped because my back hit the body of the car. Both hands squeezed my head, I was like looking at those eyes, looking for help and blaming.

“I'm sorry, sorry!”

“Ya Allaah! Astaghfirullohal’adzim!”

“I'm sorry, forgive me.”

I should be able to dispel this turmoil, I should be able to dispel that shadow. I should be able to forget those hurtful eyes. Because I was not wrong about that. Yes, I'm not wrong.

“Why are you, Jen?”

I looked up, heard Mr. Hara calling. I looked at his face for a long time, making sure that I wasn't in the past. But what happened was that I got more scared because the scent was back. When Mr Hara spoke, “you're okay?”

My body was limp, until my legs could barely support it. Rumbling crouched down, I covered my face with both palms, trying to dispel the shadow that seemed to be present before my eyes.

“I'm sorry, forgive me!”

The guilt that is too deep comes back. That eye look? That shadow? That lifeless weak body seemed to be unable to escape my life. Yeah, Alloh! Forgive all my past mistakes and eliminate these fears, so that I can live in peace.