Tidying Up Asa, Inviting Hidayah

78. Worrying

🌹Women are owners of softness that are easily touched. In the most uncaring state even once, it must still be stifled with worry in him.🌹

String.

“Malah laughs like that, anyway?” I grumbled, seeing Aina's laughter break.

“Sorry, sorry!” Aina cupped her hands in front of her chest.

“What's funny?” many wonder.

I told Aina about the incident this morning when I was leaving for college. Nothing funny, instead I feel very guilty for injuring Mr. Hara's forehead, even though unintentionally.

“True, jenar!” Aina stopped the laughter. Now he straightened his eyes forward. We were sitting together on a campus park bench, enjoying a break after finishing one class.

“I swear, I didn't expect anyone in front of the window. Looks like Mr. Hara is sleeping again, his eyes look red earlier.” I said continuing the story.

Aina laughed again, until she held her stomach. I was still confused, what was funny from that story until Aina was twisted.

“Udah, Dong, Na! From earlier you laugh continuously, even though my story is not funny, loh.” I grumbled, annoyed that Aina was still broken.

“Try you fretting again this morning! Everyone who heard your story, must have laughed, Jen.” brightened Aina while shrinking the corner of her watery eyes due to a lot of laughter.

I obeyed Aina's words, recalling the details of the events this morning. Starting from the end of the bath and the day is still too early. I decided to read the Qur’an instead of waiting with obscure activity. After all, I just remembered not having completed the tadarus of one juz which was only two pieces short.

Everything went as usual. Ma'am Sayumi does homework; hangs laundry and sweeps the yard. Meanwhile, I was preparing to go to college, after finishing my studies. Then he was about to leave the room, holding a bag. However, access to the back door is covered in building materials. As fast as lightning I twisted my brain, in order to get out without moving the materials piled up here and there. An idea flashed through my mind, making me rush to turn around.

With a quick step, I returned to the room. A moment of frowning once more in front of the mirror. A habit that I have done for a long time, is staring at the reflection of the image in front of the mirror repeatedly before leaving. Because, I often feel insecure with my own appearance.

After making sure the appearance was neat and the complete items were stored in the bag, I immediately opened the window. However, as soon as my shutters pushed, the squealing sound shocked me.

I pulled back the right side window, peeking from the other way around. Who is behind the wall?

I was very surprised when I found Mr. Hara sitting under the window holding his forehead. Yeah, Alloh! She must have been hit by the end of the window I just opened, my inner self inward.

I really did not know that there was a chair in front of the room, nor did I ever think that there was anyone sitting there. The state of the house is quiet as usual, Mr. Hara also did not make a sound at all, it is natural that I open the window without permission, right?

When I finished remembering the incident, I involuntarily laughed. It turns out that if you recall the entire series of events is funny. Mr. Hara's panicked face as I exited the room by climbing the window, his bloody forehead, but refused to treat me for fear that my trauma would recur.

Nope, no! It's not just funny, but embarrassing. Yeah, Alloh! Can I climb up the window in front of him? After the other day, he also fell asleep while waiting for him to eat. I am so shameless of this.

“Still saying your story isn't funny?” Aina asked, must be because I saw me laughing without a sound, while shaking her head. Immediately I stopped the daydream.

“According to you Mr. Hara is angry no, anyway, Na?” The real question I had guessed was the answer, but in order to satisfy the estimate I still revealed it to Aina.

“Because of the incident earlier?” Aina actually returned the question to me, “You think for yourself, deh! If you are hurt by the actions of others, which although arguably unintentionally, anyway. Keep you left just like that, you're angry no?”

I thought for a moment. It's not just about what happened this morning, it's also about some of the previous events. I've been much trouble Mr. Hara, even he was hard-earned to find a psychologist to deliver treatment. I should have waited until he had finished treating the wound, instead of just leaving, like an ungrateful person.

“I think, here! At least treat the wound, or get a drink, so. Isha! Very outrageous of this child.” I looked, saw Aina shaking.

However, my mind does not accept being said to be outrageous. Because, I had offered to treat the wound, but Mr. Hara refused. Wrong himself why he drank all alcohol, even though it was still morning. Didn't he know that drinking is not good for health?

Ah, let!

No matter if he's angry or not, the important thing is that I've tried to apologize as a liability for accidentally injuring him. After all just a small wound, it wouldn't be a big deal.

“You were supposed to take Mr. Hara to the clinic. You don't know, do you, how bad the wound is? What about a concussion? You have to take responsibility, you!”

An inevitable worry runs through the heart, when hearing Aina's words. Logically, it is not possible just because it was hit by the end of the shutters could result in serious injuries, but the feeling said otherwise. What if what Aina said was true?

“I asked, deh. Your brother's bedroom window leaf is made of wood, isn't it?” I nodded, answering Aina's question.

“Nah!” Aina hit my thighs slowly, but success surprised me.

“It could be that there was a wooden splinter on Mr. Hara's forehead, and he kept bleeding. Maybe he got the end of a rusty window lock. Ow hell! If Mr. Hara got tetanus how, Jen?”

Hearing the long sentence that Aina said, my worries increased. Although this morning I saw Mr. Hara was fine and still able to drink alcohol casually, but I did not know afterwards. What if what Aina said was all right?

Various possibilities come to mind. I'd like to reveal it to Aina, but stop. The sound of a cell phone ringing from inside his bag. Aina's face turned moody, when she saw the screen of the phone lit up.

“What's up? Who's on the phone?” I couldn't see the name of the caller, because Aina had moved the phone that rang on the bench in an inverted position.

“Who else?” Aina's tone turned lazy, it seemed like I knew who called her.

“Why not lift?” I asked, though I knew exactly what the answer was.

Aina did not reply, making me moved to persuade her, “Who knows important.”

He's unmoved. The phone on the bench stopped ringing, but moments later it rang again. Repeated up to three times, but Aina still did not pick up the call.

“Thank you why, anyway, Na?” persuade me again. I thought, if I repeat the phone that has not been picked up many times, there must be something important. However, Aina remained shaken.

He actually took the phone and reached it out to me, “You're the one who raised it if you want, nih!”

I could only sigh heavily, staring at the lit screen with one contact name on it. As soon as the screen dims - a call sign ends - Aina then pulls a hand, then turns off the power of her phone.

Not long after, a change of sound of cell phone from my bag. I immediately took it, and it was true that it had been widened in estimation. Because it's not just happened. If Aina doesn't answer the phone right away, then I'm the next target.

“Na?” I called Aina, while showing the screen of the phone lit up.

Aina smiled meaningfully. Even without saying a word, I know he is like saying ‘please find an excuse for me’. That's what happens so often as long as we're friends.

“I have to say what, Na?” ask me to ask Aina's opinion on what reason I should put forward.

“Serah!” aina answered while taking the bag.

“Call me, Aina is praying dluha.” replied Aina while then moving on.

I'm nodding. For the right reasons, there is no way that Gus Hafidz would ask me to disturb Aina who is praying. However, a lie sometimes does not go as smoothly as imagined. It was the same when I answered Gus Hafidz's phone as Aina asked.

“Since when does dluha prayer move time to be ahead of azan dzuhur?” so did Gus Hafidz's question from across the phone.

I patted the lidad, noticing the mistake of seeing the clock curled around the wrist. At 11.25 WIB, even just waiting for a few minutes more azan dluhur reverberated. This is what happens if you are not used to lying, forced to look for an inappropriate alibi. Intentions help friends, even look plunging.

What day is it, anyway? From morning there was a problem I made. Looks like I have a lot to do. Perhaps there are words or behaviors that unconsciously make others hurt, and today Alloh is granting do’a that person for me.

Astaghfirullohaladzim ….

***

I rushed home, having finished all the course schedules today. Even for the sake of getting home soon, I willingly went down in front of the temple, then took an ojek. Though usually I avoid riding a motorcycle, because all the riders are male. However, the taxi drivers in front of the temple are mostly old, so I can be sure that they will not smell of perfume or alcohol. Which there is the smell of sweat typical of a warrior living under the scorching sun.

Until home, the first thing I looked for was the existence of a black mpv car commonly driven by Mr. Hara. A little disappointed, because in the backyard and front, there was nothing I was looking for. There were only a few motorbikes parked in the back garage, apparently belonging to construction workers.

Mr. Hara must have gone home, I thought.

However, when I was about to enter the room, there was the sound of several people talking from the direction of the new building. Curiosity rushes, but access to the place is covered in material and artisans doing their work.

I decided to enter the room, waiting until the men came out. Sometimes I have to look out the window, afraid I don't know when they're leaving.

“Mother! Mama! Mr!” There was the sound of a child calling from outside the room, as I was concentrating on peering out of the window.

Since when are there children in this house?

Curious, I rushed out. Should squint, when found a small child standing between a pile of tiles motifs and building materials. He looked like he was confused looking for someone while rubbing his eyes.

“Eh! Good quality wes tangi.” (Eh, the handsome boy is awake.) Ma'am Sayumi came from the kitchen, approaching the little boy.

I saw Ma'am Sayumi holding the hand of a disheveled-faced boy with that disheveled hair. As they walked closer, I could only remember who the child was.

“Naufal?” i'm calling. Ma'am Sayumi and the little boy she led compactly looked at me.

Sayumi was about to open her mouth, but Naufal's movements of picking up and kissing my hands attracted more attention. The early forties woman looked at me with a probing look.

“Assalamu’alaikum ...,” murmured Naufal.

“Wa’alaikum salam,” I replied his greeting. Then squatting to align our height to tidy up his hair, “Naufal really can be here? Same who?”

Naufal shook his head with a pushy look. The boy seemed to be still confused, probably because he had just woken up.

“He came with whom, Ma'am?” I turned the question to Ma'am Sayumi, who probably knows best who brought Naufal.

“His father was left here, because he fell asleep at the time of bonceng motor,” replied Ma'am Sayumi.

“Where does the father go?” Ma'am Sayumi shrugged, a sign of not knowing.

I was just about to ask again, but the baritone voice from behind my back made me undo my intentions.

“Awoke, Fal?”

I turned my head, then reflexively stood up when I saw Mr. Hara walking over. He raised Naufal who had apparently stretched out his hand asking to be carried.

“You drink or wash your face first?” ask Mr. Hara.

Naufal shook his head as he held his hands around his neck. Then the boy leaned his head on Mr. Hara's shoulder while muttering the question, “Bapak nandi, Om?” (Whither father, Om?)

“Sedang pick up the study mother in Dukun*, later they come here if the business is done.” replied Mr. Hara.

“Still, yes, Sister Sayumi. Sorry to bother, because I ask you to take care of Naufal.” continued Mr. Hara in a very polite tone. Is that how Mr Hara talks? Just open your voice as necessary, but be polite to anyone.

“Wateper, Mas Pak Hara. Do not hesitate with me, weigh keep a little child who is sleeping, not ngrepotin at all.” Saysumi is always expressive in all situations.

Without answering, Mr. Hara passed while carrying Naufal in a sling. I could still hear him speaking to Naufal, though not so clearly. If you're with Naufal, Mr. Hara looks like a human. Not a flat, expressionless and rarely speaking whiteboard.

Uhh! What's wrong with me? Why so mind the no-no about a person, add to the savings of sin alone.

Although we only met briefly, but I was finally able to feel relieved. Because, Mr. Hara looks fine. He was healthy and could carry Naufal, meaning the window shock wound was not too severe. My worries were answered already and Aina's words were broken. Alhamdulillah ….

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Seriate....

Note :

*Sukun: The name of a village in magelang district. To the north of Jenar's residence is none other than Aneesha's house, one area with Mbah Uti's house. Well, usually in this area if there is a grand study, people from outside the district and even the district will flock to come. Hence Nabila willing far from the border of Jogja to Dukun to listen to the study. (Actually deliberately set, anyway. Let Naufal be with Hara who is working at Aneesha's house.) 😂

So, the shaman here is not a witch doctor let alone a pellet shaman, yes. 😉

Hi guys! Jenar was worried about Hara. Eits! Don't be happy just yet, worry is not necessarily the seed of love in the heart. It could be because he feels guilty and has a debt of gratitude, right?

What is the story between Jenar, Naufal and Hara? 

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There's nothing, deng. Don't wait.😂