What a Beautiful Divorce

97. Ainindas

“What are you thinking, Mas?” Pinaka approached Prapto who was sitting holding a book without being opened. His face frowned slightly at the thought of something.

Prapto smiled at Pinaka after his wife had put down the coffee. The distinctive aroma of hot coffee makes him put a book and immediately blow his coffee. After taking a sip twice, Prapto told Pinaka what he was thinking.

“At the end of the book, the short couple had a child, Pinaka. They gave the boy the name Swasti Queen. What a good name. I was thinking, if later our child is born, what will be named?”

Pinaka laughed, then sat down. “Let's think about it, Mas. We're looking for a good name.”

“Iya,” sahut Prapto, smile. “Tok us to Keladi city, yes, Pinaka, buy car.”

“Not Mas Timo's friend who sold the car in Jakarta, Mas?” asked Pinaka with a surprised look.

“Timo called me, Pinaka. He said his friend was married to a woman who lived in the city of Keladi, then the car dealer he moved there.”

“Okay, Mas. Not going to the village hall? Company Kejora ‘kan today pick up crops and processed produce.”

“Oh yes, I forgot,” Prapto said in shock, then laughed. “I'll take Nimo first, Pinaka.” Pinaka nodded.

Prapto goes to his garden to call Nimo and take her to the village hall. Arini and Pinaka did not come along, they on the terrace continued to make natural fabrics.

***

The atmosphere in the village hall of Kejora that morning was bustling, filled with laughter and chatter. Pak Uto, his father Arini and Mr. Rodi stood in front of the fence of the two holding buildings while recording reports from villagers who loaded processed food and crops into the Kejora company truck.

Across the street, in the courtyard of the village hall, Mr. Oscar and Prapto accompanied Mr. Gumiro to a chat. Today Mr. Gumiro took the harvest directly, because he said he missed the village Kejora.

“Nak Timo is not coming, Mr Gumiro?” ask Mr. Oscar after igniting the shell.

“No, Mr. Kades. Timo ‘kan today help Mr. Rodi take care of the files,” replied Mr. Gumiro, smiling.

Mr. Oscar shook his head. “I forgot, Mr. Gum. After here, Mr Gumiro will go directly to Jakarta?”

“So the plan is yes, Mr. Kades, so we can go along to Jakarta. But on the way, Mr. Handoko called for help to deliver a quarter of the supply to the branch of his restaurant, not in the direction of Jakarta.”

“Then, we first, Mr. Gumiro,” said Mr. Oscar.

Mr. Gumiro smiled. “How is the development of natural fabrics, Mr Kades? My wife and I will be buyers of natural fabric subscription in Kejora.”

“Good development, Mr. Gum. I see in the report Purnomo, many residents have completed the order cloth, although the cloths are still long to be picked up by his company Pak Aron. So said Purnomo, then the amount of production can be increased.”

“Keren, Mr. Kades. Will there be sales later in Kejora village as well?” Mr. Gumiro nodded in thanks to Nimo who came to serve four cups of coffee.

“There, Mr. Gum. Pak Aron company does not bring all the cloth he bought, because he said, the effect is more natural if directly purchased to the village Kejora.”

They also chatted until the loading of crops and processed food from the plantation was finished at ten in the morning.

Mr. Gumiro then resigned, bringing the parcels of garden crops presented by the village fathers Kejora to him.

After many residents returned to their homes, Mr. Oscar, Prapto, Nimo, and Mr. Rodi also returned to their homes to improve and then gathered at Mr. Oscar's house. As Mr. Oscar and Mr. Gumiro talked about earlier, they will go to Jakarta to accompany Mr. Rodi.

***

“What time do they come, Timo?” ask an old mother to Timo. He is now on the terrace of an orphanage in the city of Jakarta.

Timo looked at his watch, almost twelve, then checked his phone to see if there was a message from Prapto about their delay.

“There is no news they will come late, Mom, at most soon they will arrive,” replied Timo. He noticed four little girls who were no more than eight years old playing congklak not far from him.

“Their parents are all dead, Miss Rara?” ask Timo.

The old orphanage supervisor whose hair was five sticks of kundai sighed, looked at the four little girls for a moment with a grim face, then said, “Two of them have died both of their parents, Nak Timo.

“But two more, I found them early in the morning in a cardboard box on this porch, not far from the wall where you were sitting.”

Timo looked at the two little girls that Bu Rara meant with pity, and he could already guess what Bu Rara would say next.

Bu Rara sighed again. The light in his eyes was sad, gloomy, but the look on his face was anger-deprecating. “I'm sure the parents of these two little girls are still alive, because one of the orphanage's caretakers saw him leave shortly after putting down the cardboard.

“But economic hardship makes them stupid people and end up throwing away children themselves. For me they didn't leave the child, Nak Timo, but they threw away the child.”

Timo. Exactly what he expected. He then lit a cigarette. “Damn it, Mom. Fucking old man and slacker.”

Shortly after, a sedan car entered the orphanage. “That's them, Ma'am,” said Timo who had stood up.

From the sedan down Prapto, Mr. Rodi, Mr. Oscar, and Nimo. They stepped into the hatch and greeted the orphanage's owner Bu Rara.

Bu Rara looked at the four people who had just arrived. He saw the radiance of peace on their faces, no cunning. But even though the look on the face was peaceful and serene, Bu Rara could also clearly see the radiance of decisiveness.

‘The man of his friend Timo's village is a good man, even better than Rehan. But from his eyes and attitude obviously they are not good people who are weak, but good people who will be terrible when angry,’ Bu Rara thought inwardly.

Miss Rara let everyone sit on the terrace. Shortly after, a mother whose age is not far from Bu Rara came to serve coffee.

“The child is still packing his clothes, Mr. Rodi,” said Bu Rara. “He's only been two months in this orphanage. Do you want to add your last name to his? If so, I'll take it to the related office. It's my responsibility as the owner of the orphanage.”

Mr. Rodi shook his head. “No need, Mom. I respect both of his parents who have given him names, so I will not add, subtract, or rename him.”

Everyone turned to the door of the orphanage. A mother appears carrying a six-year-old daughter.

Rara smiled at the child. “Include yourself, Anin,” said. He then tells Anin that his parents will be Mr. Rodi.

Anin whose shoulder-length hair was stroked and bright-eyed was greeting Mr. Rodi and the others. “My name is Aninda.”

After Mr. Rodi signed some papers, they said goodbye. Nimo left first because there was a business need.

“Why, Boss?” nimo asked Prapto, who stopped her steps towards getting out of the terrace.

“There was something wrong, Nimo ..”