Almahyras
Part 22: What's Jafar Like?

...22: What is Jafar Like?...

"Does the son of Ummi .. treat you well in the room?- I mean Ummi, in any corner of the room, when you two are. Is Jafar .. behaving badly?"

A five-second pause Alma replied, "Mas Jafar is good, Ummi."

"Ummi shouldn't ask, should he? Because your marriage was only done last night, and you certainly do not know Jafar more deeply," said Ummi Salamah.

Alma nodded slowly.

"Until now Ummi really did not expect, son. You've become Ummi's son-in-law, even the marriage you requested to have within seven months can be done so soon." Umm Salamah approached, touching Alma's hand and grasping it tightly. Then he said again, "Ummi hope, the decision you took that night is right."

I'm sure Ummi, my decision is correct.

"God willing, Ummi."

"Today Ummi drove to the hospital, huh?" asked Ummi Salamah, when his hand was released.

Spontaneous Alma shook her head. "Not now Ummi, Alma has not spoken to Mas Jafar about Alma's true state."

"So when will you speak soon, son? ... Or Ummi just the-"

Alma refuted, "No, Ummi. Alma plans to talk to Mas Jafar today."

"Yes already. Ummi's going to the restroom for a bit, son. If for example you feel bored or how, you can go around the same boarding school Ustadzah Aini. You've met him, haven't you?"

"Getern, Ummi. But I think Alma wants to be in the room," said Alma.

It was no problem for Alma to stay in the room. Because if he chooses to surround the pesantren, all the questions from the people must be answered one by one, not to mention that there are people talking about it openly, Alma think he still can not.

Moreover, this marriage is intertwined suddenly.

The kling!

Notifications from his account are heard. Ummi had entered his room, while Alma chose to sit on the gray sofa of the living room.

Mardiyah

Congratulations on your marriage to Jafar, Alma.

Alma was silent for a moment, looking at Mardiyah's name on the contact who sent this short message.

So, you want Jafar to marry me, Mar?

His right and left hand replied to the short message quickly.

^^^Thank you, Mardiyah.^^^

^^^I will wait for your happy day with Lutfan.^^^

Pressing slowly the right button of the device that is separate from the volume. So that the screen of the device died, then placed the device on the table. Netra Alma looked up for a moment to see the cement roof, which was painted white. All inside this house dominated the white, while in Jafar's room, more dominated the gray.

Then his gaze descended slowly, looking at the photo on display men who were very similar to Jafar, were wearing wedding clothes with women. Slightly to the side was one photo where a teenage boy posed flat while a middle-aged man smiled widely there.

Is Jafar like his father?

The way he communicates with me is always formal language

Even I think, if until now he could talk, he would answer all my questions briefly.

Jafsa ...

Why does it feel so hard to understand you?

It was as if you were intentionally closing yourself off from me.

Brak!

A loud enough voice made the daydreams of Alma scattered. Jafar is seen dropping some of the books he brought, and the incident suddenly makes Alma stand up, close to the doorway, then help Jafar pick up some books.

Alma thought all of these books were new-because they were quite sharp, smooth, even smelled different. As her hand was about to pick up the book adjacent to Jafar's left hand, Netra Alma caught a scratch on her husband's palm.

"Your hand ..."

Jafar's activity stopped, he opened his left palm. These wounds are quite long. But not too sick, he answered Alma with a nod.

"Where are you going?"

"The room" Jafar replied with a lip gesture that was immediately read by Alma.

All of Jafar's books are on the table. Then her husband approached the cupboard, took a brown paper that was wide enough, not to forget also the tape.

"Do you want to pack those books?"

Jafar nodded.

"I help. But the wound on your hand .. sa-I want to see, I love the handsaplast first," said Alma.

He approached Jafar who was standing. And her husband obediently gave her a left hand, then opened the palm-letting Alma pair it. Comparison of the height of 7 meters makes Jafar slightly lowered his head to pay attention to his wife carefully.

"Sele .. sai," said Alma was restrained when the two neutrals met with Jafar for a moment.

Jafar pulled out his left hand.

"Do you want to pack this one-on-one or how many?"

"Okay. So two-two, I'll wrap the book, you'll cut the tape off, which is a bit long, huh?"

Alma's two hands shrewdly tidied the package containing two books at once, I don't know what Jafar made. One package, over. Until the last, there were four packages.

"Done."

Jafar took out his notebook, and let Alma read the inscription there.

"Thank you."

"Either. By the way, those books ... for whom?"

Jafar lowered his head for a moment, writing down four names in his notebook. "Abian, Aji, Kirana, Inayah."

"An orphanage? ... Kirana and Inayah? What did you suddenly give them the gift of a book? Isn't Kirana's milad the same as Inayah's past huh?"

Jafar had put all the gifts in the bag. He then wrote a reply to Alma. "What gift-giving should wait for one of them to age?"

"Yes not either. I just asked."

Jafar walked towards the closet, storing the rest of the brown paper and tape. Then he lowered his head for a moment and wrote something for Alma.

"You want to come with me to the parlour?" write Jafar.

Alma nodded.

"Sa-I want to go to the bathroom first. Please wait, just a minute," Alma's pinta.

...🌺...

Lousy.

It feels strange to walk together like this. Jafar on the left, Alma on the right. No talk, even if as Alma's wife asked, it would be troublesome for Jafar to answer her.

And while passing through the last house suddenly there was a middle-aged man who called out to Jafar. So spontaneously it makes both of them stop seeing who is calling.

"Mas Jafar how are you? Still want to be the same Father?"

Jafar looks confused to put the bag he carries where-and with all his consciousness Alma takes over the bag. Jafar was seen taking out pen and paper, but Jafar had not yet written the middle-aged man back.

"Mas Jafar forgot the same father, yo? Mr. who trades meatballs first, Pas Mas is still a teenager often buy. if you forget yo ndak pa-pa. This Mr. Bawain meatballs, deliberately Mr. Nyiapin this for Mas Jafar. Sorry if for example you disturb, assalamualaikum."

Don't you know that Jafar can't talk?

Jafar was about to pursue. But the middle-aged man had crossed over, and even passing motorbikes made Jafar unable to arrive on time. The middle-aged man left. Jafar's book and pen fell because of spontaneous running.

And indeed Alma felt guilty, just shut up and look. Jafar returned, with a face that was very difficult for Alma to read, the package in the bag was taken over and the pen and notebook.

Jafar stopped in front of the orphanage post. And write something for Mr. Rizal the orphanage guard. "I ask you to please this Father to the children of the orphanage whose names are Abian, Aji, Kirana and Inayah. Thank you, sir."

"Excite, Mas Jafar. Didn't stop by yet?"

Jafar. While Alma seemed to not understand the intention of Jafar who suddenly left the gift to Mr. Rizal.

"You-you-"

Alma's words stopped. When her right hand was suddenly held by Jafar, she pulled it slowly to follow her husband out of the gate of the orphanage.

"Well, are you okay?"

Jafar continued to hold Alma's hand making his wife walk in unison.

"Sa-I'm sorry, I was--"

The grip that originally felt normal in the palm of the hand turns to the wrist, now as if pressing-emitting pain.

"Jafar, sick. Take off my hand" said Alma quietly, because he did not want people to hear what he said.

Al-Hikmah boarding gate in sight. Jafar remained unwilling to let go of his grasp, continuing to grasp and pull Alma a little hard to enter the room. Even Jafar's breath was heard wheezing as if holding back anger, his net gaze became sharp. Alma put the meatballs given by the middle-aged man on a table, and his hand pulled Jafar's hand off.

"Jafar off!"

Jafar's grip slipped off.

"My hands are sick. If you're angry because I didn't help you talk to Dad it should be-"

Brak!

Jafar hit the wooden barrier used to separate the dressing room and the bed. So as to cause the barrier was broken divided up front until it redeemed to the back. Jafar lowered his head deeply, sighing time and time again, he did not care if his hand was injured again.

Alma was unmoved, standing behind this emotional man. He just hopes Umm Salamah does not see his son's behavior for now. About two minutes into Jafar's silence, he turned around without looking at Alma and walked towards the dressing table opening the drawer, picking up the pen and notebook there.

And with a hand that was bleeding a little, Alma saw her husband writing something. After she was done, Jafar walked towards the bathroom and closed the door without turning around.

Unknowingly, tears trickled down Alma's left cheek.

"At the end of the day you're being criticized for being ashamed of being married like me, Alma. Sorry if I scared you. Because actually I am not as patient and as good as people talk about," Jafar wrote.

Note:

I want to ask, is this fight felt enough?