Crush On You's
The truth
Every day more and more busy. In accordance with what I want. Intention and hard work are still in process, not only from the University only my income comes from. But from the place of English courses and programming as well. In less than two weeks I joined Arif's printing house. A printing company that accepts invitation printing, photocopying, photo editing, books and thesis. Carefulness and honesty are needed, my job is to take care of finances.
Arif felt overwhelmed to manage finances in his business. Given his status as a civil servant and a father. His wife had just given birth, her anxiety must have increased.
Sometimes I have to admit that this solitude is not always pleasant. All the time is up at work, when you go home often feel lonely. No one is welcoming. Not to mention if night comes, when prayers are some nested questions. When am I like this? Live alone, stiff and keep frugality.
Living abroad has a lot to consider. Stay here for a long time or return to the city of birth. Is it worth it back? Given the achievements or the expected soul mate does not yet exist. Everything is still secret. After all, there are women who are willing to commit to a lousy and poor man like me. Being able to survive alone is grateful to no match.
I wash my face before going to bed. Then get on the bed. Leaning on the pillow, suddenly remembered the late father. She always worried about her children.
Sidoarjo, December 14, 2007.
I got off the bike. A smile expands to see the two people I love the most, respect and pride. They are father and mother. Sitting on the terrace. A cup of coffee and boiled corn is always a complement. As usual, I sat next to my dad who was cleaning his glasses.
“Fira, have you called?” tanyakanya. “Almost magrib kok no news.”
“Not sir. Probably still busy. Three hours ago no phone not picked up.”
“I'm worried. She's a girl if there's anything, how about?”
I noticed their faces were staring more often at the cell phones at the table. “Do not worry. Fira's mom is an adult. If there's anything, call.”
He looked at me and took a long breath. “Later if you no longer exist. Please take your mother and two brothers. I count on you.”
“Beres sir!” sahutku fast. My hand reached for the still warm boiled corn.
——
The whole body shivered. Both legs are shaking. Remembering those words. So fuckin' wretched. I was unreliable when I had a fight with Fira. I choose to go. Hopefully Ma'am Jani and I'm in good and healthy condition there. I turn off the lights and close my eyes.
***
The phone rang as I poured a little honey and warm water on the cup. My forehead wrinkled. The name of Ma'am Jani called.
“Halo, what's up Ma'am?”
“Pak Lecturer, tangine isuk-isuk,” pleases friendly. “Sehat Pur?”
“Sehat.”
“Safira let teko omahmu?”
“Iyo, moro-moro kon signature. Emoh me.”
“Bene. I yo don't sign. Wes does not care, omah sing ning Klurak wes not payari.”
“Sgratitude.”
“But, duite less five million.”
“I enek iki, kiro-kiro crank at 12 hours without transfer.”
“Tenane?”
“Iyo, wes ora need to worry. It's important that I don't think. Omah kui kan siji-sijine relics of Mr.”
“Suwun yo.”
“Greetings for Mom.”
Conversation's over. The affair with Mbak Fira is over. There's not much I do. But at least it helped. That house is not for sale.
After I got home from the printing press, I went to the bank. The burden that had weakened, is now overcome. Can't wait for a long holiday and return to Sidoarjo. Again, it's just a plan. If this vacation is a lot of work, it means I have to keep working. This afternoon, after teaching from college. I chose some appropriate clothes for Bayu's new home celebration. The rock mountain housing.
Guests present from among the profession, relatives and friends of Bu Laras. A row of beautiful, classy and graceful women. They appear with batik cloth. The men wore black blazer shirts. Everything is beautiful, except me. Plain white shirt and black color trousers. Frankly, I didn't know that they were wearing a certain dress code.
Bu Laras wears a long gold batik dress. Her hair was pulled back. A little light makeup on the face, making it interesting to note. His intelligent and cautious temperament was as if the word ‘perfect’ suited him. Bayu also looks dashing to accompany the woman.
Five minutes ago I had a chat with Mr. Surya. Around his children and his job. I read a cold look from the owner of the house. I quickly ended the conversation. Then stand next to the glass door leading to the back garden. There is a swimming pool and a small garden around it. You know, this house is really like a palace. The entire room is shades of gold and teak wood furniture with the best quality. The page is also broad.
Amir invites to join the others. I just nodded and haven't moved yet.
Bu Laras walked towards us.
“You must be curious about the design of the swimming pool and small garden there,” he said friendly. “Mari, I'll show you.”
The glass door opened, we followed it in. Swimming pool is blue. Not far from the door was a long, white chair. At the base of the seat is layered with fine velvet.
“Sit here, sir ...” the door glanced at me.
“No. I won't sit in Bayu.”'s place
Amir cleared slowly. We're not flinching. Soluble in each other's minds. A few minutes later, I decided to leave. Even though the show is not finished. My chest is in pain from Bu Laras' treatment. And so was his words a while ago. How he and Bayu rated me. They're laughing at me. And their words are still stuck to this very moment.
Either I am too disappointed or my feelings are being filled with annoyance. From the first moment I entered the house. Throat choked, did not expect Bayu can be a big success. While I'm nobody. But Bu Laras also tried to emit the action to me. No wonder Bayu glanced arrogantly and coldly.
“I go home first,” my germs pass Amir who is chatting with several people.
My instincts are trying to pull me out of that neighborhood. Going is the best move. Rather than gathering but like not considered at all.
“You where!” amir shouted following my steps. “Wait, did something happen between you and Laras?”
“No,” I replied briefly and stopped a step.
“Miris once if success is judged from the position, luxury homes and beautiful women,” he said. “As you need to know some things like ...”
“What?” I cut the speech off from him. “The reality is so. And I'm like a pathetic rat living in the suburbs.”
“There is a beautiful woman sitting alone among the guests,” she said trying to persuade me. “Maybe, it will make you better. Well, I can introduce him to you, how?”
“I will never be worthy of anyone,” I replied slowly. “Try asking him, is willing he gets acquainted with a poor man.”
Amir fell silent and his steps stopped.
My hand grabbed the helmet hanging in the rearview mirror. Without caring about Amir. I'm getting out of that yard. During the journey, tucked away sadness. Seeing one of our close friends achieve success, while we still walk in place.
I also sped up at a turn in the direction of the housing complex and almost hit a cyclist from the opposite direction. As I braked the motor and staggered down. My eyes looked at the cyclist. A girl came down and led her bike. His face was not foreign.
“Bening!” I shouted and turned off the motor and walked towards him. “Almost, next time if ride a bike carefully.”
“Mister turn does not turn on the reting light,” he said slowly. “It also harms other riders.”
For a few seconds, we exchanged looks. No one seems to want to continue the conversation. When the girl got ready to ride a bike. I said relax, “There's something I want to ask you. I'm waiting at the stall next to TK.”
“Mister,” he said glanced at the watch. “Do not arrive more than nine hours. Because kossan closes that clock.”
I nodded and took the motor. It's 8 p.m. That means, the conversation later must be effective and in accordance with my wishes. Damnit damnit! My brain doesn't work fast. So does the stomach. The last time we ate was at 10 this morning.
The atmosphere of the stall was quiet. Just me and Bening. The stall owner is preparing an order, soon I open the conversation.
“Where are you from?” tanyaku glanced at the full package on the bicycle basket.
“Taking order. All buy yarn.”
“Not.”
“Knit?”
“Not. I embroider strimin for tablecloth and handkerchief,” he replied carefully.
“Boring and stupid work. Do you like it?”
“Slightly. That's a job that requires patience.”
“Lantas why did you do it? Much you can do is like being an article writer, editor or translator.”
“What is Mister sure I can do the job?”
“It should. Maybe you're 25 or older. So it will make you better after graduation later.”
“I'm still 22 years old. But I have no relation for the job.”
“Temans. Didn't you ask them for help?”
“What kind of friends, does Mister mean. They won't care about what I'm going through.”
“Then they are also to blame or your mindset should be on the fox.”
Bening glanced at me. His forehead creased, then shook his head.
“If you only have teaching skills, it won't help enough. Sad indeed growing up in a poor environment and less concerned about education,” said I glanced at him.
“Ya, I know Mister.”
“Of course you know. Only a trivial job suits you.”
His mouth tries to talk. But he chose silence and thought the conversation was over. The war has not changed at all, remain calm and do not deny my every word. The more it pushes me to dig up something from inside him.
“How much wages did you get from embroidering?”
“Not much. But enough to buy some books.”
Our order is coming. Two glasses of warm tea without sugar. I deliberately did not order food, because only instant noodles and various drinks are available here.
After drinking tea. I was waiting for him, saying something. Seen from a different face than before. “No need to hesitate, if you want to refute my words.”
Again he shook his head.
“How about discussing something else. Where did you learn to embroider?”
A smile rose on his lips. “My books that teach embroidery. Small things that are often viewed one eye.”
“Means your mother is a skilled embroider. His work must have been a lot. Did your mother send you to college?”
“Mother's works are only on display at home. Regarding college, it's my own wish.”
“Really? What's your reason for college?”
“Enlarging opportunities, training to be able to survive under pressure and parents must be proud to see their children wearing toga.” clothes
This time I smiled at her words. Quite effective and in accordance with himself. After a long series of questions and opinions. He could handle it quite peacefully and calmly. Justjust wonderful. My curiosity was a little answered, but not all.
Steady standing up then taking something from the basket. “This is actually for Iskan, but he said he couldn't. Maybe Mister can help if there's free time.”
White color envelope. My hand opened it slowly and read the contents. An invitation, to be a judge of ‘Story Telling’ TK level on Monday at ten in the morning. I have not yet answered the invitation. Just smile and look at him. Nine o'clock in less than fifteen minutes. We parted ways and said good night. From a distance I stood up, to make sure he got to the boarding house in good condition.
***
Many stories about the experience during the first week of teaching here. Starting from the character of students in general and some lecturers who are somewhat less friendly and like to drop. Sometimes I just nod and think for a moment. That means you have to be extra careful.
“You better not be too friendly,” he said throw cigarette butts. “They could have surprised you.”
“Their complexity is entertainment for me.”
Arif chuckles.
Scroll clock on wrist. Half past ten in the morning. Invitation from Clear at ten. “I go home first no business.”
“You want to print?” ask Arif curious.
“No,” answer me quickly. “Later the night I was there.”
I heard someone calling my name. Arif and I looked over. Our steps stopped not far from the parking lot. A straight-haired and casual-clothed girl approached us. His hand carried a small paper bag.
“Fruit salad, for Mr Pur,” He said while handing over a small paper bag.
“Do you sell?”
“No, it's free for Dad. I'm Kartika from FKIP Economics, third semester. If you give material do not much.”
“Thank you, but I'm fasting. Take ....,” I said while returning the paper bag earlier. “Nice to meet you, Kartika.”
Me and Arif left the girl. Unbelievable, they think I'm taking bribes or something. Ah basic woman, sometimes the idea is ridiculous and exaggerated. Arif explained to me. That's how students reprimand teachers (Lecturers). Never before had I thought of.
Short message sent. A few seconds later the phone rang. Reply to a message from Bening. My smile grew and I wanted to meet quickly. With him I felt a peace radiating when our eyes met and sincerity through his soft tongue. I won't waste time getting into his world.
Milk brown blazer and black trousers. Not tight or loose, in accordance with his tall body. Thin makeup, hair on pigtails rather high and sideways bangs that are a little messy. A few helays closed his forehead making his jaw look firm. Not to forget, his lips were now slightly colored. Not flashy but radiant. Simple and delicious to see. Actually Bening is not too mediocre, not perfect and does not fall into the category of beautiful. I don't know why my eyes haven't moved from him.
“Mister, already here?” ask slowly and carefully. “Mari, just go to Hall.”
“Yes,” I replied nodding and throwing a glance around. I felt nervous walking beside him. My eyes glanced at him. He was busy with a few maps in hand. Occasionally glancing at the watch. Until we got to the front hall.
So many kids. Their costumes are funny too. The audience bench was full of guardians. Bening introduced me to a woman wearing a green dress.
“This is Iskan?” ask the woman in green.
“Not ma'am, this is Mister Purwaka. My lecturer,” replied Bening. “Iskan can't attend.”
“Walah, Ngapunten. Monggo Pinarak sir, I am Mr. Naliyah principal of T. K. Tulip,” He said friendly.
Ms. Naliyah drove me to the jury's desk. Next to me was a man with a thick mustache and a slightly bald head. Behind me are three female jurors. The man was the principal of the Elementary School, Mr. Fahmi his name. We talked for a while before the show started. The assessment form was already in front of our respective desks.
The first event was a welcome from the principal of the Tulip Kindergarten. Followed by the committee chairman's speech. He went on stage and gave a welcome. The language is polite and flexible. Not stiff or stage fright. This is an opportunity to photograph it. I grabbed the phone and started shooting it silently. Continue to the story telling opening event. Very long, when the children sang the twinkle-twinkle little star song. Noisy and unclear. Like the sound of a chick squawking. Similarly, when one of the students starts to stand up and tell a story, nothing good. Messy, based on my conclusion this ‘story telling’ event failed miserably.
Eleven thirty minutes. The remaining five participants will perform. Ten minutes of rest were used while discussing the results temporarily with some of the other jurors. I saw Bening massaging his forehead sitting in front of the class. His hands were writing something. At that time I also met him and gave a little comment related to this event.
The girl sighed softly. He then closed the book. “Mister is right, I am not a skilled teacher. From this experience I will learn a lot more.”
“If you have influence. Maybe the show won't be this bad. You'd better find another job than you have to face the little monsters.”
“I like them. The children were honest, innocent and always carefree. Unlike adults who are oppressors and fakes,” said Bening standing up. Nod slowly and walk to the Hall.
It seems that he needs some entertainment for this failure. No one cares about him. Through a heavy tone of speech heard. The establishment he possessed did not falter in an instant. One day he will be formed into a tough person. That's my observation.