FIZAH (Female Kolong Garbage)
PART 203 "He"

*Nizami's Ibban

After that night, I promised myself. I will glorify it as I glorify my mother. That night of pleasure reminded me of the gratitude I had to keep after I married her. I'm so grateful to him. He was willing to give up his soul even though the next day he looked more anxious than before. I know I broke my promise. Maybe this is what I mean that it is not as easy as I imagine to refrain from something that is clearly halal to me. There's no plan. Everything just happens when that desire so peaks in a matter of minutes. That's why I sometimes hesitate when I want to be close to him.

There's something I can't explain for sure. But, he has a very strong charmer. Clear eyeballs save a thousand figurative languages that can only be translated by pecintanya. His gaze as far as the eyes can see. His voice is the antidote. The cure of all diseases caused by love. He is the set of words that make up the verses of poetry. She is the home I have to go back to. A place to arrange the pieces of wishful thinking that had once been abandoned. And, he is heaven. The most beautiful place for me to finish all my longings and love.

Today, exactly when the western corner of the sky has been moping around, all the processions of the ghost download event have been completed. Began ba'da zuhur, about half-time. Throughout the entire event, no one had not praised him. Almost everyone who came said I was very lucky to get the chance to be my own daughter-in-law. Getting a wife who is still young, beautiful, and comes from the Salaf pesantren. Many times I have been asked, what recipe have you? That question makes me want to laugh. In the past, I only allowed God to drop a heart on a seventeen-year-old girl and I had no idea who she really was.

After the magrib prayer at the beginning of time.

"It's hard to see you're both so friendly."

Fizah and I were sitting in front of the house. Maybe if a neighbor comes.

She whispered, "Zam, how have you been?"

I'm looking. "What, Buk?"

I patted my thigh. "Lha yes cook you do not understand the meaning of Ibuk."

Not the ndalem and ibuk families, they are the same. Marking a new manten who's having fun again. "Persestune, Buk." I whispered back.

"May-may quick result intent, Zam," said ibuk quite loudly.

I immediately gestured not to talk about that right now. I raised my eyebrows, but my mother didn't quickly understand. He moved his mouth without making a sound. I'm shaking. I was worried that Fizah heard it, and then she went back to being sad like yesterday.

"Mass? There's a neighbor here!" He's risen. The rush widened a smile for them.

My mom and I followed him.

"Thank you for coming. Monggo please sit down! Please!" ibuk.

"Mareme yes, Mas Nizam, can wife is still young like this. Rarely children today marry young age. Especially if it looks this clear. O Allah, lucky sampeyan (fortunate for you), Mas Nizam. I was married to my boy and was sixteen. After that immediately have a child lo, Mas," he said while sitting.

"Oh," my inner.

The mother behind him quickly connected. I feel like this topic is being discussed. "Mas Nizam?"

Me, Mother, and Fizah sat together.

"Mas, if you are still young, it is usually very expensive to get. Fertile prosper. So, yeah, just drop it off. Gercep."

Fizah. He's starting to get nervous. So throated. Shift your eyes across the street.

"I want to guess, next month must be filled."

The conversation continues. My mother interjected to let them eat. But, they remain preoccupied with the theme they open themselves.

"Mr?"

Fizah did not look at him immediately.

"Mom, Mommy?" Who calls the same person.

I whispered to him, "Honey called that?"

He was smiling too. Just made up so that guests look happy.

"Mom can do it, Mum."

"Hehe. You see, I'm afraid of being mistaken, Mas. Yes to Mbakyu Marni?"

"Yes that is." Nodding firmly. His right hand took the food on the table. Eat it voraciously.

"Mbak Niya, you ojo are afraid to have children at a young age. Precisely mumpung still young, the body can be invited to work hard. Later the child has grown up, can find his own money, as a parent if you want to earn money anyway, so ndak too ngoyo, Ma'am. You are Mbakyu Marni."

"That bill." Meanwhile, he continues to chew food. In his hand, he took it again. "But, lo Mbakyu, I mbiyen (formerly) even kepengen very cepet duwek child. Ayahe Imas single son, automatic ibune kepengen cepet duwe grandson. I happen to be ready whenever the mission is given the trust of the Gusti of God. Awale ribet is. But, yes, his name is mother, it will be long with her child," he continued later.

Me and Mom just listen. The three neighbors were above average.

Bu Situn aka Bu Siti, cleared his throat. "Yu, it's my turn to talk. From there on on, Yu, Yu. I'm different from the sampeyans, Yu. I used to have dreams of becoming a doctor, Yu. Cool to me. This is how I was when I was a young four-five spirit. Two months after the marriage with his father Anggi, I was busy taking care of children and home alone. You already have his own house since his father Anggi still joko. Really repot anyway. Anggi's turn has been to Kindergarten school, I even wanted to be a housewife. Ngenes yo."

"Honey, you're into the gih. Deresan preparation. I'll catch up. I see," I whispered.

He's nodding. Rise up. "Mom, excuse me to go inside first. Please enjoy the treat." He did not forget to smile even if only half an inch.

"Yes, Mother e. Monggo!" sahut Bu Marni's.

They came home after eating.

"Zam, what's wrong? Same story if you need to tell."

"No, Buk. It's been. I don't have to worry. I just wish you all the best for us."

"If that were sure, Zam. You want to ask my mother to pray anyway, I will definitely pray for the best."

"Norgh, Buk. Is that here or me?"

"That's busy. You accompany your wife inside. Mumpung is still a newlywed, a friendly one. Don't forget you keep praying, Zam."

"Yes, Buk. I'm staying first, yeah, Buk." I kiss ibuk's head.

"Ning?" door's closed. I pulled the doorknob.

"In the meantime, yeah, I'm going to wudu first."

"Mas Nizam doesn't have to listen to me that's okay."

"Why?"

I approached.

"Why why? How moody?"

She smiles. "No, Mom."

"Because of Miss Marni and Miss Katmi?"

"No, Mas. That's not. I'm not okay."

"Yes already. I wudu first, we najai together, continue to pray congregation. Just, okay."