FIZAH (Female Kolong Garbage)
PART 33 "Shop"

*Hafizah Palace

Ratna and I stayed behind him. Once we were stared at, we immediately turned our eyes away. We listened to her conversation with her mother.

"Why not just go there?"

Confused feet answered. I also thought that why, yes, I waited for him too. Maybe Ratna agrees with me.

Our two steps came to a halt when he asked the question, "Do you guys have a minute?"

"We?" ask us at the same time.

"Yes." Yeah."

"There," answered Ratna representing.

"So gini, Ms. Zahra, Ms. Rinai. I'm asking you guys for a favor. After prayers, you guys come with me to the dress shop. Can, right?"

"I-yes. In-shallah can." I reassured myself that he was a good man. I honestly still worry. But, my instincts tell me she's not the same as the man I've met before.

"can you? Brother Rinai object?"

"I'm just going with Fizah. What matters is that we're safe."

He smiled thinly.

"What do you think I'll do?"

"Sorry," I said.

"Yes yes. Just to the store. After that you can continue the journey."

***

Ratna and I finished the Magrib prayer first. We waited at the mosque. Brim on the door frame near the pot of red shoots plants. Ratna looked back.

"Not yet out."

"Wait for a call."

"Well, are you sure he's a good guy?"

"How do you think?"

"From his attitude I'm not so. Different from his brother yesterday."

"Hopefully your guess is right. A lot of prayer. God must have protected us."

"Come on!" I knew he had appeared in front of us. Chirped.

We followed him to the car park. He gave five thousand to his parking attendant. Although it should have been paid only two thousand rupiah, he did not want to receive the change. His hand refused. He opened the back door for us.

In the car. A few meters out of the parking lot. The ringing tone of his phone drew my gaze towards the rearview mirror. He was also staring at me. Then he raised his call.

"Wa'alaikumussalam."

"I'm in the square."

"Can't, sir. I'm going to the store first. Meet at the place how?"

"Not in shareloc?"

"Then I wait in front of the clothes shop around the square."

"Later I tell you. Don't know which store this is."

She laughs.

"No. I need to nitip something."

"Wa'alaikumussalam warahmatullah."

There were no words that dared to be spoken. The music that was then turned on changed the quiet sound in my ears. The song is written in Arabic, titled I don't know what. What I was surprised by was his voice that could mimic with the same gentleness. The bass sound that can touch the feeling. The vocalist is female. I have changed my opinion before. He's not that cold apparently.

*ratna

Go in front of the clothing store. The car drove slowly according to the parking guide. The man got out first, then opened his car door. So far he's been pretty good. I don't see any signs of a change in attitude. Friendly dominates his attitude.

"Mongos!"

"Sir, is there another discount?" He was asking the parking attendant who greeted him with hospitality.

"There, Mas. There are. Please enter directly. Today is crowded because many are hunting for discounts. Mongos!"

The man smiled. Looking at me and Fizah. Nodding later.

"Wife two, huh?"

The three of us exchanged looks. I look at the parking guy.

The parking attendant approached the man. Smilingly. Whispering, "Cock can get along so what's the recipe, Mas?"

The man did not respond except with a thin smile and a head-butt.

The three of us went into the store. Solid then tares the buyer. The 70-90 percent discount can confiscate the community in an instant. I had to hold Fizah's hand. I grabbed his arm. My chest is pounding. Panic attacks suddenly hit.

"Fizah, it's a real rame. I'm out, Zah." Shadows of fear followed my steps.

"Oh, yes, you can't go to a place like this. I tried to tell him for a moment. You pull over first."

I'm back at the door. I'm squishing there. The parking attendant who was watching me. He just helped park a red car parking lot.

The owner greeted. Put your back on the body of the car. His hand held the new cell phone he rogoh from the pocket. Then, take off her sunglasses. I just glanced at him, then grabbed myself.

"It was my wife, right?" ask the parking guy.

"Go you!" I said slowly.

"Let me alone. Help me!"

The parking attendant squealed while holding back a question. His face was still facing me as his legs moved away.

"Eh, oh, oh." He hit someone. After being stared at, the glasses guy was the one.

"Sorry, Mas. Sorry."

"What's this?"

"That. The woman over there suddenly told me to leave."

"What's the problem?"

"He's the one with the problem, Mom."

"If it doesn't bother just let it go, sir." He looked to his right. Designate the car the helper is wearing.

"What's up, Mom?" The parking attendant noticed the man in front of him.

"My friend's car."

"The owner of the car is his wife of two, Mas. That's all I meant."

"Wife two?" Glowered.

"Two, Mas." He lifted two fingers.

"where possible. You misunderstood that. I'm a close friend, sir."

"I asked, my lawyer was smiling, Mom."

"I still don't believe."

"Where are you going, Mum?"

"Meet that girl there!" answer it as it passes.

Not long after, Fizah and the man came out. Fizah came straight to me.

"Sir Nizam, how are you?" Facing with embrace.

They put both palms together. Greetings friendship.

"Special friend. Come all the way from Banyuwangi."

He whispered, "I'm the one who asked to be invited."

"Rubber? There's a shrimp behind the rock."

Friend Mr. Nizam let off a laugh.

"They're both really your wives?"

"Wife from where? Just moved not even three months."

"Whoever not his wife to. I'm sorry, ma'am, " said the parking attendant.

"Enggeh, sir."

"What's going on then?" Staring at Mr. Nizam and Fizah alternately.

"Buy Ibuk's deposit, but not so. Moving shop."

"Nothing fits?"

"The woman is sick."

He whispered again, "Who are they?"

"Neighbors of the village whose house is around here," replied Pak Nizam carelessly.

"If you have other needs, you can go home soon. My friend has arrived. Thanks for the help."

"Yes. You're welcome, sir," replied Fizah.

"What class are you in, Mommy?" ask Mr. Nizam's friend.

"I'm seventeen years old."

"Pillotent. Looks really young. Where is school now? Any college plans?"

"We dropped out of school."

"Why?" The tone is a little high.

"Because of something."

"Dearly enough. Kids your age should enjoy education as much as possible. Your future is long." He gave us both advice.

"Pangestunes." (See his prayer)

"Are you really seventeen?"

Fizah.

"Rinai?"

We're mumbling.

"Sorry we have to leave immediately, sir. Assalamualaikum."

The three of them answered.