Heartbreakers
02. Make Over
"You don't want to ask me anymore? I'm the character from your story.”
Keenan took his place in front of me. His hand had put mango juice packaging for me while trying to read pencil strokes that I deliberately wrote are not neat.
“Not yet. Still quite coke my imagination from your old answer,” answered me while raising my head, looking at him. His position as close as this suddenly reminded me of the events of two years ago. A successful memory passed a thin smile on my lips.
Two years ago, everyone knew I loved to write. Everyone knows I have a work that's been recorded. And I myself know that I really love the writing world more than anything else. In the past, when everyone was busy playing or chatting with others, I usually sat alone in the back corner. Once or twice, Keenan would suddenly come and sit at my desk with his hands playing basketball. For a moment ignored the other friend and even talked to me. I remember once, he often asked me what I was writing.
Maybe because of that, I started to have a sense of admiration for him. His good qualities are another reason. Keenan is the type of person who is willing to turn around to help a grandmother cross the street. He was even willing to be late for a super important event to help a friend whose motorcycle tire was leaking. All of his kindness really inspired me to write a story: if only I had been a special person in his life.
So desperate, I ventured to ask for his willingness to be my character. Also asked him willing to give me a little time to do questions and answers about small things—and some silly things—about him. I even offered myself to be his number one listener whenever and wherever he needed to be. Trying to make myself visible even though until now Keenan never came to me depositing his sigh or happiness.
Until I realized that I was forcing myself, I stopped. Stop asking about her, her feelings, or whatever it is. Stop and give up on the end that I already know well.
“How can you ignore me who is in front of you? Hey, Kheira,” call Keenan while flicking his two fingers in front of my face. It immediately pulled me from the subconscious.
“Sorry. I suddenly had to think what to do the female character,” I said origin. I think I'm getting smarter at lying. “What did you say?”
“Why do you like nulis?” patience repeated.
For a moment of thought, my mouth opened, “This means of refreshing for me. I can be anything and anyone in my writing. No one would mind if in my writing I married all the Super Junior members, hehe. I like to imagine, it's fun,” I said at length. I slipped a few laughs a few times when I thought my answer was a little absurd.
“Weight turns out,” comments do not understand, “if it could be anything, why choose me as your story character? I was actually curious long ago.”
Just as my hand was about to grab the mango juice, my intentions changed. My brain is spinning, confused whether the question should be answered honestly or not.
“Eh, how is your relationship with Dinda? Is it still okay?” I answered back asking. Think about how many times it feels like I can't be honest with her. I've given up since my last basketball game anyway. It was also free for me to tell him about my race.
“Good to.” Keenan sip his iced tea, “aku and he are both good and healthy.”
“Bagus—”
“By the way, why is the secretariat always quiet when I come?” he asked curiously, cutting my sentence.
“You're always late. Others are counting the total donations we can make tomorrow's event. I'm clearance to finish this one chapter, hehe.”
Head nodded. Quickly he finished the glass of iced tea he brought. Intend to follow the others because maybe he was feeling awkward. I am also grateful because—once again—can avoid such a situation.
***
Today all SLSY members are busy. The charity event that was originally to be held on the campus grounds suddenly moved to Orphanage Asih. The seniors are busy recalculating the expenses that may be required and the amount of donations that will be donated. While I was asked to supervise the process of retrieving items that were definitely given from the storage room to the pick up car that would take him to the orphanage.
After the two couriers left for the event, I recalculated the remaining items and recorded them to the notebook I had been carrying for two years. It felt like it was an item that I had to carry with me wherever I went. Whenever I wanted to write, the book would always be faithful to its container, including during Keenan's last game. Ah, even the writing of that day, which I wrote specifically for Keenan, had turned into a tear ready to send. Though in fact I was never enough to give him the letter. The letter that contained my surrender statement to him. Surrender right at the moment I realized that I really loved her.
Finished ascertaining the quantity of goods, I got out. Looks like today I won't be coming home for preparing for tomorrow's event. No problem for me. I really prefer the atmosphere here than at home. At least I'll be tired from work, not careless at hearing screams.
“Ra, out of this you are the same Keenan please go to catering for all the pesen on this list, yes? The caterer does not understand through the phone, ask people from us to come directly,” pinta Kak Lintang while handing over a piece of paper containing the order. Three-four sentences he added to clarify the details.
“Can't, Ra. You have to take a boxed rice order for our dinner today too. Besides Keenan's the most corked man after you. Okay, yeah?” deny Kak Lintang, “I go back there again, yes. You dare tell Keenan to nganter you? Am I the one who told you?”
My head is in a hurry. I better not add to the work of Kak Lintang. Kak Lintang must have dizzy to rethink the arrangement of tomorrow's event.
After giving some money to pay for the order, Kak Lintang left. My feet slowly stepped as my brain composed a sentence to convey to Keenan. May he act ordinary to me.
“Nan,” call me while patting her shoulder slowly, asking for a little focus from painting the property, “Kak Lintang ask us to the caterer to make a straight order tomorrow as take dinner today. Can it? But if you're busy I can take the ojek online just to go home.”
“Ngapain ride ojek online? I'm anter. When?” tanyakanya.
I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that she could quickly forget something. “Now.”
“Now?” His forehead wiggling. His gaze switched between the brush he was holding and me. “After this one property is finished I paint, yes? Pity Sekar if the color is not flat because there is a dry first. Five minutes at most.”
I nodded, “I wait outside, yes.”
I waited five minutes for him to write. Five minutes waiting for him I can use to remember my first moment in a motorbike. The first and only moment.
Two years ago, during Kartini Day 2013, all residents of Nararota High School wore traditional regional clothing. This is usually done in addition to commemorating the services of Mother R.A. Kartini also preserved the culture of the nation.
After school, my class planned to do a class photo. This plan came suddenly. Me and Riris—one of my classmates— has absolutely no idea. The whole thing, except me and Riris, had even left for the photo studio. Until someone realizes that Riris is not around, they immediately call Riris who happens to be with me.
At that time they announced their plan and said they would wait until Riris came. Two people even came back to pick up Riris and me. I was lucky that day.
The two people who came back were Keenan and Abriansa, I've guessed one of them must be Keenan. Since I realized it wasn't me that was prioritized, I let Riris choose a ride. I thought half of the thought that Riris would choose Abriansa because the matic motor was obviously more friendly with Riris' narrow rags than Keenan's men's motorbike. Sure enough, I finally had to piggyback on Keenan who I could tell was quite thrilling.
How not thrilling? Along the way they were speeding. I was sitting sideways on the motorbike so clearly felt flat-footed. Until unconsciously my left hand held firmly on the iron behind the seat and my right hand rested on his back covered with a jacket.
As soon as the photo studio, it turns out we still have to wait a long time. I even had a chance to secretly take a picture of him waiting. The wait for the whole century was not comparable to our photo shoot which only took ten to fifteen minutes.
At half-time, seven nights, we're done. Keenan gave me another ride because the house was unidirectional and no one in the house could pick me up. Unlike the journey, he no longer sped. Plus a different route, which he turned out to be directional blind, so I led him. The calm of the night made me enjoy the rest of the trip. He even had the chance to be funny to seriously look at his left palm when I said my life was in his hands.
The last thing of the most memorable day was when he waved his right hand in front of my house saying, “Drug, even though I knew the next morning we'd be back to normal.
“Yuk, Ra! I'm done, nih.” Keenan's voice suddenly entered, pulling my consciousness back to the surface. I see his hands are still dirty because the paint is difficult to clean.
“Ayo,” I finally said after revamping my notes.
Again I am grateful. Today the memory of riding a motorcycle with him will soon be updated.
***