Letter to Atlanta
1. Bitter truth

The sound of the twang of the spoon clashing against the glass plate was clearly heard by the male eardrum. He already knew what his family was doing every morning, which was breakfast together. Do not forget the sound of laughter and praise that his parents always throw.

He was still behind the door of the white room. His hand held the doorknob hesitantly, still reluctantly coming out of the room which he thought was the best place.

But how else, Atlanta has to go to school, live sad days as usual. He breathed in the air, pushed his bedroom door knob, his Atlanta-level foot stepping down the stairs.

An ordinary sight that always appeared before his eyes. The warmth of the family he had always dreamed of for a long time. There, he saw a very happy family member, starting the day with Mother-made fried rice, hot coffee and warm milk as if to add to the family's completeness.

There was a sudden sense of tightness in the area of his heart, like being torn, and burned. His hand held the iron fence firmly. His heart was indeed aching, but his lips were always smiling under any circumstances.

He remained down the stairs until the end, a sweet smile that never faded brought him closer to the dining table area occupied by his Father, Mother and half-sister.

"You're doing!" the mother said after the man sat in front of them. The three stopped the activity, and chose to stare hatefully at Atlanta.

Instead of answering, the boy took out a small memo from inside his pants pocket, and wrote something down there.

"For a long time" said Hana while glaring dislike.

Atlanta showed me what she wrote on the white paper. That smile, never for a second faded from his lips, even though he knew, his family would always be indifferent.

"I want to have breakfast with Dad, Mom, and Jay."

Hana was screeching, she threw the spoon until it made quite a loud twang. Atlanta flinched, and lowered the corner of the lip that had been curved upwards.

"YOUR DREAMS!" he said loudly, making people there reluctant to speak up.

"You ain't pantes here. Go there! Eating in the kitchen. Your place is there!" Hana's index finger pointed towards the kitchen hinting Atlanta to leave immediately.

The man bowed, his hands clenched, his eyes hot right then and there.

"You're deaf, huh!" Hana moved from her seat, approaching Atlanta who was still silent. It was obvious that the woman was very angry.

"There go! You bastard! Don't know yourself! Mute!" cercan. Hana pulled Atlanta's arm to get away from her eye.

The hot iron arrow just stuck right into Atlanta's heart. Deceit, humiliation, is like daily food to him. The man resigned when Hana pushed him rudely to stay away. With a heavy heart, Atlanta again stepped into the kitchen, which he said was a suitable place for Atlanta. Yes, it is true, imperfect children like him do deserve to be insulted and set aside.

"Are you leaving already?" said Bi Mirna, the housekeeper at her family home.

Atlanta nodded, she bowed lethargic, leaning her frail back against the wall connecting the kitchen and dining room. Both clear eyeballs were never separated from looking at his own family members.

Bi Mirna pats Atlanta on the shoulder. "Why sad? Not having breakfast yet?"

Atlanta shakes. Honestly, he really wanted to taste the fried rice made by Mother even if only one mouthful, sipping warm milk made by mother even if only one drop. It's okay, for him it was all quite enough.

"Want to eat fried rice? Let's get Auntie to make it?" Bi Mirna offers.

The half-century woman seemed to understand Atlanta's feelings.

Atlanta started to move her hand.

"You want my mom's sausage fried rice, Bi."

Bi Mirna smiled, more precisely feeling sliced. That man's life was never okay. Who wants to be ostracized by their own biological family? There aren't. But God gave Atlanta a very hard ordeal since she was born into the world. It was Bi Mirna who took care of Atlanta since the baby was red, giving her the affection that Atlanta might not have been able to get from her parents.

The man sighed, and moved his hand again.

"Why does Aunt care about Ata? Though Dad, Jay's same mother never cared about Ata. Is it because Ata can't talk, so they don't love Ata?"

Once again, Bi Mirna felt struck by Atlanta's remark, she shook her head quickly, rejecting the answer she had just understood.

"Well, they love Ata. The proof, Ata is still in this house, living on one roof with them. Everyone loves Ata."

"But Ata's a rich stranger here. No one wants to consider Ata. Ata never eat together there, Ata never watch TV with Dad, Ata never play with Jay. Ata was always scolded, Ata was always insulted, Ata never loved Dad, Mom and Jay."

The clear thread melted from the fertilizer without being given a cue. Atlanta immediately wiped away her rough tears using the back of her hand. It's still morning, it's not good to start the day with sadness.

"Can't say that. Later Mommy is sad in heaven. Don't feel like there's no one who doesn't love you. Aunty love kok same Ata, Mother also love the same Ata."

Bi Mirna grabbed Atlanta's head to lean on her shoulder, wiping the black mane of her employer's son whom she had considered to be her own child. At the very least, if the child feels that he does not have a shoulder to lean on, bi Mirna happily gives her shoulder to the child, sharing the pain that may be felt every day.

Atlanta raised her head, then smiled at Bi Mirna.

"Thank you, Bi. Don't know what to do if Aunt isn't here."

Bi Mirna rubbed Atlanta's hair full of pity. "You're a good boy. Don't sad. You have to be sure, one day, Dad, Mom, and Jay will change. The important thing is that Ata never be discouraged" he said.

Atlanta nodded steadily, smilingly showing off her rabbit-white teeth again.

"Ah, Aunt almost forgot." Bi Mirna flicked her finger, as if remembering something, then took the lunch box from inside the refrigerator.

"Here, Auntie made a sandwich, make Ata and Jay. But since Jay's already made fried rice, so Ata just take it all, yeah. Take a break at school too." Bi Mirna thrust out two lunch boxes filled with sandwiches she made early in the morning.

Atlanta shakes. "With bi, Ata take just one. The other one's for Jay. Jay likes snacks carelessly if not bring supplies from home."

"Of course, for you. Here, let Auntie put it in the bag." The woman took over the backpack that Atlanta was carrying, and kept two lunch boxes inside. He glanced at the wall clock installed in the kitchen, then smiled.

"It's noon. Are you leaving now?" tanya Bi Mirna, who was given a nod by Atlanta.

Bi Mirna led Atlanta to the back door of the kitchen, which connected her to the house.

Atlanta picked up her bicycle that was leaning on the corner of the gerasi. The bike that always accompanied him wherever he went, despite the old bike, but according to Atlanta, the bike was very valuable, he got it from his own sweat while still sitting in sixth grade Elementary.

"Be careful, baby. If there's anything, don't forget to call Mom, yeah."

The voice distracted Atlanta, forcing her to turn her head immediately. The feet that were originally about to pedal the bike, just downplayed. The man's hand clasped firmly on the handlebar, not forgetting the thin smile from his lips printed clearly. It was not a smile that showed happiness, but rather a smile of sadness that he felt.

The woman he always respected, was with their favorite child. Giving a warm kiss like a mother when driving the child away to demand knowledge. As well as the hugs of encouragement given to Jay, he has never felt in a lifetime. It was so sad his life.

Look now, when Jay was given the latest sports bike by Dad to go to school, but on the other hand, Atlanta had to painstakingly pedal a bike to school that was not exactly close. He had to expend a piece of his energy to arrive at his destination without the help of any machinery.

"Here, quickly go. Later to be in a hurry," said Bi Mirna disperse the Atlanta daydream.

The man sighed, adjusting his racing heartbeat along with feeling jealous of Jay. Can Atlanta be envious of her half-sister? Because Atlanta, after all, also has blood from her father, she has every right to feel the warmth that Jay always gets.