Love That Starts With Hate
The Broken Guitar Strap

I woke up from a restless sleep –even that can not be called sleep, after days spent until he opened his eyes. Harrish was in a coma for almost a month. A white bandage wrapped around his injured head. The doctor said his skull was fractured and had to be surgically removed. But even after the operation, he still did not wake up from his sleep.

As I know all along, bleeding in the brain can be fatal. Loss of vision, becoming emotional or imbecile, and also. The worst of all is memory loss. Sadly, that's what happened to him. Permanent loss of memory.

Even 40 days, Harrish ‘mati suri’. With an uphill struggle, he finally opened his eyes suddenly and the name he called instantly was ‘Papa..’. I understand why he called his dead father. It's possible that they met in Harrish's subconscious while he was still in a coma. During his life, there were many unforgettable memories in Harrish's mind perhaps to this day.

“Harrish...”, Widya's mother, my in-laws, immediately clasped her hand, “You're conscious, Nak?”

“Ma...I why...?”, ask him, look at his mother and his voice sounds still in pain, “Why...my body can not move?”

“You are sick, son...”, Widya's mother said as she stroked her hair, calming the frightened-looking Harrish.

Yeah, it was the first time I saw Harrish like a child who was scared of something. I stood behind her mother, to look closely, to greet her and if I could I wanted to hug her right away.

“Mas Harrish...”, that's all I can say when there are so many feelings in my happy heart, too happy before I realize there's something strange about it.

Harrish looked at me stranger. He looked at me –not as he should where he mentioned my name.

“Ma... Who is this woman?”, he asked in wonder at his mother who immediately looked back, at me.

His mother was also astonished. Then he looked back at his son. “You don't remember?”, ask him.

Slowly, Harrish moved his head which was still wrapped in white bandages. He nodded, while looking at me.

Widya's mother turned to me with a warning look. If he's always been looking for a way to get rid of me, he's got it. He forbade me from saying anything stuck on the tip of my tongue because of that look!

I'm stunned.

“Mas Harrish, I am your wife..”, I said finally, even with a chaotic expression.

Harrish looked shocked! “Wife?”, he glanced at his seemingly unanswered mother, “When Harrish got married, Ma?”

“You do not think much first huh?”, said the mother finally. Seemed unwilling to answer it, more so there was me. Once again he turned to me, “Please call doctor”, he asked a nurse who was standing not far from us.

Without saying anything, I left. I won't be able to insist. Why does he have to lose his memory? Why should he accept all this? And why...this has to happen to me?

***

Widya's mother sighed, looking at me pity and a little guilt on her face that was no longer fitted with makeup. I understand anyone currently close to him would not even be able to sleep well and eat well. Like that too her mother –more.

“Listen, Sabina, I do not hate you even though I do not approve of your marriage with my son”, he said, it looks hard to say but still feels painful for me. “But, you heard yourself what the doctor said right?”

I'm silent.

I don't get it.

At all.

Is this how I'm punished?

“Therefore let Harrish go home to his house..”, says he, “He must go home, Sabina.”.

Oh yeah? Now it's all my fault. It was as if I was the one who wouldn't let him go home. In fact, long before I met you, Harrish never wanted to go home. Why Widya's mother seems to also forget the memory that Harrish's departure because she –because it was mostly her fault. And I never knew that.

“You love him right?”, Widya's mother asked suddenly.

I'm nodding.

“Then so do something”, he said something he meant doesn't mean much to me. It was just a coercion.

“I can't, Mom...”, I said, “I'm his wife, I'll take care of Harrish even though he doesn't believe that he's married to me. And I'm not going to force Harrish to remember. I just want to be with her, because that's what a wife and her husband should do. Just like Mom with Papa Harrish, right?”

Widya's mother fell silent. After that, he never again forced me to give up.

***

Harrish looked at her surroundings as foreign. It was like getting lost somewhere he didn't recognize at all. In fact, he was in the middle of our house.

I just put the suitcase in the middle of the room, then walked up to him. “Let's Mas Harrish also used to kok..”, I said, while writhing his arm intending to take him around. He definitely could not remember where his own bedroom, kitchen or office was. But, he clasped my hand.

“I want to rest”, he said to me, flat and both his eyes seemed to refuse to look at my face.

I cleared my throat, cleared my throat that felt clogged something, “I'll drop ya..”, I said. Just to get rid of my worst feelings every time I pay attention to his attitude.

“No, no need, just say where the place”, reply, still as cold as snow.

I nodded, put a steadfast smile on my trembling lips, “Easy really, just go up the stairs keep turning to the left, his room is on the right door number two”

He's nodding. I still can't believe that this house is my own. Then he grabbed his bag, and walked alone, climbed the stairs and followed my directions. Then me?

For the last time, I went to a quiet place to cry. Holding my breath by opening my own mouth. I shed all the tears and collected them again to cry the next day.

When we got home, we never talked about the past again. He didn't seem to like it, because he thought I was forcing him to remember. I just want to feel better, but it seems selfish too. Because the truth is he will never be able to remember. The doctor said the only thing I had to do was to accompany her, giving her enough attention to re-grow her love. For indeed, the seedling was still there, only it was buried deeply in his heart.

Like a seed that is buried in the ground, if it continues to be watered and fertilized it will grow until it penetrates the ground. Such was Harrish's love at last. Since we married for love –do I get it wrong?