Residual Flavour
Story from Debora

The god took Deborah's phone lying on the floor. Then give the object to the owner who looks still very hit. Big question marks crossed the mind of God. Four years together with Deborah, almost the whole family and friends of her former lover, well known by God. And Deva, not one of them.

"What's the connection between you and Deva, Deb? Why do you feel guilty about him?" The god again asked with growing curiosity.

Deborah walked towards the sofa at the end of the hotel lobby. The god also followed the slow steps of his former lover. Very strange, the behavior of a God like this, really out of the ordinary. He who has been fortifying himself not to get involved far in women's affairs, now even deliberately involving himself with things related to Deva. A new figure is known, but able to make it a little disturbed.

Single sofa became the choice of Debora to sit herself. For a moment he glanced at the wall clock that was not far from his reach. There was still fifteen minutes, before continuing the meeting with his client. But Deborah was still a little worried. Should you tell the gods everything? Or keep the meetings as before.

"I'm waiting for your answer, Deb. I'm not leaving until you give me clarity. Deva was devastated. I think he needs a psychiatrist, too. If you do feel guilty, do the real thing to help Deva" said God.

Deborah lowered her face, then took a heavy breath. The premonition he had felt since their meeting at the airport seemed to be true. The gods put their hearts on Deva. However, that feeling is trying to be brushed aside. I don't know because of what.

"Papa has cheated Mr. Amar. The cunning policy made by papa, must be accounted for by Mr. Amar. Scratches the signature under pressure. To take Mr. Amar to a narrow, cold, and stuffy room of prisoners. All manipulated in such a way, so that Mr. Amar does not have time to read the files carefully." Deborah closed her eyes, glaring clearly in her ears. How he and his mother became silent witnesses of the depravity of his own papa's behavior.

"The real policy is simply an attempt to legalize spending money without having to go through a layered procedure. Mr. Amar was sacrificed intentionally. Appointed to replace papa as the main director, and immediately made as if breaking the rules by issuing stealth policies. The amount of loss is not small, enough to make papa open a new factory in Kalimantan," continued Debora. He stopped his explanation again. Seeing the reaction of the serious-looking God heard word for word spoken by Deborah.

"Pak Amar who did not feel the money, even had to spend years in prison. To make a child live struggling alone to meet the cost of living, college, and also drugs because of the pain suffered by his father. Sentence of seven years in prison, and a sum of money that must be returned to the state. It would shock anyone. Mr. Amar's wife suffered a stroke, and eventually died two days after the verdict was handed down. The house and all their valuable assets are sold." Deborah took a deep breath.

"Deva is the son of Mr. Amar. Really so?" The gods convinced themselves of the conclusion he could draw from Deborah's story.

The woman nodded weakly. "Deva has just sold the car and all of his belongings, for the additional cost of Mr. Amar's kidney removal surgery. Again, his efforts were broken by fate. Costs that have been worked on, unable to cure Mr. Amar. May Deva remain strong. Although I'm sure it'll be hard. He's living a long day now." Deborah paused for a moment, just wanting to catch her breath so that her chest would not feel tight.

"What I just found out, he just broke up with a lover who has long accompanied the journey of his life. Poor deva. If I could, I would exchange her sadness for my happiness. But baby, the happiness I feel is just a pseudo happiness." Debora looked far away. Not focusing on one point.

The god shook his head, the tip of his lips drew a line of sliced smiles. "An innocent person, died in convict status. Do you guys!"

Deborah lowered her face again. The words of the God just now reminded me of how evil and cruel the papa was. Frowning out the wholeness and peace of a family, and donating tremendous grief to a child who doesn't even know anything. All the burdens are now placed on the shoulders of a Deva.

Deborah's speech was like a bitter pill swallowed whole without the urge of a glass of water. Realize how evil God has been all along. Accusations and bad thoughts on Deva, often escapes without control from her lips.

On the other hand, Deva, Dave and Dira, were already in the departure lounge. Waiting until the voice of the officer called passengers on the Bali-Jakarta route to board the Boeing 737-300NG aircraft.

Deva kept quiet. His hands were cupped together like people praying. This time, Deva's silence was a little different. A series of prayer words and a short surah, he recited in his heart. Not just diverting daydreams, but also as self-reinforcing and non-brim solace.

"Drink, Dev." Dira thrusts a small bottle of mineral water at Deva.

"I'm not thirsty" Deva refused, pushing the bottle in a slow motion.

Dave rubbed Deva's back. Things he used to do every time Deva was sad. Without any words spoken, as if what is done is enough to channel strength as well as calmness.

"Dir, upon arrival in Jakarta you go home first. Let me keep Deva company until it's over. If you don't mind, you'll be able to accompany Deva at her house. I don't really mind if I have to be there by myself. But it would not feel good if we were just the two of us" Dave asked in a half-whispering voice.

Dira breathed heavily. So much Dave cares about Deva. Until the man, it is not unbearable to involve him.

Deva suddenly stood up, walking up to a bench close to a glass wall that exposed the outside of the airport lounge. Dave and Dira deliberately do not follow the woman.

Deva's hand deftly cleaned the glass affected by the scratch of the ignorant hand that wrote an initial there. Things he did when he was a kid. Blow air into the glass to create dew, then danced fingers there to make a writing. Just once, and he got a reprimand from the papa. Since then, Deva has never done it again. Even whenever there was glass showing such a trail, Deva hurriedly cleaned up.

"Pa, have you met your mother in heaven? You are close to God, right? Please ask him when it is Deva's turn to catch up with you. Deva was tired," said Deva, while continuing to wipe the glass with the tissue in her hand.

"Death is not to be asked, son. If you could, I asked for it years ago. You were at a point tired of living your life. Nothing made you excited. Parents are not there, wives and children do not have. Totally alone. But death cannot be bargained for and picked up. Believe me, you have attempted suicide many times, in fact, you are still breathing until now. Death is fully the authority of Gusti Allah. Don't think about when you die, just think about how the rest of your time in this world doesn't go to waste."

Deva turned to look at the figure of the old man who was suddenly beside her. Giving advice as if the man had known him for a long time. He just smiled thinly. The old man replied with the same smile. Both then fell silent. No words were spoken. Deva again dissolved in the chanting of prayer from the heart which he made a humming without sound.

Dira continued to watch Deva closely. Every movement, and the body language of his rival, nothing escapes his sight.

"Dave, what made you fall in love with Deva?" tanyakanya.