Substitute Woman
Surprising Guest

Mey Larasati, that's my name. My mother gave me that name. There's a story behind my last name, Larasati. The difference between the name of Papa and Mama. Laras and Sakti. A love story that really makes people overwhelmed and envious. True love that always accompanies the end of life.

My mom died when I was just one year old. The car accident that hit Mama at that time has taken his life. Papa was devastated, and I had never seen his face at all, because it was so small.

Just the photos I always looked at. Every night I tell him about all the events I've been through. Although this body can not hug him, but I always feel calm after expressing all my heart in the photo of Mama. I'm sure he saw me there.

“Ma, your son is grown now, he is beautiful like you.”So said Papa every come to Mama's grave.

A single drop of it always soaked his face. A deep love, making Papa still faithful until now. I know Papa is lonely, but he doesn't want to get married again because he doesn't want to hurt Mama despite being in a different world.

One day I want to find a guy like Papa. Mama and Papa have been in love since Junior High. Many things that they have been through so they can be together in one roof.

Their love story if told will be a novel with a thick page. If only my little friend hadn't moved out of town, I might have been with him by now.

Only memories can I remember when that miss came. Seeing her picture and hugging a doll from her.

“He will not return, you are too stupid to believe in the promise of being a child,” said my best friend when he saw me hugging the photo of the man.

“Mey, you should have accepted Dion's love. What's less is he?”

Novi, my classmate and best friend. He was always talking about love. Sometimes like a mother to me because of her disappointment. I like that it's a sign that he loves me so much.

“If he's married, will you still wait for him?”

“Now, just the meeting I want. Then ask why he didn't give me the news.”

“Please promise me, take me when you meet him, then make a decision after that.”

“Iya, bauble.”

Conversation before I return to Indonesia. We were supposed to go home together, but Novi was having some important business with his brother.

At the airport we parted ways and one day we will meet again.

“One week I'm home. Promise me to always give me news,” Novi said.

“Iya, bauble.”

“If you've reached home, let me know, okay?”

“Iya, yes. Really onion.”

Novi rolled both his eyes. He is always upset if I only answer yes or no when he gives a message or advice.

“I'm back first, don't forget my message. Fine in the city of birth,” Novi said before leaving me at the airport.

We hugged and cipika cipiki. Then the curly haired girl's back disappeared from the front. I'm alone now, waiting for the plane to depart.

.

Soekarno Hatta Airport.

After a few hours I returned to Indonesia. Can't wait to see Papa who said he'd pick up. Despite visiting me often in Canada, I still miss his presence.

Finished picking up the suitcase, I rushed out of the airport in a hasty step. Want to meet Papa soon of course.

However, the spirit faded when the figure I was waiting for gave the news that I could not pick up. He told someone to take me home.

I don't know who picked me up, how she looked and looked. Man or woman, Papa didn't tell him.

The driver? It seems not, because at home there is only one driver and is driving Papa meeting.

Then who? How do I meet him, if Papa's number can't be dialed. Be busy and leave a message, the operator said.

I snorted in annoyance, circulating my gaze like a child has lost his parents. At least he took a paper and wrote my name to make it easy to find, or asked Papa for my number. Stupidly again I didn't ask who and asked Papa for his phone number.

So whose fault is this?

Maybe it's better to call a cab than to wait for someone who doesn't have a clue. However, there was someone who patted me on the shoulder until my steps stopped.

I looked up and was half surprised. Look who is in front of you at the moment. A handsome man with a black leather jacket and sunglasses perched on his nose.

His skin was white and he was about 178cm tall, as I had to look up to look at him. My eyes glared as the man opened his glasses. A charming smile can take my world.

“You Mey, right?” ask the handsome guy who looks more like a Korean oppa-oppa.

“Yes, my name is Mey. But sorry who are you?” many confused. Maybe my face looks embarrassing right now.

On the other hand I was admiring his good looks, but on the other hand I remembered the man in my childhood.

The man smiled again, then extended his hand. Uh, let's meet up like him.

“Let's go home, I told Mr. Ardi to pick you up.”

Apparently not an acquaintance, but went home. Well, how come home? I still want to be with him. This is so much better than the Dion—lelaki who never tired—chasing my love.

Oh, yes I forgot. Ardi is my Papa's name. Ardi Sakti Pradana's. Sakti is the favorite nickname of my mother or grandmother as well as Mama.

“Eh, wait, who are you?”

I let go of her hand that was holding mine. Like a child who has to be held when crossing. Sebel actually, because instead of helping me carry a suitcase, she pulled my hand.

The man sighed. Then put on his glasses again. Without answering any questions, he chose to carry the suitcase and glanced at me. He gestured for me to follow in his footsteps.

It reminds me of my lost little friend. Is that guy really him? But where is possible. Compared to childhood, it is much different. There is no resemblance at all.

This step stopped right in front of the Lamborghini car. Besides being handsome, it turns out that Tajir too. Might as well.

“You who the hell is it?” ask again when the man finished putting my suitcase in the trunk.

“Let's go later. Now I have to hurry to drive you,” he replied, which immediately forced me to get into his car.

Good looking, but unfortunately bummer. Maybe he's Papa's new driver, but from his appearance he's not a driver. If Temen SMP is not possible, because no one knows about my return. I don't even have a temen as cool as him. High School is also not possible, because my school used to be far there.

Then who is he?

Of course the strange man who every asked his identity always answered, “You are not tired of my coins?”

Next ...

Guess who it is.

Let's give me some criticism and advice.