In The Spirit Of

“…For all the things I have done that I shouldn’t have, and for all the things I didn’t do that I should have…”

Mohon maaf lahir batin. Minal aidin wal faizin. Selamat Hari Raya Idul Fitri 1427H

Untuk pertama kalinya, semenjak gw kelas 5 SD, gw lebaran di Jakarta. Biasanya kalo ngga panas-panasan di Surabaya, gw udah sibuk keliling rumah sodara-sodara yang lebih tua di Bandung, trus sore-sore gantian Oma yang open house buat siapa aja yang mau mampir.

Tapi semenjak beloved Akung meninggal bulan Juli kemarin, tahun ini semangat untuk ke Surabaya udah ngga sebesar tahun-tahun sebelumnya. Mana ortu musti sowan ke rumah bos yang ngancem bakal ngabsen staff-nya satu-satu kalo ngga pada dateng ke acara silaturahmi-nya (serem amat…), jadi selesai sholat Ied tadi mum and dad udah sibuk keliling buat setor muka. Mungkin baru sore ini kita berangkat ke Bandung. And I’m missing sis so much, karena ini lebaran pertama kita jauh-jauhan.

Tadi pagi, in the spirit of lebaran, gw bangun pagi rada santai, karena kebiasaan sholat Ied di Bandung jam 7. Jadi waktu nyokap ngajakin ke masjid deket rusun jam 6 lewat, gw kaget juga. Mana belum mandi pula.

Sampe di masjid, ternyata yang dateng udah banyak sampe kita ngga dapet tempat. Ada satu shaf di bagian depan yang kosong, setelah didatengin dengan semangat, ada tulisan ”khusus untuk panitia”. Gw akhirnya harus nyempil-nyempil di shaf lain yang udah penuh banget. Lima menit sebelum sholat mulai, ternyata shaf ”khusus panitia” tadi ditempatin sama serombongan ibu-ibu yang pagi itu datang dengan sasakan rambut tinggi dan baju lebaran kinclong. Duile, kenapa sih ngga bisa pada dateng rada pagi just like the rest of us, rakyat jelata. Musti disediain shaf paling depan, trus datengnya sombong lagi, mepet-mepet waktu sholat. Bikin orang lain yang dateng duluan tapi keburu gak dapet tempat terpaksa sholat diluar, pake alas koran.

Belum juga sholat semenit, gw denger anak perempuan nangis. Pertama dia nangisnya pelan, manggil-manggil ibunya. Minta gendong. Lama-lama nangis makin kenceng, pake teriak sekuat tenaga, sampe gw gak konsen dengerin imamnya. Selama dua raka’at sholat gw cuma bisa pasrah dengerin tu anak nangis, dari terisak-isak, teriak-teriak, ampe batuk-batuk karena kecapekan nangis dan ngga lama kemudian teriak-teriak lagi ampe ngalah-ngalahin suara imam.

Gw rada merasa bersalah setelah salam kanan kiri, masa gara-gara anak kecil nangis aja gw ampe gak khusyu’ sholat. Rasa bersalah gw ngga bertahan lama, karena beberapa detik kemudian gw denger hampir semua ibu-ibu disitu (kecuali barisan ibu-ibu dengan sasakan tinggi, yang begitu sholat selesai langsung sibuk lepas mukena dan nyisir rambut mereka sedemikian rupa biar sasakan mereka ngga kempes) bisik-bisik cari sumber anak yang nangis tadi sambil ngeluarin komentar-komentar:

“Bego banget sih ibunya”
“Batalin aja kenapa sih sholatnya, namanya juga cuma sholat sunnah. Daripada ganggu yang lain”
“Ibunya ngga punya otak banget sih”
”Duh, gw jadi kagak konsen dah sholatnya”
”Buset, tadi disini dingin tiba-tiba jadi gerah...”
”Dulu anaknya si Ibu A juga pernah nangis, tapi Ibunya langsung batal sholat trus diajak keluar. Nah, harusnya yang inih juga gitu..”
”Mak...itu siapa sih yang bawa anak?”
”Anaknya Jejeng..” (ada suara yang jawab dari belakang gw)
”Jejeng? Jejeng sape? Suruh pulang aja deh Mak...”

Setelah imam selesai kasih khotbah yang menggebu-gebu, pake urat, dan (tampaknya) udah dia apalin semaleman, kita semua udah pada beresin mukena siap-siap mau pulang, tetep aja ada yang komentar, ”Mana sih ibunya anak tadi? Mau gua samperin beneran dah, biar gua kasih tau..”

Selamat lebaran ya semua...

Not Because

It’s not because I am a die hard fan of Jack Nicholson, Matt Damon or Leonardo DiCaprio, but somehow I watched this movie three times already. All within the course of one week. The first time with the guyfriends, second time with him, because I’m trying hard for us to be friends again, and I was looking, waiting for any sign from him of that possibility. When he asked me to go to see the movie, I jumped at it. Didn’t have the heart to tell him I already saw it, for fear of him feeling rejected and never asking me to go anywhere or do anything together anymore. I think we’re on good terms now. Slowly trusting each other to start this friend thing from the beginning. The third time I watched it again last night, probably cause I was bored, karena ngga ada lagi undangan buka puasa dari vendor yang penuh dengan aneka macam doorprize yang bisa didatengin mendekati libur lebaran gini, hehehe. It was either watching that, or some other teen flick like this one, or this one...both of which didn't spark my interest whatsoever. Jack Nicholson still does it for me, doesn't matter if he's nearing 70 years old. Heh.

Lalu lintas hari ini sepiiiiii….last day of work before long holiday is always a pleasure. Biasanya hari terakhir gini santai, tapi gw masih sedikit sibuk, but everyone seems to be in a good mood, especially Mr. Boss, so I don’t mind. Except for a case of cold I’m having that’s making me breathe through my mouth coz my nose is all clogged up with bright yellow mucus and sticky booger, I’m feelin’ quite alrite…

Happy holiday everyone…

All is Fair

Hari ini gw dibikin nangis (ngga nangis sih, hanya mengerjapkan mata dengan cepat mencegah air mata jatuh biar puasa ngga batal) oleh seseorang. Ngga lama kemudian orang itu kehilangan foto-foto survey-nya yang udah dia kerjain selama seminggu di daerah-daerah terpencil dalam pelosok hutan dan diperluin untuk bikin report ke bos-nya. Foto-foto itu ke-format tanpa sengaja dan ngga bisa balig lagi. Hasil kerjanya selama seminggu hilang, gitu aja. Siapa yang bilang Tuhan ngga adil?

Yeah Okay...

I know, alrite! Heartbreaks suck. They hurt like hell. It makes you want to puke and cry and die, then puke some more every single day until it doesn’t hurt as much. Tell me about it. My heart’s been ripped off my chest, thrown against a brick wall, shattered to a million pieces, and though I felt like I could never go on, somehow I managed. Put heart back to place with superglue of guts. But it doesn’t mean that I have to mend what’s left of your heart when it was never my responsibility to hold it in the first place.

And what is up with telling everyone within an earshot how you’ve been feeling about me? I’ve got random people coming up to me and saying stuff like:

“Nil, dia titip salam kangen…”
“Nil, katanya dia udah mentog ama elu. Kagak bisa kelain hati..”
“Nil, lo tenang aja disini. Dia mu cari duit dulu yang banyak trus langsung lamar elo..”
“Nil, dia lagi nyiapin apartemen yang ada beach view-nya”
“Nil, abis lebaran dia pulang! Lo mau dibeliin apaan? Tinggal bilang..”
“Nil, dia bilang elu makin manis aje..”

Geez.

And while you are now a million miles away, working in another country, you still have the nerve to tell me:

“ Non, sampean jangan pacaran dulu ya, tunggu saya pulang, mungkin 3 bulan lagi, coz aku ngga tahan disini, takutnya sampean digaet orang lain..”

Who told you to move away in the first place? I certainly don’t recall ever encouraging you.

Wait for you? How about taking a little bit of a flashback and ask yourself this: where have you been buddy? All these years, when you had the chance, you never took one. We’ve known each other since 2004, I’ve been on the same floor with you for over a year, somehow you never actually try to get to know me.

Instead, you told everyone else who would listen how you think I'm the one for you, but you never bothered telling ME.

Now you say your heart’s broken and once again I am to blame. You tell other people here how I never pick up your call or how I never reply your sms and email, and suddenly I’m the bad guy.

Yeah well, because everytime you call there’s dead air everywhere. You still can’t talk to me. Not then, not now. A conversation with you goes something like this:

“Halo Non, gimana disana? Ok-ok aja kan?”
“Ok-ok aja Mas..”
“Gimana kantor? Ok-ok aja kan?"
“Ok-ok aja Mas..”

Dead. Air.

I never replied your email because you always cc. our emails to at least two other friends of yours. Writing stuff about how you always pray for us to be together, or how you’re now applying to a French owned company and how you would like to take me there one day. Those emails are supposed to be private, dontcha think? Why let other people read it?

I don’t reply your sms because I don’t know the polite reply to “Non, aku kangen nih sama sampean..” when I don’t feel the same way. Or the right way to reply, “Non, kalo aku pulang mau dibeliin baju merek apa? Disini semua ada lho..” when you know I was never impressed by whatever things your money can buy.

And now, I’ve still got random people come up to me and saying:

“Nil, dia patah hati tuh…”
“Nil, gw tau dia bukan tipe elu. Tapi elu harusnya kasih dia semangat dong, biar dia betah disana”

"Nil, dia pengen pulang terus tuh. Keinget lu mulu katanya..."

It seems like we are having a relationship that’s open for public viewing and interest, while in fact we have no relationship at all. People are so concerned about how I'm treating you, how you're feeling, never once asking how I might feel about this whole thing that you build up.

So now let me say how I feel: Us? I don't think it'll happen. Never pressured you to move away to make thousands of dollars I never want in the first place. But you moved. And I don’t think it’s fair telling me to wait for you when you had your two years to get to know me. But you never did. And all this time you think you know who I am? You have no idea. There’s so much more to me than that. And fuckit, money ain’t one of them. If you took the time to get to know me you would know that.

Heartbreaks are never easy. Yet most of us deal with it anyway. If you decide to expose to everyone how hurt you are, go ahead. Let me be the ugly bitch. Let me be the one everyone hates for being mean to you. But suck it up like a grown man and go on with your life.

Hooked

I braved myself to look at his pictures, didn’t really know what for, just felt like it. Surely after some months of him being gone, today, finally he would not mean anything to me but some old memory, some distant recollection that a long, long time ago we acknowledged each other’s existence, felt something, but never had the guts to do anything about it.

Memories of him are just dreams, endless thoughts, some tears, and lots of frustration. One big question never answered.

Imagine my surprise when the first picture of him popped on my screen from a company gathering three years ago, no less, old feelings came rushing back. The old familiar twitch, the same admiration, the same tingling in my hands, in my stomach, the same hope, the same “Oh my God!”, the same longing, the familiar ping of happiness mixed with sadness, the same “what-ifs”.

My hand quickly closed over my mouse and I right-clicked on every picture with him on it: Save picture as. For future reference. What future reference? Those short emails that I’ve saved from two years back, those even shorter SMS that filled my phone inbox but never got around throwing away? Those unfinished stories that I wrote and sometime wonder what the end would be like? What for?

It. Sucks.

I hope I never see you again in my life.

I'm so over this. Please get out of my mind. Get out from every cell in my body that still wants you. Get out from every unconscious thought that convince me that I’m missing you. Forget the fact that every time someone mentions your name, to this day, my heart still does a little double flip. Just. Get. Out.

You are the drug that got me hooked.

On Watch

5 o’clock in the afternoon, I watched him give out orders for food to go. “Please wrap them individually in separate plastic bags”. He was worried when we couldn’t find Teh Kotak, and voiced his concern that people would have to break their fasting drinking only with mineral water, as he counted straws and placed them in the bags.

Still, I watched him drove around looking for random people in need, searching for tired faces that still needed to work that lazy afternoon, cleaning streets, hauling wooden carts carrying their life’s belongings, sometimes rummaging through other people’s garbage, hoping to find something valuable.

I watched as he pulled over, and called on to people on the other side of the street, their weary faces suddenly turned delighted as he handed them food, realizing that at least for that night, they wouldn’t have to worry about dinner.

Closing near to fasting break time, he still managed to say, “Ashar dulu, Nil…”. We stopped at a nearby mosque. His overall physique looked like he didn’t belong there. People stared. But he walked on, not caring. He belonged. I watched him pray.

We were late. In his haste to distribute food, he hadn’t counted on looking for a place to eat for himself. We settled on a small but crowded place near Cikini and couldn’t find anywhere to sit. A man saw us standing with food and no seat, he asked, “Belum dapet tempat Mas? Di sini aja…” he said. The man stood, gathered his food, told his wife to bring the drinks already served on the table. Kindness of strangers…(the man was in fact the owner of the place. He moved to the back of his pickup along with his wife and several of his staff just to give us a place to sit and eat. Makasih, Pak…)

So I watched him eat. Nasi pake cumi sama paru. Tahu goreng. Sayur asem. Teh manis hangat. Beads of sweat forming on his forehead, but he was unaware of them.

In the midst of dusk settling into night, I watched.