Aksara Taste (For Flavors That Will Not Be Perfect)
CHAPTER Ten
Who is the poet you like the most?
If I do not have activities, I prank open the literary books of Mas Rudi collection. Just wondering why he had such a reading hobby. Once I saw the contents, I could only scratch my head. Other than the weight to say, not all words can be understood. There was even one paragraph I didn't understand at all.
For me, the one whose name is poet certainly has millions of words at the high-class level. Their writing is always classy. But, there was one message I always remembered from Mas Rudi. He said, every writing always has a meaning, all we need to do is absorb the hidden meaning.
Similar to the writing in the room Mas Panji. By utilizing the art of typography, the writings are neatly engraved. Deliberately created by an interior designer for PBSI athletes when they enter the physiotherapy room.
“*The injury is part of the story. At least with injuries you will know that weakness is a part of you that will always be there.”
“The place of therapy is indeed the worst. But, your dreams should not rot.”
“Remember, when you stand, you stand not in your own name. But, you are standing on behalf of the country you love*.”
I was wondering if Arfian ever entered the physiotherapy room? Is his right knee all right? I know, when injuries all athletes dream of being on the brink. Just wait for a decision, between recovering or failing to struggle.
It won't be lost from my memory of how Arfian faced his difficult times. The selection of the final stage of the PB Djarum Kudus scholarship almost made his dreams extinct. An injured right knee should force him to retreat. He collapsed and whimpered softly on the field. Her legs limped while being held up for treatment. He screamed in pain as the physiotherapist straightened his hard-to-move right leg. There was nothing Arfian could do at that time, other than sobbing in the disappointment of his mother's arms.
Arfian failed despite forcing his opponent to play the game rubber. At that time many people said he lost with honor. But, for Arfian losing was not an option. There is only “Must win” or “Can't lose” in each match.
I am late to remember the past. However, the vibration of the mobile phone suddenly dawned on me.
“Al, we can coffee, bentar?”
*****
Lucky tonight the sky is just cloudy. Without light drizzle or rain. However, the excessive wind forced me to wear a thick jacket when I met Arfian. Makes my body a little wide and a little oversized.
Along the way, we were in silence. He focused on driving. I was busy keeping quiet. His gaze was fixed forward as I stared in various directions aimlessly.
Arfian stopped his car on the side of the road. He said he would order and then take me home. I nodded lightly, agreeing with what he said.
As soon as Arfian walked towards the coffee shop, I observed his figure from a distance. We were exactly like this two years ago.
*He skipped training because I asked to meet. Without any conversation, he left me in the car alone. Go to the coffee shop to buy my favorite Ristretto and his favorite Espresso Macchiato. In the period of waiting for Arfian to return, my brain was busy fighting with the heart. My mind cannot compose words. Even my mouth was silent without being able to make a sound. How can I end all this with him? How can I end a relationship with someone I've been fighting for all this time? My heart wants to stay, but my brain won't keep pace.
Upon Arfian's return from the coffee shop, he found me silent with a cry held back. He calmed me down, held me in his arms. Then I asked what happened, what I experienced. Unable to speak, I could only look at him. Many times his fingers swept away the tears that soaked my cheeks. The sobs beat my mouth that had been tightly shut. I looked at him fixedly. Along with the drizzle of rain, I touched his face. My finger drove away the haircut that was crumbling on his forehead. Stammered I apologized and said I could no longer hold on to him. A second after that she looked at me with teary eyes. His face explained the look did not accept. He asked me what I was talking about. We argued long. Mutually unpretentious. Explain and question each other.
I stared back at him. “I've never left you, Fian. You're the one running from me.”
“Alya, I did not run. I just ask you to understand.” said Arfian. It keeps my tears falling.
My sobs are getting worse. But, Arfian did not calm me down anymore, he no longer cared.
“I don't know, understand what else you want. All this time I've been trying to understand you, understand everything. But, what do I accept? Even after this you will run away from me for a long time, right?” I questioned his decision to exercise in different countries for two years.
After that there was silence in silence. Arfian didn't answer what I was asking. He speaks a thousand languages. He was at a loss for words.
“I think you need me like I need you.” the young man said softly.
I looked at him who was looking at me. I found the defense collapsing. Tears melt. But I can't do anything but let it go. Even my tears could not stop. While Arfian did nothing but silence me. Because we know we are nobody. * again*.
*****
Are you ashamed to say miss?
Arfian did take me home. But he asked us for a moment to hold on. I was waiting for him to say something. However, he just kept silent. I looked at him who was sipping Espresso Macchiato, along with that he stared back at me who was sipping Ristretto. Our views met, made us laugh for no particular reason. As if something was funny. As if this was a good time for me to say, “I miss you.”
In that instant I also cursed the shameless miss. A longing that made my face blush when Arfian wanted to talk but was seen stalling for time. Makes my heart beat erratically.
“I'll take you in, yes.”
I swallowed the powder. It turns out that's all Arfian told me.
“Al.” rebukes Arfian because I just stared at him silently. My brain whirled here and there, looking for a topic of conversation. Hope there's a lot we can talk about. Take advantage of this meeting while we have the chance.
“We can't make another coffee sometime, hm? Tomorrow morning I have training.” said Arfian while driving away the hair that was on my forehead. His fingers caressed my cheeks. It's a warm feeling that's too hard for me to resist.
Although I missed him terribly, and did not want our meeting to be so short, but I knew the Arfian training schedule was a decision of constant value. Can't be bothered. Anyway, I should appreciate it this time. At least he took the time to meet. With me.
I nodded, assuring. But my body is still frozen. Arfian made me shut up. The young man was busy tucking my hair between his fingers. Fixing the location that was a little messy. Ruffling lightly. Then murmured softly, “I'm ashamed to say I miss you. But, I'm sure, you also definitely know that.”
