Aksara Taste (For Flavors That Will Not Be Perfect)
Chapter Eleven
Arriving at the editor room, I immediately relaxed the body on the back of the chair. Running from the rain was overwhelming me. My breath was made dull. My hair is wet and disheveled.
I complained. Rain like this, I sweat. To be honest, the last few days my body was not very fit. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold, sometimes shivering, sometimes cheerful. And in such moments my heart wavers to return to Yogya. Missing mother's cooking and also father's embrace.
Especially since Rayhan's departure two weeks ago, the script on the editorial table has been piling up. Forcing me overtime and culminating in my irregular night's sleep.
My routine opens with the continuation of Ardyathama Harianja's life.
“*Cause of longing is a timid prick. The pain will never pass before the word meets. Missing is always like that, shackling. For if he were to be free, his adventure would be worth nothing. Because longing is a spark of infinite distance, then longing never knows the word appropriate. Missing is present because of the time that keeps flowing. Missing is the silent rhyme of a poet. Longing will not end before they have the power to fight against destiny.”
“I hope my ears die of function right then and there. There is only one word that my ears can catch from the news of Salma, the world. Knowing what happened made me stay alone. Realizing that I've lost something I've never had. Claiming the heart that had chosen to hide. Condemn the doubt that has haunted me all this time. And now I'm going through a vengeance. For feelings I haven't had time to convey*.”
Selma Sayzaira died at a very young age. He closed his eyes after undergoing his twenty-twoth therapy. Her auditory nerve malfunctioned before she hallucinated by saying she had already arrived at the place where she had to stop. The woman moved both of her balls here and there. Looking for something he would never meet in this world. His gaze slowly dimly. The bright lights turned dim. His eyelids are not rubbing. His weak breath was stuck in his throat. Her mouth murmured softly saying, “Dad, Selma home.”
I almost cried so much that Ardy had to lose Selma forever.
Regular meetings before and after therapy, sprouting the seeds of love between the two of them. Selma wasn't as pretty when Ardy first saw her. The woman is getting thinner. Sometimes when the therapy call arrives, Selma has to walk intermittently. The pace is getting weaker, the more the day is getting shaky. But, it makes Ardy fall in love with her. The young man always had his own way of approaching Selma without having to speak. He often presents a variety of coffee with flavor variants. Gave Selma some translated fiction books. Offers reading from health newspapers and magazines. Sometimes Ardy also slipped a message. A touch of feeling.
Chapter five finally closes Ardy's life. After Selma's departure, she became completely deaf. Ardy knows, no one can make his longing end. Even fate. So, there is no other way to get in contact even though millions of times the brain rotates. All he had to do was submit to accepting reality without forgiveness. Because destiny is not defeated even if it can be fought.
Despite raising a simple theme, Cinnamon has a different writing style. He's putting the situation with the right narrative. He also described all the atmosphere that Ardy experienced without any obstacles. The grooves he made were not messy. The story is also memorable. Each sheet is always curious and addictive.
After careful consideration, finally I am sure to decide. Even though Cinnamon has not had a name on the market – there is no book with the author's name like that before, as far as I'm concerned– at least he will have a place in the hearts of readers.
The digit of the number on the manuscript's bio-data led me to contact him. We need a little bit of discussion and there are also some parts he has to add.
Call connected. I waited for an answer while looking at the specks of rain. Counting the rolling drops. Observing its evaporating dew on the window glass. Waiting for Cinnamon to say hello.
It nearly disconnected the call before my right ear finally caught the sound wave. Vaguely audible, “Hallo?”
Cinnamon was a man. His voice was heavy, but it sounded warm.
“Hallo, good afternoon. I am Alya Azkia, editor of -“
Tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut
I took a deep breath when I realized my call had been decided. However, my intention was to call him back. So, I chose a short message as the medium.
A few seconds after my message was sent, my phone vibrated again. My eyes blinked as soon as I found Mas Zifran's name on the call screen.
Why did he call me while we were both in the office?
I just brought the phone to my right ear. Haven't had time to say a word, Mas Zifran first stormed in a hurry.
“Samperin me in the editor's lobby. Now either. No old use.”
*****
Thunder rumbles boisterously. His voice rolled out, breaking the silence of the earthlings. A flash of light spread across the sky. Presents a charming and frightening natural show. The gray clouds agreed to combine closely, not wanting to be friendly. Strong winds swept the streets. Wiping the waterhole and leaving the victim of the accident. Leaving the commotion packed the scenery across the street.
My steps froze when I saw Mas Zifran folding his hands on his chest. While in front of him was Rayhan who was silent without a sound. Although I hesitated a little, I kept walking towards them. Intended to ask what happened until I was called here.
However, I haven't spoken yet, Mas Zifran first opened his voice. “I know, Al. You won't tell me about Rayhan even if I ask or I force.”
It took a little longer to answer what Mas Zifran was accusing of.
“Starting today, you two don't have to go into the editor room. Never step foot in there before Rayhan clearin all the same me.” ketus Mas Zifran flat. His voice was more frightening than thunder. The executioner then passed, leaving me and Rayhan looking at each other.
“I don't know what to say.” I said with great difficulty.
Rayhan raised his face. “I attended her funeral, Al.”
I try to understand situations like this. Rayhan did have a reasonable reason to do so. Who wants to be left a true friend?
“I'm sorry, Ray.” I said sorry.
Although I can't imagine how much Rayhan lost to his best friend, but I know he's still very sad. The ball explained that to me. His eyes are still mourning. Almost like a cloud.
“Sorry yes, Al. You get sprayed because of me.” said Rayhan chuckled softly.
I laughed lightly. “You have a big debt with me, Ray.”
“Yes, yes, I know. Don't worry, tomorrow we're also in the editor room. After this I will clear everything. Just give him something from Germany. Let cepet forgiven.” reply Rayhan smiled widely.
