Aksara Taste (For Flavors That Will Not Be Perfect)
CHAPTER Twenty
Life is always about challenges that turn into problems, if we don't know how to fight and how to stay afloat.
This may be beyond many people's expectations. Even I can hardly believe it myself. I almost thought this wasn't the real result. Sports media are racing to cover the news of Arfian's victory over his opponent Xie Chen Yue at this year's Dubai Open. Indonesia managed to take home one gold medal for Arfian madness in the final round.
“Although it failed to capture the first game, Arfian Andriawan managed to force Xi Chen Yue to continue the match until the third game. Had asked to withdraw by the medical team and the organizing committee, but Arfian persisted despite problems with his right knee. The Yogyakarta-born young man can prove that young players with flying hours that are not too big are able to conquer world legends who have a million experiences. As a result, Indonesia successfully placed one champion with a score of 21-23, 25-23, and 22-20 on the victory of Arfian Rahardian.”
My phone screen changed. The Arfian name is the only chain of letters I can read.
“Al.”
Just raising her call, not having time to say hello as usual, Arfian's voice first made me smile proudly. I know, there's a million meanings to a single word he said.
“You got a gift?” hot askau. A second later I heard laughter across the street.
“I didn't ask for anything.”
“But, I have to give you something.”
“You don't need to love me anything. Later I will also ask something from you if I want.”
I laughed briefly. Nothing has changed from Arfian. In the slightest. He's staying warm. And too sweet.
“To what, Al?” ask Arfian casually.
“Waitu Mas Rudi with Ma'am Aina go home.” I replied while relaxing on the back of the sofa.
“Kids are asleep?”
I smiled embarrassedly at Arfian's question. Does every couple who has children always ask that in late hours like this?
“Oh, yes, Fian. What are your knees? all right, right?” I deliberately asked about Arfian's right knee. Switching topics of conversation.
“Yes, glahu. Usual, a moment. It just needs therapy and rest. But, it's okay, really. Not too bad, too.”
I nodded small. “Other times don't be forced, Fian.”
“No, really, Al. I just survived. After trying it can. Yes, I continue. Kan, peril.”
“I want to say you're crazy. But you're great too. Could be ranked world number one. From China pula.” reply me with the intention of praising.
This time Arfian laughed. “I don't even know what to say.”
I scrunched my forehead. Trying to understand.
“There are many things I want to say to you. But I don't know what to say. I don't know how to say it. Start with what. ”
“K-why?”
“Yes, fear of it. Fear disappointed.”
I let us be quiet. Without any questions or answers. We just listen to stories without sound.
“Al.”
“Hm?”
It took me a lot of seconds to wait.“I miss us the old days.”
I'm mute. My tongue.
“I've tried to make all lupain. Lupain. Lupain. But, I can't. I don't know why.”
I bit my lips many times. Trying to find an answer to respond to what Arfian said.
“I think we've separated, everything will go like normal. Everything will be fine. But, I forgot, without you, I am nothing.”
I heard her voice tremble. “Everything I made you, never changed in the past. Everything remains. Stay the same.”
I disconnected the Arfian call. Refusing to listen to what he has to say. Avoiding what he will then continue. After that there was nothing I could do but dissolve in my own sobs. It cursed the heart that kept wanting Arfian back.
Aryasatya Harianja's.
The dry season still has to wait. Again. You have to wait patiently again. Although BMKG33 has written an official statement about the state of the weather today, it turns out that it is only a prediction. The evidence is that the rain is still falling. Strong winds can still pass. Freely blowing without purpose. Causing a commotion of pedestrians who had been wet, whipped by rain grains that suddenly came.
From inside the coffee shop, I could only watch. Hearing the monotonous sound of rain. My opponent had not yet opened his voice, still busy reading the script in front of him. The Taste Range Manuscript belongs to someone without a name. A script that can explain what happened between him and Satya.
“She's the same person.” murmured Rayhan slowly.
I stared at him without blinking, demanding an explanation.
“The author of this book is Ardy, my friend who died in Germany at that time.”
I can't believe it. What is in the script is true. All of Ardy's life stories are part of the real world, including a female figure named Selma. They are not fictional characters who just live in a series of writings.
Still need answers and explanations from Rayhan, I asked questions again. “L-then what does it have to do with Satya?”
Rayhan looked away. Then look at me inside. “Aryasatya Harianja.”
What kind of crazy answer did I just hear?
I think there are hundreds of millions of people by the name of Satya in the world. I did not expect that the figure of Satya in the Rasa Range story was the young man I had known all along. It takes a few seconds to realize that Ardy and Satya are one family. And they are really brothers.
After a long sigh, Rayhan began to open the puzzle. The young man shared a story about the relationship of the three of them. He explains the reason that made him quarrel the other day with Satya.
“I, Ardy and Satya have been together since they were still snot. The three of us agreed to the position. Every day playing together, mengejahilin people together, eat together, go together, all together. Until finally the Harianja family fell apart. Their father died, and their mother married an American. Since then, our relationship has been strained. I was busy, Ardy was busy in Germany, and Satya was busy alone. Even though Satya and I both lived in Yogya, we never met. I don't know because of what. Everything is different.”
I listened carefully. Although Rayhan's voice was almost drowned by the sound of rain, I could still catch every word he said.
“More time Ardy was convicted of acute Otosclerosis. Satya's falling apart. He lives carelessly. The worse thing is that I fell in love with the woman that Ardy liked. From there, Satya hated me. Satya asked me to disappear from the lives of her and Ardy. I can't, Al. Moreover, look at Ardy's condition that is getting worse and worse since the departure of Selma. Satya herself has no time for Ardy. Even until Ardy died, Satya was not there.”
I could only pat Rayhan on the right shoulder, giving him a little strength. Without a word I can say. But, I know what the young man felt. His heartache must have been so outrageous. Losing would have taken away the people he loved. To the point that her sobs are held back. To make him cover his face with the palm of his hand. Hiding his falling tears.
“Every one left behind will surely live in loss. Satya just never showed how much she suffered when she lost Ardy. Who the hell, Ray, likes to be left alone? No one wants to be lonely in this world.” I said reminded Rayhan.
“You guys misunderstood this with a cold head. I'm sure, you will certainly improve as long as you don't behave childishly. No need to take a hit-hit event.”
Rayhan raised his face. Looking at me, nodding in agreement.
“Nih, Cappucino. I treat this time.” sahutku smile widely.
Rayhan laughed lightly. “When I will definitely pay for your transaction. Oh, yeah, and then Arfian too. I'm the same Abas have not seen him for a long time.”
I looked at him in wonder. “No see you for a long time? You guys meet often?”
“Arfian never told you? Ever since you recovered from the pain of that time, I've met him here often. He said he wanted to copy you. You know you're not done yet. Yeah, he's finally home. Hunting ama workout schedule.”
“Contin Abas?” manya curious.
Rayhan looked back at me in disbelief. “Then you don't know too?”
I shook my head quickly. In fact, I don't know what kind of relationship between the three of them is. I thought it was just Rayhan; my only co-worker who was friends with Arfian.
“Arfian's favorite ghost writer Abas.” explains Rayhan in one breath.
Now it was my turn to look at him in disbelief. “Arfian?”
Rayhan pointed at me with a probing look. “Don't say you don't know if your girlfriend is a loyal sender of APIC broadcast voice mail?”
I can only be silent. The truth is so.
“Ampun, Deh, Al.” Rayhan shook his head while grumbling lightly.
The young man then took a sip of his favorite Cappucino. While I was busy remembering the APIC broadcast letters I had read.
Is it possible that the ballot letters are heard every month, one of which is a shipment from Arfian? But I never found the name of the young man.
After all, since when did Arfian have free time to listen to radio broadcasts?
