Aksara Taste (For Flavors That Will Not Be Perfect)
Chapter Twenty One

Do children like to sit on the lap of a warm man?

I turned my back as soon as Rayhan's car came out of the housing complex. The young man did offer a ride because Mas Rudi was still overtime.

My footsteps slowed when I found an old sedan parked in the yard. His flat number makes me smile brightly.

As soon as he knocked on the door leaf, those sitting in the living room immediately greeted me. I saw a big smile etched on Arfian's thin lips. The young man moved his ball, leading to Hanif and Alif sitting on his lap. My two nieces seem to have a new gift. A pair of cruise ships bearing the United Arab Emirates live in the imaginary world of the ocean they are creating.

Aina's mother got up, coming up to me who took off her shoes near the door. “You compote? Mbak made a lot.” bargain Mbak Aina who I greeted with a nod agreed.

“Al, you guys reciprocate?” whispered Ma'am Aina was curious. It made me shake my head quickly, rejecting the question he had just asked.

“Long.” murmured with a hidden smile.

I'm not paying attention to Ms. Aina's jokes. As soon as he passed into the kitchen for the compote he had offered, I immediately approached Arfian. Sit in front of the young man.

“Tut-tut-tut-tut.” Alif sound is in tune with a cruise ship moving in the air.

“That's the sound of the train, kali.” objected Hanif.

Instantly Alif looked at Arfian with an innocent face. His eyes blinked and his mouth just opened. Making Arfian unable to help laugh.

Alif repeated the same sound. Making Hanif shake his head at the behavior of his twin brother. Forcing Arfian laughter to break in the air.

The three of them were familiar long ago. Not only was Hanif and Alif easy to get along with, but Arfian was always warm to anyone. The young man did not hesitate to hold the children. In fact, it is not uncommon for him to take pictures with Hanif and Alif. Take them for a walk around the city, buy toys they like, even bring souvenirs typical of children if going out of town.

With Hanif sitting on the right lap and Alif sitting on the left lap, Arfian placed his face between the shoulders of the two of them. The young man then looked at me with a proud smile. “Where? It fits yet?”

“What match, Om?” hanif's question made Arfian clumsy. “Uhm, not Hanif, baby. But, Bi Alya.”

“Emang Bi Alya why?” now it was Alif's turn to make Arfian silent. The young man held a smile and scratched the side of his nose. He was completely caught up in the questions he made.

Arfian rolled his eyes. Staring at me while smiling. His face was turned in any direction. There was no answer to Hanif and Alif's question which seemed careless.

I looked at him with my mouth closed. Trying to hide the laughter from earlier horse.

*****

Why do children always look happy and cheerful?

Answer's simple. They never complain about what they receive and are always grateful for what they have.

For the umpteenth time Arfian and I watched the same movie. This time without my favorite Ristretto or his favorite Espresso Macchiato. We're just busy watching Carl and Ellie's journey. Dissolved into their storylines.

I have to admit, I love animated movies. Especially if the theme is very close to real life. And Up proved to me that happiness doesn't have to be with words. Carl and Ellie don't talk to each other. But they can survive and stay together. Although in the middle of the story Carl must be alone, mourning is lonely. Because losing will make some parts of a person's life become messy.

“Dih, Alya nangis.” taunted Arfian as he glanced at me who wiped the tears.

I looked at him unhappy. “Ngeselin really, Fian.”

“We've seen this movie many times. And you still cry like this? Really, Al.” muttered Arfian while giving me a piece of tissue.

“Udah, deh. Delete the film. Let us not watch again.” said I raahu.

“Yes don't, lah. No more this romantic animated film, tau.” reply Arfian lightly.

I have no intention of responding to what he said. The young man let me take a deep breath. He silenced me who was still trying to calm down.

“Al.” Arfian made me turn my face away, looking at him full of question marks. A second after, a small red-and-white box in the young man's hand.

“Gift for you.” he said as he grabbed both my hands.

My finger slowly opened the red-and-white box. And I just mute as soon as I see the contents. It's a victory that Arfian fought for to the point of injuring his knee. It's a pleasure he took away from Dubai there.

I froze as Arfian held the gold medal around my neck.

“You are the champion, Al.” said Arfian while tidying up my messy hair.

He moved his body, peeked at my forehead. It was a tear that was falling. Falling on my right cheek. But it was not my cry, but the young man's cry.

With a trembling voice, Arfian muttered softly. “Please don't make me wait too long.”

I don't know what answer to give. All I can do is shut up. Letting my cries and his cries collide.

“I want you to always be cheerful, always happy. And I want me to be the reason behind it all.” said Arfian with a vibrating voice, wiping my tears.

Then everything happens out of control. I completely froze as Arfian pulled my face. The distance we had made. Removing the barrier that actually makes us closer. The young man pressed his kiss. Pressing him many times, full of emotion. I know, I understand what he wants. He demanded that I open my voice, he asked me to speak. But, I still could not give an answer like he had asked. I still need a little longer.

*****

Which plant do you like best?

Because the diorama container belonging to my twin nephew is too large and can not be crammed near the window glass, I finally made a special spot in my room. Near the pile of college-age books, I gave a little room for a diorama made by Satya.

The result turned out to be interesting. Well-favoured. Makes my heart happy even if it is just looking. Especially the diorama is now increasingly crowded. The cactus kids are starting to sprout. Adding a shady impression with his small thorns that are not so sharp.

Jason Mraz's Quiet is melodious. Accompanying me who was busy choosing the ballot for the Abas broadcast the day after tomorrow. Even though it's late, I intend to finish it tonight as well. Because tomorrow there are dozens of manuscripts waiting for me at the desk.

Moreover, tomorrow Ma'am Aina and my twin nephew will go home to Yogya. There will be a sudden rush in the morning blind. The plan for a vacation at home mom and dad became the opportunity behind Mas Rudi's home renovation plan that will start soon.

“Mas Abas, love tips dong so you can always be happy.” wrote Gina, a woman from Jakarta.

Next sender Tiara. From Makasaar city to someone in Jakarta.

“Mas Abas, everything that is harbored is not good, right? Continue to be harbored feelings, how? Not good either? Or all right?”

Next from Rio in Bandung.

“Bro, no suggestion for another TTPS. Friend but hug there hug here.”

The last two letters. From the same sender. Same with no name.

“*Trust that love will always know the way home. Don't worry, he's lost, let alone wrong. Because love has made a choice, love already has provisions. Thus, you are free to travel the world wherever you want. You can go to all the countries you want to go to without having to hesitate. You can also visit interesting places even though they are not the best destination. Although the earth will stop spinning, or when time has no right to continue moving, you must believe that I am the only end of your journey so far. Because wherever footsteps take you away, the way home will always follow you from behind.”

“Everything is really close. Very very close. But it is getting harder to get. Getting heavy. Although I already know what the hidden meaning behind all that is, I will still wait. Because I still believe, that in the end there will be one word that can change everything. And I hope, that word can open up an opportunity for us to get back together*.”

My bolamat traced every string of writing on the computer screen. Why do I seem to experience everything that is meant in the letter? Do these last two letters belong to the Arfians? Did he also send that letter to the broadcast table this month?

My intention to contact the young man was dejected when I realized my phone was shaking first. Satya's line of names forced me to pick her up.

“Udah nyampe where is your revision?” my cerocos without first saying hello.

“I even forgot to write that script.”

I'm pissed off. “Continue why did you call me?”

I heard Satya exhaling heavily. “What do you want?”

A second later he asked again. “Not that, but what do you want?”

Then fix the contents of the question “I mean what do you like?”

What exactly does Satya want to talk about?

“What do you say, anyway, Satya?”

“I am no longer in Indonesia.”

“Continue? What does it have to do with me? Uh, wait-wait! So who renovated Mas Rudi's house from yesterday - yesterday who?”

“My victory, Mbak Gita. Okay, what do you want?”

I nodded lightly. It's only fitting that I haven't seen his nose lately. Maybe he's in Germany? Visiting Ardy? Or go to America to see his mother? I don't know which is right. I don't want to think too much.

“I don't want anything. You go back. Don't stay there long, so you can finish the script as soon as possible.”

“Me? Which is really?” satya Protest.

I laughed in disbelief. “To whom?”

“Ya, we are.”

In that instant I also disconnected Satya's call. Unfortunately, I could not reply to what he said. My herbs boil. Feels painful. My mouth is tightly closed. Trying to resist the curse that might make my anger explode.

How could Satya include me in the work she has done alone? After all, what exactly did he do so far that the script had not been repaired?

For a moment my phone shook again. A short message from Satya. “I brought something you like. I'll see you tomorrow."