Aksara Taste (For Flavors That Will Not Be Perfect)
CHAPTER Four
Is that a burden?
The young man rose from the poof when he saw me standing on the terrace of the coffee shop.He smiled faintly to welcome the arrival of me who stepped hesitantly towards him. Doubtful, is this the right time for us to meet again? Doubtful, was my decision right to meet him and let go of longing?
Just walking half a step, my brain stopped ruling. My legs were weighted by millions of heavy weights that made him unable to move. My whole body lost energy in an instant.
I think I've felt enough despite just seeing it from a distance. Almost giving up and stepping back, I almost turned around. But, the young man first ran over and held my arm. Locking my footsteps.
“We have to talk.” he pleaded while gripping my wrist.
I closed my vision for a moment, then looked deep into his eyes. I found the anxiety clearly emanating there. He seemed to be looking for something I had always hidden. “We talk about this later.”
“Al, please.” the door while gripping my wrist tighter.
I saw the young man's jaw harden, his lips tightly clenched, and the look in his eyes turned me sharp.
I approached him, looking into his eyes as closely as I could. I looked closely at her face which I missed so much. I'd be lying if I said a meeting could solve the longing.
Have we not met now? I should have missed this. But I don't know what I just experienced. I think the miss I have is getting worse.
“We'll talk this up next time. Hm?” i said lirih.
It took many seconds to pass until Arfian let go of my wrist. The young man softened even though I knew he still refused.
Two years is a short time. But it can change things and make things that did not exist before. Including among them about feelings that want to be dispensed with. I know, our relationship wouldn't be this complicated if I could understand her the way she wanted. If only I could understand his will and understand all that, I don't think we should behave like this.
***
Do you have a favorite thing?
Someone once told me that a favorite can be a cathartic medium. All the problems we face are no longer a problem when we complain about a favorite object. It is like there is a relief and burden that is reduced when we interact with it.
I don't know what the definition of a beloved object really is.
Hanif has one favorite object, the barge toy that is always taken wherever he goes. The boy often made a sound resembling the sound of a barge from his own vocal cords.
Not only Hanif, Alif also has a favorite object, namely bolsters. He could not sleep peacefully if he did not embrace the animated patterned bolster of Cars films that had accompanied him since childhood. Alif said, even though the bolster was dirty, sometimes smelly, and also ugly, the bolster was the witness of his life so far.
So, what keeps an object can also make it a favorite object?
Under the desk locker in the corner of my room, there was a small red and white box. Inside was a worn out object that was almost five years old. A gold medal whose carvings have not faded. Can still be read clearly.
“1st Winner of Badminton Asian Junior Championship 2010 in Bangkok.”
The medal is not mine. But, it belongs to someone who gives it to me for free. He just asked me to keep the medal fine, not to sell, let alone give it to someone else. He said he'd finish me off if I got rid of his favorite thing.
Sometimes when my longing is too much, I stare at the medal for a long time. Touching his carvings, flipping through the medallion dozens of times. Repeating that monotonous activity until my shingles subside. Until I can breathe a sigh of relief.
However, lately I could only stare at that gold medal from a distance. Trying to eliminate the longing for the owner. Trying to erase all the memories related to both of us. Destroying everything about him.
But, I realized, I can't just ignore this feeling.
***
His full name is Arfian Rahardian. Born in Yogya twelve days before my birthday. He became one of the many boys who are often recommended to participate in provincial level badminton sports championships.
If asked what Arfian did in school. The answer is simple. The young man had an above average bustle, surpassing the bustle of the capital's artists. Super-dense training schedules and participation in various national tournaments became Arfian's most memorable school-age story. His name is famous in the ranks of young badminton players Yogya City. He is also one of the valuable assets belonging to Ace Yogya –club where bernaung– which is targeted to pursue a career at the world level with PBSI.
While still living in Yogya, and Arfian was still a regional athlete, he and I had a relationship. Let's say it's a special relationship that goes on for three years. Our three years at the time were actually going well. I accepted his busy workouts fourteen times a week; every morning and evening. He also accepted my busy life to focus on studying and college. I understood the delay when we had an appointment to meet. He also understood my delay to watch every event of his match outside of Yogya.
We enjoyed everything we did. I think busyness is the best way to define the true meaning of longing. Short meetings because of the Arfian training, we always appreciate every meeting we make. There's not much we can talk about because Arfian breaks are so limited. We just enjoyed my favorite Ristretto and his favorite Espresso Macchiato. Wait until the smoke of the two drinks disappears in the air. While sharing stories about my exam results and the tournament results. After our drinks run out, Arfian will go home first. Leaving me behind and apologizing for not being able to take me home. And all that monotonous activity happens over and over again.
But I still enjoy the relationship.
Even when the PBSI Platnas called out his name and he took his foot off the land of Yogya, we faced it without much ba-bi-bu. Even though my heart refused to hold on, I still believed, I could do that for her.
However, it is not a struggle if it leaves no victims, right?
I know where Arfian put me on his priority list. My name is right under his dreams. I'm not jealous of that. But, I know myself. I understand that the ambition and hard work he has so far should not be in vain. All the perseverance that Arfian has built up, should not be worth free just because of our relationship.
So, with a heavy heart I let the young man run. I let him run as far as he wanted. Run to different countries of the world to learn how to compete properly. I let him choose which one was more important to him at that time. I decided to give up and let my heart stop something that didn't deserve to end.
