By Putra Hidayatullah
In the middle of spring, still like the last few years, I visit Fairmont Park. I sit on an iron chair placed under hundreds cherry blossom trees. Some purple, white and pink flowers fall on ground. Ten meters away two young couples are laughing while eating ice cream. The wind that afternoon blows unhurriedly and touches my hair. I see some children aged around five are playing kites excitedly in the middle. A smile shines from my face but it is soon fade when that vivid memory comes.
People say, I am not like years ago. In class, I could not entertain my students. I could not get them laugh anymore when I am giving them a ironic example of a certain topic. It feels tasteless. I could not see their bright faces every time I enter the class either. Deep inside my heart, I know if it is getting the best of me. A little, perhaps.
“I know, but letting yourself immersed in pain wouldn’t change anything either” Frank, my friend once said when we were in the office.
I know too, I know if he is going through the same thing, he would find it not as easy as the way it looks. We will never forget the memory and regret with which we connect and meet those who has gone, those who might never come back.
The children in the park are running and laughing. One of their kites thread is cut. Their parents are standing near their cars while smiling.
“Don’t go too far!”
I hear one woman shouting reminding her children. Her voice was almost the same as Natasha, a young woman were once my student. I remember, her eyebrow was like crescent in down position. Her smile is as sweet as fresh honey that drives me to forget the bees. It is the smile that drove me to meet her parents and ‘took’ her away from them, ten years ago.
I and Natasha used to spend Sundays in this Park. I also remember when a five years old son of mine, Carol, put the paper boats carefully on the pool near The Japanese House and Garden in Fairmont. An hour before leaving home, he had created three or five boats. He laughed excitedly when the wind blew and the boat moved smoothly. I close my eyes, I remember those all.
“Excuse me”
A young woman comes. She is around five years older. She wears white T shirt. Her hair is long and blonde. She takes the seat and smiles but only for a while then she stays calm.
“Are you waiting for someone?” My voice sounds heavy and hoarse.
“Yeah…” she forces herself to smile. “An endless waiting” She continues. She reaches her pocket and takes out a pack of Lucky Strike. She takes one of them and then burns it. One tear falls on her cheek.
“Life is all about waiting,” she releases her first fume.
It is silent for a while. There is no word exchanged in between. The voices of the children, the rustling leaves are clearly heard.
I look at her with sympathy. The wind blows. Some of her hair moves like wave approaching beach.
“Who are you waiting for?”
The woman stays calm before answering few second later.
“A man” she blows her cigarette smoke. I could see a wedding ring in her right finger.
“We used to come here, used to sit on this chair,” the woman’s face suddenly turns gloomy.
“Then what happen?"
“He leaves me, John did leave me!”
“Why?”
“He found me in a bar with another guy,” she cries.
***
I didn’t know what controlled my mind. I came home late that night. It was like the night before. The burden in the office was not a little. I had to organize and manage things.
“So, what you did?” the woman asks curiously.
“I was drunk. I knock the knock the door. Nobody opened it. I know Natasha was awake inside. Those days, I indeed often had trouble with my wife. Every night my little boy heard our battle from his rooms. Many times, he cried,” The woman hears the sense of guilty in the way how I explain.
“That night she insulted me too much and I could not stand. I slapped her again and again till she fell on the floor. Natasha cried and my son was too”.
“I closed the door and sit on a chair in veranda. I imagine the first days of my marriage, the first time we did that. It was getting late and cold outside. I didn’t hear their crying anymore. I got inside and found Carol is sleeping in his room. I decided to sleep on sofa in the guest room.”
I sigh.
“The last thing came to my mind was the celebration of our wedding party. Natasha wore white gown and I wore black tuxedo. After that dark, I fell asleep.”
When I woke up in the morning I did hope that all that happen last night were nightmare. The sun shone through the curtains and the window. I found the door unlocked. I directly went to my son’s room and could not find him there, neither Natasha. They were gone. It took me for months before she called me telling that she had already found another guy far away from Pennsylvania, a better guy.”
***
The woman looked at me with sympathy. She gives me her white tissue. The night is about to come. Some people have gone home. There is no children’s voice anymore, nor kites.
“I miss my Natasha” I surprisingly hear my mouth say it.
“I miss my John too” the woman replies.
She then lays her head on my shoulder. I feel her tears penetrated my t-shirt and skin. I feel warmth.[]
Jeulingke, 2 Oktober 2012
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