A Good Reason

I learn a lot from the old me. The mistakes I have made. The disasters I have caused. Once in a while I think perhaps I can just dismiss love from my choices, but turns out I cannot. In fact I need love. As a fuel, to make me happy, to be my reasons, to make me stronger.

The old me used to play with hearts, used to believe I can do anything and not minding the others who might care about me, especially when I was in the lowest phases that I kind of disliking the relationship I was in. My choices of act are getting lessen as I grow older.

Now I am in this serious, real relationship on which I would not easily give up just because of small things. Maybe I have a million reasons to leave – so many flaws, so many disappointments I have in mind. But no. Not this time. The old me would definitely say yes to another better choice. But the real me, me right now, as an actual human being at this period, learning from her experiences, for better or worse, absorbing her mistakes – chooses to stay – and it only takes one good reason.

Of all the good possibilities to say goodbye, I only have one very good reason to spend the rest of my days with you.

Despair

The little girl has always looked for a light to guide her through the dark tunnels of despair. She kept weeping, reaching out her hands for help. Anyone, anything can do. All she needs is just a pair of anticipation to open her eyes for a vivid, radiant future.

He came opening arms wide. Together they exchange each one gifts, where she started to put a smile, put a makeup, and dance freely, welcoming warm falling leaves, embracing life’s enticing blues, years gone by.

Just like life, but he too went away. Even sadder to have him around but losing sweet sparks on his eyes. “No, nothing to fear,” he wears a fake smile, she can swear.

“But the eyes. Those sorrow eyes can’t lie.”

Solitude appears, intimidating hopes. Has she went blind? she thought, as his hands constantly disappearing through grey fog, letting go of hers, vanishing like the mournful past.

Ode di Sudut Meja

SUDUT meja meredam kebisingan pengunjung. Sudut meja mendukung kesendirian. Memang agak temaram, tapi bukankah kegelapan membukakan mata terhadap cahaya.

Maka dia menarik kursi, lalu duduk, menyalakan komputer tablet, memainkan sebuah board game.

Pelayan datang menyajikan secangkir teh jahe. Dia mendongak, tersenyum sedetik, lalu menoleh ke jendela di sisinya. Di luar menyilaukan, maka tatapannya nyalang. Seperti mencari-cari.

Mendesah, dihirupnya teh seteguk. Hangatnya pas, sampai-sampai hatinya terasa ikut teraliri nikmatnya. Makanya dia paling gemar berkunjung kesini. Selain karena kemujaraban teh, juga karena Hamka.

Di mana sosok Hamka yang biasanya muncul mencangklong tas laptop besar dan memesan segelas susu dingin itu akhir-akhir ini?

***

BUKANNYA mereka berpacaran. Tidak, dia tidak merasa harus menjadikan Hamka pacar. Pertama, dia lebih memilih sendirian dan tak dicari-cari jika bepergian. Kedua, Hamka sudah punya pacar. Ya, yakin.

Lelaki itu pernah memegang tangannya. Sengaja, saat dia menceritakan kematian neneknya sambil tersedu-sedu. Baginya, tangan Hamka membaurkan sedih. Melahirkan cahaya baru di matanya. Sampai lalu telepon genggam di atas meja berdering, memunculkan nama seorang perempuan yang familiar, mematikan gejolak yang nyaris meledak.

Dan tak ada lagi cerita-cerita lucu yang biasa mereka bagi, sebab setelah itu Hamka pamit, pergi meninggalkan kota Kembang, jauh menuntut ilmu di negeri seberang.

***

MENANGIS itu wajar jika yang kamu tangisi adalah dia yang telah sepanjang waktu mengisi hati, lalu pergi. Tapi Hamka tak pernah selekat itu; mungkin nyaris, iya. Maka tak cukup wajar baginya menangisi kepergian Hamka yang ternyata tak cuma ke luar negeri–Hamka telah mati, nyawanya dihabisi kecelakaan lalu lintas.

Begitu jauh. Begitu mendadak.

Dan dia terus memutar ulang genggaman tangan itu, di meja itu, di sudut temaram itu. Saat Hamka masih di sini. Kadang dia tak pesan teh, melainkan susu, hangat (susu dingin membuatnya mulas), sekadar memainkan peran sebagai lidah Hamka. Hmmm. Rindunya.

Menjelang senja, dia mematikan komputer tablet, berkemas, mengeringkan matanya yang basah dengan kertas tisu.

Berjalan di trotoar, dia bertanya di hati, entah kepada siapa, apakah cinta sesungguhnya pelan-pelan menggerilya, meski hanya dia yang merasa?

Diiringi getir dan amukan bising kendaraan di jalan, diam-diam dipanjatkannya doa–masih susah percaya.