บท 15: FORGET HOW TO FORGET
FORGET HOW TO FORGET
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By late afternoon, all orders were ready. Because those who ordered the neighbors in front of the house made it easier for me to deliver, just by walking.
"The house is quiet, Min? Isn't Ibra here?" asked Mrs. Lastri while looking at my house, which usually looks crowded on weekends.
"Ibra's cousin from Jogja wants to come, Mom, so his father doesn't allow Ibra to come here."
Mrs. Lastri nodded then handed me the money. "You don't have any intention of reconciling with Aidan, Min? Or if you don't, quickly find a new one. So you don't stay alone forever. I don't think you know, widows will be talked about if you live alone."
I just laughed a little while keeping the money in my pants pocket. I don't want to be immersed in a conversation that already knows where it ends. I said goodbye and got ready to shop for tomorrow's order.
I got into Agya's black car that was left by my father. This four-wheeled vehicle is very important to me in running a business. In the past, Mom and I were busy cooking in the kitchen, while Dad was in charge of delivering catering orders. But now, I do both tasks at once. It's true, everything feels so meaningful if it's met with farewell.
The streets of Solo City look crowded this afternoon, especially today is the weekend. In the past, my little family used to always have dinner out, then shop for necessities or just take a walk in the mall.
I laughed a little and then took a deep breath, reminiscing about the times when there were only happy words before I finally fell to the brink of destruction.
After passing the big intersection, I turned the car into the parking lot of one of the malls. I shopped here because there were some ingredients that were only sold in big supermarkets, I couldn't help but go to Ibra's favorite mall.
After getting the ingredients I needed, I intended to go straight home, but seeing one of the ice cream outlets there made me think of Ibra. I paused for a moment before finally turning back.
"Miss Yasmin?"
I spontaneously turned around and found Abbas with his wife carrying a shopping bag. I looked around, not far from them I saw two of his twin sons with Ibra and also Aidan. But... he's not alone. There is a beautiful woman who is holding Ibra and they look familiar.
"Alone, Ma'am?" The touch of Ina – Abbas's wife – made me stutter.
"Y-yes. Sorry, yes, I'm in a hurry, just say hello to Ibra," I said because I didn't want to disturb their event.
"Mom!" Before I could get away, Ibra's screams made me want to stop. I tried to stay calm, then turned around and smiled.
Ibra bumped into me and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Mommy why are you here? Who are you here with?"
"Alone, honey. Mamah finished shopping for tomorrow's order." I purposely didn't look anywhere so as not to get jealous when I saw Aidan with the woman earlier.
"Come on, Salim with Mas Ibra's mother."
Dzaka and Dzaki scramble to grab my hand after hearing his father's words. I stroked the heads of the two boys and pleasantly asked how they were doing. They were the same age as Ibra. Abbas did get married first, but he was only given the sustenance of offspring in the third year of marriage, at the same time as I, who was pregnant with Ibra.
"Ma'am, introduce yourself, this is my old college friend. Her name is Linda." Ina introduced the woman who was standing next to Aidan earlier with an expression that looked reluctant.
We shook hands despite the obvious awkwardness on the pretty girl's face. And I'm increasingly convinced that he is indeed making an approach with Aidan. While my own ex-husband kept his distance a little because he was on the phone.
"Have you eaten, Ma'am? Just join us, shall we?"
"No, I'm in a hurry. I still have orders to prepare for tomorrow." I refused Abbas's invitation.
"But I want to eat with Mama." Ibra suddenly sulked and hugged me tighter.
I loosened his grip and bent slightly so that our eyes met. "Mama has to go home, honey. Next week, right, Ibra will take you to Mamah's house. Well, let's make bread together again like last week, okay?"
Luckily my son immediately understood, then ran around with his two cousins when Ina took them into one of the restaurants that served Ibra's favorite fried chicken. Linda went with them, while Abbas was still standing with me waiting for Aidan to answer the phone.
"Then, I'll say goodbye, Bas," I said breaking the silence between us.
"Papa Mama always asks when you come home to play, Ma'am. Come visit when you have free time."
Before I could reply, Aidan had finished answering the phone. He approached, then stood beside Abbas after greeting me with a slight nod. His face was cold, just like the first time I tried to approach him. And to be honest, it's the first time we've stood close enough again after a legal divorce. Because every time he takes Ibra, Aidan just waits in the car, even to pick him up.
"I say goodbye, yes. Greetings to Mama Papa,"
I glanced at Aidan who seemed unconcerned. After that, I walked quickly holding back tears so as not to spill. This pain turns out to be, close to the people we love but there is no chance to have them ... again.
As soon as I got into the car, I burst into tears. I covered my mouth tightly with both hands so as not to make a sound that attracted the attention of the surroundings.
"You know what's the furthest in the world, kid?"
I remember the conversation with my father when he was still around. At that time I was crying on the prayer rug after the evening prayer, where I felt so broken because of my own mistakes.
"Past." Father answered the question himself because there was no reply from me. "As strong, as great, and as rich as humans will not be able to buy or even run back to the past."
"But, believe me, son. Allah is never wrong in outlining the destiny of His servants. No matter how thick the fog is, there will still be a way after that." The old hand stroked my mukena-covered head.
"There is Father, there is Mother. You are not alone here, son. Don't torture yourself like this all the time. Get up, at least for Ibra's happiness and also for yourself."
That night, I realized how much my father struggled to accept my shortcomings, and also returned full responsibility for this daughter after being returned by her husband.
"I'm sorry Yasmin, Dad. Sorry, if I broke my promise not to cry anymore. But now... I'm alone. I'm alone, Dad...."
Continued
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