He's Not The Best
1. The Man Called Father

He's Not The Best

The Man Called Father

The vision of the boat-haired girl was nanar, fixed on a truck parked in her yard. Fear always appears every time he sees it, because it signifies the return of the father, the figure of a man who works as a truck driver and, never close to him.

The presence of the father at home, even though it only comes once a week, but it is not pleasant for him. How will he be happy, if every time the man is there, then every time it is also he must accept the rudeness of his attitude.

He thought he never loved him because he always called him an illegitimate child. He did not know what caused him to say that. His little brain was too early to digest the ill-gotten words his father had pinned.

Winsi Nasriya, a sixth-grader in a state primary school, has a fair complexion, her eyes are round with little hair and her lips are slightly thick, offsetting her taper chin. His body is thin but tall, like children his age. He had just returned home from school with Meri, a classmate and neighbor who lived not far from his home.

"No, Win. Your father came home,” said Meri while nudging the shoulder of Winsi who made the child look nervous while smiling wryly.

“He is not Dad, but Mr.” replied Winsi with the innocence of small children in general.

“Kan, Father or Father, same only.”

“Ya, you think so, but I'm not.” Winsi recited Meri's words, without guilt.

A dilemma for the little girl when, only she and two other children called their father, the father and all the fathers of the children, fiercely. Other friends mostly call father, some also call abah, papa, papi or Abi. It's an irony for him to have such judgment.

For Winsi, the name of the father is only for men who do not like to hit, like his father Meri, he is good and often pick them up when it rains right home from school, also never looking for and pick up his best friend home for playing too long. In fact, he often saw his fellow students being carried as they passed each other on the street after school. But his father did not, the man likes to hit with his own belt or hand, kick him until his body bounces, or slap his face if he dares to fight.

Winsi also remembered Erlan, a wealthy man who lived in a mansion down the street as well, calling one of his parents the name Father. He was the man who often opened the car door for Erlan, and rubbed the little boy's head with his hands, even several times the girl saw him bowing respectfully at the stocky boy.

‘Any step has a father who always looks down respectfully on his son like that’ Inner Provinces. But his father does not, he likes to yell and pull his hair, especially if there is no mother at home, then the man will be happy to hurt and make him cry.

“Yes, already there you go in,” Meri said again as she pushed the friend next to her who looked silently to hold back her fear, saying, the long-haired girl who was always braided laughed and continued her words, “definitely your father brought souvenirs, tuh!”

‘Ah, if only Father if you go home bring souvenirs by’ Inner Winsi. She responded to Meri's joke lazily, the edge of her still smiling.

“But, I never brought by-by.”

“You lied, right? My father always brought me home from the city.”

‘I didn't lie'

His parents always forbid saying all the behavior of the father to others. The woman who was thin with the same child always said, if the nature of her father is a disgrace that must be closed tightly, because if we cover the disgrace of others, because if we cover the disgrace of others, god will cover our sins later. Moreover, it is very embarrassing if only someone knows that the father who is known to be friendly in the neighborhood turned out to be angry and rude to his own son.

‘Hit it hurts, Sir!’ vishin said in his heart.

But he was a submissive child, his loving Runa— his skinned mother and eyes the same as her, always pouring out enough affection, so that he is able to restrain and not tell the father's crimes to anyone.

Sure enough, when Winsi entered the house, he saw his Basri—bapak, a brown-skinned and curly-haired man, was yelling at his mother without him knowing why his father was behaving so. He hid on the side of the wall between the living room and the living room of his simple house. While continuing to look what else the man would do this time.

Winsi's body was filled with sweat, his heart pounding violently watching his mother be treated so by his own father. The clear eyes were almost full of water, even his palms were wet from the fear that slipped up to his fingertips and crowns, hearing the thunderous sounds from his father's mouth, as he spoke.

“Where do you think that money is for your bastard son? Huh!” Basri's tone of voice was ketus and glared at Runa. “you know, make money is hard! You should be grateful I want to take care of the child, want to receive you here, try otherwise, you are the same bastard child that has become a gem!”

While Runa's body staggered slightly back as her head was pushed firmly by Basri with her fingers repeatedly. The woman was silent, justifying her husband's words about her then, she lived a long time in the city and had nothing, if not for Basri marrying her, he may have been a beggar on the streets.

When Basri came home earlier, he asked for some money on the grounds, if soon there will be a tourist visit at the provincial school and it requires a fee, if not for long, as for her husband's remark that the daughter was an illegitimate child, she had grown tired of explaining repeatedly that there was nothing wrong with the biological child from her own flesh and blood. Every time he refuted, the man slapped, hit or kicked Runa's thin body, as much as he wanted.

“Say the same your bastard child, do not need to participate in all tours, free also if girls, high school only!” basri said with a fiery voice.

“Kasian, Sir. Other childhood follow him not, we also rarely invite him to go for a walk.” Runa finally replied with a trembling and low voice, afraid of adding to Basri's growing anger.

Brakk! The sound of the dining table being hit was strongly by Basri with his clenched hands.

“You said my fault never took him for a walk? Ask the real father, the Anas! Why ask me?”

“Pak, Winsi is your son, not Anas' son!” Runa raised her voice. All this time, when they had a fight, never once did Basri mention the name of the man he suspected to be Winsi's real father, the man was disgusted to say it, but now, he was, he mentioned the man's name clearly, making Runa ride apoplexy.

Runa was worried that Winsi heard Basri, who was angry with him, because it was time for the boy to go home from school. She did not want her son to know about the name of the man her husband mentioned earlier.

While behind the room's perimeter wall, Winsi repeatedly wiped away her rushing tears. Dare not to expose themselves for fear of becoming the next outburst of anger. He knows now the cause of his father's anger, which is because of the cost of his school tourism trip. His heart rumbled louder to hear Basri's words when he mentioned the name of a man who might be his father.

Often he asked Runa about his father who always called him an illegitimate child, but Runa firmly said that he was no one else but Basri—ahnya. If only he had chosen, then he would have chosen Anas or, another man as his father, might have been a better man and would have loved him, unlike his father.

‘Who is Anas, is he really my real father? Maybe he's not like father!’ inner Winsi while wiping the tears on her cheeks.

Seriate

Don't forget to like, give and vote