Pick up Time
Lastri and I
Back, the hum of love in the rainy season was played by me. The pitch is melodious because newlyweds like me are just thinking about how to go home bringing a smile and a packet of fried rice to eat together.
Cloud cloudy gray. They march following the wind or wind that encourages them to slowly move, rolling the day towards dusk.
Wh-tok-tok!
"Assalamu'alaikum! Deck, open the door. Laper already wants to eat", I said upon arrival at our small rented terrace.
"Yes, a minute! Again wash the clothes, through the back door!", said Lastri, my wife whom I married a few weeks ago.
"Loh, Dirman. That's how much to carry that stuff, what is it? What's for?"
"It's the deck loh, the wedding gift from an office friend. There are also gifts from the staff of the tax department".
I was getting tired and tired towards the cup of warm water on the table.
"I was told to step boss this afternoon, no matter why it turned out to be given so much" I explained to Lastri.
"Alhamdulillah, finish first mas. Put it near the closet. I've prepared dinner".
"Okay, what do you cook? I have fried rice. For two how?".
"Don't! The one that abisin. I want to cut down on greasy food, tar me fat, mas ga like how", Lastri is acting flirtatious in front of me, as if fishing for romance on the bed.
"Here you go, try to finish the table first I want to clean first, yes deck!".
"Excite, mas".
Late afternoon this evening accompanied by adzan maghrib from the hangar next to the house. Due to excessive hunger, I told Lastri to quickly close the door tightly, turn on the dim light in the living room, and leave the room light bright.
We told stories while enjoying the "candle light dinner" version of the minimal cost because of the dimmer lights that almost broke or past their useful life. Lastri poked me when I told her that. He teased me a little because he might be happy with a mild joke like a company employee like me.
Sometimes, life is a lot of taste. This taste is what guides a little happiness at this dining table. I hope happiness continues when Lastri opens my gifts and luggage this afternoon.
There are things that are a little disturbing peace of heart because there is tucked one name that can not be separated in memory. He is also a little meritorious because it paves the way for me to work on the largest private plantation in Kalimantan.
_****_
A second passed in the daydream.
The memories from yesterday became quite a deep impression. Lola is the culprit. He gave me a wedding gift while smiling a sign of like or dislike.
Different, really!
The difference is very clear when he interacts with me every day.
"Mas, Dirman!"
"Eh? Lah? Yes deck? Lapo to the deck?"
"That's why daydreaming that way, not good my cooking? Or less? Want to add?".
"Eh, no deck, enough of this. If the fullness is not good later".
"What about you later?".
"Yes, how about the deck. Heheheh".
Lastri Marselina smiled flushed red omens of understanding the purpose and purpose of this conversation. I feel happy enough with him. But his smile suddenly darkened.
Dead lights!
Oh my Gusti!
The romantic atmosphere on the dining table became pitch-black. Is it possible that electricity runs out of tokens? Or is one village hit by rolling blackouts?
I didn't think because I grabbed my firelight and walked into the kitchen looking for candles.
"Sir, where is the candle?".
"There's a mas, in the stall, hehe".
"Loh, haven't bought it?".
"No, you have to permit first if you want to go out of the house. I didn't have a pulse for a phone call this afternoon".
"Here you are, I went to the shop next door. The light's gonna be dead for a long time".
"Yes, bring an umbrella, have a sign of rain".
"Where? Ngawur you, still look at the moon with the clouds".
Lastri walked slowly closer while whispering a sentence in my ear, "There's a mas, down there". Lastri lifted her long skirt and showed the beautiful scenery she might have been holding back for some time.
A moment later, my steady step carried an umbrella, complete with pennies to the next stall (the stall is divided in two: next to the stall and next to it again not a stall, but a private room).
"Kulo nuwun, mbak, nganu, mbak candle tumbas".