What happened to HUMAIRO
#14
Humairo opened the blanket that covered his body. The air feels cold. Sleeping on the porch of the house, making him shiver with cold. Humairo looked at the clock on his phone. It's 11 in the night. The roosters began to sound simple. Humairo got up and leaned against the porch wall. Supposedly, just like the previous nights, Ainul had already returned home from the mosque. Otherwise at 10, at 11 he would have found Ainul lying on the porch of the house. He began to feel that something strange was happening to Ainul. In such a sick situation, something might have happened to him. Fainting on the street maybe.
Full of no-nonsense thoughts about Ainul, Humairo grew increasingly restless. He immediately got up and went straight into the house. A small flashlight and a jacket in the closet he took out. After locking the door of the house, Humairo began to walk through the darkness of the night. He felt that he could not stand if he continued to wait in anxiety. He had to find Ainul, or at least to confirm his existence.
Humairo kept going. Occasionally he looked down to pick up small stones as several dogs wandered in front of him. The atmosphere along the road was so dark. Occasionally the sound of pebbles clashing with his steps, breaking the silence of the night.
Humairo stopped his footsteps when he reached the mosque gate. Slowly he pushed the gate of the mosque, but unfortunately the door was locked.
Humairo was upset. He then directed his flashlight towards the steps of the terrace of the mosque. There is a pair of flip-flops visible in the corner of the stairs. Hunairo was silent for a moment, like he was thinking of something. It was probably Ainul's sandal, although it never saw the slippers that Ainul used at home. He was sure Ainul was going nowhere. The mosque was the first home for Ainul, when in his second home he did not get comfort.
Humairo nodded again. Although disappointed, he felt a little calm because Ainul had made sure to be in the mosque. At least, tonight he will also sleep peacefully because he is no longer worried about Ainul's existence.
Humairo turned around and decided to return to his home.
*
Humairo threw his body on the bed upon arrival at home. He looked up at the ceiling of the room. He's feeling so tired tonight. What he did, and all the efforts to attract Ainul since dawn, were in vain by not returning Ainul tonight. Although he himself was not so sure of the way he approached Ainul, but at least, when Ainul was at home, he had a chance to do so.
Maybe Ainul was saturated with his attitude and behavior all this time. Ainul is numb and doesn't want him anymore. There were too many rude or inappropriate words he said to Ainul. Ainul has a limit of patience. And this is probably the limit of Ainul's patience.
Unknowingly, the tears of Humairo flowed down his cheeks. He had tried his best to assume the problem he was facing was a trivial matter. A problem he didn't need to think about that deeply. But the fear of losing Ainul grew bigger and bigger. The fear that would make it difficult for him tonight closed his eyes.
is this the love? or is the feeling he now feels is just the effect of his guilt? or right now he just felt sorry for Ainul. Ainul was sick and had no one. Ainul is only a stranger, who happens to be assigned to a boarding school where he studied to practice his knowledge in the village. People in his village felt Ainul had above-average religious skills, so it was good luck to usher him as the caretaker of the mosque, and get a special bonus to marry him.
Then, why was he currently afraid of losing Ainul. Why is it that he still can't close his eyes because he's worried about Ainul? In the mosque, there may be only a thin mat, and it may be possible that he slept with a collection of sarongs that he collected in a plastic crackle. Ainul would be cold, especially when he was sick. He imagined, there now he would shiver in the cold.
Well, Ainul was indeed used to such a life. He was used to sleeping on the porch. He used to sleep wherever he came.
But the problem is not like the previous days. Those days of abuse meant to Ainul. This time it was very different. He could no longer stem his cries if he remembered Ainul. He could not calm his heart as his anxiety about Ainul filled the entire space in his heart. The feeling of unease seemed to want to explode, because it could no longer be accommodated by his heart.
Sometimes he had to curse Ainul. Why didn't he come home tonight. Cussing at night, why not bring out scary things, so Ainul was afraid to leave the house. Condemning the wind, why did he not blow so coldly that Ainul still sought warmth in his house.
It's hard, and still can't. Ainul's shadow was playing around in his eye patch. And he could not be sure, tomorrow Ainul would return home. He was getting used to not imagining, tomorrow he did not meet Ainul.
Humairo got up and sat in front of his mirror. Hair's scrambling. The face she made up, which she maintained and renewed every time it faded, was now rubbed hard with both hands. He felt that he was now a victim of the words of the wise; hating someone too much, to the person he hated the most today, had become a torture machine that had stolen his tranquility.
Humairo put his head on the table. He was sobbing again in his tears.