Brakk! Pyaar!
"I dont want to know…!"
With a boiling chest I have crushed all that is near me. My anger continued to rise until I could not control it anymore. The wooden table in the living room fell over. The glass perched on it had broken to pieces on the floor. I was furious to see it that did not want to know my feelings.
The old lady was still staring at me. And I can not understand why he is so stubborn.
"I never get angry ...! I never demanded ...! But why do you never understand ...? "
I could no longer stem the desire to yell at him. With his hands on my hips I looked at his face with a sharp and cynical look.
"If the money was bought motorcycle can bermanfaar ...! Do I have no right like the other friends ...? "
I let my sentences flow by itself. Hoping what's in my mind can be captured.
"And…"
My throat suddenly stiffened. The sentence can not go on anymore. The sickening nausea in my brain is already on the verge of death. Shakes ash out through my mouth and nose. I really can not afford to stop this tears. I let my tears continue to flow non-stop. I wish, my annoyance and disgust were tossed with the flow of the clear grains.
The old woman's face was pale. Rona from the scream of my voice, still visible on his face. I myself still inundated in my tears. Nothing as important as the sound that came out. Only two people sitting in the living room are twice the size of a meter. Yes ... a room that feels cramped for us.
Even this world is so crowded for both of us! There is no place for the wind to blow, no energy for the leaves to wave, and no chance for the star to blink, even for a single blink.
I glance at the old woman. Her eyes began to tear. The two wrinkled hands still covered a part of his nose and mouth. Occasionally, he closed his eyes and forced the clear grain down from the corner of his eye. He has not changed from his seat. Not moving the slightest since.
Still no sound ...
Usually the old lady would not budge from me. His hand moves can shake the floor and also my feet. Her loud voice was able to cut through every sentence. Even his spicy words, able to pierce the deepest niches of my heart and often make my heart too painful.
How…? Why just silence ...? Pain not ...? Why just silence ...? Where is that valor of authority ...?

During this time, I prefer silence every cross with him. Even if I had to answer, I replied soberly. As much as I could make my ears pierce and the quiz from left to right. Hoping all his words just drop by and quickly passed from my ears. But the words were too jagged to still be in my ears. And consequently the pain must go down to the heart.
"Then what is the money ...? Want to be saved till the apocalypse ...? "I try to split this dull silence.
Still no answer. Only a small sob began to sound. And I see that occasionally he is busy wiping the tears.
For a woman her age can look younger. Somehow, the skin was wrinkled in a fairly young age. Perhaps, the habit of anger every time, every minute, every second has become a virus that gnaws at his skin.
Night was late, but my eyes could not be closed. The incident this afternoon wriggled in my mind. Great! That was the first time I could make her speechless. I was quite proud, but in the other side of my heart it was revealed a deep compassion. I know, it's not worth a child like this.
He has lived on his own since Dad's departure. Our position is precisely not as a friend, but rather a burden.
I saw Nurul fall asleep with a face so innocent and clean. But the shade was not balanced with what he experienced. Nurul must be born with a state without father.
Never felt a father's touch, never enjoyed a father's tender whisper. He can only describe a father's dream, only an estimate, and a presupposition.
It seems, roughly, if only.
He could only look at the children of his age embraced in the arms of their fathers. He had to shut his mouth tightly to withstand his ugly mental explosions or stem the tears forced out by veins and blood.
Too heavy for a man as early as he is! I know the depravity of my soul. Let me do this. I think that's enough. And I do not want the shade to be gone from him. That's half my soul for her. I realized that I did not want him to be a human like me.
Since this afternoon, I'm taking care of Nurul. This is a job I used to do. I am more willing to deal with Nurul than he always had the old lady screamed. While the usual busyness of the old lady did was cook and trade to the market. To wash, clean the house and the front yard is my job. No command, but that's what I do.
Since this afternoon, the mother kept confined in the room. He just came out to pray and went back in. It seems that until now he has not touched water for bathing. I silence him without rebuking or knocking on his door. There is a feeling of arrogance tucked away. Are not we in war ...?
Automatically rice is no longer baked in a puddle. No rice For my meal and Nurul was forced to buy at the front stall. But tonight I cook. And I saw it was still whole, untouched. The woman's belly had not been filled with rice by the afternoon. I thought maybe she would eat tonight after all had fallen asleep so as not to be seen. The shame and pride I think remains in every human being.
Ah, why am I thinking ...? Is not he grown up and can manage himself ...! Honey ... his attitude is still too childish ...!
"Sister, love the money pocket dong!" Nurul whined at me.
That's the usual thing that happened to me. To me what is not for her? I know it's not good, but it's too big! Ah, but this money is just enough to buy a side dish.
"Ask Mother, huh? Sibling money is not enough ", but her tiny face is still pouting.
He fiddled with his black hair while slightly twisting his body and shaking his legs. A spoiled expression!
"Nurul has asked for money with mother ... but the door is not opened ..." he said still with the same expression.
"Huff!" I blew in. Should be the rest of my money is not to buy rice or snacks, but saved.
"Nur want to buy anything?" I asked a little curious.
"Nur want jajan ... was Widya bought his father ..." he replied sadly.
Deg ...! My heart jerked a little. I know his feelings, though not exactly. But the vibration of his voice is quite representative. Deep, tough, and husky. It's so hard I give this money. For a moment I thought deeply.
"Here, two thousand, yes" he lowered his head slowly. But in an instant his eyes shone again. Bebar-really like the sun in a pile of snow. He was immediately ran jingkat toward the crowd of his friend.
I myself start to guess my inventory. Reduced two thousand, meaning not enough to buy side dishes. I pulled out a chair and threw myself down.
I saw a hood that still covered the meal last night. I was surprised, the rice was still intact! Nothing touched. Everything is still in place. Mean ... the mother really tortured her self. I pondered for a moment.
"Yess." Suddenly my mirror idea appeared. Cook the fried rice! Surely Nurul likes! About two days ago he asked to make fried rice to mother.
"Mmm added what, huh?" I whispered quietly accompany my thoughts.
"Yes ... add crackers and omelet!" Incidentally the chicken in the back laying eggs. But, this rice is just enough to eat together. Ah, let me just buy rice. I think he still has money.
I was dissolved in my cooking skills. Special fried rice that father once praised. Fried rice that became subscriptions when the excursion to the orchid tama. Without me knowing it, my tears were dripping from the past. While there is still a voice that praises me. But now ...?
"Mmm enaaak, cook what, kak!"
Apparently my little one has smelled this scent.
"Cook fried rice" I replied to him spoiled.
I gave her my lips a moment.
"Sister, mature when ..?"
"Mmm soon, Nurul wash hands first, yes"
He was delighted. A glowing face that became heaven to me.
"Yep, this is finished." I put the gorweng rice on two different plates. The steam is still steaming great. Inviting an appetite to help him.
"Good, kak!"
I smiled with relief. Nurul is the second person who praised my cooking after my father.
Pyaar ..!
A glass fell on the floor. Ah apparently my elbow nudged the glass. Small pieces were scattered among the puddles.
But there are others. Mother.
Yes, mom, I feel there is something with my mother. In the confusion of my heart I can not deny the sense of vibration and worry that.

I went straight to my mother's room. With a heavy step I approach the room. The door of the room that looked like a pickaxe shook the bell of my heart.
Tok tok tok.
"Mom, open the door" I took out my sticky voice.
"Mom, Nova really apologize ... Nova will not do it again".
"Mother, do not torture yourself, it will hurt you, you have not eaten from yesterday afternoon".
My sobs became even more audible. My heart widened. And Nurul started whining behind me.
"Mom ..." the tone of my voice grew more and more tense. My naked brain started to guess what I had never thought of. Perhaps? No…!
Tok tok tok.
"Open the door, Mom ...!" I hit the door harder. I do not care if the door is broken or heard by the next door neighbor. Although there was no answer, my blood was flowing faster, my brain pressed higher, my sweat drooled more rapidly.
Regret, annoyance, anxiety, and fatigue clump together. The series of feelings of unpreparedness accept the reality of what I do. Uncategorized and structured feeling into a sphere of regret that is ready to blow my soul.
I keep struggling, hitting, and kicking with what I can do from my body. The harder and harder ...!
Outside Mr. Deden rushed to a run.
"What's the matter, Va?" He asked a little jerk and confused.
"Mother ... Mother ..." while crying my mother's name. Mr. Deden immediately understood and helped me. He also raised his blood and started to drag me and Nurul. He took a few steps back. And…
Braaak!
A great kick was able to break the door and make it fall on the floor. All the neighbors began to arrive.
Ah, the room was so dark ...
I hugged Nurul increasingly tight. My heart was beating fast with Nurul. My chest was caught in tightness.
Thousands of ants are clashing a body without a life. And that body is my mother's body ...
A thousand fogs do not leave everything, just a mist!