The Third Person (English)

Part 3

At seven o’clock in the morning, Adi and I are ready for our trip to Bandung. After having breakfast together, Melati walks us to the terrace.

“Be careful,” she says to us with a smile she never misses showing.

Adi hugs her tight, like not wanting to part with his favorite wife.

Me? Of course, I feel a little irritated.

Melati is the first who untangles their hug. Maybe because she feels bad seeing my sullen face.

“You too, take care at home. Call me right away if something happens,” Adi orders. His hands are still holding Melati’s fingers tight.

Melati nods obediently. Then her gaze shifts to me, “Nye, take care of Adi, will you?”

I hate hearing Melati say those words again, treating me as if I am Adi’s babysitter.

“It depends on him,” I reply. “Last time you said that too when he was sick. But it turned out he didn’t even need my help. And now, I’m pretty sure he won’t need my help either, because he’s very healthy,” I say, looking at Adi irritatedly while remembering the unpleasant incident that day.

Adi stares at me in displeasure. Meanwhile, Melati is still smiling and shaking her head. Maybe she is wondering about our antics – childish attitude.

“Di... she’s your wife too. Remember.” I smile bitterly at that sentence.

“Hm.”

“Alright, you better leave now. Mom must’ve been waiting.”

Adi and I finally leave for the City of Flowers, Bandung. The city where I was born and raised. I have contacted my boss, asking for two days off for this trip.

It has been silent for an hour’s journey. I busy myself with my phone in my hand. I open social media, reply to the messages from my boss and Marta and then switch to surfing on YouTube. Occasionally, I glance at Adi who focuses on the road ahead.

Adi is charming. Pure white skin, with a perfectly arched up nose. Brown eyes with thick eyebrows that almost join together. His body is not a six-pack but quite ideal. His broad shoulders with the ideal body weight make him look macho. At least, I think so.

“What? I’m handsome, huh,” he says confidently. He glances at me and then returns to focus on the road.

I stop looking at him, turning away to look back on the screen of my phone without responding to his words.

“Why are you quiet?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you hungry?”

I look at him in surprise. “No.”

Please, Di, you don’t need to pretend to care.

“Once we get there... act naturally like a wife,” Adi advises me as if he is flawless. Doesn’t he remember how he treated me all this time?

“It’s not like you even consider my existence all this time." I bite back at him.

“Stop interrupting while I’m talking, Anyelir. Can’t you just say yes!”

“Can’t you think of me as a real wife? Do you know how it feels to be neglected all the time? You are selfish, Adi! You treat Melati so well. But with me, you ....”

“Enough!” He snaps again.

“You’re the most heartless man I’ve ever met. I’m more and more convinced to file our divorce.”

“Don’t you dare mess with me!”

“Give me the right reason to survive this stupid marriage,” I glare at him.

“At least wait ‘til Mom recovers, Anyelir.”

“Fine. While waiting for that day, I’ll rent a room and live by myself. I’ve had enough with your romance.”

Unexpectedly, Adi smiles. A mocking smile, to be more precise.

“So, you’re jealous?”

“My jealousy is too precious for a man like you. I just don’t like being treated differently.”

“You certainly know the reason why I am like this.”

I know ... Adi only loves Melati, not me.

“Fine. I make sure we get divorced as soon as possible,” I say confidently.

Again, Adi smirks. “Do whatever you want, but wait ‘til Mom is completely recovered.”

After a twoAfter two and a half hours’ drive, we finally arrive at my mother-in-law’s house. We get off car with our luggage.

“Good afternoon Adi, Anye.” Fitri, the housemaid of the house warmly welcomes us.

Her hands deftly take over our luggage and take them inside.

Adi and I rush into Mom’s room after washing our hands and feet.

I see my mother-in-law lying with her eyes closed. An IV tube is in her right hand. Next to her, Dad falls asleep in a sitting position with his head resting on the mattress.

“Why not just have Mom hospitalized?” I ask Adi.

“Dad wants her treated at home.”

Dad wakes up hearing our voices. Getting up from his seat, he hugs us in turns while smiling.

“Take a rest. You must be tired,” he suggests and sits back down beside Mom.

“Later, Dad. I want to see Mom first.”

Adi stands beside Dad and then kisses her forehead gently. “I’m sorry, Mom. I just got here now,” he says softly.

This is my first time seeing Adi’s sad face. Another side of Adi that touches me, but it does not affect my decision to divorce him.

“Dad, have you eaten?”

Dad looks at me with a faint smile, “Yes,” he replies softly. “Have some rest first. After that, you can come here again later.”

I nod obediently. Then I leave Mom’s room, heading for the room where Fitri put my luggage. Of course, it will be my and Adi’s bedroom for the next two nights. It is impossible for us to sleep separately.

I decide to sleep. The 2.5-hours trip is enough to make me feel tired. Not so long after I fall asleep, I hear the door opened by someone.

Reluctant to open my eyes, I choose to continue sleeping – until I feel someone shake my body. I open my eyes slowly and find a familiar face right in front of my face.

“What do you want?” I jump in shock, sit at once, and get away from him.

Adi chuckles with an unfriendly face. “Sleep on the sofa. This is my bed.”

Still not fully conscious from my sleep, I blink in disbelief at what I just heard.

“Hurry up! I want to rest. What are you waiting for,” he drives me off again.

“What do you—“

“Tsk. You don’t get it, huh? I mean, you should sleep on the sofa over there.” Adi points his chin on the sofa near the window. “This is my bed, so by default, I should be the one to sleep here.”

I stare in disbelief at this man in front of me. Really. Adi is such a heartless man. Okay, I understand he doesn'tdoes not want me in his life, but that does not mean he can make me sleep on the sofa, while he comfortably sleeps on his bed.

Even if Adi does not think of me as his wife, think of me as a woman who might feel uncomfortable sleeping on the sofa.

I choose not to respond to his words and immediately reach the sofa.

And I cannot hold it anymore. The clear droplets slid free from my set of eyes.

Yes ... I am this weak, indeed.

****

I feed my mother-in-law patiently. She is getting better now and already able to sit and talk even though it is not so clear.

Adi sits on the edge of the bed under Mom's feet, massages them gently while rambling about many things. Even, he talks about her favorite soap opera, Tukang Ojek Pengkolan – Pengkolan Taxi Bike Drivers. I choose to be a listener.

If only I had not witnessed how gentle Adi has been to Mom, I will not believe it when hearing from someone else.

I think Adi has a split personality, which at any time, his attitude can change instantly.

At nine in the evening, after dinner and evening prayers, we go to our room. I, who have learned to know my place, immediately sit on the sofa and busy myself with my gadget. As for Adi, I see him sitting while leaning on the headboard. His fingers are busy dancing on the screen.

I can guess that right now, Adi is having fun chatting with Melati.

I upload a silhouette photo of myself on the beach while gazing at the sunset to my social media account. I type some captions that describe my heart tonight.

(If you can’t make her happy. At least don’t make her cry)

After that, I choose to put down the phone on the nightstand and lie down.

I hope that all this pain will disappear tomorrow.

****

I wake up at three in the morning. The cold chills me to the bone and makes me a bit reluctant to step out to take wudu.

After fighting with myself, finally, with heavy steps, I walk into the bathroom. Passing the bed where Adi is lying, I glance at the man who is sleeping and hugging the bolster. A soft snore sounds in my ears.

I proceed to the bathroom, brush my teeth, then take wudu.

After praying, I recite Al Quran, reading Surah Ar-Rahman makes my mind drizzle. I feel the meaningful verses slap me, reminding me to remain grateful under any circumstances.

To remain grateful while I am given a decent life, even though Adi keeps ignoring me.

“Sodaqallahul'adzim.” I embrace and then pepper kisses on this golden covered mushaf (book), the cure for all anxiety, the antidote for all difficulties.

“Already up?”

Adi’s voice holds my hand from taking off my mukena. I turn around. The man is sitting, leaning on the headboard, staring at me.

“Yes,” I answer briefly.

Instantly I hesitate to take off the mukena in front of him. It is nothing, but being ignored makes me think of Adi as a stranger. So, I feel reluctant to show my head without a veil.

“Not finished?” Adi asks in confusion. Maybe because he sees me lost in my thoughts.

“I have –”

“Then, why don’t you take it off?”

I bit my lower lip, confused about what to answer. It seems impossible for me to say that I am shy to show my head in front of my husband without being covered.

“That ....”

“Are you shy because I’m here?” Adi guesses. He gets out of bed and walks over to me.

“I’m your husband, right?” he says when he is already in front of me.

I look at him. Adi Hutomo Putra is smiling a little at me.

“I — I...” My lips are suddenly too stiffened to speak.

“I have the right to see it, right?”

I try to decipher Adi’s words. Ah, is it because he is now clouded with passion? Suddenly I shudder with horror. I know, almost every night Adi does it with Melati. Can it be that he wants to do it with me now because Melati isn’t here by his side?

“On the paper and in the name of marriage, you have the right to see me without a veil or even without a single thread. But that will only happen when you think of me as a wife,” I say calmly.

Adi scooped up his face roughly. “It’s too early to argue, Anyelir.”

“Then shut your eyes or go out while I’m wearing hijab,” I say, casting him away.

Adi widens his eyes and shakes his head slowly. He is about to speak, but I interrupt first.

“Go.”

Adi’s face turns irritated.

“Do you think I can’t make you take this off?” Adi forcibly tries to remove the mukena from my head.

“Adi ....” I hiss irritatedly, trying to hold Adi’s hand that is presumptuously trying to remove the mukena I am wearing.

Adi grips my hands so that they do not get in his way. With a jolt, the mukena I am wearing slips from my head, showing off my long hair that flows freely.

SLAP!

Reflexively I slap Adi’s right cheek hard.

“How dare you!” I swear. Even though Adi is my husband, I cannot accept what he has just done.

Adi looks angry. His hand is whipping in the air about to slap me back. I remain silent, waiting. If that hand manages to touch my cheek, I swear that today I will sue for divorce.

To my surprise, Adi’s hand just stops in mid-air. His hand is clenching tightly.

“It’s useless for you to pray the night prayers when your behavior is like this,” he says sarcastically. Standing red-faced and glaring at me.

"You are making it even harder for me to be nice to you. So, just wait until Mom recovers, and I will grant your divorce wish,” he says stressfully.

Adi turns and leaves me in the room.

For a moment, I regret my actions. I was insolent to slap him while Adi has the right to get my body. But then I convince myself that I was not completely at fault. Adi is the one who ignored me first.

So, I think I have the right to forbid him from seeing my hair or the other parts of my body.

Continued.