The Third Person (English)

Part 2

SLAM!

I close the door roughly. As if to tell Adi about my anger.

Even though I know, it is useless. I fall asleep, holding back my anger at Adi until I hear the sound of the call to zuhr (noon) prayer.

Ah, remembering that man frustrates me. Should I tell Mom and Dad about all this?

I shake my head, convincing myself to continue this Adi-said-stupid marriage. Let me be the one who languishes, as long as my parents are happy. Life is not just about making yourself happy, right?

I head for the bathroom. I wash my face, rinse my mouth, stare at the reflection of my face in the mirror for a while, then start my wudu (ablution).

I am not a super religious woman, but I know my obligations as a Muslim woman.

Prayers make me feel calmer and more peaceful. At the end of the salam, I can pour out all the problems I am facing on the Owner of Life-Allah.

Finishing folding the mukena (loose sized clothing for prayer) and placing it back on the nightstand, I leave the room to get a drink.

Just when my feet step on the first staircase, an unpleasant sight greets me. Adi is lying on Melati's lap, while Melati gently strokes his hair.

I sigh heavily, preparing my heart to continue my steps towards the kitchen, where I have to walk past the two figures in this living room.

Melati turns to look at me when she recognizes my presence. She smiles.

“Nye.”

“Mel. You’re home already.”

“Yes. I bought food for you. Go have some.”

I, who is standing beside the sofa, glance at the dining table not far from here. There is a plastic bundle there.

“Thanks.”

Without waiting for more words from Melati, I walk to the refrigerator, take a bottle of water, grab the glass on the rack and then head for the dining table.

I take a glance, seeing Adi and Melati, who have shifted their positions. Adi now sits leaning on the sofa. Then I realized the IV tube is no longer in his hand.

Maybe it was taken off earlier while I was sleeping. I am quite happy that Adi has recovered. That means I will again hear those distinctive sounds Melati usually makes at night. The sounds that give me goosebumps all over.

You surely know what I mean, don’t you?

I open the bundle in front of me, Kalasan Fried Chicken, completed with fresh vegetables and chili sauce. After drinking, I eat the food my co-wife has bought me.

“Honey, I want tea.” I hear Adi saying.

“Okay, wait a minute,” says Melati. She gets up from her seat, stepping towards the kitchen.

I keep silent, pretending not to hear their conversation.

“Nye, do you want tea too?” Melati offers me. I see her hands are busy cutting a lemon. Adi likes lemon tea a lot.

“No, Mel. Thanks,” I say.

Quiet.

Melati has finished making Adi's tea. I, myself, have finished eating. After throwing away the food wrap, I put back the bottle in the refrigerator and then wash my hands and the glass. I walk past the two people again who have been chuckling and laughing.

“Nye, come here, join us!” Melati invites me to join her and Adi.

I glance at Adi briefly. The man focuses on the screen, which is showing a romantic scene from the Titanic movie, Melati's favorite film. I have no clue how many times my co-wife has watched it.

“I’m going out.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just calming my mind,” I answer honestly. I leave the two people without waiting for their response.

I can still hear Adi talking about his plans on having children.

“We're gonna have five children.”

I cannot help it. There is a throbbing pain deep down.

“Don't be late tomorrow, or else the boss will bark at you again.” Marta reminds me.

We both are sitting in a cafe attached to the largest bookstore building in this city.

We accidentally bumped into each other when I was looking for a novel that caught my eyes when suddenly someone tapped me lightly on the shoulder. Marta, that pretty Medanese girl, my colleague and best friend, smiled at me. And here we are now, sitting across each other.

I thought I was going to be alone in this cafe, befriending my new novel and the intense rain that falls into the bosom of the earth. But God sent me someone. Marta, the slender girl with a sharp jawline and loud voice. Her Batak blood flows perfectly in her veins.

“Yeah, got it,” I reply, hand picking up the donut on the table. Then, I take it in the mouth.

“Nye, Simon proposed to me yesterday,” Marta says, eyes sparkling.

I am really happy to hear it.

“Alhamdulillah!” I respond enthusiastically. “He seems to be a responsible guy.”

“I hope so.” I hold her hand tightly, trying to convince her about her choice and to convince her that Simon is indeed really different, in other words, better than Adi.

“Still wanna survive this?” Marta knows all about my wedding. I always tell her anything.

“Is there even another choice? Can I just be selfish, Ta?” I can sense the despair in my words.

Marta exhales softly. “Sometimes it’s necessary to think about your feelings, Nye. You deserve to be happy.”

“At the expense of my parents’ happiness?”

In my neighborhood, divorce is a disgrace. I certainly do not want to rub dirt onto my parents’ faces.

“They’ll understand. Talk to your parents. Don’t carry this burden alone, Nye.”

I know Marta just wants me to be happy.

That afternoon, I returned home with Marta’s words still ringing in my head. Even until night when I force my eyes to sleep.

***

The following days are still the same. I am busy with work, and so is Melati. My co-wife works at a private bank. Meanwhile, Adi has been in Bandung for two days, keeping an eye on his new branch cafe.

For that, I am glad. So far, Adi has always provided me with sufficient financial support. That is one of the reasons I am still hanging by his side.

“Adi will be home this afternoon,” says Melati. We are having breakfast together at 6.30 am right now.

I catch a glimpse of Melati. Then, I refocus on the fried rice in front of me.

“I may come home late tonight.” I choose not to respond to Melati’s words about Adi’s return.

For me, it is not something worthy of my attention, because as usual, Adi will only buy gifts for Melati.

“Where are you going?” Melati looks at me curiously.

“Some business,” I reply shortly.

“Take care, then.” I see her saying with a smile.

Honestly, I hate it when Melati treats me well like this. She wants to own Adi all for herself and get rid of me, doesn’t she?

But that woman is always nice. Although I often consciously speak coldly to her.

***

I park my motorbike at the house right at ten o’clock in the evening. After work, I accompanied Marta to go shopping for her wedding preparation. All at Simon’s request, and I would love to do it, of course. So, I just get home late at night.

“Where the hell are you from?” The deep voice greets me just as I am about to enter my room door.

“Went out with Marta.”

“Until this late?”

I look at him in surprise. I believe my forehead is now creasing beautifully. It is very unusual for Adi to ask me like this.

“Yes.” I turn around, ready to enter, but in the next second Adi's words hold my pace.

“I’m not done.”

I turn my head and gaze at him questioningly.

“Tomorrow we’ll go to Bandung. Mom is sick.”

By saying ‘Mom’, he means my mother-in-law.

“What happens?”

“Her high blood pressure recurred,” Adi answers quietly. “Tomorrow we’ll leave in the morning. So, get your things ready tonight.”

“Is Melati coming too?” Even though I was hesitant at first, I finally asked this question.

Adi looks at me sharply. “Do I need to answer?”

“I’m just making sure, because the last time I looked, your wife is her. I’m just nobody here.” I finally say what has been stuck in my heart.

Adi is silent. We exchange glances at each other.

“I’m going back to my Mom’s house. It’s time for them to know about all this.”

“Don’t you dare. My Mom is at death’s door, you want to see her dying!” A flash of anger is clearly visible on Adi’s face.

“And you want me to die slowly because you never consider me your wife, do you?”

Adi is silent. Slowly his sharp gaze fades, even though it is still just as cold as before.

“Why are you quiet?”

“You want me to think of you as my wife?” This time Adi smirks. A smile that I think is creepy.

“What do you mean?”

Adi pushes me into the room. Still, with a grin, he locks the door slowly.

“You force me into this.”

I stand still, not far from him, until the man walks over, pulling my body quickly to his body. My brain suddenly stops with no chance of trying to break free when Adi finally presses his lips against mine roughly.

I blink a few times. I still cannot believe what Adi is doing. Then, Adi’s hand that is now feeling on my chest makes me realize what is about to happen. Suddenly, I get scared that Adi will take his rights as my husband by force. Even though I have been dreaming about it, I do not want it like this because I know Adi is not in his right state of mind.

I want us to do it out of love.

I push as hard as I can, even though it does not help in making him pull away from me.

“Mmmmmppphhh ....” I struggle to speak in the middle of Adi's harsh-kiss. But what I hear coming out of my mouth is similar to Melati's sound at night.

I try to block his hands’ ministrations, which are getting wilder. My shirt button-up is already openopened. Now his hands are touching my skin. My body responds, there is a feeling of both rejecting and receiving at the same time.

Adi pushes me down on the bed. Our lips are still attached. I feel his hand now has reached my stomach and lower. He is looking for the button of my trousers.

My hand immediately tries to stop him but fails. Adi manages to open and lower it to my thighs.

I try to stop his action by pulling his hair harshly. It works. Adi breaks the kiss. We stare at each other. I see passion has locked him up.

I shake my head slowly. My eyes are wet, holding back the tears that are about to flow out.

Adi closes his eyes. Then, he gets up from above my body and sits at my feet.

Instantly, a feeling of relief floods over me. I follow him to sit, grabbing the blanket to cover my unraveled body because of his previous act.

“I don’t want you to do it out of anger. Or even worse, without love,” I said softly.

Adi glances at me, then squeezes his hair roughly.

“Because if I get pregnant with your child and you don’t love me – yet, it will only hurt me more.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Ask it to your heart. How important am I to your life?”

Continued