“What’s happened, ma’am?” I ask hoarsely.
No answer. And the nurse is still busy cleaning my mother with a washcloth and a small towel.
“Your mother has diarrhoea, Sir. Why are you leaving her so long?” the nurse grumbles again.
I feel awkward. Should I help her clean up the rest of my mother’s diarrhoea? But I’m not used to being close to women. So finally, I could only watch the nurse’s deft hands full of tenderness.
“Mus, why are you silent up there?” my mother asks me with a frozen glance. Once again, my mother is a tough woman who doesn’t want to complain about pain. Her face looks calm even though her body is in pain.
I confuse to answer the question. “Let her help you, Ma’am. Later, it will become a nuisance if I go there helping you too,” I answer choked doubtfully.
“I’ve just checked the office tasks, and it takes a long time. It turns out the diarrhoea of my mother recurred again,” I snorted.
“So, hurry up and find a wife, so someone can take care of your mother,” my mother’s reply strikes me.
“There is someone already taking care of you, Ma’am,” I answer with a grin.
“You boy or girl? I’ve asked to marry, but you always look for a reason,” the mother sharply insults me. Even being sick still hurls the insults at me.
“Yes, Ma’am. Hold on for a while, and don’t be surprised if I marry two wives immediately,” I answer arrogantly.
“Bullshit! You can’t get one girl, let alone two!” she sniffs. I’m laughing. “You used to say that you didn’t want the candidate that I had looked for you. My boy!”
“You, too, don’t want to accept my beautiful, smart, and good candidate. Yes, this sob stuff happens right now. You have to be patient, waiting for this child to find the idol of the heart,” I reply quickly.
“Madam, you mustn’t be angry, okay. The blood pressure will increase,” says the nurse gently. I keep silent to pay attention to her. It turns out that the gentlewoman is charming.
“My mother is joking, Miss. She is the best one at laughing the life. I often laugh because of her joke,” I reply, then.
The nurse then leaves us again. I look down as she passes in front of me. For some reason, there is a subtle vibration in my chest to pass her. The next second I sleep again. I see that the drip of the IV is dripping quickly.
Night’s getting late. The atmosphere of the hospital is increasingly quiet. I idly walk around to see the atmosphere. There are only a few rooms that are open and inhabited. Suddenly a thought crosses my mind, if there is no Corona, how is my mother condition while she is sick like this? I have to work and not every time can wait for my mother. Ah, God is good at slipping wisdom in every crevice.
I step in front of the nurse’s office. It reminds me of the nurse. I’ll ask all about my mother’s illness.
My chest ripples violently. I try to convince myself that my eyes are not wrong. In the lobby of the nurse, I see her sleeping with a mask lowered to her neck. Jihan? Is she Jihan? The one whom my mother had arranged the marriage for me? My mind is faded. My chest jingles boisterously. Seeing her soundly in sleep, I put my eyes on her. It turns out that Jihan is as charming as this… No wonder my mother used to force me to do it with her, even to the point where the tension kept rising. Hmmm. Ah, mother, you are always looking for the best for your stubborn child.
The next day the nurse, who turns out to be Jihan, came to the room with her friend. It is time to shift the turn with another nurse. After this, she will go home. No wonder she was very patient in caring for my mother. Maybe because she did not want to be recognized, so she did not want to appear, and now on, she turns into a bit of fluff, makes me no longer recognize her. The last time I saw her was two years ago. And during that time, of course, there have been many changes.
Pacing back and forth, I wait for her to come home. Finally, after I see her walking toward the elevator, I rush to catch up with her. Success! Now I’m alone with her in one elevator! But I’m confused about how to start talking to her.
“You’re Jihan, right?” finally, I start the conversation.
“Eh. Yes, you’re right. How do you know?” the tone of her voice seems to vibrate. It turns out I’m not the only nervous person.
“Yes. My hunch is never wrong,” I carelessly say. “When did you start to work here?” the interrogation continues. I must be successful. I will make my mother happy by loving her.
“A year ago,” she answers softly.
“Now, I know why my mother was so determined to make you her daughter-in-law.”
Jihan does not answer my straightforward sentence.
“Now, you must understand, I’m still single.”
She remains silent.
“Aren’t you still single now?” I ask her, bracing myself to thicken my face.
“Sorry. Your hunch is wrong. I have to go home to feed my child,” she says softly, silencing me.
The elevator opens. She then walked home. My face is broken. My body is weak. I take a deep breath, and then I release it slowly. I don’t know where I will put my face if she gets a picket to look after my mother again. I’m sorry, Mom, I used to ignore your words.