“Dad, we don’t purchase shoes anymore?” Haraz asks as we head for the car.
“Just use it first, until you find a job later,” I say encouragingly.
“It’s time for my shoes to change, too,” says Sara, my second child. I say “yes” while continuing to pass. Then, it comes the hubbub of children and my wife. I walk more slowly. The soles of my shoes are wide open. Too fast, my footsteps can be fatal.
When I get to the parking lot, I meet Hakim again. When he sees me, he immediately apologizes because he cannot help me. His eyes could see my footsteps a little limp. I have to stroll, so it doesn’t look like my shoes are wide open. We meet briefly. And suddenly it comes a beautiful girl wearing a toga kissing Hakim’s hands full of reverence. Our chat stopped. I pretend to look at my cell phone while listening to their conversation.
“Dad, we take pictures first before going home,” the girl whined, spoiled.
“Oh yeah. Take your mother and your sister in the car too,” Hakim asks her quietly. I continue to follow their conversation. Then, the next instant, the girl, shuffle away, maybe calling her mother.
“Who is she, Kim?” I ask. By this time, my curiosity is so unsettling.
Before answering my question, Hakim chuckles,” She’s my daughter, Mr Arjun,” the answer is again denied laughter. Maybe the intention is to be modest. But in my ears, the laughter sounds so arrogant.
“Your daughter graduates today too?”
“Yes, Jun, that’s why I couldn’t go out to buy glue earlier for you.”
I feel cheated.
“So you are here to take your child’s graduation or to take Kyai Salman’s grandchildren?” I ask in a slightly trembling voice.
Hakim is silent. My mind guesses what the answer will be.
“They both are true, Jun,” he answers simply. He then smiles thoughtfully.
“So? Are you Kyai Salman’s son-in-law? Do you marry Ning Amalia? “
Before Hakim could answer my question, the girl wearing the toga had come back with her mother and small children, whom I think is her younger siblings.
“This is Ning Amalia Jun, my wife. And these are my children. “
My mouth seems silenced by his words. It is hard for me to believe that the servant of Kyai Salman I used to underestimate turns out to be Kyai Salman’s son-in-law. But what is seen before my eyes make me unable to deny it. I stand nailing blankly. They then leave me. And I do not dare to move because the soles of my shoes have come loose. Their mouth is gaping wider. Apparently, my life is full of jokes! Look, even the shoes deride at my arrogance! My face feels numb. My chest feels tight to breathe.
Mentaraman, 5 June 2020