Thursday, November 05, 2009

Busuk [revised]

"Hi busuk."
"Go to hell, idiot. You and your stupid bike. Go die, both of you."
"After you, busuk."

* * *


Ever since from which she could remember, there was never a day when he would not come to her and call her that.

When he first came to register in campus, it was her who helped him with the documents and all. It was how she met her and also the reverse. He was a cherry in the eyes of a hungry bird, but little that she did fall for this; one part because she saw love as nonsensically hard to get/maintain and one part because she thought that he was the type of bird that does not stay long on one branch - the type that hops and goes every other time.

Turned out that he was worst than she thought he could be.

Every day when he crossed the concourse area, he came and greeted her with the word she always particularly hated. It was always the same word. It did not matter if she wore the best drops of perfume even; he still did it anyway. At first she thought it was just a joke - the type of joke a man will pull off to get her attention. After all, she is quite a lady in a way that many men have tried to woo but failed miserably in the end anyway. But after some time she started to get way too pissed about it.

There was one time when she threw her shoes at him after calling her that.

There was one time when her friends found her crying her heart out in the ladies after he teased her non-stop from the concourse to the cafe with that bloody word.

And this has been going on for three months.

And for three months too, she's been taking him as a complete idiot.

* * *

Fine Friday morning.

The sun shone brightly and the trees looked so green. The birds sang their song and the wind blew smoothly. The kind of day that one may be looking forward verily to have.

She sat on her usual bench overlooking the lake doing the same thing she did every other day - feeding the fishes and reading her novels. But it somehow occurred to her that something was missing somewhat. The hint of incompleteness, she was minding. She looked at her watch.

He should have been here by now, she said to herself, but he didn't show up. And it has been three days since he last made his oftenly-awful appearance.

Well maybe he died or something, she thought. She was pretty happy about this; a series of fine mornings without any disturbance, and the idea that he is finally dead, at least for the first two days. But since this has been going on for three days straight, it was safe to say that she missed the teasing somehow. She missed that stupid grin on his face. The gestures he made when he uttered that bedevil word. She missed how she used to get so angry at him and cried over that particular idiot. And this caused her to wonder about where in the world could this idiot has been residing since the last he appeared. She wanted to know where he was.

She looked around for the slightest proof that he was around, only to find nothing that gave her the idea that he was. He was not there in the vicinity of her. Not even his bike. His stupid, loud bike.

She was desperate to know where he was.

And then she knew where he was.

* * *

The cold floor was so clean, with the smell of strong antiseptic that struck her nose rather violently.

The walkway led to an end where she saw a number of people stood behind what seemed to be a huge, ceiling-to-floor thick glass wall. They folded their hands and hugged themselves to preserve warmth from leaving their bodies to the cold atmosphere of the air-conditioned hall. Some of them, all of them women, had tears rolling down their cheeks. Some of these people were familiar to her. Their eyes were pinned to something behind the thick glass wall. She moved her eyes to what they were looking at.

She stepped forward to the wall and she saw it.

There he lied on his deathbed, countless number of wires of various colors and tubes strapped, connected into and around his body parts. His head was covered in bandages. He no longer had his two legs, clearly amputated to his knees. There were tubes coming in and out his nasal passages and mouth. A machine next to him pumped fresh air slowly, circulating air in and out of what was left of his lungs. Another machine did the same to his blood. He looked terrible. So very terrible.

She covered her mouth with her hands upon seeing all these, horribly terrified.

"He's in bypass," her friend, who happened to be there too, said to her as she hugged her from her side, crying slowly. She was horrified with what she saw. She hugged her friend back, but her eyes were still on him.

Bruises. Cuts all over. There were dark blue spots on his face and arms. Blood stains at every corner of him. She felt something that poked continuously onto the thick wall of her cold heart, breaking this wall down to pieces. Something stirred from inside the wall, too, causing it to collapse even more severely. Finally she trembled. She started to cry. Past memories flashed in front of her eyes.

I hope you die with your stupid bike, she remembered this. "You and your stupid bike. Go die, both of you."

But I didn't mean it, I swear, she said to herself. But as she was told by her friend just now, his bike is dead. Would he be too? No, please no. Don't you die on me, she spoke to herself. At least not now. Not today. It has been three days you have not teased me. Three bloody days. You cannot die. Don't you die, don't even think about it you idiot!

At this point she burst into tears.

A doctor came to them.

"Maybe this is the best time to say goodbye," he said.

* * *

Hi idiot.
Can you hear me?
Can you feel me holding your hand?
I miss you, you know?

She was the last to enter. Sitting on a chair next to him she held his hand tight, hoping that he would somehow wake up. She knew he wouldn't wake up. Maybe for a long time. Maybe forever.

She had been crying a lot already by now, for a reason she could not really explain. She used to hate him so much for making her cried all the time. And today he did it again. She hated this so much. So much that she cried even more.

Eight whole minutes while she was in there, he did not even make a move.

Wake up, idiot.
Talk to me.
Tell me how smelly I am!

She sank her face onto an empty space on his bed and she sobbed more and more and more. But nature always has a way in making unclear examples of the thing we call miracle. This was when his hand grasped hers slowly, gently.

"Hi," he whispered, almost unheard, with such voice as if he was in great pain, "hi busuk."

Almost as instantly she pulled her head up and she took a look at him, totally surprised.

"Hi," she replied in her vainest voice. "Hello," she said, "how are you?"

"Pretty much alive, I guess." He smiled after saying this. Some of his teeth, his once greatly-looking rows of sparkling white teeth, were missing. She smiled back. A drop of her tears came falling onto his hand. She wiped it off with her finger.

"But not for long more, I guess," he continued to speak.

She sobbed while hearing to this. He just smiled, but one could easily tell that his eyes started to fill with tears. He grasped her hand tighter. He took a long breath and he was preparing to speak again.

"I am going to miss you, busuk."

She could not let even a single word out after this point. Her jaw was locked dead. Too many things to say, but too little time she had. Instead she sobbed and sobbed like a little girl crying over her ice-cream that fell flat on the floor. He just looked at her, smiling. His eyes did not blink at all, staring at her. She continued to hold to his hand and hoped that he will be alright. She hoped for many things for him.

Little that she knew, that by this time, he was already gone.

* * *

I am going to miss you, busuk.

She closed the holy book and placed it at the edge of the white marble cage. She fixed her scarf and her shades. She took a look at the tombstone and she spelled out his name out slowly. What a beautiful name, she said to herself.

The same thing from last night still stirred in her. She shook a little from this. She rubbed the tombstone gently before she stood up and placed a stick of rose on the fresh red soil. Then she backed off a little, gave a long empty stare on the tombstone and turned her back to it. She was about to walk away to join the leaving crowd when she turned around again for one last time.

"I will miss you too, you idiot," she said in complete despair, and continued, "I thought you ought to know that," she stopped to give way for her tears to roll down her rosy, rosy cheeks.

"I thought you ought to know that," she later continued, "that I will always be your busuk."


woody said...

nice story..

Radin Fadli said...

creative,touching dowh

Mohamad Nazmi Zaidi said...

thanks, both of you, MALES. haha. takkan touched kot? lol

woody said...

bes pe cite2 cmnie..
no discrimination pls~

~riena~ said...

hello jack :)
great great writings..
could'nt agree more!!!
u are good making ma tears came rolling down...
it's sweet


cik jaa said...

sweet =)

Mohamad Nazmi Zaidi said...

thank you, all of you. thank you

Noora Darmawan said...

eh? macam pernah bace oready, but in malay version one..