Saturday, December 20, 2008

a cloudy saturday afternoon

for this weeks sundayscribbling's prompt, late

In the middle of a schoolyard, in the edge of the village, a group of boys were playing baseball. The sun was about to fall to the horizon line, but the game was in the climax. The hitter group almost had their players run home. Pitik the last hitter, hit the ball so strong, straight to Bayu's hand. Bayu held the ball, but he suddenly frozen. The supporter out of the area screamed and shouted, told him to do something with the ball.

“Yu! Over here! Throw the ball to me!!”, shouted Wawan who was standing next to the last base.

But Bayu just stood there still.

His friends screamed at him again. The other group players have one by one touched all the bases.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four runners run across the home line. Only Pitik left to touch the last base.

“Bayu! Stop daydreaming! The ball the ball the ball…!!!” his friends started to get mad.

Bayu haw. He threw the ball to Wawan who caught it right and ready to stop Pitik.

Bayu didn't care about the ball anymore, he didn't care about his friends, he didn't care about the game. He run like a thunder, left the field straight to his house. Left Wawan completely dazed. Left Pitik who was still running to the last base and did a home run.

Pitik and his group cheered and jumped for their winning in the last inning. The ball was still in Wawan's hand, fixed in enchantment of their defeat He slammed the ball to the ground, no mercy. “Stupid Bayu!. Crazy boy! What is wrong with him?”

***

Bayu kept running like a ghost was chasing behind him. He turned twice, run over a bridge, scattered a bunch of chicken, let Mbah Tumi shouted, “Yu! why are you running like that…?”

Dad's come, I can't be late. Dad's come, I can't be late. Dad's come, I can't be late.

Those words echoed in his head. His step got slower as he got into the street in front of his house, slower as he entered his house gate, and stopped few feet before the door.

He stood still, stared in. It was so quite.

Slowly he stepped into the wide quite living room. He continued walking entered the living room with the same situation he caught. Doubtfully he opened the west room, it hasn't been open for a long time.

Dark. Musty. And there was nobody. No sound, only his ruffle breath after running along the way home.

Bayu turned around and walked to the kitchen. Grandma was fixing the wood and blowing the fire in the stove.

“Mbah…”, he called his granny gently. Still she was a little bit shocked.
“Hey, Yu… I didn't hear you coming. What is wrong with you?"

Bayu walked approaching Grandma in sat next to her.

“Where's Dad?”

Grandma put the wood down, wiped his hands on her ashy skirt, and stroke her beloved grandson's head tenderly.

“Your Dad is still in Lombok, Yu…”
“But I felt he was coming. I felt he was at home, and brought me lot of presents…”

Grandma grabbed Bayu into her arms.

“No, Yu. He's not coming yet”

Bayu cuddled up. Tears started to fall over his face.

“When will he be home, Mbah?”
“In three months, dear. Be patient okay..”
“I miss Dad, Mbah..”
“I know, darling. But your Dad has to work and gain money there. Be patient, in three months he will come and bring you a lot of presents…”

Bayu cried. His shoulders shook.

“Do you want to read your dad's letters again?”

Bayu shook his head, then got up and waked to his room.

He stared at a picture that's always been there on his desk. Dad, Mom, him.

Right after his parents got married, they went to find a job in Lombok. Bayu was born there and stayed with them for couple of years. But since he was five, his Dad sent him here to this village to accompany his lonely Grandma. Dad and Mom visited him twice a year.

These past two years, only Dad comes visit him every six months, Mother has died caused by breast cancer. These past two years, his Dad is the only one he waits for.

Bayu tried to remember again, and yes Dad has come three months ago. So Grandma was right, he has to wait for another three months.

He heard the sound of holy Al-Qur’an from the mosque behind the house as the dawn was falling. Maghrib is coming. Bayu put the picture back to the table, and went out to take a bath. He would go to the mosque to do sholat maghrib. After that he would pray to Allah, for Dad's health, so he could come and see him in three months...

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Praying to God heals the soul - Its very touching!

Roan said...

This is a lovely short story. Thanks for directing me here. BJ

Linda Jacobs said...

What a sad and heartwarming story!

Tumblewords: said...

What a lovely story - hope and faith make short work of late...

SSQuo said...

Lovely story, I wish Dad's could take time out to visit their sons a bit more often than 6 months. Well-written, reader's heart really goes out to Bayu!