By Nisrina Lubis
Her tongue was stiff, powerless to help her to speak—as if the nerves there had died. They were not functioning as they should. This was worse than the very real pain she was feeling, and only Rara knew the cause. The eyes of the twenty-five-year-old tomboy remained fixed on the photographs on the refrigerator door. Five Barbie magnets held the photographs in place, each one freezing forever the image of her face beside that of her beloved Nel. Only photographs, perhaps, but she still found Nel’s lips inviting and the clear yet slightly embarrassed look in Nel’s eye never failed to stir her senses. But there was a soreness that came every time she saw or thought about Nel, hard to fend off by the firmness of resolve that had always been her shield. Sometimes she felt utterly helpless and was forced to yield to stronger hands that pushed her farther away from Nel. Whenever her former feelings arose, there were always stronger hands pushing her away from Nel. Further and further, time and again, and she, always failing to resist.
The hands were those of Nel’s family: of her father who refused to believe that his daughter Nel was her lover; of her mother, who knew that such was the case; of Alvin, Nel’s brother, who had once encouraged her relationship with Nel. And then there were all the other people who also thwarted her, all of them with contempt in their eyes.
Rara knew that she was alone and unable to stand up against such powerful forces. This is what had led her to the point of surrender, to say “Enough!” and to let Nel disappear from her life. Only her tears could help to soothe this hard reality. For four and a half beautiful years, Nel had been in her grasp: there, curled up each night under the blanket beside her with only her head sticking out; the two of them opening a boutique with investment capital that Alvin had provided; setting aside enough savings to be able to live together in their own apartment; renting a storefront for their boutique; traveling together to Lombok and Bali, and secretly planning to wed outside the country. But what had happened then? They had been good at planning their business and had been able to pay off the start-up capital that had been lent to them. They had even had a designer working for them. But their plans for marriage foundered midstream.
The son of a government official in Kalimantan had come to Nel’s parents to ask permission to court her. His name: Irwansyah or ‘Wawan’ for short. Thirty years of age, handsome and well dressed, with a smile always on his pleasant face; a man with a masculine and confident look in his eye; good posture and a flat stomach, the result of routine workouts at a physical fitness center; a successful businessman and good-natured as well.
After only a few meetings, Wawan had gained the favor of Nel’s mother; and when he expressed his wish to marry Nel, his request was immediately granted. No one bothered to ask Nel what she thought. The wedding date was set. Everything was arranged: the catering, the wedding hall, the choice of where to honeymoon. Nel was informed but given no chance to object or comment. Rara remembered clearly the moment Nel had received the telephone call from her mother. Her bright eyes had immediately faded; the palms of her hands had turned clammy and cold. She had almost dropped her cell phone on the floor.
Nel broke down weeping. Rara tried to give her lover strength, though she herself was devastated. Their dream of making official their relationship had been instantly changed to fantasy. The work they had together put into building a future for themselves had come to an end.
Rara could not stop thinking about the man Wawan and where he had come from. Why had he chosen Nel? Why had he chosen the one person whom she loved? Weren’t there other women? Rara was unable to look at Nel’s crestfallen face. She turned her head and drew in a deep breath. Nel touched her arm and brushed her lips with her own. “We can run away, darling,” she said softly.
Rara swallowed. Of course they could run away, as far as possible. They had enough savings to cover the cost of living in a new place and to open a new business. But …
“No, Nel. Marry him,” Rara said, then fell into a long silence.
“But I can’t. We’re the ones who should be getting married. Not me with someone else. We’ll talk to my parents together. We’ll explain everything to them.”
Rara shook her head in reply, one that did not change until today, the day of Nel and Wawan’s wedding. In just two hours a penghulu, some unknown mosque official, would bless the marriage of her lover with an unknown man, after which they’d sit formally at a grand reception in a function hall. Rara counted the seconds she had remaining as Nel’s lover. No. No matter what, she would still be Nel’s lover. They had not broken up. Rara had never demanded as much, nor had Nel. But the difference was that Nel was no longer with her and would no longer be sleeping beside her but beside that man. Rara swallowed. As she imagined another hand touching Nel’s body, her head felt as if it would explode.
The two hours shrank until only one minute remained. The penghulu was already seated in front of Wawan and Nel. In just a moment, Wawan, who was dressed in a white suit with a black peci on his head, would pronounce the ijab kabul, solemnizing their marriage vows. He looked ready, both physically and mentally. Rara continued to stare at Nel who was holding back her tears.
“I hereby marry Irwansyah Harya bin Ahmad Zainudin with—”
Rara closed her ears tightly before she could hear the penghulu pronounce Nel’s name. No one noticed, except for Alvin who was seated not far away.
Nel’s brother stared at Rara, feeling guilty. The darkened sky outside seem to be as one with Rara. This was the day of death for a pure love and he was one of the executioners. He had permitted this marriage to take place; in fact, he had even suggested the day and time, just one month after Wawan had first come to propose.
Staring at Rara, Alvin could sense her despondence. He wanted to hug Rara, to kiss her forehead and to whisper consoling words. Moreover he would be glad to occupy the empty place that Nel had left. For too long, he had suppressed the love he felt for Rara. Ever since their first meeting on campus six years earlier, an arrow of love had pierced his heart. Rara often came to the house to work on school assignments with Nel. She came almost every day, in fact, and in a very short time Alvin knew that he was in love with her. But before he could express his feelings towards her, Nel had been swayed by Rara’s kisses. And although he was broken-hearted, Alvin had never showed his feelings in front of them. Instead, he became their angel who lent his sister the money she needed so that she could move into an apartment with Rara and live with her as a couple.
“Do you …?”
“I do!”
“Alhamdulillah! Praise be to God!”
Rara smiled bitterly. How could everyone be smiling in the face of her misfortune? When she raised her head, she saw Wawan kiss Nel on both cheeks. Without realizing it, she clenched the tissue that she held in her left hand. “Good luck with your new life, my love,” she whispered.
The wedding guests made ready to go to the reception hall. Outside the mosque was a white Mercedes Benz, which would carry the new bride and groom to a grand new hall of a post-modern style in the city’s center. There, two thousand guests waited for their arrival. All the food was ready on the long tables placed around the hall. Expensive wedding mementoes would be given to each guest. Hopeful prayers for a happy and prosperous family—“Sakinah mawaddah warahmah…” —would be heard everywhere, each word a needle stabbing her heart.
Rara stood, preparing to leave. There was no one else she wanted to see, but a movement behind her caused her to suddenly turn around.
Two sets of eyes stared at each other; one of them blazing, the other puffy and wet. For a moment, they did nothing, just stared.
So it seems she wasn’t the only one saddened by this wedding, she thought. Rara was sure of that now. The tears she could see in the other person’s eyes were not those of happiness. She could tell the difference.
Rara extended her hand, waiting for a response from the man whose appearance was as head-turning as that of Wawan. Like Wawan, he was clean-shaven. But unlike Wawan, the smooth- and brown-skinned man was wisplike.
“I’m Hendra,” the man said softly.
For a few moments, Rara found herself in a strange dimension. Everything around her was floating, as if freed from the pull of gravity. She kept staring at the man, studying his body, top to bottom, ending with the pair of green Converse shoes with red stripes. Flashy, but very fashionable too.
“I’m Nel’s lover,” Rara said while withdrawing her hand.
Hendra wiped the tears from his eyes with a new tissue. He looked uncomfortable and out of place and turned his head back and forth, as if in fear, before starting to speak.
“Wawan and I are …”
Lovers?
Rara touched Hendra’s shoulder. That was the word Hendra should have said; but Rara had already sensed it. And now she knew. There was something about Wawan, especially his insistence on a quick wedding, that had disturbed her. And thus Hendra had been sacrificed, all for maintenance of the social structure—just as she had been.
Hendra looked confused.
Rara took his hand. “Come on, let’s party. This celebration is for the two of us.”
The two of them stood and looked at a picture of the Kaabah hanging on a sidewall of the mosque.
Rara spoke as if to herself: “I’ve never hated You, God. Because there is no person on the face of this earth who could create people like me and Hendra. And I know, You have never hated us.”
She took Hendra’s hands and led him out of mosque. The two of them would make their way to the reception hall to party with the other guests. It was inappropriate to be sad when she was with a new friend. Nel and Wawan need not know what had transpired that evening, not immediately anyway. This party was really and truly for her and Hendra.
Translated by John H. McGlynn