Tidak ada yang aneh dengan Mas-mas yang menyalip lalu nengok ke belakang ngasih sign pake tangan seolah lagi drible. Ngga paham awalnya tapi barangkali maksudnya : pelan-pelan.

Iya juga, berkendara di jalan yang kanan kiri sawah semua hujan sekencang ini bikin rasanya hampir kebawa angin. Sekarang udah pelan-pelan dan nyalain lampu sen.

Tapi Masnya, yang mungkin bisa jadi bapak-bapak karena pandangan ngeblur di badai sebesar ini masih di depan kayak ngiringin. Dan bener diiringin sampe ketemu jalan -lumayan- besar.

Tidak ada yang aneh dengan Mas-mas tadi, yang rasa-rasanya kayak nikmatin hujan badai. Ngga bermantel, mana mah tangannya dibuka kayak mainan air. Semua orang berhak menikmati hujan, semua orang berhak menggunakan cara mereka dalam menikmati hujan.

Seperti Umi malam kemarin. Rasanya semalam adalah hujan beneran setelah sekian lama cuma gerimis-gerimis manja. Saya baru sadar umi ngga di kamar atau di ruang tengah pas Adek bilang. Apaan sik umi malah duduk di ruang tamu nontonin hujan dari horden yang kesingkap-singkap.

Tidak ada yang aneh dengan Umi. Semua orang berhak menikmati hujan. Semua orang punya cara untuk menikmati hujan.

Mereka yang menikmati hujan barangkali memilih motoran di jalan tanpa jas hujan seperti mas-mas tadi. Atau sebagian seperti umi yang duduk dekat jendela mengamati hujan. Barangkali sebagian lainnya seperti aku, yang selama perjalanan kehujanan tulisan ini sudah lengkap di kepala menunggu sampai rumah lalu minta dijewantahkan.

Tidak ada yang aneh dengan aku, yang tidak suka hujan apalagi kehujanan. Bahwa aku benci sekali kehujanan apalagi pas sedang motoran.
Lengket.
Basah.
Gatal.
Bau.

Tidak ada yang aneh dengan mereka yang tidak suka hujan. Mereka manusia juga.

Ngomong-ngomong ketemu musim hujan begini lagi, bersyukur yuk. Rasa-rasanya baru kemarin obrolan seumpama :
-Tadi pake jas hujan?-
-Engga. Keren kan?
-Keren sik, tapi lebih keren pake jas ujan

Bersyukur karena masih dibersamai oleh orang-orang kesayangan, baik di atap yang sama atau beda. Bersyukur dikasih atap yang ga bocor. Bersyukur dikasih gas yang masih bisa nyala buat bikin air anget walopun listrik mati dan signal 3 ilang.

Ya Allah turunkanlah kami hujan yang bermanfaat. Bermanfaat dalam menambah rasa syukur. Always. All ways.

He comes with a backpack but no jacket. His eyes keep on me that sits on a hospital bench close to the room. He puts the backpack next to me, get my forehead by his lips. 

“She will be ok,” He said but sounds more like talking to himself.

The doctor comes out. They talking but I am not in the mood to join. I am not sure how to do my feeling right now. Dejavu.

“Ma” This little handhold mine. Those eyes -her father's eyes- keep on me. I am freezing standing right beside the bed while She is trying to get me but can't.

“Maryam?” He sits on the bad hugging our baby and reaches my body to join them. I can feel that Sajida has no longer energy even to hug me. In this hospital room, that more like our second home, He is the one that crying softly. For God's sake, I hate him. 

The phone in his pocket vibrated. It is my brother who made a phone. He left me and Sajida lying on the bed to talk with my brother outside.

Meet Sajida, my beautiful baby. Sssttt she is breasting, sleeping. Kiss her at this moment after what happened since last night always calm me down. It is weird how she smells the same with her father even when they have no contact for days. Sleep, Saj. Sleep.

“He said sorry”

“For?” I answer, voiceless. Sajida moves a bit.

“Can't talk to you” takes a sit, turn down his volume.

I knew. It has been more than 2 years and my brother still can't talk to me.

“Maryam? I am sorry about last night. To fight you, yelling at you and leave. I am so sorry for not to be good to you” He meant it. I look into my baby.

I never expected that one day I will in this situation. Being a wife of a foreigner that counted as a refugee and being a mom of a baby without any nationality. As well as I never expected to come back to my country without any family member that cares about me, about my life.

Home. After our last night fight and others fight, this bad home becomes worse. Every single time He mad there will be things that broken. Things that we can not buy: chair, table, glassware, our other satellite phone and so and so. As always I just come into the house stay inside the bedroom with Sajida.

He wakes me up to pray. it is almost 4 pm. I am starving and found a full of food in our -broken- table, a neat living room, and a hot water prepared for Sajida bathing.

  

It is not only a bad day. These are a bad life.