How Sick Our Love Is
By: Eyok El-Abrorii
Tags: Lovestory, Literature, Sad, Short Story, Love

illustration by www.gsb.stanford.edu

“It’s been a long time, Nisti. Look. That building still can’t touch the moon on it”. Hamadi pointed to the building right in front of the café. During his college years, the building was used as a betting tool with Nisti, “If the building had reached the moon, …” Hamadi will then proceed with a cheap bet.

“Right, Hamadi. It should be after six years, a lot of things are happening. But this place has not changed. Not only the building, but the café also doesn’t change much, the brown walls, the dim lights, and Eric Clapton’s jazz are still the accompaniment of the coffee aroma.”

Hamadi and Nisti stare at each other. Deeper. “How are you?” In the end, Nisti can ask as intimately directly as if they had met in the past. Hamadi looked out the window. The city is very busy, and longing never wants to lose. “I’m good, Nisti,” he said weakly. He remembers how his love always lasted for Nisti. During his four years in London, Hamadi never forgot his girlfriend. Plus two years in Bandung as editor of a publication, Nisti is not replaced either. It’s not that Nisti is always seductive, it’s just that the heart is already.

“You know how I entertain myself if I’ve missed?”

“No.”

“I remind myself of what you said at the airport. That you’ll wait.”

Nisti cried. She held Hamadi’s hand, “And you know what if I miss?” Hamadi shook twice. “I must have remembered with your kiss on my forehead back then.”

Hamadi removed Nisti’s hand then hugged the coffee cup with both palms. “Nisti. How did you get to this café as promised?”

“For you, I’ve done anything. You don’t remember, at school, I used to be like this. You wait in the cafeteria, and I’ll come with you to ditch.”

“That’s how close we used to be, Nis.” Hamadi smiled.

“How’s your fiancée?”

“She’s healthy, in Bandung she’s preparing our wedding by herself.”

“Why did you come to fulfil the promise?”

“Just like you. For you, I do anything. Don’t you remember when I was in college? You wait in the city park, and I’ll come with you even if I have to leave one or two classes.”

“How sick our love is.”

***

The drizzle has fallen. “Hamadi, I’m sorry,” Nisti holds Hamadi’s hand again. “I don’t know, how many times have you said sorry. Even though you know, I must have lost. I must be devastated”. Hamadi’s answer makes Nisti cry. And Hamadi doesn’t know what to do. He wanted to hug her, but the body that once warmed him up is now not only distanced by a table in front of them but also a state that somehow to fight it.

“If I had been going straight home after college in London, Nis. Sure, it won’t be like this. If I go home to propose to you, then I’ll be free to take you wherever I want. Of course every morning you’re going to make me breakfast, you’re going to ban me from work late, and I’m going to tell you about work shortly before my bed with you, also, of course, I’m not going to be forced to choose a fiancée other than you that I don’t love. Sure, my life will be worth more.”

Nisti hasn’t spoken yet. She just ducked down her head back in light of plans. That future has become a present that never existed. “Tonight we’re just staying here. There’s been a lot of stories over the last six years.”

Hamadi did not answer anything. He looked Nisti in the face. Her cheeks, her nose, her lips, her forehead, her eyes, are still the same. Still like a face that was once so familiar with his eyes. “You don’t want to answer, Hamadi.”

“Nisti, some things have changed. Including circumstances. We can no longer to be what we used to be. I can no longer spend the night with you, even just chatting.”

“Hamadi. I miss you.”

And because of that statement, Hamadi is now crying. Both of that man and woman -who can no longer be called a couple- wept together. Crying.

“May I also say, that I missed?”

“Sure, Hamadi. I’m your Nisti. It’s still the same as you left six years ago.”

“Nisti, some things have changed.”

“Not my heart and yours. You came all the way because of me. And me, sneak in to come to you. We don’t change.”

Hamadi stroked Nisti’s hair, soo briefly. That’s right, this woman in front of him is really the same Nisti with the past one. He believes this lovely woman still loves him so much. More or less, he remembers how Nisti used to cry in his arms and said, “Don’t be change. Because I never to be. For you,” of course he would have been certain that Nisti would never be different.

“Yes, we have not changed.” Outside, the rain is getting heavier. “But Nisti, how’s your husband?”

Nisti ducked down, then stroked her enlarged stomach.

“Right, Hamadi. Some things have changed, then.”

Indonesia, 2019