The figure she admired was indeed unclear in fact, just from the name, which was not common and economical, the name of the most women in this country, plastered as the author of serialized stories in magazines every two weeks, which made her have to save her pocket money for angkot fare to the library in the city limits, because only d there was diligent in providing her favorite magazines for free and never untimely.
At that time, apart from Bubin LantanG who told about the life story of the twins in Lampung, there was nothing more interesting about him than the story of students and friendships with three friends, whose background was always in Jogja, it felt like he was memorized outside the heads of the streets and the atmosphere of the city which seemed to be always cold foggy and sad, the controversy indeed with his actual story was sometimes a bit absurd but always made him curious to complete it.
In the middle of that year, more than two months after his habit was forced to be forgotten, his decision to try to move to Jogja, a place that always made his curiosity increase every time he read the stories of Farra, the author of his idol. That seems only possible if he graduates UMPTN, and attends there.
The angkot has changed its direction to tutoring, which is not in the same direction as the department to the regional library every weekend. Sometimes a person's intention to learn is illogical. August also feels long.
October 1993, noon. Rassta parked his bicycle and hurried to take out a thousand from his jeans bag, handing it to the newspaper salesman who was also a gasoline seller and tire patches on the side of the road. Ask for permission to sit on a wooden chair that seems to be commonly used to patch tires.
Looking at one name after another printed in small letters, there are thousands of names and numbers that must be glared at one by one. Two minutes later a smile rose on his lips, and continued to widen until he finally shouted loudly, causing a frown in the tire-patched owner who jumped from his seat.
..
November, 1993 morning. Finally, after going through the drama at home because he didn't tell him about the lecture he wanted to take, And of course he won the argument. Abah & his mother finally could only resign themselves to his tekat, and delivered him to the port in his city at dawn the day before, until finally his feet tread on Tanjung Perak after being tossed for more than 24 hours due to bad weather, the rainy season fulfilled his schedule apparently.
The city bus he waited for half an hour finally came, and finally left the city and bustle at the port, heading to Bungurasih, to later change to the intercity bus to Jogja. A route he had memorized since a week ago. Rassta smiled himself imagining the journey of the next few hours.
Even though Purabaya's writing is clear and massively written on the gate, the rope is still called Bungurasih. Rassta had made sure he wasn't wrong with kenek.
Just sat in the third row from the back, by the window. Some vendors offer a wide variety of sales, from nail clippers to ginger candy. It was unceremoniously placed near the bench and on the backpack he was sitting on. It was very confusing, but after the third seller took the resale item, he finally understood the mechanism of selling.
Next, just shook his head, except for buying one bottle of mineral water that he really needed. Surabaya is very sultry, even though it is the rainy season.
Half an hour of waiting for his turn to depart, closing his eyes in boredom, until he had his shoulders poked from the side. Lazy to open his eyes, he said "Ndak, mas. Thank you."
"Oh, man. Can you have a seat?"
'How come, the sound of mas-mas selling so melodious?'. He muttered.
Instead of the merchandiser's mas-mas, his eyes found staring at the smile of a girl with short shoulder-length hair, glasses, a jean jacket, looking at him with a pleading look.
"Oh, yes." He answered briefly. While standing gave way and went to the bus aisle.
Just foot into the middle of the bus, entered two middle-aged men, from the middle door, while saying half-shouting "Passengers please get off, change the bus"
Passengers who have already sat and waited can leave can only sit around, while standing towards the door.
"Be careful the goods are noticed.." He heard the addition of the sentence. The girl who had asked to change seats was seen looking confused, half panicked to be precise, her face was pias.
"What's wrong, ma'am?" He asked slowly.
"My bag.." His eyes were still staring at the trunk above the seat, but it seemed that what he was looking for was not found either.
"Just a moment, ma'am.."
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After getting off the can and moving to the bus behind him, Rassta tried to ask about the missing bag, but it seemed to be nil. There was no way out or explanation from the bus driver, in fact, he said it was a normal thing. "That's why be careful, the innate is guarded!" That's the end of it.
It's an exasperation, too, and even back to blame.
"Ma'am, sorry.." He walked up to the girl he asked to calm down by the window, while he left his blue backpack.
"yes, it's okay."
"So what?"
"Let it go first, the important thing is that my file is safe" He said, pointing out the plastic folder on his side.
The bus drove over, not long after. A few hours at sea, plus a few more hours of waiting, plus the incident at the terminal, it was apparently enough to be the reason for Rassta to fall asleep directly, I don't know how long it took. Until again he felt his shoulders touched.
"Mas, go down first he said" The melodious voice again.
"Oh, yes. Where is this?"
"Caruban.."
Twenty minutes of layovers, lunch, using coupons distributed by the bus. Some took the time to look at the toilet. Some were cool with the puffs of smoke, until the bus prepared to leave again.
Let the girl sit down first, then she sat down later. A moment later there was a palm being thrust in.
"Beautiful.."
"Eh?" A little surprised but he also welcomed the hand that invited the greeting.
"Rassta.."
"Thank you, man. It was in the terminal just now."
"Sorry, can't help more" He said.
There was no more chatter after that, his eyes apparently invited to drown again, especially the plate of rawon that was quite good in the restaurant just now made his sleep feel even more delicious too. I don't know how many more hours passed, he didn't care about it anymore.
Back, the touch on the left shoulder awakened him, the face squealed again, but with a funny look, like holding back a laugh.
"It's arrived, man. His sleep seemed to be so sleepy" Not lost face holding back the laughter.
"Uh, I'm slitting, huh?" He asked tentatively
The asked just nodded while covering his mouth with his right hand.
"I'm sorry yes" Can be ashamed too apparently.
All passengers are getting ready to disembark. While waiting in line, took the time to ask.
"Have you been to Jogja many times?"
Indah just nodded.
"From this terminal to Bulaksumur what ride is it?"
"To campus?" In fact, he was asked back.
It was Rassta's turn to nod.
"City bus, but forgot what lane, I'll ask you later. Come on first"
Just stepped on his feet, he even tripped over the legs of the bus chair. The folder he was carrying fell.
Rassta picked up the open folder and the contents were partially dropped, a glimpse of his reading, a re-register form, on the same campus as himself. Handed it to the girl he just knew.
"Thank you, yes"
"Uh, here's another one" As he picked up a piece of paper from the bottom of the bus chair. Photocopy of a high school diploma in Malang. A line of names is listed there. Rassta held his breath, then looked at the girl beside him who was busy tidying up the file back into a green plastic folder. Thrust it, and for some reason his heart became palpitating after reading a line of names on the graduation letter : Beautiful Farra Diva..
"Thank you, eh you why, mas?"
Rassta is just glued.
A line of songs suddenly sounded from the terminal side stall.
".. beautiful I remember yourself
saying you want you to meet."
Umbulharjo that afternoon suddenly felt warm..
/
*this short story, for a friend who happens to be a great writer..
."$$$".
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