My sleepy eyes stare at the slow dripping IV. I am laying my head next to my mother’s body which is so weak. Since a moment ago, I have closed my eyes. But anxiety and worry over my mother’s deteriorating health make me unable to sleep.
I looked again at the tube, and soon it is needed to be replaced. Drop by drop doesn’t escape my attention. Finally, the nurse asked me to notify her if she ran out immediately.
Then I mustn’t sleep. I force my eyes to open widely. Seconds after seconds have passed, and the is not over yet. And then the dizziness begins to seep into my head. Drowsiness also follows my eyes.
“How it can be, Sir. I had told you to report immediately if the fluids run out; you’re sleeping instead!” the nurse screams.
The noise of a nurse breaks my sleepiness. I oversleep. I see the nurse run out. My body suddenly becomes aware of my forgetfulness. It’s true what she says. I see it is empty and wrinkles. The drops have stopped. I stand over, check mom’s condition. My chest is beating anxiously. Thankfully, I see my mother’s eyes are still opened with the occasional blink of the eyes. But she does not answer my call. I open the mask. Her lips have turned bluish. And suddenly, the door creaks. The nurse reenters with a new tube.
“Sorry, I oversleep, Miss,” I say regretfully.
The nurse catches a glimpse of me. “You should apologize to mommy, Sir. Your mother, I mean. Not mine,” the woman grumbles again.
Ah, why does the nurse’s nagging seam so sweet in my ears? Then a question arises in my head. When will I get married? It feels wonderful if a wife’s scolding often adorns my days. If she gets mad at me, I’ll pinch her nose next time I have married. Hmmm … it seems so solemn. My mother’s blood pressure may also go down if I already have a wife. Unluckily, finding a wife is not as easy as looking for coffee shops scattered throughout the country.
“Yes, Miss. My mother has already forgiven me. Even before I apologize to her,” I blurted out. My mother looked away, hearing my joke.
“Try to remember. What is wrong with you, Sir? Is that true the whole of your fault has already been forgiven by your mother?” she says while fixing the location of the blanket, which is starting to falter.
“High blood pressure can also be due to the influence of your mind,” the woman murmurs again. Her hands deftly replace. Then her soft voice asks what complaints my mother feels.
From where I sit, I keep watching the nurse’s movements. Maybe this is why my mother was very determined to set me up with her friend’s child, a nurse.
I still remember my mother’s words at that time. “Look at Jihan, Mus. She is beautiful, pious, and one thing you have to know; she is a nurse. Do you know the strengths of a nurse? Other people are being treated, let alone their parents. Do you know the advantages of a pious? An invisible God is loved and obeyed, let alone the husband.”
Ah, mother. You are fussy about things that you think are good, especially for your only child. But alas, there is no Jihan in my heart. I think Jihan is too shy, too feminist. Whereas I want a wife figure that I can talk to, discuss, even though debate. My household will appear alive with a critical woman, and that criterion rests with Reina. Jihan? He was too gentle, obedient; living with her would feel empty, I thought at that time.
After Reina, my lover, was rejected as a daughter-in-law by my mother a few years ago, my heart had never melted before a woman’s eyes. Maybe my heart has turned barren. Not enough to grow new shoots of love.
At that time, I had graduated from college and had gotten a permanent job as an accountant for a large company in Surabaya. Since she was a child, my mother, who studied at an Islamic boarding school, required me to marry a woman from a boarding school background. And the figure she chose was Jihan, the daughter of her fellow, the one whom I did not love to, and I rejected her. Reina, who I had been dating since high school, was later rejected by my mother. She was too rude and talkative for my mother, who liked tenderness. She refused my prospective choice, while I rejected her candidate choice. So I remain single at the age of thirty.
***
“Mom,” I call softly.
“What’s up,” she answers softly too.
“I’ll go out and buy a cup of coffee, okay?”
“Yes,” my mother’s answer remained soft.
I kiss her forehead gently.
“What are you talking about? It seems that you wanna going anywhere, Mus …,” she whispers. I chuckle. I think that my mother’s condition is better.
“Sleep, Mom, please,” I say as I walk away.
When I arrive at the canteen, immediately I open my cellphone that I haven’t been able to open for most of the day. Whatsapp chat notifications are rattling in my pocket. I choose a chat from the official group, and it turns out that it is about new tasks. A lot of works have to be done. After that, I contact my friends to confirm some data. Hence, I finish the coffee and immediately rush to my mother’s room.
I see the nurse is cleaning my mother’s body and clothes In front of my eyes. I wonder what has happened. I cannot handle my feelings knowing the woman who gave birth to me look weak helplessly, without me next to her.
“What’s happened, ma’am?” I ask hoarsely.
No answer. And the nurse is still busy cleaning my mother with a washcloth and a small towel.
“Your mother has diarrhoea, Sir. Why are you leaving her so long?” the nurse grumbles again.
I feel awkward. Should I help her clean up the rest of my mother’s diarrhoea? But I’m not used to being close to women. So finally, I could only watch the nurse’s deft hands full of tenderness.
“Mus, why are you silent up there?” my mother asks me with a frozen glance. Once again, my mother is a tough woman who doesn’t want to complain about pain. Her face looks calm even though her body is in pain.
I confuse to answer the question. “Let her help you, Ma’am. Later, it will become a nuisance if I go there helping you too,” I answer choked doubtfully.
“I’ve just checked the office tasks, and it takes a long time. It turns out the diarrhoea of my mother recurred again,” I snorted.
“So, hurry up and find a wife, so someone can take care of your mother,” my mother’s reply strikes me.
“There is someone already taking care of you, Ma’am,” I answer with a grin.
“You boy or girl? I’ve asked to marry, but you always look for a reason,” the mother sharply insults me. Even being sick still hurls the insults at me.
“Yes, Ma’am. Hold on for a while, and don’t be surprised if I marry two wives immediately,” I answer arrogantly.
“Bullshit! You can’t get one girl, let alone two!” she sniffs. I’m laughing. “You used to say that you didn’t want the candidate that I had looked for you. My boy!”
“You, too, don’t want to accept my beautiful, smart, and good candidate. Yes, this sob stuff happens right now. You have to be patient, waiting for this child to find the idol of the heart,” I reply quickly.
“Madam, you mustn’t be angry, okay. The blood pressure will increase,” says the nurse gently. I keep silent to pay attention to her. It turns out that the gentlewoman is charming.
“My mother is joking, Miss. She is the best one at laughing the life. I often laugh because of her joke,” I reply, then.
The nurse then leaves us again. I look down as she passes in front of me. For some reason, there is a subtle vibration in my chest to pass her. The next second I sleep again. I see that the drip of the IV is dripping quickly.
Night’s getting late. The atmosphere of the hospital is increasingly quiet. I idly walk around to see the atmosphere. There are only a few rooms that are open and inhabited. Suddenly a thought crosses my mind, if there is no Corona, how is my mother condition while she is sick like this? I have to work and not every time can wait for my mother. Ah, God is good at slipping wisdom in every crevice.
I step in front of the nurse’s office. It reminds me of the nurse. I’ll ask all about my mother’s illness.
My chest ripples violently. I try to convince myself that my eyes are not wrong. In the lobby of the nurse, I see her sleeping with a mask lowered to her neck. Jihan? Is she Jihan? The one whom my mother had arranged the marriage for me? My mind is faded. My chest jingles boisterously. Seeing her soundly in sleep, I put my eyes on her. It turns out that Jihan is as charming as this… No wonder my mother used to force me to do it with her, even to the point where the tension kept rising. Hmmm. Ah, mother, you are always looking for the best for your stubborn child.
The next day the nurse, who turns out to be Jihan, came to the room with her friend. It is time to shift the turn with another nurse. After this, she will go home. No wonder she was very patient in caring for my mother. Maybe because she did not want to be recognized, so she did not want to appear, and now on, she turns into a bit of fluff, makes me no longer recognize her. The last time I saw her was two years ago. And during that time, of course, there have been many changes.
Pacing back and forth, I wait for her to come home. Finally, after I see her walking toward the elevator, I rush to catch up with her. Success! Now I’m alone with her in one elevator! But I’m confused about how to start talking to her.
“You’re Jihan, right?” finally, I start the conversation.
“Eh. Yes, you’re right. How do you know?” the tone of her voice seems to vibrate. It turns out I’m not the only nervous person.
“Yes. My hunch is never wrong,” I carelessly say. “When did you start to work here?” the interrogation continues. I must be successful. I will make my mother happy by loving her.
“A year ago,” she answers softly.
“Now, I know why my mother was so determined to make you her daughter-in-law.”
Jihan does not answer my straightforward sentence.
“Now, you must understand, I’m still single.”
She remains silent.
“Aren’t you still single now?” I ask her, bracing myself to thicken my face.
“Sorry. Your hunch is wrong. I have to go home to feed my child,” she says softly, silencing me.
The elevator opens. She then walked home. My face is broken. My body is weak. I take a deep breath, and then I release it slowly. I don’t know where I will put my face if she gets a picket to look after my mother again. I’m sorry, Mom, I used to ignore your words.