Virgin Widow
Eps. 14

The only transportation that is most popular and very popular in the city of Padang is angkot, ranging from cartoon images, pictures of scenery, and so on, until the Minang language is complete with a super luxurious exterior and interior decorating the city transportation, and this can only be found in angkot-angkot operating in the downtown Minang people.

The sound of superpower music that has been set in such a way using active speakers, becomes the hallmark of the angkot. This is not about angkot, but about the only transportation I can use to go to Siti Rahma Hospital.

The journey that is punctuated by the thump of music and the thump of the heart makes sweat pour. Lucky the angkot I was riding turned out to be quite luxurious. The interor is very beautiful with light blue shades, so I feel comfortable in it even though sometimes the heart beats very fast. Remembering Zaid who was still in the hospital, and who disturbed my mind a lot were the photos and love letters in the envelope this morning.

The cargo I boarded was quite crowded by passengers, even though I was eager to open and read the love letter from Zaid.

Occasionally my view leads outside the angkot glass that is running slow, seen the cement trucks Padang drove in unison because it was running the clock.

Sometimes the angkot I was riding overtook to get ahead of the trucks, which resulted in the driver having to step on the brakes suddenly because there was a red light on at the intersection. So it is very unlikely if I open and read the letter.

“Left. RS Siti Rahma, Sir.” That's how we in Sumbar tell the public transport driver when our destination is near.

“At the main gate or in front of the mosque, Bu?” the driver asked while looking back through the front rear view mirror.

“Main gate only, Sir.” The freight stopped right at the main gate, some five thousand pieces I handed over to the driver and gave his change.

After both saying thank you, slowly the angkot passed leaving me. Back the heart racing, breathing began irregular. Why did my mother-in-law tell me to go back to the hospital when they told me to go home? Lest Zaid get worse, or .. I brush off all those stupid thoughts.

I rushed towards the room where Zaid had special treatment. The nurses who came to see me smiled kindly. It didn't take long for me to be at the nursery door. My hands tremble, I fear not Zaid .. The ugly shadows of Zaid's state dance beautifully on the head.

But the impulse to know the true circumstances made me dare to open the door while saying hello. The answer to the greeting sounded in unison, but not only the voice of my father and mother-in-law, Zaid was able to answer the greeting.

With trembling steps and a nanar gaze I approached the ward where Zaid was lying. There were no hoses and needles on his body. Zaid smiled sweetly, even looking very fit. I kissed my second in-laws' hands full of reverence, but I did not dare to approach Zaid, afraid that he would pull my hand away like yesterday.

“His husband's hand is not kissed?” My eyes widened, deeply in disbelief Zaid asked for his hand to kiss.

Afraid that my in-laws might suspect, what Zaid wants me to fulfill. My flushed face held a strange feeling that radiated throughout my body and soul as my hands kissed.

“Zaid is okay, Sah, her traumatic disease relapsed.” My mother-in-law smiled convincingly.

But I was confused why it had to be with special care, while the pain suffered by Zaid was only traumatic psychic.

My in-laws were very understanding, they left us with the excuse of buying drinks and fruit. Now it's just me and Zaid in this room, I'm really nervous, but not with Zaid. Several times Zaid took my hand to kiss and knead it gently.

“Sah, forgive me.” My hand was still in Zaid's grasp, he asked me to sit next to him. I was very clumsy with Zaid's very unusual attitude. Our marriage has passed the three-month phase, but sometimes I still feel clumsy and afraid of zaid like yesterday.