A Hard Choice

By Ribut Wahyudi

"What makes you want to marry me?" I asked her one night when we were having dinner at the stall under the bridge, the place where we first met.

Lya smiled at me and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I just want to marry you," she said. Her bright eyes stared at me like a sharp knife cutting my heart. I was crazy about her.

She touched my chin, rubbing my beard. "I just like you. But if your heart says I am not worth being in your arms, I will ..."

"Lya," I said, taking a deep breath. "You know I love you so much. But, I am a married man. How can I get married to you?"

"Just divorce her," she said curtly. She stared at me as if she wanted to rip my heart out. She was so fierce but beautiful. Her cheek looked red flecked with little spots. That was another thing which made me fall in love with her.

But how could I follow my heart to love this little whore who was forcing me to forget my wife and three children?

She was waiting for my answer.

I kept silent for a while. Mixed feelings stirred in my heart but they were difficult to express. I felt flushed and I remembered Susan. She was a perfect wife except for her "busy" time which disrupted our lives. She spent less than six hours with me every day and almost no time with our children. She had a good job, going to the office early in the morning and coming home late at night.

House was like hell to me. Everything I looked at returned my gaze mockingly. Our wedding photograph hanging on the wall was broken when a cat tried to catch a house lizard. My children were growing up and busy with school and friends and homework, and, of course, with their wonderful teenage years.

I was growing older without knowing it. My hair was turning and lines etched my forehead. I did not have the time to tend to my beard or my face. Frankly, I looked a mess all the time. But I had a lot of money.

I could buy love, I could buy life but it did not fulfill my soul. I walked around the empty streets every day, sometimes venturing into "dirty" areas looking for something that I liked. That was where I met Lya. Wearing an orange blouse, she came to me and flashed her lovely smile.

"So?" she asked.

I was surprised. I looked at her face and let out a deep breath. Her hair waved as the wind blew. A cold night. Lya and I were still hanging out at the stall, drinking cheap beer and traditional food.

"I can't," I answered finally.

Her face surrendered a smile. "No problem. Perhaps this is the last time for us to meet. I'll go to somewhere with some rich guy."

"Who?"

"Don't ask."

The blood in my chest raced to my heart. I was trembling. Fear attacked my heart, the fear of losing her forever. I was so worried that I would not be able to live without her. My life has changed because of her. And now, if she runs away from me, what kind of life would I live?

"I'm jealous," I said.

"You don't have to be."

I saw her eyes. Deep but bright. Her shoulders shone under the moonlight. There was only the two of us and the seller. We did not pay attention to him. Besides he liked us being here because I usually paid more for his food.

"I love you, Lya. Don't leave my life, please," I begged.

She smiled. "I am sorry, Martin. You lost your chance. It's time for me to start my new life. I don't want to be like this forever. I want to have a family, a kid and a house."

"You can have them all from me."

She shook her head. "I want a legal relationship."

I was shocked. What suddenly made her think that marriage was important to her after I had known her for three years. Working as a whore in this dirty place, she never mentioned marriage before.

"Why?" I asked.

"Tired of life," she said.

"It's a hard choice," I said.

"Sometimes life takes risks." She smiled at me, playing with my heart which wanted to explode from jealousy.

"I can't divorce her," I said. "Because I owe my life to her. Her parents saved my family when I was a kid. My family was so poor that I couldn't even go to school. Then her family came into our lives and they offered some help. My family was dependent upon hers."

"I don't care, Martin. You have to make a decision. Sorry, I am running out of my time. He is waiting for me in his place. I have to go ..."

"Don't." I grabbed her arm. She turned her face to me. We stared at each other for a while.

"Do you love me," I asked her.

"It doesn't matter to me."

"But it does to me," I said.

"Well, people say women can build their own love when entering a new life with some guy. Even with somebody that she doesn't love," she said.

"I want you to stay with me. Give me some time to think."

She shook her head again. "I am sorry, Martin. I am still young and want to enjoy life."

"How old is he?" I asked.

"Who cares?" she answered.

"I do".

"Seventy or eighty, I don't know. Too old, but no matter."

"You're blinded by love."

"I don't even know what love is. Let me go." She ran away. I was standing alone watching her beautiful silhouette cutting through the dark. She did not look back. I couldn't stand it. I drank more beer. I didn't care what the seller said to me. I was drunk and fell down.

One month passed. I returned to the stall under the bridge but the seller said he had not seen Lya again since she ran out of my life. I now know the hurt of a broken heart.

My wife has left me; my friend said she ran away with her boss to another island. I don't care! My children are busy taking care of their own lives. I am standing in the middle of nowhere right now.

I have lost my Lya. Now I don't have anything, anyone. All the people that I loved have gone.

I walk slowly. My eyes stare at the broken asphalted street as if I see her footprints printed there. Love made me blind. Now love makes me suffer. My life is a desperate thing.

I miss Lya right now. I miss her touch. I know she never was in love with me. I am too old for her. I remember her soft hands felt like the hands of an angel leading an old desperate man to happiness.

Where are you now Lya? My wife has divorced me. I am lonely and hungry for your love. I cry to the sky. Bright stars hanging in the sky seem to laugh at me. I want to kill the moon. I want this night to be so dark. Dark as my heart. Full of pain.

"Martin," somebody calls me.

I turn my head, looking for the person calling me. A beautiful woman is standing in front of me.

"Lya ... " My heart pumps. The girl of my dream has suddenly appeared here with her seductive smile.

She walks over me. "How are you doing, Martin. It's a small world that I've met you again here."

I am stunned and dumbfounded. She walks closer to me and kisses my head. "I'm missing you," she says.

"Lya," I grabs her hands, looking at her eyes with infatuation. Her hands feel warm. My heart beats fast.

"Will you marry me?" I ask her.

She watches my eyes and rubs my hair. Her tall body looks beautiful.

She shakes her head. "I can't."

"Why?"

"I am a married woman," she says.

Surabaya, end of May, 1999