Bathed in tears, accompanied by wounds, there was suffering in every breath she took. Her pillow and bolster were her loyal companions. She spent the rest of her life confined to her bed. Like laundry, if she wanted to meet the sun, someone had to help her out of her sorrowful room. And if she wanted to return to her resting place, she had to be lifted by other hands. She couldn't do it herself; withered paralysis had rendered her this way.
She lived normally like others for only seven years. For the rest, she had to befriend her illness. At the age of seven, high fever and convulsions suddenly attacked her. There was no medical intervention for her illness. Again, poverty was the cause. As a result, Poliovirus (a small RNA virus consisting of three different and highly contagious strains) continued to erode her nervous system. Until paralysis attacked her legs and arms. Day by day, the size of her legs and arms continued to shrink. Even now, at twenty-three years old, the disease refused to leave her.
For a woman, twenty-three is a fairly ideal age to marry. But let alone hoping to marry, she didn't even dare to fall in love. There was a sense of pessimism about finding love. For would any man fall in love with a helpless girl like her?
“Saf-sah,” which means “barren desert.” That was the name of the innocent, pale-skinned, helpless girl. Like her name, her heart was barren of men's love.
Nor would she allow her heart to be cultivated with love for men. She didn't want to be heartbroken because of it. Because unrequited love would feel painful.
***
“Whoever your chosen girl is, we will accept her with joy,” Mrs. Suryana's gentle voice reached her son's ears, as he packed his belongings for his stay in a remote village.
“Alright, Mom, Dad! After I return from this observation for my office work, I'll bring home the girl who will be my roommate,” the Suryana family's son said casually, as there was no candidate yet, or even a close female friend akhwat.
“That's how it should be, right?! You're established, and your age is suitable, so there's no reason for you to remain single,” Mr. Suryana firmly reminded him.
In deciding who would be his son's roommate, Mr. Suryana and his wife indeed gave their son the freedom to choose for himself. Without regard for rich or poor, beautiful or ordinary, as long as they shared the same religion.
But considering their only son's age was almost beyond the reasonable limit for remaining single, Mr. Suryana and his wife finally firmly told their son to accept Syakila, their chosen girl, if he couldn't find his dream girl upon his return.
Syakila was the youngest daughter of the Patra Atmadja family, Mr. Suryana's colleague. She was a beautiful and intelligent girl, but the Suryana family's son felt somewhat less comfortable with Syakila; he disliked Syakila's glamorous lifestyle. Therefore, he wanted to try finding someone himself who truly resonated with his heart.
“Yes, I promise, when I return, I will marry Syakila if I haven't found my dream girl yet. But if I do find her by then, it will be Mom and Dad's turn to keep their promise to bless us.”
“Okay. Deal!” Mr. Suryana and his wife said in unison and familiarly. They all agreed.
***
“I'm new here. Nice to be your neighbor.”
Saf-sah immediately buried her face when the bespectacled man introduced himself to her from behind her bedroom window.
Saf-sah actually wanted to ask; “What's your name? Where are you from?”
Ah, but what for? I don't need to know him further. Saf-sah's inner voice dismissed the desire in her heart.
On another occasion, the bespectacled man found Saf-sah intimately embraced by an old chair on her porch. As if unconcerned by Saf-sah's consistently cold demeanor towards him, he then greeted her. “Daydreaming all alone, Miss?”
Again, Saf-sah remained silent. She didn't answer the bespectacled man's greeting, not even with a smile.
***
The red glow in the western horizon had vanished, but the bespectacled man still hadn't passed by. He hadn't been seen for almost a week. Not even for a moment. Only his shadow kept flickering. “Ah, why do I keep thinking about that bespectacled man?” restlessness clung to Saf-sah's heart. From her bed, Saf-sah occasionally glanced at the window, hoping the figure of the bespectacled man would appear.
It seemed no one could refuse love. Even though Saf-sah didn't dare to face love, love came as if forcing itself, suddenly.
“Do you have feelings for Zahir, dear?” asked Mrs. Jazimah, Saf-sah's neighbor, who accidentally overheard Saf-sah's soft longing.
“Zahir? Who is he?” Saf-sah asked, startled, as a woman's voice suddenly appeared in her room.
“The bespectacled man who briefly stayed at my house,” replied Mrs. Jazimah with a smile.
“So his name is Zahir?”
Mrs. Jazimah nodded.
“It doesn't feel right, Ma'am, for silver to desire gold.”
“Even if that gold truly hopes to have silver, do you still think it's improper for silver to mingle with gold?”
“What do you mean, Ma'am?”
“If I had known all along that you had feelings for Zahir, then when Zahir asked me to matchmake him with you, I would have immediately acted. But at that time, I was reluctant to speak, feeling the timing wasn't right, considering how closed off you were to men.”
“Ma'am, don't joke! What could a man expect from a girl like me? I'm not beautiful. Not rich either. And certainly not smart. All there is, is helplessness. I'm helpless to take care of myself, let alone others. So how could anyone want me?”
“I've already told Zahir all your worries. Do you want to hear his answer?”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
Mrs. Jazimah then recounted her conversation with Zahir some time ago,
“I am looking for a wife, Ma'am! Not a maid. So if Saf-sah isn't skilled at doing what women usually do, that's fine. Because that's her condition. I'm also not looking for a potential model, so I don't need to choose someone beautiful. And if Saf-sah isn't smart, well, I'm not looking for an intellectual,” those words were firmly spoken by Zahir when he asked Mrs. Jazimah to matchmake him with Saf-sah.
“But aren't all those things usually considerations for men when choosing a wife?” Mrs. Jazimah tried to gauge Zahir's seriousness towards Saf-sah.
“For others, perhaps, but not for me. I only want a wife who, when I look at her, brings tranquility, and when I leave her, brings peace of mind. And I believe all of that is in Saf-sah.”
“There's nothing special about Saf-sah, Za! In fact, I've never even seen her smile once,” this statement from Mrs. Jazimah truly seemed to corner Saf-sah, but in reality, Mrs. Jazimah only wanted to know the extent of Zahir's seriousness.
“On the contrary, I want to make her special. I want to be the first person to make her smile. And always smile. Until God stops her from smiling.”
Saf-sah was touched and shed tears upon hearing it. She felt like the most special person among the special.
Her barren heart was as if irrigated by the water of love. Suddenly it became fertile and lush. Many trees of love grew there. No different from a green forest. It looked incredibly beautiful. The barriers that shielded her heart from those who planted love slowly began to show cracks.
***
Knowing that Saf-sah was beginning to open her heart to Zahir, Mrs. Jazimah didn't want to waste time. Right then, still in Saf-sah's room, Mrs. Jazimah immediately contacted Zahir, who had returned to the city a week ago.
Saf-sah also felt her heart pounding when Mrs. Jazimah conveyed her willingness to Zahir.
“Hmm... is that really true, Ma'am?” a hint of doubt was heard in Zahir's voice. Perhaps because Saf-sah had always been indifferent to him before.
“When have I ever lied?”
“It would be a great happiness for me if I could have Saf-sah.”
Saf-sah was also happy to hear Zahir's words. To be loved by an angel-hearted man like Zahir was something she had never thought of or dreamed of. She felt like Cinderella being picked up by a sorrow-dispelling prince who brought a million joys. A portrait of happiness appeared so real on her face. This was the first time she could be so happy.
“So when will you come to pick up your future angel?”
“As soon as possible. But......” Zahir's throat seemed to catch.
“Why, Za?” Mrs. Jazimah suddenly felt anxious. So did Saf-sah. There was a feeling of fear. But she didn't know what she was afraid of.
“Do you remember my confession about my promise to my parents?”
Without needing a strong prompt, Mrs. Jazimah's memory, containing Zahir's confession, immediately surfaced.
“Well, I just fulfilled that promise yesterday.”
“You've already married Syakila?”
“Yes, Ma'am! Because when I returned, I couldn't bring Saf-sah home, and my parents demanded the promise I made earlier. Which was to marry Syakila. Considering there seemed to be no room in Saf-sah's heart for me, I finally gave up. Because I also felt sorry for my parents if they had to keep waiting for a daughter-in-law. I promptly carried out that marriage, as my devotion to my parents. Because they were also wise enough to give me the chance to choose first.”
“Such a good son...” Saf-sah whispered painfully.
Her heart felt torn to shreds. Happiness had just approached her, but now it was swept away again.
“Forgive me, Saf-sah! I failed to unite you with Zahir,” Mrs. Jazimah said weakly as she hung up the phone. She immediately dropped her handphone. “If only I had fulfilled Zahir's request to matchmake you two from the start, perhaps this would never have happened. Perhaps you would be together now. Ah, this is truly my fault. I spoke too late.”
“It's okay, Ma'am! Perhaps it wasn't meant to be,” Saf-sah tried to accept it sincerely. But deep down in her heart, she regretted having been too closed off. And so, the opportunity vanished just like that.