Don’t Blame It to My Mother

The boy laid in the hospital bed, severely injured and bruised. His eyes were closed, you can’t tell if he’s asleep or dead. But the slight movement of his chest give a glimpse of hope that he is OK and alive. Or at least that is what his parents want to believe.

The hit on his face left a mark, damaging the beautiful face his parents always brag to their friends to.

The witnesses said that the girl did that. The girl hit the boy with a broomstick, threw his face with rocks, punched, kicked, probably any form of violence we could ever think of.

The boy did not stand still, though.

The girl had several bruises on her face, her body as well. But she did not give up.

She fought. The only form of self defense she know, just to show that the boy was messing with the wrong person.

——————–

“I need to have your parents phone number.”

She sat there in silence.

“We need to talk to your parents.”

She smirked.

“His parents want to talk to your parents as well.”

She looked the teacher in the eye.

“So what? So that you can preach my ‘parents’ about how to teach their kids?” She smirked. “So that you can blame them for raising a kid like me, who constantly in trouble with other kids?”

The teacher stood in silence.

“Don’t even think about that,” She chuckled. “Have you talked to his parents? What did you say to them?”

“They were really upset about what happened to their son — But they wanted to settle that down with your family first. They could’ve called the cops…”

“No. What did YOU say to THEM?”

“That I will talk to you.”

“That’s nonsense. You did not ask what the boy did that makes me go berserk towards him. You know, I am not crazy. I am not the smartest kid here, but my brain works fine. I don’t punch people with no reason… Unlike him. He picked on me. He threw my lunch. He called me names. For what reason? Just because I was weak, or i was less fortunate than his family?

Don’t even think about talking to my ‘parents’. There are no parents – there is just MOTHER. A mother who works hard to make ends meet, She has no time for that fuss. If you want to blame the punching, blame it on me, not my mother. If you want to blame about how a parent teaches their kid, blame it on his parents. For God’s sake, his father is a CEO who can afford his family a good house and car. His mother is a housewife — now tell me who is more responsible for teaching their kids?”

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Phantom

Jalan pahlawan dan medan perang, sebuah persimpangan jalan yang menjadi jantung ibu kota. Di sana segalanya ada – pusat perbelanjaan, club malam dan cafe yang tak pernah tidur, kantor-kantor perusahaan prestisius, hotel-hotel berbintang tempat menginap turis-turis kaya. Tak pernah sepi, apalagi di akhir minggu.

Datanglah ke Alley 11 jalan medan perang, tepat di depan cafe merak putih – salah satu cafe tertua di kota itu, tempat favorit para turis untuk bercengkrama. Selain kopi dan brownies keju andalan mereka, kau bisa menemui salah satu atraksi menarik di sana.

Duduklah di alfresco. Dia biasanya ada di sana, di pinggir jalan, tepat di bawah lampu jalan. Kau hanya bisa bertemu dengannya di jumat malam ke dua dan ke empat dalam setiap bulan. Tapi kemunculannya, selalu ditunggu turis dan warga sekitar. Orang menyebutnya Phantom si pesulap.

Phantom tidak seperti pesulap kebanyakan – dia tidak tampil dengan jubah, tongkat dan topi tinggi. Phantom adalah pria muda berusia awal 20-an, datang dengan sepatu sneakers butut dan kemeja flanel lusuhnya. Selalu mengenakan topi pet baseball andalannya, sepertinya takut wajahnya dihafal penonton setianya.

Konon, Phantom tidak suka memiliki penggemar, ia tidak suka diikuti dan disorot. Tidak ada yang mengerti kenapa dia selalu muncul 2 kali sebulan, tapi akhirnya tak ada yang peduli. Bagi mereka itu hiburan, urban legend yang menambah daya tarik pariwisata.

Hari itu, jumat malam seperti biasanya. Segerombolan turis Korea tertawa gembira setelah Phantom berhasil membengkokkan pisau victorinox salah seorang turis itu. Turis yang menang taruhan tertawa paling keras-tentu saja. Sementara si pemilik pisau hanya bisa merengut, dan bertanya-tanya bagaimana ia melakukannya.

Phantom duduk di kursi taman di bawah lampu ditemani secangkir latte – hadiah dari pelayan cafe Merak Putih yang berterima kasih karena kemunculannya yang selalu mengundang keramaian. Ia menghitung uang receh dalam kotak yang selalu dibawanya setiap tampil. Hari ini, lebih dari cukup untuk hidup sampai penampilan berikutnya.

Seorang kakek tua berjaket beludru duduk di sampingnya, menyeruput kopi dari gelas bertuliskan cafe Merak Putih. Nampaknya kakek itu salah satu penontonnya tadi.

“Hei nak, bisa ajarkan aku satu trik?”

Phantom berhenti menghitung uangnya dan menoleh ke arah kakek itu.

“Pesulap sejati tidak pernah membocorkan rahasianya.”

Kakek itu tersenyum. “Ayolah nak. Kau begitu luar biasa saat tampil tadi. Kalau aku bisa menampilkan sedikit saja yang seperti itu di ulang tahun cucuku, dia pasti akan senang sekali.”

Phantom tersenyum. “Senang sekali ya kalau bisa begitu,” ia membereskan uangnya dan berdiri. “Tapi sayang sekali, kek. Aku benar-benar tidak punya trik apapun untuk diajarkan kepadamu.”

 

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and the story stops there. bener-bener lupa waktu itu ide nya apa pengen cerita apa. hehe. suatu hari nanti akan gw lanjutkan lagi kalo udah ada inspirasi… :p