If it wasn't Yovanes who persuaded me, I wouldn't have the slightest guts to come.
I thought, what's the point now? Maya was already disappointed in me. I already confessed. If I were a prostitute If I rented out a body for money—although at first my reasons were more idealistic than that.
After crying all night, Yovanes patiently waited by my side. He held out one by one the cans of beer to me. He hoped that being drunk would stop my crying and make me sleepy.
"You can still fix it," he coaxed. "If it's true what you say, that she likes you. She will forgive you. You two can start over. With a relationship without secrets." That's it. Yovanes fed the idea of ​​love into my head which was starting to get dizzy.
Occasionally I wipe my itchy face without thinking about his feelings at all. Now I only have regrets. I'm not sure I still have another room when Yovanes emphasized one thing;
"Search for the woman tomorrow morning. Maya. And if that doesn't work, come back here.""Then, if I come back here, what's the point?" I asked.
"I'm going to repeat this process. Keep you entertained with lots of beer. And you can cry as much as you like." He stroked my cheek.
I smile because of it. I know, beer can't cure me. But having a friend will help.
"I just remembered," I said suddenly.
"Yes? Is that what you just remembered?" Yovanes prepared to listen. He looked at me seriously. He prepared for my extraordinary discovery. That's what I read from his expression and his red face.
"Maya once gave me her house key!" I straightened up. I looked to Yovanes for his support.
Yovanes widened his eyes. He kissed the back of my hand in agreement. "Now, we can sleep. Yes? You need to rest. There's no way you'll meet Maya with those swollen eyes."
***
And this morning I was really desperate. I went to Maya's house. I'm not waiting anymore. I slipped through the gate and opened her front door.
I glanced at the collection of succulent plants in the window of the house. The condition is bad, tend to be apprehensive. Everything scattered on the floor.
I knelt down to pick up the plants that were still intact and not torn apart by being stepped on. I collect in one pot. I once looked into Maya's collection of living stones. The price is not cheap. And maintenance is difficult. If Maya had the heart to destroy her collection, the situation inside would be even worse.
However, the living room felt cold when I entered. Different from the chaos outside, all the furniture inside was still arranged like the last time I came. Everything is neat. Clean. Perhaps, after vandalizing outside, Maya felt relieved. Or sorry.
I went upstairs. I suspect Maya is still sleeping in her room. However, it turned out that my opinion was wrong. The sound of running water from the bathroom makes me sure, that the occupants of this house (probably) haven't even slept at all. So I went down again.
I made her coffee. I put the cups on the table facing the outside window. Then I sat down on the chair. Waiting for Maya to finish bathing.
My eyes scan every side of the room. My fingers tapped on the table. Restlessness descended on me like a mist that spread slowly. What took you so long? I sip my coffee. Then I stopped. When my eyes landed on something odd on the table.
I slowly put down my cup. I touch that thing-- almost clear and thick liquid there. I checked my fingertips. I smell the aroma. I quickly took a tissue.
"Maya..." I knocked on the bathroom door in a huff.
"Maya!" The harder I banged, the more I knew my emotions were running high.
And, the sound of the faucet stopped. There was a moment of silence. All that's left is the ringing in my ears and the sound of my panting breath.
"Open your door. Or I'll doing something that make you feel embarrasse! I'll call the fire department and lie to them. They'll break down your door. And your mother will come here to scold you," I threatened.
Maya gave up without fighting any longer. Like the last time when I stayed overnight, her body was wet like a mop. Her hand stretched out to take the towel, then covered herself.
I watched her pass me. Her eyes are bloodshot. Occasionally she pinched her stuffy nose. Then she snorted to clear her nose.
"I made you coffee. On the table" I told her.
Maya nodded. Her mouth was tightly closed. She took one of the cups that were still full and sat on the edge of the bed.
"I have a key. So I came without telling." I started. My throat is dry, but I don't want to drink from that cup anymore.
Maya nodded again. She stared into the cup and drank its contents until it was empty.
"I like coffee that is strong," she said. Her voice is gentle. Calm.
I can't believe she's being that cool. Meanwhile, I was busy relieving the resentment in my heart. And pray that I don't spit fire like a dragon.
"Why don't we ever talk about this? You and I both like black coffee. Why?" Maya's question sounded odd.
"Why?" I'm confused.
"Why do you like black coffee?" she whispered with a smile. She hasn't looked up at all. Still staring at the wall under the cup.
"Because it tastes more bitter. No matter how much you stir the sugar in there. There's a bitter taste that's still left behind," I answered casually. I never thought that far. Nobody ever asked that. But why the question? Why now?
"How about you, Maya? Why do you like black coffee?"
"Coffee with grounds," she added.
"The coffee with grounds. Why?" I repeated.
"Because we can never look good looking into it. Because coffee grounds remind me of how we were in the end. Doesn't coffee remind you of the brownish-black color of graveyards?" asked Maya.
Who will die? My forehead creases.
"Maya..." I sighed. "Did you sleep alone last night?"
Maya turned to me briefly. Then as if not finding what she was looking for, she looked down. Staring into her coffee cup again. Her actions were starting to sicken me.
"Did you sleep alone last night?" I repeated. This time it was more urgent.
"Maya! Oh my God!" I knocked the cup from her hand. I was just about to snap when the cup fell to the floor and shattered. But the cup hurled onto the bed and its contents stained the sheets.
"Maya! Look at me!" I grabbed her chin roughly. Forcing her to look up at me. I noticed her eyes getting clearer with tears.
"Maya, who are you lying to? Is this the reason you kick me out every night? You call me a wh*re, even though it's obvious you do the same. You put all this blame on me! As if I'm the bad one, as if I'm the disloyal one! Meanwhile, you can walk away go with your double life and blame me!"
My tears rolled down in a ridiculous sensation. "Who visited you and left that disgusting liquid on your table? Who... did you invite but not me last night?" I demanded in one breath. Then my shoulders went up and down.
Maya smiled. She stretched out her hand to wipe my tears. But I refused the help outright. I brushed off her thin hands. I tightened my grip on her cheek. So she can talk fast. In order for her to end our suffering.
Then, Maya opened her mouth.
"My father."