"THOSE HAUNTING HOURS" in "SHORTS"

“When was the last time you cried? And why did you cry?”
That was the topic of the radio show that night. The two radio announcers sounded so cheerful, even when they had to console a sobbing girl on the phone. The first caller had poured her broken heart out. Apparently, she’d been in love with her best friend, but he’d been in love with someone else – who had broken his heart.
A classic love triangle…
What about me? No, I didn’t want to end up crying again over the past on air like that girl, so I texted them. It was one hell of a long text message, while my mind was travelling back in time:
Things had been tense in my own family since my father died. Somehow, Ma had acted as if I was a disappointment in her life. Single at the age of 30 and was considered not as attractive as my sister was. (By the way, my sister is the younger version of Ma. Go figure.)
It didn’t matter that I was already helping my family. To them, it felt like I was never good enough.
“You need to lose weight,” they kept on telling me. “Don’t you want to have a boyfriend?”
Excuse me?! I looked at Ma and asked hotly: “Really, Ma? Do I look that bad?”
Instead of calming me down, she’d looked at me coldly and said:”Well, you could look better.”
“Oh, great.” I rolled my eyes in disgust. That had hurt. “Thanks a lot, you guys. I’ve never felt so loved and sooo supported before!”
“You know, we’re only telling you this because we care.”
“Really?!” I rose to my feet. “THEN STOP MAKING ME FEEL SO DAMN UGLY!”
I ran away, leaving them all. I didn’t come home for a month.
When someone I once loved announced his engagement on Facebook, I’d thought catching up with Dad had been the greatest idea. I missed him – and I’d wanted to know how much they’d miss me if I too were gone.
Maybe I didn’t care too much whether they would or not. Maybe they didn’t care about me at all.
I was speeding on my motorbike that night. I didn’t even bother say goodbye to anybody at all. I’d shut off my cellphone.
I’d been riding fast with my eyes closed…before something concrete hit me full-front. I was thrown off my bike. I’d fallen flat on the asphalt road, unconscious for a while.
When I came to, I opened my eyes and slowly looked around. My body ached, but I could still sit up. Surprise, surprise – no broken bones, only bruises. I saw my bike, slightly dented against some building wall.
And I was all alone. It was late at night.
Since I was still alive, I decided to just go home to my rented room with my motorbike.
When I turned my cellphone on, I gasped. To my surprise, I saw about over 20 messages. Most of them were asking about how I was, where I’d been, and why I didn’t turn my phone on. Some had even tried to call me.
It didn’t take me long to realise what I’d completely forgotten. My eyes began to blur and I was choked at the fifth message. Friends…and family…
There was one from Ma. She said she was sorry about what she’d said to me.
Then there was a banging on the door. I got up to open it. My hazel-eyed best friend, who lived next-door, was glaring at me.
“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!” he yelled at me. “I tried to call you many times, texted you…”
I said nothing; I just stared at him. How could I have been so stupid? Here stood in front of me, a guy who never made me feel ugly. A guy who treated me like a family. A guy who never gave up on me…
And I was sure he wasn’t the only one.
“What’s wrong?” he stopped yelling as soon as he realised that my eyes were brimming with tears. I simply walked into his arms and bawled. He just hugged me.
That late night, we talked a lot…
I was snapped back into reality, as the radio announcer finished reading my story:
“It took me those haunting hours to find out that yes, I was still loved and God had shown me all that, more than good enough…”

R.
(Jakarta, 20/11/2014 – 8:00 – 11:00 pm - From The Couchsurfing Writers’ Club Meeting, @Anomali Cafe, Setiabudi One. Theme: “Time”. Sub-topic: “Hour”.)