My 5 Most Kick-Ass Fictional Female Characters

I have chosen 5 of my most favorite female TV/movie characters that I think rise above others in terms of kickassness. I didn’t include the all-too-popular ones (e.g. Princess Leia, Sarah Connor, Ellen Ripley, etc.) because I just don’t feel that much affinity towards them.

Here goes. The list is in countdown.

5.   Daria Morgendorffer from Daria (2007)

Have you met Daria? This bitter sharp-tongued albeit intelligent 16-year-old is practically my poster girl when I started tasting the angst of teenage life (I call it “the Dark Ages”). Her clothes scream indifference, her expression perpetually flat, and her ever-monotonous tone never fails to come up with jabbing remarks. She comes from a family that seems to be in constant disappointment of her while her queen-bee, aptly named sister, Quinn, which is everything she’s not, gets all the attention. Quinn even goes so far to not admitting they’re related.

Daria’s view of life is no match for those around her, and so others estrange her (some insist on calling her “Diarrhea”). She only hangs out with Jane, her best friend, who suffers from similar low-self esteem. Daria’s audacious comments and her overall rejection to conform to pretentious normalcy are what I have always secretly aspired to have during those years.

Some of Her Memorable Quotes:

• [after talking to her sister, Quinn] “That's it. Must... contact... intelligent... life...” 
• “Sometimes your shallowness is so thorough, it's almost like depth.”
• “Do you think if you breathe on me, I might catch your enthusiasm?”

4.   Wednesday Addams from The Addams Family (1991) & Addams Family Values (1993)

Growing up in a long line of old family that finds joy in all things ghastly tends to make you a tad bit sociopathic, I guess. Wednesday Addams, in picture is portrayed so spot on by Christina Ricci, is that creepy little girl who is as pale as a sheet, never smiles, and stares into the deepest abyss of your soul. She is enthralled by the macabre, has played with death on more than one occasion (usually her object of experiment is her own brother, Pugsley), and goes around telling people that “she is a homicidal maniac”.

Wednesday is someone I’d like to be for a day in the way she doesn’t give a damn to anyone. Would be interesting to just give them one of those deathly stare, and they would falter like ants under a magnifying glass. One time, Wednesday fakes a smile in front of a crowd – a smile that only multiplies her sinister quality and makes people wish they hadn’t seen it in the first place.

Some of Her Memorable Quotes:

• [when asked about her Halloween costume] “This is my costume. I'm a homicidal maniac. They look just like everyone else.”
• “I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color.”
• “Be afraid. Be very afraid.”

3.   Irene Adler from Sherlock (2011)

Ah, The Woman. The Woman. Though only featured in a single Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, she has been considered as the most significant female character in the whole canon for being the only woman who has ever outwitted him. In BBC’s Sherlock, Irene Adler is the dominatrix who, using her incredible sexual appeal (and prowess, mainly), has established quite a reputation among the rich and influential. She uses these to her advantage in blackmailing and later terrorism. Only, there’s a slight glitch in the plan: she is genuinely attracted to Sherlock Holmes. This “flaw” is what allows Sherlock to reverse the table and defeats her in the end.

Despite everything, Irene is what I can call the equal female nemesis of Sherlock Holmes. It’s clear that they share mutual admiration and eagerness to overpower the other (although in Sherlock’s case, it doesn’t really show). As the only woman Sherlock doesn’t hesitate to fight off an entire Taliban terrorist cell for, this Irene Adler deserves my big fat gigantic respect.

Some of Her Memorable Quotes:

• “Brainy's the new sexy.” 
• [to Sherlock, after he solves her something in less than 7 seconds] “I would have you, right here, on this desk, until you begged for mercy twice.”
• "This is how I want you to remember me. The woman who beat you."

2.   Hayley Stark from Hard Candy (2005)

Okay, now we’re getting to a whole new level of kick-ass. We’ve done quirky, we’ve done creepy, we’ve done sexy, and now we will delve into downright psychopathic.

Hayley Stark is just your average pre-teen girl who sometimes likes to flirt online. She likes listening to Goldfrapp and munching on tiramisu. Totally harmless. Totally innocent. Or at least that’s what she leads us to believe. Hayley agrees to “hook up” on a café with a much older man she meets online, as fresh and naive as she is. The man, Jeff, has no clue as what the horror he will face after he takes the girl home.

No, this is not a slasher film. I will not spoil the fun for those who haven’t seen the movie, because you have to watch it to believe what Hayley is capable of. Not to mention that pre-Juno Ellen Page plays the part so chillingly perfect she will imprint not-so-easy to forget image in your mind. The kind of courage (or perhaps derangement) she got lands her the #2 spot on this list. You’ll get me when you see it yourself.  

Some of Her Memorable Quotes:

• “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Maybe it was the music. Or, I don’t know, maybe it was the bullshit.”
•  “Was I born a cute, vindictive, little bitch, or did society make me that way?”
•  “Well, 4 out of 5 doctors agree that I am actually insane.”

1.   Mindy Macready/Hit-Girl from Kick-Ass (2010) and Kick-Ass 2  (2013)

Since I couldn’t come up with a more creative title, I’m bound to repeat the same phrase when talking about Mindy Macready – no doubt the most kickass female movie character for yours truly. With an appearance of a cute, pony-tail sporting little girl, she will literally slaughter your ass in the most gruesome way possible if you’re so much as getting on her nerves. She is also blessed with the foulest mouth guaranteed to give your grandparents instant aneurysm and heart attack simultaneously. At night, Mindy turns into a masked vigilante, Hit-Girl, who runs around town eliminating crooks and criminals in insanely violent ways, dropping F- bombs and both kind of C-bombs all the while.

In short, this girl rocks my socks to kingdom come. Not to mention I have this sort of unhealthy obsession towards Chloë Grace Moretz (I mean, she can turn me if she really tries). Mindy is someone you’d rather plunge off building for than messing with. Yet, she also has some adorable moments that show she is still just some other teenager, albeit with fondness for murderous rampage and insatiable bloodlust. You know, like you sometimes secretly feel like doing.

Some of Her Memorable Quotes:
(NOTE: Her best lines involve languages that public would deem inappropriate, so I’ve chosen some of her ‘milder’ ones.)

• “Act like a bitch, get slapped like a bitch.”
•  “This 15 year old girl just owned your ass.”
•  And this gold:

Sorry. Can’t help it.

[Review] Ruby Sparks (2012)

Often we have this image on our heads about the perfect person we want to be with. Me, for example, would love to have a significant other who is into movies as much as I am, has a great sense of humor, who is protective, caring, kind, and also plays music. Sounds too much to ask, indeed. Nobody’s perfect. And even if we find that one person who seems to fit into our entire criteria, there is no guarantee that they will have the same feeling in mind. It happens – it’s real life. And so we move on.

But what if we can will that person into existence?

In Ruby Sparks (2012), the often underrated but actually fanciful Paul Dano plays Calvin, a twenty-something writer who is facing a gigantic writer’s block for his second novel after previously thriving with his first. People dub him the ‘genius’, the term that he grew uncomfortable with as the time passes because he doesn’t feel like he’s living up to the hype. A sentiment that, to be honest, shared by yours truly. His days feel empty and meaningless without so much as a drop of inspiration, and while his agent keeps rushing him to create another masterpiece, Calvin found it impossible to even craft a sentence. Until his therapist asked him to write something about his dog, Scotty – an adorable but quite pathetic creature that to me mirrors his owner himself. The dog proves to provide a gateway into something, or rather someone, who changes his life forever.

When he started writing about a girl named Ruby Sparks and giving her a detailed backstory, Calvin once again found his writing passion. He began endlessly writes and dreams and writes about her - this one person that is just the perfect girl for him. Understandable, because who in the world hasn’t made their writing works as a means of escape from reality? But then Ruby comes to life. She just magically appears one day in Calvin’s house, completely herself the way he has ever imagined him to be. And the best thing is - she already is his girlfriend.

After some period of maniacal panic and convincing himself that Ruby is indeed not a figment of his imaginations through some hilarious means of proving, Calvin accepted the awesome occurrence like anyone would embrace someone who is everything they have ever dreamed about. He was head over heels, and for some time, his life is perfect.

Then their relationship started to get more real. Ruby started to act more like a normal person, with wants and needs that Calvin couldn’t control. But Calvin knew that he holds power over of their relationship, literally. When something just isn’t the way he likes it to be, he simply writes Ruby the way he wants her to be. He scrambled to maintain perfection again, up into the point of desperation, until eventually he realized that some things are just not meant to be. Only then did he let Ruby go be herself; no longer a character on his story, no longer someone he wrote and dreamed up about, but a person by herself.

Watching Ruby Sparks does make one wonder about her own image of perfection. About endless what ifs and whys. It is not that deep of a movie, but it’s the simplicity that really hits home. How frequent are we hoping that this person we have been yearning for can walk into our lives in the flesh and make our dreams come true? When it happens… you won’t be questioning yourself. You will be just like Calvin who says “I don’t need to make sense of this. I don’t care if there’s no good explanation.” You won’t be needing justification for the things that make you happy.

But then, have you ever actually thought how would the end turn out? Would the happiness last? When my Ruby starting to be a person and not merely my own creation, can I accept it?

Happiness isn’t defined by how you picture it to be. Happiness is embracing the reality and making the most of it. After Ruby left, Calvin gets on with his life, publishes his next book that is entirely based on his experience with Ruby. That’s making do with life and making your own happiness. But in the end, the film still offers the romantic minds with the probably most-desired finale, by reuniting Calvin with Ruby once again in a different circumstance. A choice I actually not too fond of despite being a sucker for happy endings – because sometimes it is necessary for me to look at things more realistically. I would have preferred Calvin to perhaps find somebody new and build his life afresh – because that would be a more realistic notion I’d give myself.

Nevertheless, Ruby Sparks was executed in the right portion and taste without having to give too much icing on the cake. I have always had a soft spot for Paul Dano since The Girl Next Door and favored his performance in Little Miss Sunshine, and though he might not be that brilliant here, he put up a convincing performance. As Ruby, Zoe might not differ too much from the typical Indie movie pixies with quirkiness in every direction, but she was likeable enough. Their great chemistry can also be contributed to the fact that Zoe and Paul are real life couples. All in all, Ruby Sparks is an enjoyable watch for lovers alike. As for the single ones, you might need to prepare for introspective moment of contemplation right after the credits roll.

Personal rating: 7.7/10

Bocah!

Mari membayangkan bersama kalau kita benar-benar bersama.

Kita tidak sempurna, jauh dari sempurnya, seperti juga saya yang kadang tidak tahan melihat ketidaksempurnaan kamu, Kamu juga pasti begitu. Membayangkan yang lain. Kulit putih halus mungkin. Badan mungil. Mata bulat. Bibir tebal. Atau senyum manis ceria. Yang bukan saya. Yang saya tidak punya. Yang membuat saya bukan yang kamu inginkan.

Memangnya kamu yang saya inginkan? Ya tidak juga sih. Kamu harusnya lebih sering mandi. Lebih memperhatikan kebersihan tubuh kamu seperti dulu waktu itu saya belum kenal kamu tapi terlanjur menggilai. Kamu harusnya jangan makan terlalu banyak. Kamu harusnya ganti model kacamata. Kamu harusnya jangan bercukur. Kamu harusnya jangan terlalu banyak pikiran.

Kenapa juga coba kamu harus banyak pikiran? Memang tanggung jawab kamu apa sih? Siapa sih? Ada saya lho di sini. Serasa sudah seabad siap untuk mendengar dan menemani kamu. Itu juga sudah saya bilang ke kamu berkali-kali kan ya? Kamu masih belum bisa percaya saya. Atau mencoba mengizinkan hati kamu untuk menerima saya, baik kesiapan saya mau pun ketidaksempurnaan saya. Sementara saya, yang juga merasa belum siap menerima kamu, sudah pernah mengecangkan niat untuk belajar, Belajar untuk bisa memaklumi, mentoleransi, dan menyayangi bagaimana pun kamu. yang bau, dekil, besar, dan penuh ketidakpercayaan pada orang. Saya sudah mau untuk berusaha untuk bisa kamu terima dan sayangi, kalau saja kamu juga mau mencoba memberi saya kesempatan.

Sekarang waktunya berandai-andai.

Kita bersama. Saya senang. Tapi, saya tidak tahu kamu senang juga apa tidak. Kamu belum lulus tapi tidak apa-apa untuk saya, kamu masih bisa saya banggakan. Kamu, sialnya, sepertinya tetap luar biasa kikuk untuk membanggakan saya. Kamu tidak tahu apa yang kamu harus lakukan, apa yang kita lakukan, sekarang mau pun akan. Sedangkan saya tidak mau memaksa, tidak peduli seingin apa pun saya. Sering saya benci dan mual. Namun saya lebih sering kangen dan ingin kamu ada walau bukan secara fisik tapi seperti yang pernah saya katakan ke kamu waktu itu: “Kamu bisa bikin saya tenang”. Dan itu bukan gombal. Sudah sering terbukti.

Tapi saya di mata kamu apa ya? Bahkan kalau pun kita menyebut diri bersama, kamu memang bisa sayang sama saya? Saya yang sudah pasti belum bisa membuat kamu terpesona seperti yang lainnya. Kamu memang bisa bilang saya cantik? Saya ragu. saya, di sisi lain, akan selalu menganggap fisik kamu bagus, walau mungkin sebenarnya tidak. Karena hati saya yang melihat kamu, bukan mata. Bisa tidak, kamu bilang kamu senang berada dekat saya? Bisa tidak, kamu bilang saya berarti untuk kamu lebih dari siapa pun yang pernah kamu sebut berarti? Sepertinya tidak ya. Tidak mungkin. Kamu bukan orang yang ada di kepala saya yang selama ini saya harapkan nyata. Kamu ya begitu itu, dan cuma diri kamu yang menentukan apakah kamu akan menjadi sosok itu, itu pun hanya kalau kamu punya perasaan yang sama besarnya dengan saya.

Itu bisa saja sih. Tapi saya menolak percaya, karena penyangkalan jauh lebih mudah dibandingkan dengan harapan yang ditutup oleh kekecewaan.

Scars

I remember once in college, I was on a class, sitting beside a friend. I didn’t wear any watch so I grabbed her wrist to check on the time. She was wearing a shirt that only covered halfway down her elbow and the dial was facing inwards. I turned her hand up to see it.

That was when I noticed the scars.

Almost identical in size, fading white in color, they were lining up neatly and dangerously close to her vein. I looked at the time and felt her eyes boring at me, as if daring me to say something. 

I didn’t. I let go of her hand and continued listening to my professor, my expression completely unchanged.

I never mentioned what I saw to her. But it left me wondering what kind of problem she was having to be doing that to herself. I think she was an okay girl - didn’t talk much like I do, dressed very casually but pleasing to the eye, with manners that reminded me of that cool chic character you may find on young adult fictions: a Katniss, perhaps. She never looked depressed; but then again, I wasn’t that close to her to say I was sure of that. Then I asked myself if I would do the same if I were in her position.

I wouldn’t. It looked terribly painful.

But what if I were to grow an entirely different person than I am now?

In my early teenage years, I was led to believe that I was the single most hideous person in the planet. I was a short, chubby girl, with round face and glasses. I started getting pimples in 5^th grade, and it was nowhere near better for my face from then. My friends were very few, as they were the only ones I feel comfortable to hang out with. They were the underdogs. As I was. I was never popular, except for the fact that maybe I spoke English better than the rest of my class (and maybe my teacher) combined. My classmates used to copy my English homework and I used to let them. I was that pushover, yeah. (I sometimes still am).

Life at my household wasn’t much different. My parents were working most of the time. I didn’t have any friends in my neighborhood, so I read. Reading, watching TV, and playing computer were like my only three activities then. I was a very sheltered child – I never went out to buy anything by myself, I was afraid to talk to stranger, and couldn’t cross the street without someone guiding me. I wasn’t even allowed to learn how to ride a bike, for God’s sake. I was such a pathetic wimp, to say the least. Refer to the previous paragraph if you need more proof.

At school, fourth grade, there was this boy, my classmate. I didn’t remember exactly how it happened, but he once made me cry. I think it was something to do with him losing one of my belongings which I couldn’t recall. Strangely, after the incident, the boy seemed to take a great interest in me. He loved watching me from afar with a smile on his face. Being a child with virtually no friends, especially from the opposite sex, I was freaking out. I didn’t know what to do or how to act. So I started to act cold to him. I stopped speaking to him and avoided him when he was coming nearer.

It turned out to be the beginning of something terrible.

You see, this guy was part of the group of friends I called as ‘the popular gang’ (during that time, I was hooked on Popular – a short lived TV series you may also be familiar with once). Apparently, my actions made him hate me – or, actually, pretended that he hated me in front of his friends. Whenever we came in close contact, he would spat at me with horrible sounding curse words no elementary school children should be saying to anyone at all. It was heartbreaking. I couldn’t figure out why he did it, especially since after saying all those stuff he continued to watch me while smiling.

Then things turned out for the worse. The group of friends I was a part of—the underdogs—infuriated the popular gang with reasons I swear to God that, although I forgot what it was, had nothing to do with me. My friends and I occupied the seats on the far left of the class, right in front of the teacher’s desk. One day, I entered the class to see gigantic words written on the blackboard, saying that the entire people on those seats are to be hated (with the exception of one of the girls sitting there name whom I could say a traitor because she talked to them about us behind our backs?)

And so it began. The rest of the class stopped talking to us, and me, and calling us names and doing bad things to us. I, for example, had my backpack trodden by their shoes and put inside a trashcan. Then I remembered buying a brand new comic, putting it in the drawer on my desk, went out for a lunch break, and came back only to find it wet and filthy, as if someone had dropped it into a pool of mud and then put it back without me knowing.

Since the term wasn’t yet familiar back then, I didn’t realize I was being bullied.

I was bullied all the way to senior high school. In junior high, the same pattern was repeated. I was one of the underdogs, the nobody, the wimp, the ugly, the fatty, my pimples were going crazy and I started getting braces. It didn’t matter how I kept leading my school name to victory in almost every English competition I was in. People would only approach me when they need me to do their homework. If not, they wouldn’t even look at me twice. I was kind, I wouldn’t say I wasn’t, but you have every right to call me an absolute idiot for not being able to stand up for myself. I didn’t want to blame anyone, but I can’t help to also say that it was my upbringing that made me like that.

Needless to say, hope for a romance was close to non-existent. I wanted to be pretty, looked pretty and be called pretty, but all I got was animal names or cruel jokes addressed at me. I wanted to have a boyfriend, as was normal for any budding female teenager ever existed, but all I got was rejection. Once, I had a crush on a guy. He knew that. I gave him a chocolate on Valentine’s Day. Not an hour from that, he asked one of my classmates to be his girlfriend, right in front of my face, making sure I was there to watch. Only later I found that that it was a way of him to get me off since he was disgusted of me.

Disgusted.

I believed that too. That I was disgusting. I deserved no love from anyone.

Every single mean word, each of them sliced its way deeply inside of me with a white hot blade, leaving it gaping open to bleed without control. Words that only mean as nothing but a joke to you, others might see as instrument of torture. Surprisingly, people, not everybody was created the same, with same physique, same intelligence, same way to grow up—same soul of stealth, even, as you might think they do while you pierce them so casually with your words.

The wounds might be able to heal with time, but the scars they left behind would still be there. They might serve as a calling to show you how strong you are to have been through all that made them, but in turn, they also serve as a reminder of how they got there at the first place. And once it showed, they tinged with almost the same pain as it was made fresh.

During those times, I had nobody to understand the hard time I was going through. I share similar experience with some of my closest friends, but I couldn’t rely more to anyone than myself and God. This is arguable, but I think I might not be able to make it through physically unscathed if my family wasn’t that protective of me. They were unaware of my predicament—at least not fully—but since I was so sheltered, I was literally afraid of hurting myself in any way whatsoever, especially if it involved sharp items. I was too much of a coward to try cutting myself, obviously. But imagine if I weren’t. Imagine me and razor blade and blood flowing down and the sharp pain that I enjoy coming with it.

I did imagine it after I saw those scars on my friend’s inner arm, and got seriously spooked. No, I couldn’t do that. Would never do that.

So instead, what I did was cutting myself from the inside. Instead of fighting the words back, I embraced it and made them part of me, like a poison I willingly take because I got myself to believe that it was necessary for me, though with every swallow I die a little more.

This thing, this mental-cutting, had going on for almost my whole life. There were always those little blades coming to bury themselves in my soul. I let them come. I chose to let my soul exposed to the pain rather than shielding it with a dragon scale armor. Why? Because I didn’t believe I had one, or didn’t believe in myself enough to make one. It’s just easier to believe the words than fighting it. It takes less effort, but in turn, way more pain.

I let me bully myself.

The time has come to stop.

The scars I have are still there. Invisible, but they do exist. I could never forget how they were there in the first place, but now, I have known enough to actually make them a testament of my strength. I’ve been there, I survive, I stand tall. How long did it take for me to get here? Almost twenty years. But it was worth it. This used-to-be-unfamiliar feeling of loving myself has slowly but surely marked its way to be one of my best friends. Now I can actually like my own reflection in the mirror. I am no longer afraid to get my picture taken, because why should I? I look great. I feel great. I am great.

Long gone the days I couldn’t look at a guy in his eye, sweating like a pig, stuttering, all because I think I was too ugly to be looked at. Now I can smiled at them with pride, knowing full well that I am actually attractive enough for them. Or for anyone at all, for the matter. It may not be special for some, but really, for me, it is a huge deal.

There are no such things as too late to love yourself, friends.

I can be narcissistic if I wanted, because I goddamned deserve it. I had never in my life said to other people I am beautiful. Not once. Because I never felt I was.

It’s changed.

I am fucking beautiful, man.

Good night.

Jakarta, September 30, 2013

Ombak Hangat

Kuingat kamu melalui ombak yang hangat dan pasir putih yang lolos dari jemari kakiku. Yesaya berlarian, terpekik senang mengejar bola berwarna-warni seukuran tubuhnya di sepanjang garis buih; untuk seumurnya anak itu cukup pintar untuk tidak bermain jauh-jauh. Aku melihatmu di matanya dan rambut ikal cokelatnya, pipinya yang bulat bersemu merah dan gigi depannya yang tidak sama rata. Yesaya bocah yang tampan. Aku bangga memilikinya, beserta kenanganmu.

Tujuh tahun lalu ombaknya tidak sehangat ini dan hari tidak secerah sekarang. Warna langit kala itu senada dengan pantulannya di samudera di bawahnya, seperti campuran cat air yang kamu pakai untuk melukis gaun yang kupakai di saat kita bertemu untuk pertama kalinya.

“Kenapa bajunya kelabu?” itu hal pertama yang kamu tanyakan padaku, yang kujawab dengan mengangkat bahu. Kamu cuma orang asing di pulau yang kudatangi semata untuk liburan pelepas penat kedewasaan. Kamu menjulang di atasku, gagah, mempesona, ramah, dan aku tetap tak acuh. Perempuan. Di tanah orang. Jual mahal sedikit lah, pikirku (bodoh). Padahal kamu salah satu dari sangat sedikit sosok yang mau mengajakku berbincang sejak aku tiba di sini, seluruhnya sendiri.

Kita berbincang. Kamu pelukis, sementara aku tidak terlalu menarik untuk diceritakan. Jadinya aku lebih menikmati kisah hidupmu. Lidahmu cadel. Aku sering geli sendiri mendengarmu (mencoba) mengucapkan beberapa kata, hingga akhirnya kita sama-sama menertawakan ketidakmampuanmu menyebut namamu sendiri dengan benar. Bergelas-gelas minuman. Berpuluh-puluh nyanyian kemudian. Belasan jam yang melintas setelah itu. Semuanya kita tidak hanya sekadar habiskan atau lewati, namun kita nikmati.

Kamarmu wangi cendana, yang entah bagaimana menyatu dengan manisnya bersama aroma cologne-mu yang segera setelahnya menjadi wangi kesukaanku, hingga sekarang. Malam itu agak gerah, jadi kamu membuka pintu kamarmu untuk membiarkan angin masuk. Aku bisa melihat bulan purnama dengan sempurna dari situ. Kamu bilang ini saatnya melukis.

Bulan mengantarkan ilham, katamu. Cat air, ujarmu, lebih memahamimu. Aku mengiyakan saja, terlalu penasaran dengan hasilnya. Kamu melukis dengan jari, bukan kuas. Aku menanti hingga aku tertidur lagi. Kamu bangunkan aku saat fajar menjelang.

Perempuan di kanvasmu terlihat begitu kesepian, kubilang saat kamu meminta pendapatku.

Tanganmu merangkulku, jemarimu masih belepotan cat; bagiku, hangat tubuhmu seperti kelambu yang melindungimu dari gigitan serangga. Ringan namun menentramkan.

“Apa kamu sekarang masih kesepian?”

Tidak. Tidak bersamamu.

Kita tidak mengucap janji apa pun kala bertukar selamat tinggal. Realitas menungguku di seberang sana, dan kamu terlalu mirip mimpi indah yang membuatku tidak mau terbangun, seberapa harus juga. Karena itu aku pergi. Kita tidak saling menghubungi. Buat apa? Kamu kan bukan kenyataan untukku.

Empat bulan sebelum Yesaya lahir, aku kembali. Tidak untuk apa-apa. Tidak karena merindukanmu. Tidak juga karena aku merasa harus memberi tahumu mengenainya. Aku hanya merasa perlu datang lagi. Di kuil dekat tempat tinggalmu, aku menanyakan namamu. 

Sudah hampir dua purnama, kata lelaki tua di sana, kamu tidak tinggal di situ lagi. Dia membawaku ke rumah barumu. Dia mengantarkanku ke pusaramu.

Untuk pertama kalinya, aku merasakan tendangan Yesaya.

Di pantai yang sama di saat kita bertemu pertama kali, di hari yang luar biasa berbeda, Yesaya menghampiriku sambil tertawa. Memelukku. Celana renangnya berwarna kelabu. Namun tidak ada di antara kami yang merasa kesepian. Kami punya satu sama lain. Dan di pantai ini, aku dan Yesaya bersamamu.

Sungai di Langit

“Melayang itu sangat mudah ketika kamu sudah berada di antara bintang-bintang sejak awal.”

Gadis mengayunkan kedua kakinya yang terjuntai telanjang di atas ratusan kerlip kecil yang menyebar di kegelapan tak berkesudahan. Ia menghembuskan nafas – sempat mengukur berapa lama kira-kira tubuhnya butuhkan untuk mengambang hingga sampai ke planet terdekat, sebelum akhirnya benaknya mentok dan ia menyerah. Sepertinya akan lebih baik jika ia menyerahkan momentum pendaratannya kepada alam yang tentu lebih pintar dan lebih ahli dalam soal begini. Atau kalau tidak, nanti saja ia tanyakan ke Gangga. Dia biasanya tahu.

“Aku mau mengambil satu,” Gadis menengadah, telunjuknya mengarah ke binar bintang keunguan di sebelah kanan kakinya. “Bisa tidak ya?”

Gangga mengambil tempat di sebelah Gadis. “Yang itu?”

“Bukan, sebelahnya. Yang agak ungu,” Gadis menggeser jari Gangga hingga menunjuk ke tempat yang benar, tidak menyadari nafas Gangga yang sempat berhenti di detik kulitnya menyentuh kulit Gadis.

Gangga mengangguk, berusaha tidak menggubris kekecewaannya saat Gadis menarik tangannya kembali. “Bisa. Tapi sepertinya kamu akan agak lama sampai di sana.”

Gadis mengangkat bahu. “Tidak masalah. Aku punya banyak waktu.”

“Mau sekarang?” tanya Gangga. Gadis terlihat menimbang-nimbang.

“Besok saja. Sekarang aku lelah, mau tidur. Sudah hampir terang.”

Gadis mendongak. “Besok temani aku lagi ya?”

Anggukan Gangga mengembangkan senyum Gadis, yang serta merta menyandarkan tubuhnya di bahu pemuda itu. Gangga menarik hawa lembut tubuh Gadis, menyecap kehangatannya, menikmati keberadaannya selagi dia bisa.

“Selamat tidur Gadis,”

Gangga memejamkan mata saat hangat tubuh itu mulai sirna, wanginya mulai pergi, hingga yang tertinggal hanya lah pendar cahaya biru dari pangkuannya. Sinar itu perlahan melayang, terus naik ke atas, sebelum akhirnya lenyap sama sekali. Gangga hanya bisa menatap bundaran biru nun jauh di langit sana sambil berharap semoga Gadis sampai dengan selamat, hingga besok alam mengizinkan mereka untuk bertemu lagi. Dan Gangga akan punya satu kali kesempatan lagi untuk bersamanya.

Ipanema

Berada di tengah-tengah musik, aku tak lagi merasa sendiri. Semuanya begitu hidup. Aku tergelak senang saat kamu menggamit lenganku untuk ikut berdansa dengan kerumunan. Tawamu menyenangkan; merdu seperti irama yang kini mengelilingiku.

Sepasang kekasih berbaju sama-sama merah melambaikan tangan mereka kepada kita. Sang perempuan mengajak kita untuk mendekat, sementara sang pria mengacungkan mikrofon di tangannya.

“Kamu mau nyanyi nih? Beneran? Serius?” aku menatap tidak percaya ketika kamu menyambar mikrofon tersebut dan naik ke atas panggung.

“Malam ini biar semua yang nggak mungkin jadi mungkin,” katamu, dan kamu mulai bernyanyi, lagu yang belum kukenal sebelumnya, namun langsung bisa membuatku jatuh cinta. Berulang kali. Dan terus begitu meski lagunya sudah usai.

Kamu turun dari panggung sambil mengelap keringat, disambut dengan riuhnya tepuk tangan orang di sekeliling kita. “Bagus,” ujarku. Kamu membuka sebotol air mineral untuk diteguk, tapi aku menepisnya dan langsung menciummu.

Botol minumanmu sampai jatuh. Aku tersenyum melihat keterkejutanmu setelahnya.

“Malam ini, yang nggak mungkin jadi mungkin, kan?” kataku.

Dan kita tahu, malam ini masih jauh dari kata usai.

Cinta Sejati

Saya seharusnya menulis setiap hari.

Menulis itu seperti kekasih saya yang telah lama terlupakan; setia menunggu di sebuah sudut bersarang laba-laba yang selalu saya lewati tapi saya abaikan. Semacam tahu keberadaannya tapi tidak diindahkan. Saya pikir, toh dia akan selalu beada di sana. Meskipun jarang ditengok, dia akan selalu ada. Nggak akan kemana-mana.

Menulis itu cantik. Dan dia selalu membuat saya nyaman. Mungkin tidak selalu memberi damai – sering sih, tapi tidak selalu – tapi nyaman, iya. Parasnya berubah sesuai apa yang saya rasa. Tapi dia tidak pernah buruk di mata saya.

Menulis kadang membuat saya menangis karena sedih, geli karena bahagia, atau malah sebaliknya: geli karena sedih, menangis karena bahagia. 

Menulis selalu ada, tidak pernah memaksa saya untuk menengoknya, namun ketika saya mendekat dia akan mengangkat kepalanya penuh sukacita dan tersenyum, manis sekali, sampai saya tidak mau beranjak dari sana. Tapi kadang saat saya tidak tahu lagi kata apa yang bisa saya sampaikan padanya, saya pergi, meskipun sering lama saya pandangi dirinya dengan rasa hangat yang kuat dalam hati.

Menulis akan selalu ada untuk saya. Dia akan selalu cantik dan indah. Dan saya akan selamanya 

mengaguminya.

Saya ingin selalu bersamanya, jika saja kenyataan hidup tidak terlanjur menawan saya dalam selnya.

Menulis, sampai kapan pun, adalah cinta sejati saya.