A Wife For Me (The End)




“I have no plans to get married yet,” she said after our laughter subsided. I smiled sadly. Finally this time I was rejected again. The lattest was by a college chick to whom I thought would receive my ask to marry. With pleasure, of course. Women were surely mysterious buddy. I was really understand by then.

“All right,” I said resignedly.

“We should leaving.”

“Okay,” she said. She took the jacket draped over the sofa and wearing it as well. And I just could only see her sadly. It’s a hard feeling rejected continuously by girls, but life went on indeed. Leaving everything behind. Definitely it would come my time to marry a woman. Maybe not in this way God would give me the match.

We went down to the front desk using the elevator. We both stood there, having not dare to look at one another. Just the two of us in the elevator. Then the bell rang and we walked out. The receptionist served us with a friendly smile. I do not know what is in her mind for seeing her guests just only wearing their room for three hours as well.

We stood on front of the hotel sculpting. She watched at her feet nervously. I handed several sheets of hundred thousand rupiah in her hand. I tried to smile at her anyway, she replied awkwardly. Then I brought the girl shaking hands. “What’s your name,” I asked, “Maybe we can meet again sometime,” I said hopefully. The girl who just rejected me smiled broadly and answered shortly, “Wilma”.

Then we split up in the darkness of the night.




Malang, December 2010.

photograph by Denies Priantinah Senopranoto

A Wife For Me (Part Four)





“A guest asked me to have sexual intercourse.”

“I was just needed the money to pay tuition and buy some text book,” she continued. In short, she’s finally serving the guest’s request for the sake of a few sheets of Indonesian rupiahs. Very cliche story and often found in the student’s cities, I thought.

“Did you ever regret your life?” I asked then.

“For what?” she answered immediastely, “This is the way I choose.”

The girl then took off her jacket and put it carelessly on a sofa. The hotel room was quite spacious and comfortable. There was a medium-sized television exactly located in front of the couch. A comfortable and overstuffed sofa placed near the balcony. Simple chair to write also available. The chair was behind the desk on which there was a telephone and a pack of hotel’s letter-headed paper.

Wow, without jacket turned that this girl really more exciting indeed. She was wearing a tight T-shirt usually worn by today’s youth. It was yellow and read “I’m a Virgin” on her chest. Subtle looked black bra she wore at the time. Her breasts were indeed very beautiful.

“I’ll take Isha,” I said. Isha is one of the obligatory prayers that Muslims do daily. There are five prayer times every day. Isha is done at night until dawn.

She looked astonished, then chuckled. “You rent a room and being alone with a prostitute in a hotel room,” she commented. Then, “While you do not forget to pray.”

“Well I’ll be, it’s very contradictive.”

“Never mind,” I said. I went into the bathroom and take wudlu. Wudlu is washing several parts of the body such as face, arms,legs, and some other body’s parts with water for ablutions before prayers. Then performed four cycles or four raka’at for Isha praying. Don’t ever you ask your friends, if I khusyu or not during this praying. Khushu what I mean is performing the praying with all your mind and sense only directed to God, the one and only, who created this life. My mind was a jumble. I was in a hotel room with a beautiful student and I rampaged my libido.




Photograph by Emile Seno Aji

A Wife For Me (Part One)

A Wife For Me

A Short Story by Fermy Nurhidayat




The girl got up from the chair that has been occupied for a couple of time. Her tight pants was so clearly visible on both my eyes. The eyes of a man who had a normally lust. I was tempted to do something to her. Silhouette was extremely tempting. However, I had to pay for this overnight.

“So, what do you want from me?”, she asked.

“We just talk”, I replied.

The woman laughed. “You’re funny,” she said later. Rows of white teeth implies that the tooth was treated well. “What’s so funny?,” I asked then after the laughter subsided. Expand my friendly smile. “You’re not like any other man I know,” she said afterwards. Again my smile slowly expanded.

I happened to remember the events about ten years ago. A girl was also said to me like that. Ah, … It had been very long time ago. A girl from the Faculty of Dentistry. We’re good friends and she had been patching some of my teeth on Dental Conservative Laboratory. She asked me to do that after complaining about my perforated teeth to her.

Stories become a short romantic story afterwards. I used to visit her so often to her boarding house to discuss various things. It’s start from personal life to the story of the political conditions in our country, Indonesia. That short love story then did not continue after I knew that Wilma, the dentistry’s girl, also had been being visited by other students. Most of them were people of the Graduate Program on University of Gadjah Mada, our university. I become reluctant to prolonge the relationship.

“You’re obviously a rare man,” said Wilma when we rest in the courtyard of Dental Conservation Laboratory which was filled with Dentistry students. Most of them chatting on spare time before being commanded entered by the laboratory supervisor. Promptly at nine in the morning.

“What rare?” I asked her.

“You’re not like any other man I know,” said Wilma later. She laughed, showing a row of white teeth at me. Just like the girl in this hotel room. Ten years later.