WIG

“It’s a wig.” Setia, who was sitting next to me, whispered to my right ear. We were talking about a freshman whose hair looked so weird. His hair was too black, too shiny, and too long for freshmen who had to cut their hair in 3-2-1 style.

image courtesy of clipartmax

I looked closely at that guy, his face wasn’t that handsome, but he had the body that most guys dreamed of. He was taller than most of the other students. And, I swallowed at this thought, look at his upper arms! So muscular! I shook my head, kicking the thought away.               

“Why is he wearing a wig?” I whispered back to Setia.        

“No idea.”

“Maybe premature baldness.” I laughed while covering my mouth, but Setia looked disapprovingly at me, “What?” I asked.

“It’s not funny.”

We were gathering in the theater room to give some briefing to the freshmen regarding the Department Life Orientation event that will be held the following week. The event was, on paper, held to welcome the new students and give them some ideas of how it was like to be a part of our department. However, it had been ‘misused’ from batch to batch. There would be some ragging, of course.

 

 “So annoying!” Lestari, my cousin who was a year younger than me, complained while undoing her hair, “The committee members acted like they were Mr. President! In fact, I don’t even think Mr. President was as bossy as them! They asked us to do lots of stupid stuff! Who do they think they are?”

I said nothing because I was drowning in a novel, The Art of Racing in the Rain.

“But...” she sat next to me on my bed, “there was a funny incident.”

“What incident?” I asked without diverting my eyes from the novel. Honestly, I didn’t really care what she was about to say, but I felt bad if I completely ignored her.

“We had a multi-legged race game. There were like 10 students in each team. My friend was teamed with a guy wearing a wig.”

At the mention of the word wig, Lestari got my full attention, “The guy who’s in the same department as me?”

“Ya, I guess so. His wig almost came off! So he held his wig using both of his hands and the whole team lost their balance and they all fell down. Hahaha. It was hilarious!”

I joined Lestari’s laughter, “Haha.. So funny.” I half regretted not becoming a part of Faculty Life Orientation and missing the chance to see the hilarious scene. Well, I was never an active student. I was too lazy to join the Faculty Student Organization or other kinds of organizations. Lestari and I laughed while holding our stomach. Damn.. I just couldn’t wait till DLO to see that guy doing his funny acts!!

Suddenly my phone rang, “Hi.”

“Tih? Remember the freshman whom we talked about at the pre-DLO?” As always, Setia was straight to the point.

“Which one? The King candidate number 3?”

“No, the one who’s wearing a wig.”

“Oh, that one, why? Lestari and I were just talking about him. At the FLO, his wig almost came off. So funny. Hahaha.”

“Not funny!” Setia hissed at the other end.

“Oh yeah, not funny, hilarious!”

“You know why he is wearing a wig?”

I fell silent for a while, thinking of reasons why that guy wore a wig, “Hmm... premature baldness, right?”

“Nope. He had cancer and he took chemo. Actually, he was one year older than us, but due to his treatments, he had to quit school for two years”

I could hardly believe what my best friend said, “Who told you?”

“Rika. She told me that the freshman wearing a wig was her classmate in high school. His name is Yogi anyway.”

I had no idea what I was feeling at that moment. It had never crossed my mind that the person I made fun of had been a cancer survivor. I felt so ashamed of myself.

“Tih, you heard me?”

“Ya,” I said weakly, “Anyway, how bad is his condition now?”

“I have no idea. Rika told me he suffered from brain cancer, and he had undergone some surgeries. His parents actually disliked the idea of him continuing his studies, but he insisted, saying it would be his last wish.”

“Hmm.. Okay.. Thanks for the info. See you at FLO.” I felt so stupid. So inhumane! I really felt sorry for making fun of him. I had to meet him and if possible, befriend him.  

 

 “Hey, that’s him!” A female from the documentation team with an DSLR hanging from her neck pointed to a group of freshmen. I looked at where she pointed, thinking it was the king candidate number 3 whom I hadn’t spotted since morning. But I saw someone else instead, the guy with a wig!

That’s the first time I saw him again after finding out about his disease. He really did stand out among the group. He was the tallest, I bet not less than 180cm.

“His hair is weird.” Another student from the documentation team responded, “Why is he allowed to wear a wig? Usually the committee is so strict about this kind of things.”

A wind blew quite strongly, blowing dry leaves. Yogi held on to his wig.

“I hope the wind blows harder till his wig comes off.” They both laughed, hurting my ears. They had no right to make fun of Yogi!

“I’ll take his picture and show it to my nephew. I’ll warn him if he doesn’t wash his hair regularly, he’ll be bald and will have to wear a wig. Haha.”

I walked towards them, “Isn’t your job to take pictures? Why are you here gossiping instead?”

They looked at each other, then looked at me blankly.

“Do you think it’s funny?”

“What’s your problem?” One of them asked, her name’s Sinta or Sintia, I’m not sure, we only took one class together.

“Do you know why he’s wearing a wig?”

They both shook their heads.

“He had cancer. His parents asked him to just stay at home, but he insisted on going to college. It’s his last wish.”

“Are you for real?”

I nodded twice, “So please stop making fun of him, okay.”

It’s their turn to nod.

I smiled and went back to the First Aid makeshift tent.

“I feel sorry for him.” I told Setia while looking at that guy.

“Aside from his wig, he looks normal to me, strong even.”

“Maybe he’s just pretending to be strong.”

           

The campus corridors which had been almost empty the previous one month were now crowded again. Some students were sitting and chatting along the corridors, some were busy with their laptops, some with their books. Feeling exhausted from carrying a super heavy backpack, I decided

to sit in front of Classroom No. 1, waiting for someone.

After a while, that someone came.            

He walked fast past me.

“Hey, wait…”

He turned around, looking at me questioningly.

“Yogi, right?”

He hesitated, “Yes?”

“I’m Ratih.” I extended my right hand.

He looked confused but shook my hand, “Yogi.”

I then took my backpack and unloaded some thick books, “These are textbooks for the first semester.”

“What’s for?”

Being asked that question, now I felt stupid. I gave a forced smile, ‘I just thought you might need them.”

“Thank you, but I already have all the textbooks. I’ll go to class now.” Without waiting for my response, he went to his first class.

I stared blankly at his sturdy back. I felt a little disappointed, no, very disappointed.

 

The bad experience I got on that first day didn’t make me step back. I was still determined to help Yogi and make his college life better. I always tried to find a way to take care of him. Whenever I saw him look tired, I’d always offer to take him to our campus clinic, even though he rejected all the time. Whenever I saw him having discussion with his friends, I’d chip in, helping them with my ideas and thoughts. His friends looked happy with my help, but he looked so nonchalant.

 

The first Saturday in October, my department had a sports championship. There were some types of sports and competition, like futsal, badminton, chess, and sport dance, and of course, everyone’s favorite, basketball. I’d never been a sportsperson, so I didn’t participate in any of them. And if allowed, I’d rather stay in bed than watching 10 guys fighting over a ball.

But Setia forced me to go. She really wanted to see Yudhi, a senior, show his athletic skills on the basketball court. Besides, I’d still have to go because any students found absent would be fined. So there I was sitting in the tribune, waiting for the first game to start. It was 1^st semester vs 7^th semester.

       

I looked dumbfoundedly when I spotted someone I’d been, in a way, taking care of on the court. Yogi? What was he doing there?

The game was more exciting than I’d expected. Yogi turned out to be good, great even. Yudhi, who was a professional player at regional level, found it hard to seize the balls from Yogi’s skillful hands.

The first quarter ended with Yogi scoring a dramatic three-point field goal. Time slowed down when he threw the ball, it felt like all eyes were on him, on the ball, and back on him who was falling on the floor, breathless. It took all of me not to run to the court and helped him get up.

The referee blew his whistle marking the end of the first quarter. Yogi stood up, and smiled.

A tear formed in the corner of my eye. How could a sick person be that strong?

A month after that, my department held a succession of Student Association. Again, I had to give up a Saturday to go to campus to avoid the stupid fine. The hall was already full of students, probably Setia and I were the last to come. When I looked at the stage at the far end of the hall, I frowned. Was that Yogi?

“Damn, he’s a Student Association vice president candidate!” whispered Setia.

I looked disbelievingly at her, “Seriously?”

“Ya, I guess we’re too indifferent to notice.”

I diverted my eyes back to the stage. Yogi, running for an election? Why?

It turned out we were indeed very late, the mission and vision statements as well as the debate had been conducted. Now it was time to vote. My hands shook holding the ballot. As much as I wanted to vote for Yogi, I didn’t want him to be burdened with additional campus tasks. I ended up

voting for another pair.

The vote count was done shortly after. Surprisingly, Yogi and his partner won the election. I felt proud and sad at the same time. And once again, a tear rolled down my cheek.

  

The longer I observed Yogi, the more surprised I became. He never failed to amaze me with his outstanding achievement. He wasn’t academically gifted, but he was always active in extracurricular activities. Aside from being the vice president of our department’s Student Association, he also joined the basketball club. Sometimes when I wasn’t too lazy, I watched him train. He never trained for more than half an hour, but during that short period of time, he scored more than his other teammates combined.

One day I saw him sitting by himself in front of a classroom. I walked slowly towards him, “Hey.”

He looked a little taken aback by my sudden presence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came late for the final test.”

I looked inside through a window and saw Prof. Anggara, one of the strictest lecturers in our department.  He was walking around, watching his students who were taking their final semester exam. I took some long breaths and finally knocked on the door.

“Yes?” Prof. Anggara’s voice sounded jarring, making all the students raise their heads to look at the door.

Trying to put on my most pleading look, I said, “Sorry Prof, could you please let Yogi take the exam? He was late because of me.”

“Ratih, you know how much I hate undisciplined students, right?”

He remembered my name, good, “Yes Prof. But he came late because he was helping me. I got a flat tire on the way to campus.”

He studied my face for a few seconds and I really prayed he wouldn’t know I was lying.

“Okay,” he finally said, “but only this time.”

I smiled, “Thank you, Prof.”

“Good luck!” I whispered to Yogi who was entering the class with a flat face. I felt so happy I could finally do something helpful.     

           

“Tih, someone’s looking for you.” said a classmate who’d just entered the classroom.

“Who?”

“A guy. He’s waiting outside.”

“Okay, thanks.” I walked toward the door, a guy was standing in front of the classroom, “Yogi?”

“We have to talk.”

“About?”  I couldn’t suppress a smile. Usually I was the one looking for him, trying to talk to him, this time, it was the other way around. I knew he would say thank you.

“Thank you for helping me.” See?

“But…” he hesitated.

“But?”

“But please stop treating me like this. I go to school because I want to have a normal life, please don’t feel sorry for me. I know I’m sick, but it doesn’t mean you have to treat me like I would die tomorrow. Your attention is overwhelming, and it makes me uncomfortable.” He said without any pause, “ Excuse me.” He then walked away from me.

I looked at his figure walking farther and farther away, feeling insurmountable grief. Stupid. I felt so stupid. What was I thinking about? Why did I feel sorry for him? He was normal, he was even better than most of us, definitely better than me. I felt sorry for a wrong person. I should’ve felt sorry for myself. Yes, me. I have a perfect physique, but an unhealthy mind. I felt I was good enough that I had time to feel sorry for someone who’s a lot better than me.

Tears fell down my cheeks, jostling, unstoppable.