Red Paint

For a moment nobody answered. Ana stood behind the counter with a paper bag in her hand and felt her face go hot. It was Walter who spoke, from the kitchen doorway, in the flat, steady voice he used for customers who complained about the price of bread.

Sesaat tak seorang pun menjawab. Ana berdiri di balik konter sambil memegang kantong kertas, lalu merasakan wajahnya memanas. Walter-lah yang berbicara dari pintu dapur, dengan suara datar dan tenang yang biasa ia pakai untuk pelanggan yang mengeluhkan harga roti.

“She’s working,” he said. “I asked her to come back. We had forty rolls last night, Jess, and half of them looked like they had been sat on. I need a baker. She’s the best one I’ve had.”

“Dia bekerja,” katanya. “Aku memintanya kembali. Tadi malam ada empat puluh roti gulung, Jess, dan separuhnya tampak seperti habis diduduki. Aku butuh pembuat roti. Dia yang terbaik yang pernah kumiliki.”

Jess looked at him as if he had started speaking a foreign language. “Four days ago you threw her out for lying to us. Now she’s back behind the counter with your keys. Did I miss something?” She waited. Nobody said anything. Walter looked at the floor, and Ana understood that he had not yet found a single one of the words he had promised to find.

Jess menatapnya seolah ia mulai berbicara bahasa asing. “Empat hari lalu Kakek mengusirnya karena membohongi kita. Sekarang dia kembali di balik konter membawa kunci Kakek. Ada yang kulewatkan?” Ia menunggu. Tak seorang pun bersuara. Walter menatap lantai, dan Ana paham pria itu belum menemukan satu kata pun yang telah ia janjikan.