Dua Tangan

Seorang pastor membantu N., dan N. berjalan dengan tongkat. Itu belum cukup untuk halaman depan. Senin pagi saya mulai dari tempat yang selalu menjadi awal bagi setiap wartawan: orang-orang yang menyimpan bukti di laci dapur mereka.

A priest was helping N., and N. walked with a stick. It wasn’t much for a front page. On Monday morning I started where every journalist starts: with the people who keep the evidence in their kitchen drawers.

Saya menulis sebuah kartu di meja sarapan. “APAKAH ANDA MENYIMPAN SURAT-SURAT DARI N.? Saya ingin sekali melihatnya, untuk sebuah tulisan tentang alun-alun kita. Leila, di lantai atas.” Saya menambahkan nomor ponsel saya dan menggambar bintang kecil di sudutnya. Lalu saya turun dan menaruh kartu itu di jendela toko, di antara iklan kucing hilang dan iklan les piano.

I wrote a card at the breakfast table. “DID YOU KEEP YOUR LETTERS FROM N.? I would love to see them, for a story about our square. Leila, upstairs.” I added my phone number and drew a small star in the corner. Then I went down and put the card in the shop window, between the advertisement for a lost cat and the one for piano lessons.

Ayah saya masuk dari jalan membawa koran-koran. Dia menaruhnya di meja kasir. Dia melihat kartu itu. Dia mengambilnya dari jendela, membacanya, dan menaruhnya di bawah mesin kasir tanpa sepatah kata.

My father came in from the street with the newspapers. He put them on the counter. He saw the card. He took it out of the window, read it, and put it under the till without a word.

“Baba.”

“Baba.”

“Ini jendela toko,” katanya. “Untuk barang yang bisa dibeli orang.”

“This is a shop window,” he said. “For things people can buy.”

“Les piano kan tidak dijual.”

“The piano lessons aren’t for sale.”

“Ruth membayar Ayah dua pound sebulan untuk iklan les piano itu.” Dia mulai memotong tali koran-koran. “Dan kucing itu hilang. Orang harus membantu kalau ada kucing hilang.”

“Ruth pays me two pounds a month for the piano lessons.” He began to cut the string on the newspapers. “And the cat is lost. People must help with a lost cat.”

“Dan orang tidak boleh membantu tulisan saya?”

“And people can’t help with my story?”

Dia tidak mengangkat kepala. “Ayah sudah minta kamu membiarkannya.”

He didn’t look up. “I asked you to leave it alone.”

“Ya,” kata saya. “Tapi Ayah tidak bilang kenapa.”

“You did,” I said. “You didn’t tell me why.”

Dia memotong tali yang terakhir dan menaruh koran-koran itu di raknya, satu per satu, sangat lurus. Seorang pelanggan masuk untuk membeli susu. Ayah saya melayaninya dan bicara dengannya tentang salju, tentang pondok-pondok pasar, dan tentang lutut suaminya. Setelah dia pergi, ayah saya masuk ke ruang belakang untuk membuka kardus-kardus. Percakapan kami sudah selesai.

He cut the last string and stood the newspapers in their rack, one by one, very straight. A customer came in for milk. My father served her and talked to her about the snow, and about the huts for the market, and about her husband’s knee. When she left, he went into the back room to unpack boxes. The conversation was over.

Saya mengambil kartu itu dari bawah mesin kasir dan pergi ke kafe dua pintu dari toko. Kafe itu punya papan di dekat pintu tempat orang menempelkan pengumuman tentang flat, sepeda, dan yoga. Saya menempelkan kartu saya di tengah papan itu. Laki-laki muda di belakang meja memperhatikan saya.

I took the card from under the till and went to the café two doors down. The café has a board by the door where people put up notices for flats and bicycles and yoga. I pinned my card in the middle of it. The young man behind the counter watched me do it.

“N.!” katanya. “Keponakan saya dapat satu tahun lalu. Umurnya enam tahun. Dia minta dinosaurus kepada Santo Nikolas, yang asli, dan di surat balasannya tertulis bahwa dinosaurus asli akan sangat tidak senang di apartemen di lantai tiga, tetapi dia boleh melihat batu-batu di taman, karena sebagian batu itu lebih tua daripada dinosaurus. Sejak itu dia mengumpulkan batu. Sepulang sekolah dia tinggal di rumah ibu saya, dan ibu saya marah sekali. Batu-batu itu ada di mana-mana di rumahnya.”

“N.!” he said. “My nephew got one last year. He’s six. He asked Saint Nicholas for a dinosaur, a real one, and the letter said a real dinosaur would be very unhappy in a flat on the third floor, but that he should look at the stones in the park, because some of them are older than dinosaurs. He’s been collecting stones ever since. He lives with my mum after school, and she’s furious. They’re all over her house.”

“Apakah dia menyimpan suratnya?”

“Did she keep the letter?”