Platform Two

Ana looked at the shop. Jess was inside, at the back, choosing crisps. Ana didn’t think any more. She ran up the stairs, across the little bridge over the trains and down to the other platform.

Ana melihat ke toko itu. Jess ada di dalam, di bagian belakang, sedang memilih keripik. Ana tidak berpikir lagi. Dia lari naik tangga, menyeberangi jembatan kecil di atas rel kereta, dan turun ke peron yang satu lagi.

Mick was still at the ticket machine. He didn’t hear her. On the screen, Ana could see the words: SINGLE. MANCHESTER PICCADILLY. £14.70. His finger was over the button, but he wasn’t pressing it.

Mick masih berdiri di mesin tiket. Dia tidak mendengarnya. Pada layar, Ana bisa melihat kata-kata: SEKALI JALAN. MANCHESTER PICCADILLY. £14.70. Jarinya ada di atas tombol, tetapi dia tidak menekannya.

“Mick,” she said.

“Mick,” katanya.

He turned round fast. His face went white, then angry. “I told you. Leave me alone.”

Dia berbalik dengan cepat. Wajahnya menjadi putih, lalu marah. “Aku sudah bilang ke kamu. Jangan ganggu aku.”

“You’re going to Manchester. Now. Tonight.”

“Kamu mau pergi ke Manchester. Sekarang. Malam ini.”

“Yes. And it’s not your business.” He turned back to the machine and took out his wallet. His hands were shaking, a little, like his father’s. The wallet fell out of his hand onto the ground.

“Ya. Dan itu bukan urusanmu.” Dia berbalik lagi ke arah mesin dan mengambil dompetnya. Tangannya gemetar sedikit, seperti tangan ayahnya. Dompet itu jatuh dari tangannya ke tanah.

Cards and coins went everywhere. And a small old photo. It landed at Ana’s feet, face up. She picked it up before he could.

Kartu dan koin jatuh ke everywhere. Dan sebuah foto kecil yang lama. Foto itu jatuh di dekat kaki Ana, dengan bagian depan menghadap ke atas. Dia mengambil foto itu sebelum Mick sempat mengambilnya.

It was a photo of a young man in a white apron. He was tall, with dark hair and a big, happy smile. In his arms, there was a baby with red hair. Behind them was a shop window, and over the window was a sign with big letters: BELL & SON.

Itu foto seorang pria muda dengan celemek putih. Dia tinggi, berambut gelap, dan punya senyum yang lebar dan bahagia. Di tangannya, ada bayi berambut merah. Di belakang mereka ada jendela toko, dan di atas jendela ada tanda dengan huruf-huruf besar: BELL & SON.

Ana looked at the photo. Then she looked at the tired man in front of her, with the grey beard and the old coat. It was the same man. Fifteen years older, and with no smile. But the same man.

Ana melihat foto itu. Lalu dia melihat pria lelah di depannya, dengan janggut abu-abu dan mantel tua. Itu orang yang sama. Lima belas tahun lebih tua, dan tanpa senyum. Namun orang yang sama.

“Michael,” she said quietly.

“Michael,” katanya dengan pelan.

He didn’t say no this time. He stood there on the platform and looked at the photo in her hand. For a long time, he didn’t say anything. Then he took a deep breath.

Dia tidak berkata tidak kali ini. Dia berdiri di sana di peron dan melihat foto di tangan Ana. Lama sekali dia tidak berkata apa-apa. Lalu dia menarik napas dalam-dalam.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m Michael. Michael Bell.”

“Ya,” katanya. “Aku Michael. Michael Bell.”

It was very strange to hear it. Ana guessed it a week ago, but now it was true. She gave him the photo. He put it back in his wallet very, very carefully.

Sangat aneh mendengar itu. Ana menduga hal itu seminggu yang lalu, tetapi sekarang itu nyata. Dia memberikan foto itu kepadanya. Michael memasukkannya kembali ke dompetnya dengan sangat, sangat hati-hati.

“The card,” Ana said. “On Walter’s birthday. With no stamp. That was you.”

“Kartu itu,” kata Ana. “Pada hari ulang tahun Walter. Tanpa prangko. Itu kamu.”