Sebuah Tawaran

“Punya Michael?” tanya Jess. Dia melihat roti bulat di piring itu, lalu memandang kakeknya. Suaranya mendadak tajam. “Apa maksud Kakek, punya Michael? Kek, dia sudah pergi selama lima belas tahun. Ana yang bikin roti-roti itu. Kakek baru saja mengatakannya sendiri.”

“Michael’s?” Jess said. She looked at the roll on the plate, then at her grandfather. Her voice was suddenly sharp. “What do you mean, Michael’s? Grandad, he’s been gone for fifteen years. Ana made those rolls. You just said so yourself.”

Walter tidak menjawabnya. Dia masih memandangi Ana. Ana berdiri di dekat bak cuci piring dengan kotak basah di tangannya dan tidak bergerak. Dia tahu bahwa jika dia membuka mulut, kebenaran akan terungkap. Jadi dia tetap menutup mulutnya, dan itu adalah hal tersulit yang pernah dia lakukan. Jam di dinding terdengar sangat keras.

Walter didn’t answer her. He was still looking at Ana. Ana stood by the sink with a wet box in her hands and did not move. She knew that if she opened her mouth, the truth would come out. So she kept it closed, and it was the hardest thing she had ever done. The clock on the wall seemed very loud.

Lalu sesuatu di wajah Walter tertutup, perlahan-lahan, seperti pintu yang berat. Dia menunduk melihat roti bulat itu. “Bukan,” katanya. “Bukan, itu mustahil. Tentu saja mustahil.” Dia mendorong piring itu menjauh dengan tangannya yang sehat. “Kamu memanggang seperti dia, itu saja. Kamu belajar dariku, dan dia belajar dariku. Ada tangan-tangan yang mengingat hal yang sama. Cuma itu.”

Then something in Walter’s face closed, slowly, like a heavy door. He looked down at the roll. “No,” he said. “No, that’s impossible. Of course it is.” He pushed the plate away with his good hand. “You bake like him, that’s all. You learned from me, and he learned from me. Some hands remember the same things. That’s all it is.”

Dia mengatakannya dengan tegas, seolah-olah mengatakannya kepada diri sendiri lebih daripada kepada mereka. Jess memandang Ana dengan tanda tanya di matanya, tetapi Ana hanya menggelengkan kepala. Jess mengangkat bahu dan naik ke atas untuk belajar. Ana paham bahwa Walter telah memilih untuk tidak tahu. Dia tidak tahu apakah harus merasa lega atau malah semakin malu.

He said it firmly, as if he was telling it to himself more than to them. Jess looked at Ana with a question in her eyes, but Ana only shook her head. Jess shrugged and went upstairs to study. Ana understood that Walter had chosen not to know. She did not know whether to feel relieved or even more ashamed.

Malam itu, Walter tidak tidur lebih awal. Ketika Ana turun untuk membuat teh pada pukul sembilan, dia masih duduk di kursinya di dapur dengan lampu padam dan radio bersuara sangat pelan. Ana menyalakan lampu kecil di atas meja. Walter tidak menyuruhnya mematikan lampu itu. Dia malah menunjuk ke kursi yang lain.

That evening, Walter did not go to bed early. When Ana came down to make tea at nine, he was still sitting in his chair in the kitchen with the lights off and the radio on very low. She turned on the small light over the table. He did not tell her to turn it off. Instead he pointed at the other chair.

“Duduklah,” katanya. “Aku mau menceritakan sesuatu kepadamu. Tentang anak laki-lakiku.” Ana duduk perlahan. Dia memegang cangkirnya dengan kedua tangan agar Walter tidak bisa melihat tangannya gemetar.

“Sit down,” he said. “I want to tell you something. About my son.” Ana sat down slowly. She held her cup with both hands so that he could not see them shake.

“Dia dulu anak yang nakal,” Walter mulai bercerita, dan hampir tersenyum. “Terlalu pintar, terlalu berisik, selalu bertanya kenapa. Ketika dia berumur tujuh tahun, dia ingin memanggang. Jadi Mary meletakkan sebuah kursi di dekat meja itu, dan dia berdiri di atasnya setiap pagi sebelum sekolah. Dia bikin roti-roti bulat yang tampak seperti batu dan rasanya seperti batu. Dia sangat bangga dengan roti-roti itu. Kami memakan semuanya.”

“He was a terrible child,” Walter began, and almost smiled. “Too clever, too loud, always asking why. When he was seven, he wanted to bake. So Mary put a chair by that table, and he stood on it every morning before school. He made rolls that looked like stones and tasted like stones. He was so proud of them. We ate every one.”

“Mary mengajarinya melipat kantong kertas. Pembuat roti yang baik tidak pernah membuang-buang kantong, katanya. Setelah itu dia melipat setiap kantong di toko, sepanjang hari, tak peduli kami membutuhkannya atau tidak. Pelanggan biasanya menemukan lipatan kertas kecil di belanjaan mereka selama berminggu-minggu.” Walter memandang laci di bawah meja. “Hanya dia yang pernah mendengarkannya dengan sungguh-sungguh.”

“Mary taught him to fold the paper bags. A good baker never wastes a bag, she said. After that he folded every bag in the shop, all day, whether we needed it or not. Customers used to find little paper squares in their shopping for weeks.” Walter looked at the drawer under the table. “He was the only one who ever listened to her properly.”

Dia bercerita lebih banyak lagi. Bagaimana Michael menolak pergi ke universitas karena dia ingin memanggang. Bagaimana ayah dan anak itu berdebat tentang segala hal, oven, harga-harga, stasiun radio. Bagaimana mereka telah bekerja berdampingan selama sepuluh tahun dan hampir tidak pernah mengucapkan kata-kata manis satu sama lain. Bagaimana Michael dulu bernyanyi untuk Jess saat masih bayi di dapur pada pukul empat pagi, lagu lambat yang sama yang pernah dinyanyikan Mary di dekat mixer.

He told her more. How Michael had refused to go to university because he wanted to bake. How father and son had argued about everything, the oven, the prices, the radio station. How they had worked side by side for ten years and hardly ever said a kind word to each other. How Michael used to sing to baby Jess in the kitchen at four in the morning, the same slow song that Mary had sung over the mixer.