The Step

The name went out across the dark river like something thrown. Michael stopped. Ana, standing frozen by the oven with an empty tray in her hands, saw him stop as if he had walked into a wall. For a long moment he did not turn round. His shoulders rose and fell under the long coat. Then, slowly, he turned.

Nama itu melayang melintasi sungai yang gelap seperti sesuatu yang dilemparkan. Michael berhenti. Ana, yang berdiri mematung di dekat oven dengan nampan kosong di tangannya, melihatnya berhenti seolah-olah dia telah menabrak dinding. Untuk sesaat yang lama dia tidak berbalik. Bahunya naik dan turun di balik mantel panjangnya. Lalu, perlahan, dia berbalik.

Father and son stood about ten metres apart. Walter was on the step, in the light from the kitchen door, big and white-haired in his apron and his old slippers. Michael was on the path at the edge of the light, tall and thin and grey-bearded, with his hands hanging empty at his sides. Ana thought they looked like two halves of the same photograph, torn apart a long time ago.

Ayah dan anak berdiri berjarak sekitar sepuluh meter. Walter berada di undakan, dalam cahaya dari pintu dapur. Tubuhnya besar dan berambut putih, mengenakan celemek serta sandal rumah tuanya. Michael berada di jalan setapak di tepi cahaya, tinggi dan kurus serta berjanggut kelabu, dengan kedua tangannya tergantung kosong di sisi tubuhnya. Ana berpikir mereka tampak seperti dua bagian dari foto yang sama, yang terobek sudah lama sekali.

Nobody said anything. The river went past. Somewhere far away, on the other side of the town, the N7 was climbing the hill to the hospital with its lights on. Ana put the tray down very quietly on the table and did not move again.

Tidak ada yang mengatakan apa-apa. Sungai terus mengalir lewat. Di suatu tempat yang jauh, di seberang kota, bus N7 sedang mendaki bukit menuju rumah sakit dengan lampu-lampunya menyala. Ana meletakkan nampan dengan sangat pelan di atas meja dan tidak bergerak lagi.

It was Michael who took the first step. Just one, slowly, back into the light. Then another. He stopped at the bottom of the step, close enough now to touch his father, and looked up at him. Up close, Ana could see that both of their faces were wet.

Michaellah yang mengambil langkah pertama. Hanya satu langkah, perlahan, kembali ke dalam cahaya. Lalu langkah berikutnya. Dia berhenti di dasar undakan, kini cukup dekat untuk menyentuh ayahnya, dan menatapnya. Dari dekat, Ana bisa melihat bahwa wajah mereka berdua basah.

“Dad,” Michael said. His voice was almost nothing.

“Ayah,” kata Michael. Suaranya hampir tidak terdengar.

Walter put his hand into the pocket of his apron, where the pages were, the words that had taken him six nights to write. He did not take them out. He looked at his son, and Ana saw him decide not to read anything. He opened his mouth, and this time, after fifteen years, the words came.

Walter memasukkan tangannya ke dalam saku celemeknya, tempat lembaran-lembaran kertas itu berada, kata-kata yang butuh waktu enam malam baginya untuk menulisnya. Dia tidak mengeluarkannya. Dia menatap putranya, dan Ana melihatnya memutuskan untuk tidak membaca apa pun. Dia membuka mulutnya, dan kali ini, setelah lima belas tahun, kata-kata itu keluar.

“It was me,” he said. “It was always me. I should have said it that morning, in the shop, in front of all of them. I opened my mouth, son, and I couldn’t. I let you carry it. I let you go. And every night since then I’ve…”

“Itu salahku,” katanya. “Itu selalu salahku. Seharusnya aku mengatakannya pagi itu, di toko, di depan mereka semua. Aku membuka mulutku, Nak, dan aku tidak sanggup. Aku membiarkanmu menanggungnya. Aku membiarkanmu pergi. Dan setiap malam sejak saat itu aku…”

He stopped. Something strange happened to his face. One side of it seemed to slip, very slightly, as if a hand had pulled it down. He put out his right hand towards the door frame and missed it. His knees bent.

Dia berhenti. Sesuatu yang aneh terjadi pada wajahnya. Satu sisi wajahnya tampak melorot, sangat sedikit, seolah-olah ada tangan yang menariknya ke bawah. Dia mengulurkan tangan kanannya ke arah kusen pintu dan luput. Lututnya menekuk.

“Dad?” Michael said.

“Ayah?” kata Michael.

Walter fell. He fell forward, off the step, slowly and heavily, the way a big tree falls. The brown paper bag went with him and burst open on the stones, and the loaf rolled away towards the river. Michael caught him before his head hit the ground. Ana heard herself scream.

Walter jatuh. Dia jatuh ke depan, dari undakan, perlahan dan berat, seperti sebatang pohon besar yang tumbang. Kantong kertas cokelat itu ikut jatuh bersamanya dan pecah terbuka di atas bebatuan, dan roti itu menggelinding menjauh ke arah sungai. Michael menangkapnya sebelum kepalanya membentur tanah. Ana mendengar dirinya sendiri menjerit.

Then she was outside, on her knees on the cold stones, with no memory of crossing the kitchen. Walter’s eyes were open, but they were not looking at anything. His mouth was moving, trying to make a word, and only one side of it would move. His right hand lay on the stones, and for the first time since Ana had known him, it was not shaking at all.

Lalu dia sudah berada di luar, berlutut di atas bebatuan yang dingin, tanpa ingat pernah melintasi dapur. Mata Walter terbuka, tetapi matanya tidak menatap apa pun. Mulutnya bergerak, berusaha membentuk sebuah kata, dan hanya satu sisinya yang bisa bergerak. Tangan kanannya tergeletak di atas bebatuan, dan untuk pertama kalinya sejak Ana mengenalnya, tangan itu sama sekali tidak gemetar.