Small Footprints

“Do not be afraid,” said Sophie Price to the shepherds.

“Jangan takut,” kata Sophie Price kepada para gembala.

“Do not be afraid,” she said to the kings, at the door.

“Jangan takut,” katanya kepada para raja, di pintu.

“Do not be afraid,” she said to Ruth’s piano, and to the kitchen, and to a small sheep who was not afraid at all until then.

“Jangan takut,” katanya kepada piano Ruth, kepada dapur, dan kepada seekor domba kecil yang sampai saat itu belum takut sama sekali.

It was Tuesday, the first of December. Since a quarter to four Sophie said the big line about thirty times. Every time it was very good. I wanted to put her in the crib with the straw.

Hari itu Selasa, 1 Desember. Sejak pukul empat kurang seperempat Sophie mengatakan kalimat besar itu sekitar tiga puluh kali. Setiap kali sangat bagus. Saya ingin menaruhnya di kandang Natal bersama jerami.

The sheep could see, at least. Somebody had cut bigger holes in all six sheep heads, very neatly. Under my note, in big square letters, somebody wrote: “Big enough?” I kept the note. I don’t know why.

Setidaknya para domba bisa melihat. Seseorang membuat lubang mata yang lebih besar di keenam kepala domba, dengan sangat rapi. Di bawah catatan saya, dengan huruf kotak yang besar, seseorang menulis: “Cukup besar?” Saya menyimpan catatan itu. Saya tidak tahu mengapa.

Inês stood next to her the whole rehearsal. She didn’t say anything back. At half past four the children ran for their coats, and in the noise Inês was suddenly at the door, first of everyone. Her eyes were red, and she held her school bag tight against her chest, with both arms. I called goodbye. She didn’t answer.

Inês berdiri di sebelahnya sepanjang latihan. Dia tidak menjawab apa-apa. Pukul setengah lima anak-anak berlari mengambil mantel, dan dalam keributan itu tiba-tiba Inês sudah di pintu, yang pertama dari semuanya. Matanya merah, dan dia memeluk tas sekolahnya erat-erat di dadanya, dengan dua tangan. Saya memanggil selamat tinggal. Dia tidak menjawab.

At seven I came back to the hall. Marco was there with his key, alone, under the big light. He wasn’t building. He sat on a box with a small knife and a piece of wood, and wood shavings lay round his boots. In his hand was a little donkey, no bigger than my thumb.

Pukul tujuh saya kembali ke aula. Marco ada di sana dengan kuncinya, sendirian, di bawah lampu besar. Dia tidak sedang membangun. Dia duduk di atas sebuah kotak dengan pisau kecil dan sepotong kayu, dan serutan kayu ada di sekitar sepatu botnya. Di tangannya ada seekor keledai kecil, tidak lebih besar dari ibu jari saya.

“For the crib?” I asked.

“Untuk kandang Natal?” tanya saya.

“No. Not for the crib.” He put it in his pocket, fast. “It’s for the nights, when I can’t sleep.”

“Bukan. Bukan untuk kandang Natal.” Dia memasukkannya ke saku, cepat. “Ini untuk malam-malam, kalau saya tidak bisa tidur.”

In the middle of the room stood a wooden frame as tall as a door. It smelled of new wood.

Di tengah ruangan berdiri rangka kayu setinggi pintu. Baunya seperti kayu baru.

“Mr Russo. Can I ask you something?”

“Pak Russo. Boleh saya bertanya sesuatu?”

“You can ask.” He picked up his hammer and went back to the frame.

“Silakan.” Dia mengambil palunya dan kembali ke rangka itu.

“On Thursday night, after the rehearsal. Mr Doyle says your van was here until ten.”

“Kamis malam, setelah latihan. Pak Doyle bilang van Anda ada di sini sampai pukul sepuluh.”

He put down his hammer.

Dia meletakkan palunya.