The Frozen Pond

Edith Green lives above the chemist’s, up thirty-one stairs. I counted them on Wednesday with a cake in my hands.

Edith Green tinggal di atas apotek, naik tiga puluh satu anak tangga. Saya menghitungnya hari Rabu sambil membawa kue.

“Clara Novak,” she said at the door, before I spoke. “I know your shoes. You walk like a teacher.”

“Clara Novak,” katanya di pintu, sebelum saya bicara. “Saya kenal sepatumu. Kamu berjalan seperti guru.”

She is eighty-two, small and thin, with round glasses on a chain. Her eyes are bad now. She can see the shape of me, she says, but not my face.

Dia berumur delapan puluh dua tahun, kecil dan kurus, dengan kacamata bulat di seutas rantai. Matanya sekarang tidak baik. Dia bisa melihat bentuk saya, katanya, tetapi tidak wajah saya.

We sat in her little kitchen, and I talked for twenty minutes. She didn’t stop me once.

Kami duduk di dapur kecilnya, dan saya bicara dua puluh menit. Dia tidak memotong saya sekali pun.

Edith listened with her hands round her cup. Then she asked questions, and they were not nice questions.

Edith mendengarkan sambil memegang cangkirnya dengan dua tangan. Lalu dia bertanya, dan pertanyaannya tidak enak.

“Why did you ask Diane about her gloves in front of the council?”

“Mengapa kamu bertanya kepada Diane tentang sarung tangannya di depan dewan?”

“Because I wanted an answer.”

“Karena saya ingin jawaban.”

“No. Because you wanted to win.” She drank her tea. “And Mr Doyle? Did you ask him, or did you tell him?”

“Tidak. Karena kamu ingin menang.” Dia minum tehnya. “Dan Pak Doyle? Kamu bertanya kepadanya, atau kamu memberi tahu dia?”

I didn’t answer that.

Saya tidak menjawab itu.

“How did you run it, Edith? For twenty years. Nothing went wrong?”

“Bagaimana Anda menjalankannya, Edith? Dua puluh tahun. Tidak ada yang salah?”

“Everything went wrong. Every year.” She smiled. “In 1994 Joseph was sick on Mary. But I always knew why. Because I watched the children. Every rehearsal, every minute. Who is happy, who is angry, who goes home early, who stays.” She put down her cup. “You are watching the keys, Clara. Watch the children, not the keys.”

“Semuanya salah. Setiap tahun.” Dia tersenyum. “Tahun 1994 Joseph muntah di atas Maria. Tetapi saya selalu tahu sebabnya. Karena saya melihat anak-anak. Setiap latihan, setiap menit. Siapa yang senang, siapa yang marah, siapa yang pulang lebih awal, siapa yang tinggal.” Dia menaruh cangkirnya. “Kamu melihat kunci-kunci, Clara. Lihatlah anak-anak, bukan kunci.”

“The children don’t have keys.”

“Anak-anak tidak punya kunci.”

“No,” said Edith. “They don’t.”

“Tidak,” kata Edith. “Mereka tidak punya.”

I told her my other idea then. Nobody knew it yet. After the play, on Christmas Eve, some of the children could go to the city hospital in their costumes and sing on a ward.

Lalu saya menceritakan ide saya yang lain. Belum ada yang tahu. Setelah pementasan, pada malam Natal, beberapa anak bisa pergi ke rumah sakit kota dengan kostum mereka dan menyanyi di sebuah bangsal.