Kotak Sepatu

Hari Senin Diane Price berdiri di pintu toko Hamid dengan setumpuk surat. Setiap anak mendapat satu surat di akhir latihan. “Untuk orang tua kalian,” katanya. Dia memberi saya satu juga.

On Monday Diane Price stood at the door of Hamid’s shop with a pile of letters. Every child got one at the end of the rehearsal. “For your parents,” she said. She gave me one too.

Para orang tua yang terhormat, saya menyesal harus memberi tahu hal ini. Orang yang mengambil barang-barang dari kandang gereja adalah tukang kayu, Pak Marco Russo. Dia tidak berkata tidak. Polisi akan mengunjungi bengkelnya besok pagi. Diane Price, Dewan Paroki

Dear parents, I am sorry to tell you this. The person who took the things from the church crib is the carpenter, Mr Marco Russo. He has not said no. The police will visit his workshop tomorrow morning. Diane Price, Parish Council

Saya membacanya dua kali. Lalu saya melihat ke atas. Inês berdiri di dekat beras dengan surat terbuka di tangannya. Saya melihat saat dia mengerti. Wajahnya tidak bergerak. Hanya tangannya yang bergerak.

I read it twice. Then I looked up. Inês stood by the rice with the letter open in her hands. I saw the moment when she understood. Her face didn’t move. Only her hands did.

Dia tidak datang kepada saya. Dia pergi ke Amara.

She didn’t come to me. She went to Amara.

Mereka berdiri di belakang toko, di balik rak kaleng. Inês berbicara cepat. Amara menggeleng. Inês memegang lengannya. Amara menggeleng lagi, lebih keras, dan menarik lengannya.

They stood at the back of the shop, behind the shelf of tins. Inês talked fast. Amara shook her head. Inês took her arm. Amara shook her head again, harder, and pulled her arm away.

Lalu Inês datang kepada saya. Wajahnya basah.

Then Inês came to me. Her face was wet.

“Bu Novak. Itu bukan Papa.”

“Miss Novak. It wasn’t Papa.”

“Inês...”

“Inês...”

“Bukan dia. Tidak pernah. Saya yang mematahkan malaikat itu.” Kata-katanya keluar sekaligus. “Setelah latihan, ketika Sophie mengucapkan kalimatnya lagi dan lagi. Saya menarik malaikat itu dari kandang dan sayapnya patah. Saya menyembunyikannya di tas saya. Papa menemukannya, saya kira. Dia memperbaikinya. Untuk saya.”

“It wasn’t him. Never. I broke the angel.” The words came out all at once. “After the rehearsal, when Sophie said the line again and again. I pulled the angel off the crib and the wing broke. I hid it in my bag. He found it, I think. He mended it. For me.”

“Dan barang-barang yang lain?”

“And the other things?”

Dia menoleh lagi ke Amara. Amara sekarang menangis tanpa suara.

She looked back at Amara. Amara cried now, without a sound.

“Saya sudah berjanji,” kata Inês. “Saya berjanji kepadanya. Tetapi ini Papa, dan polisi akan pergi besok, dan dia tidak berkata apa-apa karena saya.” Dia menarik napas. “Itu Amara. Untuk ayahnya. Ayahnya tidak bisa datang ke pementasan, jadi dia membuat pementasan itu untuknya. Di dalam sebuah kotak. Di rumah sakit. Dia masuk lewat jendela kecil di belakang. Jendela itu tidak menutup. Saya berjaga untuknya satu kali, hari Sabtu. Hanya satu kali.”

“I promised,” said Inês. “I promised her. But it’s Papa, and the police are going tomorrow, and he isn’t saying anything because of me.” She took a breath. “It was Amara. For her dad. He can’t come to the play, so she’s making the play for him. In a box. At the hospital. She climbs in by the little window at the back. It doesn’t close. I kept watch for her once, on the Saturday. Only once.”

Jendela kecil yang tinggi. Jejak kaki kecil Pak Doyle. Edith: perhatikan anak-anak, bukan kunci-kunci.

The little high window. Mr Doyle’s small footprints. Edith: watch the children, not the keys.

Saya mengeluarkan daftar saya. Saya melihatnya satu detik. Lalu saya merobeknya jadi dua, dan jadi dua lagi, dan memasukkannya ke tempat sampah Hamid.

I took out my list. I looked at it for one second. Then I tore it in half, and in half again, and put it in Hamid’s bin.