Salju Besar

Pada tengah malam Jumat, saya kembali melintasi alun-alun dan berhenti di luar toko ayah saya, karena dari jendela saya bisa melihat dia menangis.

At midnight on Friday I came back across the square and stopped outside my father’s shop, because through the window I could see him crying.

Saya menghabiskan malam di pasar, lalu berjalan mengelilingi hampir separuh kota, dengan kartu Simon Rourke di dompet dan laci terkunci Hannah di pikiran saya, supaya saya tidak perlu duduk di balik kasir bersama ayah yang sekarang hanya berbicara kepada saya tentang susu. Lampu toko mati, kecuali lampu di atas konter. Ayah saya berdiri di tengah toko, di antara roti dan koran, dan adik saya berdiri bersamanya, dan dia sedang memeluknya. Mereka tidak mengatakan apa-apa. Mereka berdua menangis, seperti orang yang sudah lama tidak menangis.

I had spent the evening at the market and then walked round half the city, with Simon Rourke’s card in my wallet and Hannah’s locked drawer in my head, so that I wouldn’t have to sit across a till from a father who now spoke to me only about milk. The lights in the shop were off except the one over the counter. My father was standing in the middle of the shop, between the bread and the newspapers, and my sister was standing with him, and he was holding her. Neither of them was saying anything. They were both crying, the way people do who haven’t done it for a long time.

Saya belum pernah melihat ayah saya menangis. Bahkan saat pemakaman ibu saya.

I had never seen my father cry. Not even at my mother’s funeral.

Saya tidak masuk. Apa pun yang mereka katakan satu sama lain, perlu sepuluh tahun sampai bisa diucapkan, dan itu bukan urusan saya. Saya berjalan mengelilingi alun-alun dua kali dalam salju, melewati pondok-pondok yang gelap, dan saat saya kembali, toko itu juga sudah gelap. Saya masuk lewat pintu samping dan naik ke kamar, lalu berbaring terjaga, mendengarkan mereka berbicara pelan di toko di bawah saya sampai pukul dua.

I didn’t go in. Whatever they were saying to each other had taken ten years to say, and it was not mine. I walked round the square twice in the snow, past the dark huts, and when I came back the shop was dark too. I let myself in by the side door and went up to bed, and lay awake listening to the two of them talking quietly in the shop below me until two.

Salju mulai turun lebat pada pukul empat, dan tidak berhenti.

The snow began in earnest at four, and didn’t stop.

Saat saya turun pukul tujuh, alun-alun sudah putih dan sunyi, dan salju di konter pondok terdekat sedalam telapak tangan saya. Bus-bus terlambat. Seseorang di radio mengatakan kolam di taman sudah membeku cukup keras untuk diinjak, tetapi orang-orang tidak boleh melakukannya. Saya mengambil sapu panjang dari belakang toko dan langsung menuju pondok Pak Pike, karena saya sudah menulisnya di buku catatan dan menggarisbawahinya.

When I came down at seven, the square was white and silent and the snow on the counter of the nearest hut was as deep as my hand. The buses were late. Someone on the radio said the pond in the park had frozen hard enough to walk on, and that people shouldn’t. I took the long broom from the back of the shop and went straight to Mr Pike’s hut, because I had written it in my notebook and underlined it.

Perlu empat puluh menit. Saya berdiri di atas kotak di belakang dan mendorong salju dari atap datar yang tua itu dalam lembaran-lembaran tebal yang panjang, sementara salju terus turun menimpa kepala saya. Pada pukul delapan atapnya sudah bersih, dan penyangga di bawahnya tampak persis seperti hari Rabu.

It took me forty minutes. I stood on a box at the back and pushed the snow off the flat old roof in long heavy sheets, while it went on falling on my head. By eight the roof was clear, and the brackets underneath looked exactly as they had on Wednesday.

Pada pukul sebelas, atap itu sudah putih lagi.

By eleven, the roof was white again.

Itu hari Sabtu terakhir sebelum Natal, dan pasar sedang seramai-ramainya. Orang-orang datang dari seluruh kota, memakai sepatu bot dan topi, karena salju membuat semuanya tampak indah. Komidi putar berputar dengan salju di atas kuda-kuda kecilnya. Paduan suara Ruth bernyanyi di tangga gereja, dengan salju di topi mereka. Ada antrean di setiap pondok, dan antrean terpanjang ada di pondok Pak Pike, karena lilinnya adalah barang tertua di pasar, dan orang-orang menyukai barang tua saat Natal.

It was the last Saturday before Christmas, and the market was the busiest it had been. People came from all over the city, in boots and hats, because the snow made it beautiful. The carousel turned with snow on its little horses. Ruth’s choir sang on the church steps with snow on their hats. There were queues at every hut, and the longest was at Mr Pike’s, because his candles were the oldest thing in the market, and people like old things at Christmas.

Pada pukul satu, Marco lewat sambil membawa sekotak kayu bakar dan memandang atap pondok Pike. “Atap itu harus dibersihkan lagi,” katanya. “Sekarang. Saljunya basah. Berat.”

At one o’clock Marco came past with a box of firewood and looked up at Pike’s roof. “That wants clearing again,” he said. “Now. It’s wet snow. It’s heavy.”

Saya pergi menemui Pak Pike. Ada empat belas orang dalam antreannya.

I went to Mr Pike. There were fourteen people in his queue.

“Pak Pike, saya harus membersihkan atapnya. Sepuluh menit saja. Bisa tutup konternya?”

“Mr Pike, I need to clear the roof. Ten minutes. Can you close the counter?”

“Tutup?” Dia menatap saya seolah-olah saya memintanya menanggalkan pakaian. “Pada hari Sabtu terakhir sebelum Natal? Dengan antrean sepanjang ini? Saya akan kehilangan seratus pound dalam sepuluh menit. Bersihkan pukul empat, saat hari sudah gelap dan mereka semua pulang untuk minum teh. Atap ini sudah bertahan lima puluh tahun. Pasti bisa bertahan sampai pukul empat.”

“Close?” He looked at me as if I had asked him to take off his clothes. “On the last Saturday before Christmas? With this queue? I’ll lose a hundred pounds in ten minutes. Clear it at four, when it’s dark and they’ve all gone home for their tea. It’s held fifty years. It’ll hold till four.”