Kunci-Kunci

Marco memberi saya linggis pukul delapan pagi hari Rabu, dan kami mulai membongkar pondok Pak Pike sebelum pasar buka.

Marco gave me a crowbar at eight on Wednesday morning, and we started on Mr Pike’s hut before the market opened.

Dia sudah bilang akan mengerjakannya dengan salah satu orang dapurnya, dan saya bilang saya lebih suka mengerjakannya sendiri. Dia memandang saya sebentar, seperti ketika saya menjatuhkan balok pertama saya, lalu menyerahkan linggis itu. Butuh tiga jam. Balok-balok tua itu lepas di tangan kami seperti kardus basah, dan salju di atasnya masuk ke kerah kami. Di bawah meja jualan kami menemukan sekaleng sisa lilin dari sekitar tahun 1980 dan sebuah sarung tangan anak. Pak Pike berdiri menonton sepanjang waktu, dengan syal tentaranya, kedua tangan di belakang punggung. Ketika papan terakhir turun, dia berjalan ke ruang kosong itu dan berdiri di tengahnya.

He had said he would do it with one of his kitchen men, and I had said I would rather do it myself. He had looked at me for a moment, the way he had looked at me when I dropped my first beam, and then handed me the crowbar. It took us three hours. The old beams came apart in our hands like wet cardboard, and the snow on them went down our collars. Under the counter we found a tin of candle ends from about 1980 and a child’s glove. Mr Pike stood and watched the whole time, in his soldier’s scarf, with his hands behind his back. When the last board was down he walked into the empty space and stood in the middle of it.

“Lima puluh tahun,” katanya. “Ayah saya yang membangunnya.”

“Fifty years,” he said. “My father built that.”

“Saya turut menyesal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Kamu sudah bilang itu. Jangan katakan lagi.” Dia memandang ruang kosong itu sebentar lagi. “Tahun depan kita bangun yang baru. Dari kayu ek, kali ini, bukan pinus. Kayu ek awet. Kamu akan membantu.”

“You’ve said that. Don’t say it again.” He looked at the space a while longer. “Next year we build a new one. Oak, this time, not pine. Oak lasts. You’ll help.”

“Saya akan membantu,” kata saya, dan saya tidak berhenti memikirkan apakah saya akan ada di sini untuk melakukannya.

“I’ll help,” I said, and I didn’t stop to think whether I would be there to do it.

Pastor Tom meminjamkan sebuah meja panjang dari aula gereja, dan Ruth meminjamkan kain merah untuk menutupinya. Pukul empat lampu sudah menyala dan komidi putar berputar lagi. Pak Pike menjual lilin dari meja pinjaman di samping api, dan dia menjual lebih banyak daripada yang pernah dia jual dalam satu sore. Orang-orang sudah mendengar apa yang terjadi, dan mereka datang dengan sengaja.

Father Tom lent him a long table from the church hall, and Ruth lent him a red cloth to put over it. By four o’clock the lights were on and the carousel was turning again. Mr Pike was selling candles from a borrowed table next to the fire, and he sold more than he had ever sold in an afternoon. People had heard what had happened, and they came on purpose.

Sebelumnya, pukul satu, adik saya turun ke toko, tempat saya berjaga di kasir, karena ayah saya tidur selama satu jam. Dia memegang telepon dan wajahnya tidak bisa saya baca.

Earlier, at one, my sister had come down to the shop, where I was behind the till, because my father had gone to sleep for an hour. She had her phone in her hand and a face I couldn’t read.

“Editorku akan mencetak sesuatu dari tulisanku besok,” katanya. “Sebuah kolom. Enam ratus kata, tanpa nama. Itu bukan cerita yang membuatku pulang.” Dia memasukkan telepon ke saku. “Dan namaku tetap ada di daftar Januari. Jadi selesai sudah.”

“My editor’s printing something of mine tomorrow,” she said. “A column. Six hundred words, no names. It’s not the story I came home for.” She put the phone in her pocket. “And my name stays on the January list. So that’s that.”

“Kamu kehilangan pekerjaanmu.”

“You’re losing your job.”

“Bulan Januari. Seperti kamu, hanya lebih pelan.” Dia bersandar di meja kasir, tempat pelanggan berdiri. “Kamu tidak akan bertanya kenapa.”

“In January. Like you, only slower.” She leaned on the counter, where customers stand. “You’re not going to ask me why.”

“Tidak,” kata saya. “Kamu juga tidak bertanya kepadaku.”

“No,” I said. “You didn’t ask me.”

Dia memandang saya lama, lalu tertawa. Dia mengambil sebuah koin cokelat dari kotak di dekat kasir dan tidak membayarnya, seperti dulu ketika umurnya delapan tahun. “Ayah akan senang sekali,” katanya. “Dua orang untuk diberi makan.” Lalu dia melepas mantelnya dan mulai menata koran. Kami bekerja berdampingan sepanjang sore tanpa membicarakan apa pun, dan di keluarga kami itu sejenis cinta.

She looked at me for a long moment, and then she laughed. She took a chocolate coin from the box by the till and didn’t pay for it, the way she used to when she was eight. “Dad will be delighted,” she said. “Two of us to feed.” Then she took off her coat and started putting out the newspapers. We worked side by side all afternoon without talking about anything, which in my family is a kind of love.

Pukul enam sebuah pesan datang dari Imogen. Itu yang terakhir yang pernah dia kirim kepada saya.

At six a message came from Imogen. It was the last one she ever sent me.