The Cups on the Post Box

Ilan has emptied the village post box every morning for eleven years. He arrives at twenty to seven, when the road is empty and the air smells of cut grass. He opens the little door with his small key and slides the letters into his bag. Then he drives to the next village. It is a quiet job, and he likes it that way.

Ilan sudah mengosongkan kotak pos desa setiap pagi selama sebelas tahun. Ia tiba pukul tujuh kurang dua puluh menit, ketika jalan masih sepi dan udara berbau rumput yang baru dipotong. Ia membuka pintu kecil itu dengan kunci mungilnya dan memasukkan surat-surat ke dalam tasnya. Lalu ia mengemudi ke desa berikutnya. Itu pekerjaan yang tenang, dan ia menyukainya begitu.

On a Monday in May, something new sits on top of the box. It is a stack of paper cups, about thirty of them, held down by a flat stone.

Pada suatu hari Senin di bulan Mei, ada sesuatu yang baru di atas kotak itu. Sebuah tumpukan gelas kertas, sekitar tiga puluh buah, ditindih sebuah batu pipih.

Ilan frowns. "Somebody's rubbish," he says to the empty road.

Ilan mengernyit. "Sampah orang," katanya kepada jalan yang kosong.

He picks up the cups and carries them to the bin by the school gate. He puts the stone back in the hedge, where he thinks it belongs. Then he collects the post and drives away.

Ia mengambil gelas-gelas itu dan membawanya ke tempat sampah di dekat gerbang sekolah. Ia menaruh batu itu kembali ke pagar tanaman, tempat yang menurutnya semestinya. Lalu ia mengambil pos dan pergi.

On Tuesday, there is another stack and a different stone. Ilan throws them away too. On Wednesday, the stack is taller, and the stone is bigger. He sighs, and he throws them away again.

Pada hari Selasa, ada tumpukan lain dan batu yang berbeda. Ilan membuangnya juga. Pada hari Rabu, tumpukannya lebih tinggi, dan batunya lebih besar. Ia menghela napas, dan membuangnya lagi.

Kalani, meanwhile, is having a very bad week.

Sementara itu, Kalani sedang menjalani minggu yang sangat buruk.

She is nineteen, and she has just come home after her first year at college. She wants to do something useful in the village. So she has started a morning running club for beginners. Twelve people have joined. They meet at seven o'clock by the post box, and they run once round the lake.

Ia berusia sembilan belas tahun, dan baru saja pulang setelah tahun pertamanya di kuliah. Ia ingin melakukan sesuatu yang berguna di desa. Jadi ia memulai klub lari pagi untuk pemula. Dua belas orang sudah bergabung. Mereka berkumpul pukul tujuh di dekat kotak pos, dan berlari satu putaran mengelilingi danau.

Kalani is in charge of everything. She plans the route, she counts the runners, and she worries a lot. Every morning at half past six, she leaves a stack of cups on the box. Later, she comes back with a big jug of water for the runners.

Kalani bertanggung jawab atas segalanya. Ia merencanakan rute, menghitung para pelari, dan banyak merasa cemas. Setiap pagi pukul setengah tujuh, ia meletakkan setumpuk gelas di atas kotak itu. Nanti, ia kembali dengan teko besar berisi air untuk para pelari.

But every morning, the cups are gone.

Tetapi setiap pagi, gelas-gelas itu hilang.

"Someone is stealing them," she tells her friend on the phone. "Or someone doesn't like us. I don't know which is worse."

"Ada yang mencurinya," katanya kepada temannya di telepon. "Atau ada yang tidak suka pada kami. Aku tidak tahu mana yang lebih buruk."

"Just ask around," her friend says.

"Tanya-tanya saja," kata temannya.

"I can't," Kalani says. "What if I sound silly?"

"Aku tidak bisa," kata Kalani. "Bagaimana kalau aku kedengaran konyol?"

On Thursday, she writes a note and puts it under the stone. It says, "Please stop taking our cups. They are for the runners."

Pada hari Kamis, ia menulis sebuah catatan dan menaruhnya di bawah batu. Bunyinya, "Tolong berhenti mengambil gelas kami. Gelas ini untuk para pelari."

When Ilan finds the note, he goes very quiet, as he always does when he is annoyed. He reads it twice. Nobody tells a postman what to do with his own post box, he thinks. He takes a pen from his pocket. Underneath, he writes, "Please stop leaving rubbish on a public post box."

Ketika Ilan menemukan catatan itu, ia menjadi sangat diam, seperti biasa saat ia kesal. Ia membacanya dua kali. Tak ada yang boleh menyuruh seorang tukang pos soal kotak posnya sendiri, pikirnya. Ia mengambil pena dari sakunya. Di bawahnya, ia menulis, "Tolong berhenti meninggalkan sampah di kotak pos umum."

He puts the note back under the stone. Then he feels a little pleased with himself, and a little ashamed.

Ia menaruh catatan itu kembali di bawah batu. Lalu ia merasa sedikit puas pada dirinya sendiri, dan sedikit malu.

Later that morning, Kalani reads his answer under the stone. She feels her stomach turn over. Rubbish! Those are good cups, and she paid for them with her own money.

Pagi itu juga, Kalani membaca jawabannya di bawah batu. Perutnya terasa jungkir balik. Sampah! Itu gelas-gelas yang bagus, dan ia membelinya dengan uangnya sendiri.

She decides that notes are not working. She sets her alarm for five o'clock. At twenty past six, she is sitting on the low wall next to the post box. She has a jug of water and her phone. She is determined to say something to the person who takes her cups, and to say it clearly.

Ia memutuskan bahwa catatan tidak berhasil. Ia memasang alarm pukul lima. Pada pukul enam lewat dua puluh, ia sudah duduk di tembok rendah di sebelah kotak pos. Ia membawa teko air dan ponselnya. Ia bertekad mengatakan sesuatu kepada orang yang mengambil gelas-gelasnya, dan mengatakannya dengan jelas.

At twenty to seven, the white van comes round the corner. Ilan gets out with his small key and his bag. He sees Kalani on the wall, and he stops.

Pada pukul tujuh kurang dua puluh menit, van putih itu muncul di tikungan. Ilan turun membawa kunci mungil dan tasnya. Ia melihat Kalani di tembok, dan ia berhenti.

"Good morning," he says carefully.

"Selamat pagi," katanya hati-hati.

"Are you the person who throws away my cups?" Kalani asks. Her voice shakes, but she keeps going.

"Apakah Anda orang yang membuang gelas-gelas saya?" tanya Kalani. Suaranya bergetar, tetapi ia terus melanjutkan.

"Are you the person who leaves rubbish on my post box?" Ilan says.

"Apakah kamu orang yang meninggalkan sampah di kotak pos saya?" kata Ilan.

For a moment, they look at each other. Then Ilan looks at the jug and at the sports bag beside her. Last, he looks at the stack of cups on the wall.

Sesaat, mereka saling memandang. Lalu Ilan memandang teko itu dan tas olahraga di sebelahnya. Terakhir, ia memandang tumpukan gelas di tembok.

"Rubbish?" Kalani says. "They are for the running club. We meet here every morning at seven."

"Sampah?" kata Kalani. "Itu untuk klub lari. Kami berkumpul di sini setiap pagi pukul tujuh."

"I didn't know about a running club," Ilan says slowly. "I just saw cups. Nobody ever leaves anything on this box. I thought somebody was making a joke."

"Saya tidak tahu ada klub lari," kata Ilan pelan. "Saya hanya melihat gelas. Tidak pernah ada yang meninggalkan apa pun di kotak ini. Saya kira seseorang sedang bercanda."

"I thought you were stealing them," Kalani says.

"Saya kira Anda mencurinya," kata Kalani.

"I was," Ilan says. "In a way. I put thirty of them in the bin at the school gate."

"Memang," kata Ilan. "Dalam arti tertentu. Saya membuang tiga puluh gelas ke tempat sampah di gerbang sekolah."

Kalani laughs suddenly, and the laugh surprises her. Ilan starts to laugh too. It is a rusty sound, because he does not laugh much before breakfast. They stand there for a minute, two people laughing at a post box.

Kalani tiba-tiba tertawa, dan tawa itu mengejutkannya. Ilan ikut tertawa. Bunyinya serak seperti karat, karena ia jarang tertawa sebelum sarapan. Mereka berdiri di sana semenit, dua orang tertawa di depan sebuah kotak pos.

"I should have asked someone," Kalani says, when she can speak again. "I wrote a note instead. A rude note."

"Seharusnya saya bertanya pada seseorang," kata Kalani, ketika ia bisa bicara lagi. "Saya malah menulis catatan. Catatan yang kasar."

"My note was ruder," Ilan says. "I am sorry. If you had put your name on it, I would have understood."

"Catatan saya lebih kasar," kata Ilan. "Maaf. Kalau kamu mencantumkan namamu, saya pasti mengerti."

"I was afraid," Kalani says. "I'm not very good at telling people things."

"Saya takut," kata Kalani. "Saya tidak pandai mengatakan sesuatu kepada orang."

Ilan scratches his chin. "At your age, I left my first job because I wouldn't ask one small question," he says. "It took me three years to find another one. Ask early, and ask out loud. That is my only advice."

Ilan menggaruk dagunya. "Pada usiamu, saya keluar dari pekerjaan pertama saya karena tidak mau mengajukan satu pertanyaan kecil," katanya. "Saya butuh tiga tahun untuk menemukan yang lain. Bertanyalah lebih awal, dan bertanyalah dengan lantang. Itu satu-satunya nasihat saya."

Kalani nods slowly. For a long time, nobody has given her advice that did not feel like an order. She thinks about it all the way round the lake that morning, with twelve runners puffing behind her.

Kalani mengangguk pelan. Sudah lama tak ada yang memberinya nasihat yang tidak terasa seperti perintah. Ia memikirkannya sepanjang jalan mengelilingi danau pagi itu, dengan dua belas pelari terengah-engah di belakangnya.

On Saturday, Ilan arrives at twenty to seven as usual. This time, he brings something with him. It is a small wooden shelf from his garage. He screws it to the wall beside the post box, a handspan from the ground.

Pada hari Sabtu, Ilan tiba pukul tujuh kurang dua puluh menit seperti biasa. Kali ini, ia membawa sesuatu. Sebuah rak kayu kecil dari garasinya. Ia memasangnya dengan sekrup di tembok di samping kotak pos, setinggi satu jengkal dari tanah.

"Cups can go here," he says to nobody in particular. "Out of the way of the letters, and out of the way of my bin."

"Gelas bisa ditaruh di sini," katanya kepada tak seorang pun secara khusus. "Jauh dari surat-surat, dan jauh dari tempat sampah saya."

When Kalani comes with her jug, she finds the shelf and the cups already lined up on it. She says nothing for a second. Then she pours the first cup of water and holds it out to him.

Ketika Kalani datang dengan tekonya, ia menemukan rak itu dan gelas-gelas sudah berjajar di atasnya. Sesaat ia tidak berkata apa-apa. Lalu ia menuang gelas air pertama dan mengulurkannya kepadanya.

"For the postman," she says.

"Untuk Pak Pos," katanya.

Ilan takes it, drinks it in one go, and gives the cup back. "Better than coffee," he says. "Don't tell anyone."

Ilan menerimanya, meminumnya dalam satu tegukan, dan mengembalikan gelasnya. "Lebih enak daripada kopi," katanya. "Jangan bilang siapa-siapa."

By Monday, the runners have a new rule. Every morning, someone brings a stack of cups for the shelf. Every morning, Ilan checks that it is neatly done. If the cups are straight, he gives two short beeps on his horn. If they are crooked, he gives one long one.

Pada hari Senin, para pelari punya aturan baru. Setiap pagi, seseorang membawa setumpuk gelas untuk rak itu. Setiap pagi, Ilan memeriksa apakah sudah tertata rapi. Kalau gelas-gelasnya lurus, ia membunyikan klakson dua kali pendek. Kalau miring, ia membunyikannya satu kali panjang.

On Friday, Kalani lifts the last stack from the shelf to pour the water. She turns the bottom cup over in her hand and stops. Inside the rim, in thin blue pencil, someone has drawn a tiny bird.

Pada hari Jumat, Kalani mengangkat tumpukan terakhir dari rak untuk menuang air. Ia membalik gelas paling bawah di tangannya dan terhenti. Di bagian dalam bibir gelas, dengan pensil biru tipis, seseorang telah menggambar seekor burung mungil.

She did not draw it. She looks at Ilan, who is locking the post box, and he shakes his head.

Ia tidak menggambarnya. Ia memandang Ilan, yang sedang mengunci kotak pos, dan Ilan menggeleng.

"Not mine," he says. "I can't draw a bird to save my life."

"Bukan saya," katanya. "Saya tidak bisa menggambar burung, sekalipun nyawa taruhannya."

They both look at the empty road. Then, far away, at the other end of the lake, a single runner starts to wave.

Keduanya memandang jalan yang kosong. Lalu, jauh di sana, di ujung lain danau, seorang pelari tunggal mulai melambai.