The Dead Battery Above the Pharmacy

The megaphone dies on a Wednesday morning, three days before the biggest recital of the year, and Fatou takes it personally.

Megafon itu mati pada Rabu pagi, tiga hari sebelum resital terbesar tahun ini, dan Fatou menganggapnya sebagai urusan pribadi.

She stands in the middle of her dance studio, which sits on the first floor above a pharmacy. For the fourth time, she presses the trigger. Nothing comes out. The little light stays dark. Thirty small children are due in an hour, and they cannot hear a human voice over their own excitement, let alone Fatou's.

Ia berdiri di tengah studio tarinya, yang terletak di lantai dua tepat di atas sebuah apotek. Untuk keempat kalinya, ia menekan pemicunya. Tidak ada suara yang keluar. Lampu kecilnya tetap padam. Tiga puluh anak kecil akan datang satu jam lagi, dan mereka tidak bisa mendengar suara manusia di tengah kegembiraan mereka sendiri, apalagi suara Fatou.

"Five, six, seven, eight," she says into the empty room, just to prove to herself that she has a voice. It sounds feeble and rather sad.

"Lima, enam, tujuh, delapan," katanya ke ruangan kosong, hanya untuk membuktikan pada dirinya sendiri bahwa ia masih punya suara. Suaranya terdengar lemah dan agak menyedihkan.

The megaphone was working on Monday night. She is certain of that, because she used it at the end of the evening class to call the final stretch. The sound bounced off the mirrors so loudly that a woman in the back row clapped her hands over her ears. It lives in the open cupboard by the door, where anyone can reach it. So where did the battery go?

Megafon itu masih berfungsi pada Senin malam. Ia yakin akan hal itu, karena ia memakainya di akhir kelas malam untuk menghitung bagian terakhir. Suaranya memantul dari cermin begitu keras sampai seorang perempuan di barisan belakang menutup telinga dengan kedua tangannya. Megafon itu disimpan di lemari terbuka dekat pintu, tempat siapa pun bisa menjangkaunya. Jadi, ke mana perginya baterainya?

Fatou is a person who solves things. She teaches fourteen classes a week, and she keeps the studio keys, the music and a spare pair of shoes in every size. She does not accept that a battery can die on its own. Somebody has used her megaphone, and she intends to find out who.

Fatou adalah orang yang suka memecahkan masalah. Ia mengajar empat belas kelas seminggu, dan ia menyimpan kunci studio, musik, dan sepasang sepatu cadangan di setiap ukuran. Ia tidak mau menerima bahwa baterai bisa mati dengan sendirinya. Seseorang telah memakai megafonnya, dan ia berniat mencari tahu siapa orangnya.

She tucks the dead megaphone under her arm and starts with a list on the back of an attendance sheet. Between Monday night and this morning, the megaphone passed through three sets of hands. She knows that because she asked the cleaner, who laughed and asked her to stop investigating her own cupboard.

Ia menyelipkan megafon yang mati itu di bawah lengannya dan mulai dengan membuat daftar di balik lembar absensi. Antara Senin malam dan pagi ini, megafon itu berpindah ke tiga pasang tangan. Ia tahu itu karena ia sudah bertanya pada petugas kebersihan, yang tertawa dan memintanya berhenti menyelidiki lemarinya sendiri.

The first name on the list is the ballroom teacher, who rents the studio on Tuesday evenings. Fatou finds her in the corridor, wrapping a scarf around her neck.

Nama pertama di daftar adalah guru dansa ballroom, yang menyewa studio pada Selasa malam. Fatou menemuinya di lorong, sedang melilitkan syal di lehernya.

"Yes, I borrowed it," the ballroom teacher says at once. "For about four minutes. I needed to shout over a very loud waltz. Then I put it straight back in the cupboard."

"Ya, aku meminjamnya," kata guru ballroom itu seketika. "Hanya sekitar empat menit. Aku perlu berteriak mengalahkan musik waltz yang sangat keras. Lalu aku langsung mengembalikannya ke lemari."

"Did it work properly when you finished?"

"Apakah masih berfungsi dengan baik waktu kamu selesai?"

"Of course it did. I even took a photograph of it, because the battery light was green and I wanted to show my husband how modern we are."

"Tentu saja. Aku bahkan memotretnya, karena lampu baterainya hijau dan aku ingin menunjukkan pada suamiku betapa modernnya kita."

She scrolls through her phone and finds the picture. A green light, three solid bars, time stamped half past seven on Tuesday. Fatou studies it with the grim attention of a detective in a film.

Ia menggulir ponselnya dan menemukan fotonya. Lampu hijau, tiga garis penuh, dengan cap waktu setengah delapan pada hari Selasa. Fatou mengamatinya dengan perhatian serius seperti detektif di film.

"That is useful," she says. "Thank you."

"Ini berguna," katanya. "Terima kasih."

"Is it a crime?" the ballroom teacher asks hopefully.

"Apakah ini kejahatan?" tanya guru ballroom itu penuh harap.

"Not yet," says Fatou.

"Belum," kata Fatou.

The second name is the courier, a young man with a bicycle. He delivers prescriptions for the pharmacy and sometimes uses the studio stairwell as a shortcut. Fatou catches him in the middle of lifting his bike up the stairs.

Nama kedua adalah kurir, seorang pemuda dengan sepeda. Ia mengantar resep obat untuk apotek dan kadang memakai tangga studio sebagai jalan pintas. Fatou memergokinya saat ia sedang mengangkat sepedanya menaiki tangga.

He goes slightly pale when she says the word megaphone.

Wajahnya agak pucat ketika Fatou menyebut kata megafon.

"I did take it," he admits, "but only for a minute. A dog escaped from a van outside and started running around the car park. I stood on the steps and shouted at it. It ignored me completely."

"Memang aku yang mengambilnya," akunya, "tapi cuma sebentar. Seekor anjing lepas dari sebuah van di luar dan berlarian di tempat parkir. Aku berdiri di tangga dan meneriakinya. Dia sama sekali tidak menghiraukanku."

"What did you do with the megaphone afterwards?"

"Apa yang kamu lakukan dengan megafonnya setelah itu?"

"I put it on the shelf by the pharmacy door. The one in the back corridor, next to the boxes. I thought it would be safer there." He looks at his shoes. "Was that wrong?"

"Aku menaruhnya di rak dekat pintu apotek. Yang di lorong belakang, di sebelah kardus-kardus. Kupikir di sana lebih aman." Ia menunduk menatap sepatunya. "Apakah itu salah?"

Fatou writes on the sheet: Courier, Tuesday, about eight. Moved it to the pharmacy shelf. Then, because she is fair, she writes: Why did it come back to my cupboard?

Fatou menulis di lembar itu: Kurir, Selasa, sekitar pukul delapan. Memindahkannya ke rak apotek. Lalu, karena ia adil, ia menulis: Kenapa benda itu kembali ke lemariku?

"Someone must have carried it up to me," she says. "Someone who knew whose it was."

"Pasti ada yang membawanya naik kepadaku," katanya. "Seseorang yang tahu itu milik siapa."

The courier shrugs. Fatou watches him carry his bicycle away.

Si kurir mengangkat bahu. Fatou memperhatikannya menggotong sepedanya pergi.

That leaves the third person, and he is the one she was trying not to think about. He is the pharmacist, a tall, patient, untidy man named Nikos. He sells her cough sweets and cheerfully complains about her music through the ceiling every afternoon. The two of them have been neighbours for four years, and she has never once suspected him of anything worse than a bad singing voice.

Tinggal orang ketiga, dan dialah yang selama ini berusaha tidak ia pikirkan. Dia adalah apoteker, seorang pria jangkung, sabar, dan berantakan bernama Nikos. Ia menjual permen batuk kepadanya dan dengan riang mengeluhkan musiknya lewat langit-langit setiap sore. Mereka sudah bertetangga selama empat tahun, dan Fatou tidak pernah sekali pun mencurigainya melakukan sesuatu yang lebih buruk daripada bernyanyi dengan suara fals.

She finds him behind the counter, writing a label with great care. His eyes are tired. There is a long queue in front of him, and she can see that the queue is not cheerful.

Ia menemukannya di balik meja, sedang menulis label dengan sangat hati-hati. Matanya tampak lelah. Ada antrean panjang di depannya, dan Fatou bisa melihat bahwa antrean itu tidak sedang bergembira.

"Nikos," she says. "A word."

"Nikos," katanya. "Aku perlu bicara."

"Fatou, I would love to, but as you can see, I am drowning." He waves at the line of customers. "The number machine broke on Tuesday, and since then everybody has been standing in a heap and arguing about who arrived first."

"Fatou, aku ingin sekali, tapi seperti yang kamu lihat, aku sedang kewalahan." Ia melambai ke barisan pelanggan. "Mesin nomor antrean rusak hari Selasa, dan sejak itu semua orang berdiri bergerombol dan berdebat soal siapa yang datang lebih dulu."

Fatou stops. Something in her head clicks, the way a key clicks into a lock.

Fatou terdiam. Sesuatu di kepalanya berbunyi klik, seperti anak kunci yang masuk ke dalam lubangnya.

"Nikos, when did the number machine break?"

"Nikos, kapan mesin nomor antrean itu rusak?"

"Tuesday afternoon. Why?"

"Selasa sore. Kenapa?"

"And how did you call the customers on Tuesday evening?"

"Dan bagaimana kamu memanggil pelanggan pada Selasa malam?"

He opens his mouth and closes it again. He looks suddenly like a man who has been caught eating the last biscuit. "I had a little help," he says. "From the back corridor shelf."

Ia membuka mulut lalu menutupnya lagi. Wajahnya mendadak seperti orang yang kepergok memakan biskuit terakhir. "Aku dibantu sedikit," katanya. "Dari rak di lorong belakang."

"There is a megaphone on that shelf."

"Ada megafon di rak itu."

"There was a megaphone on that shelf. It was very useful. It has a lovely loud voice."

"Dulu ada megafon di rak itu. Sangat berguna. Suaranya bagus dan lantang."

"Nikos," Fatou says, with enormous calm, "where is it now?"

"Nikos," kata Fatou dengan ketenangan luar biasa, "sekarang di mana benda itu?"

She does not wait for his answer. She lifts the dead megaphone from under her arm and sets it on the counter between them. Nikos looks at it the way a man looks at an old photograph of himself. Then he bends closer and points at the trigger, where a sticky grey stripe shows that clear tape was once wound around it. Beside the stripe, a ragged scrap of paper still clings to the plastic. On it, in the pharmacy's thick black marker, are two words: NEXT, PLEASE.

Ia tidak menunggu jawabannya. Ia mengangkat megafon mati itu dari bawah lengannya dan meletakkannya di meja di antara mereka. Nikos menatapnya seperti orang menatap foto lama dirinya sendiri. Lalu ia mencondongkan badan dan menunjuk pemicunya, tempat sebuah garis abu-abu lengket menunjukkan bahwa dulu ada selotip bening yang dililitkan di sana. Di samping garis itu, secarik kertas sobek masih menempel di plastiknya. Di atasnya, dengan spidol hitam tebal milik apotek, tertulis dua kata: BERIKUTNYA, SILAKAN.

"That is my label," he says weakly. "And that is my tape."

"Itu labelku," katanya lemah. "Dan itu selotipku."

"You taped the trigger down," Fatou says.

"Kamu menyelotip pemicunya supaya tertekan terus," kata Fatou.

"Only so that I would not have to hold it." Nikos is turning an interesting shade of pink. "I peeled the tape off before I brought it back, because I thought you would never notice. But it was not turned off properly when I carried it to the stockroom last night. I left it humming on the shelf. All night."

"Hanya supaya aku tidak perlu memegangnya." Wajah Nikos berubah menjadi merah muda yang menarik. "Aku sudah mengelupas selotipnya sebelum mengembalikannya, karena kupikir kamu tidak akan menyadarinya. Tapi benda itu tidak dimatikan dengan benar waktu aku membawanya ke gudang tadi malam. Aku meninggalkannya berdengung di rak. Sepanjang malam."

"All night, calling for the next customer in an empty pharmacy."

"Sepanjang malam, memanggil pelanggan berikutnya di apotek yang kosong."

"I am told it was a very polite night."

"Katanya itu malam yang sangat sopan."

In the line, someone laughs. Another customer starts to clap, slowly. Fatou presses her lips together, because she does not want to give him the satisfaction. A smile is creeping up on her, and she cannot stop it.

Di antrean, seseorang tertawa. Pelanggan lain mulai bertepuk tangan pelan-pelan. Fatou mengatupkan bibirnya, karena ia tidak mau memberinya kepuasan. Senyum merayap naik di wajahnya, dan ia tidak bisa menahannya.

"Three people," she says. "Three people, and the one I should have started with was downstairs the whole time."

"Tiga orang," katanya. "Tiga orang, dan yang seharusnya kudatangi pertama ternyata ada di lantai bawah sepanjang waktu."

"In my defence," Nikos says, "I did bring it back to you. I left it in your cupboard this morning, at six, before you came."

"Sebagai pembelaan," kata Nikos, "aku sudah mengembalikannya padamu. Kutaruh di lemarimu pagi ini, pukul enam, sebelum kamu datang."

"Dead."

"Dalam keadaan mati."

"Humbly dead. I apologise." He pushes the megaphone an inch towards her across the counter. "I will buy you new batteries. I will buy you twelve of them, with a ribbon. And I will stand in the front row on Saturday and call every dance step you want."

"Mati dengan rendah hati. Aku minta maaf." Ia mendorong megafon itu sejengkal ke arahnya melintasi meja. "Aku akan membelikanmu baterai baru. Aku akan membelikan dua belas, lengkap dengan pita. Dan aku akan berdiri di barisan depan hari Sabtu dan meneriakkan gerakan tari apa pun yang kamu mau."

"That," Fatou says, "is the best offer I have had all week."

"Itu," kata Fatou, "tawaran terbaik yang kudapat minggu ini."

"Left foot, right foot," says Nikos, lifting the dead megaphone to his lips and speaking into it with great seriousness. "Next customer, please."

"Kaki kiri, kaki kanan," kata Nikos sambil mengangkat megafon mati itu ke bibirnya dan berbicara ke dalamnya dengan sangat serius. "Pelanggan berikutnya, silakan."