The Name Under the Sandpaper

Teo sits on an upturned crate at the far end of the fishing pier. The light is low, and the water under the boards looks like melted copper. Across his knees lies a battered guitar.

Teo duduk di atas peti terbalik di ujung paling jauh dermaga pemancingan. Cahayanya rendah, dan air di bawah papan tampak seperti tembaga cair. Di atas lututnya terbaring sebuah gitar yang sudah usang.

The guitar has seen better years. A long scratch runs across the front. There is a dent near the neck, and one tuning peg is newer than the others. Teo loves every mark on it, but tonight he wants it to shine.

Gitar itu pernah mengalami tahun-tahun yang lebih baik. Sebuah goresan panjang melintang di bagian depannya. Ada penyok di dekat leher, dan salah satu penyetem senarnya lebih baru daripada yang lain. Teo menyayangi setiap tanda di gitar itu, tetapi malam ini ia ingin gitar itu berkilau.

The guitar belongs to Gaspar. Three months ago, Gaspar put it into Teo's hands. "Keep it until you can buy your own," he said. Tomorrow Teo gets his first pay from the fish market. On Saturday he plans to buy a guitar and give this one back.

Gitar itu milik Gaspar. Tiga bulan lalu, Gaspar menaruhnya di tangan Teo. "Simpan sampai kamu bisa beli sendiri," katanya. Besok Teo menerima gaji pertamanya dari pasar ikan. Hari Sabtu ia berencana membeli gitar dan mengembalikan yang ini.

A friend like that deserves a guitar that looks new. That is what Teo tells himself, anyway.

Teman seperti itu pantas mendapat gitar yang tampak baru. Setidaknya itulah yang dikatakan Teo pada dirinya sendiri.

The woman from the bait shop leans over the rail beside him. She has a folded sheet of sandpaper in one hand and a tin of wax in the other.

Perempuan dari toko umpan bersandar di pagar di sampingnya. Di satu tangannya ada selembar amplas terlipat, di tangan lainnya sekaleng lilin.

"Your back is a mess," she says, looking at the guitar. "The old varnish is cracked. Take these. Go slowly, and your friend will never know."

"Bagian belakangmu berantakan," katanya sambil memandang gitar itu. "Pernis lamanya retak. Ambil ini. Pelan-pelan saja, dan temanmu tidak akan tahu."

"Thank you," Teo says. "I will bring them back tomorrow."

"Terima kasih," kata Teo. "Besok saya kembalikan."

"Keep them," she says, and walks away with her bucket.

"Simpan saja," katanya, lalu pergi membawa embernya.

Along the pier, the lamps click on one by one. Men and women sit in a long row with their fishing lines hanging into the dark. The air smells of salt and bait and cold metal. Somewhere behind Teo, a radio plays very quietly.

Di sepanjang dermaga, lampu-lampu menyala berklik satu per satu. Para pria dan wanita duduk berderet panjang dengan tali pancing menjuntai ke dalam gelap. Udara berbau garam, umpan, dan logam dingin. Di suatu tempat di belakang Teo, sebuah radio berbunyi sangat pelan.

He turns the guitar over and starts on the back. The old varnish comes off in a fine, pale dust. Under it the wood is warm and yellow, like the inside of a lemon. Teo sands in long strokes, as the woman showed him, and blows the dust away every minute.

Ia membalikkan gitar dan mulai mengerjakan bagian belakang. Pernis lama terkelupas menjadi debu halus yang pucat. Di bawahnya kayunya hangat dan kuning, seperti bagian dalam lemon. Teo mengamplas dengan goresan panjang, seperti yang diajarkan perempuan itu, dan meniup debunya setiap menit.

The deepest scratches take the longest. They run across the middle of the back in a rough, wobbly line. Teo does not think about them much. They look like damage to him, so he sands them until they disappear.

Goresan terdalam memakan waktu paling lama. Goresan-goresan itu melintang di tengah bagian belakang dalam garis kasar yang bergelombang. Teo tidak terlalu memikirkannya. Bagi dia itu tampak seperti kerusakan, jadi ia mengamplasnya sampai hilang.

When he finishes, the back is as smooth as a plate. He rubs in the wax with his thumb and holds the guitar up to the lamp. It shines. He feels proud for the first time all week.

Ketika selesai, bagian belakang itu semulus piring. Ia menggosokkan lilin dengan ibu jarinya dan mengangkat gitar ke arah lampu. Gitar itu berkilau. Untuk pertama kalinya sepanjang minggu itu, ia merasa bangga.

He plays a chord. It sounds exactly the same as before, with a little buzz on the lowest string. Teo frowns. A new back does not change a sound, he realises. Only practice does that.

Ia memetik sebuah kunci. Bunyinya persis sama seperti sebelumnya, dengan sedikit dengung pada senar terendah. Teo mengerutkan kening. Punggung yang baru tidak mengubah bunyi, ia sadar. Hanya latihan yang bisa.

"Hey, look at you," says a voice behind him. "A man at work."

"Hei, lihat kamu," kata sebuah suara di belakangnya. "Orang yang sedang bekerja."

Gaspar walks out of the half dark with two fishing rods over his shoulder. He carries a paper bag of hot chips. He is grinning, and the smell of vinegar follows him along the boards.

Gaspar berjalan keluar dari remang-remang dengan dua joran di bahunya. Ia membawa kantong kertas berisi keripik kentang panas. Ia nyengir, dan bau cuka mengikutinya di sepanjang papan.

"I wanted to surprise you," Teo says. "Look. I fixed it up. No more scratches."

"Aku ingin memberimu kejutan," kata Teo. "Lihat. Aku sudah memperbaikinya. Tidak ada lagi goresan."

Gaspar puts down the rods. He takes the guitar and turns it over to admire the back. Then he stops smiling.

Gaspar meletakkan joran-joran itu. Ia mengambil gitar itu dan membaliknya untuk mengagumi bagian belakangnya. Lalu ia berhenti tersenyum.

He runs his thumb slowly over the smooth wood, from one end to the other. He does it a second time, more slowly. Teo watches his friend's hand and feels something cold begin in his stomach.

Ia menyusurkan ibu jarinya perlahan di atas kayu yang halus itu, dari satu ujung ke ujung lain. Ia melakukannya sekali lagi, lebih pelan. Teo memperhatikan tangan temannya dan merasakan sesuatu yang dingin mulai muncul di perutnya.

"What is wrong?" Teo asks.

"Ada apa?" tanya Teo.

"My name was here," Gaspar says quietly.

"Namaku dulu ada di sini," kata Gaspar pelan.

"Your name?"

"Namamu?"

"I carved it when I was eight, with a bent nail." Gaspar's voice is flat. "My dad had just let me hold the guitar for the first time. I was so excited that I scratched my name on the back. He was angry for about a minute."

"Aku mengukirnya waktu umur delapan tahun, dengan paku bengkok." Suara Gaspar datar. "Ayahku baru saja mengizinkanku memegang gitar itu untuk pertama kalinya. Aku begitu bersemangat sampai menggores namaku di bagian belakang. Dia marah selama kira-kira semenit."

He gives a short laugh with no happiness in it. "Then he said, if you put your name on it, you have to learn to play it. I never did. I just kept the guitar in the cupboard for six years."

Ia tertawa pendek tanpa kegembiraan. "Lalu dia bilang, kalau kamu menaruh namamu di situ, kamu harus belajar memainkannya. Aku tidak pernah belajar. Aku hanya menyimpan gitar itu di lemari selama enam tahun."

Teo cannot speak. He remembers the rough wobbly line across the middle of the back. He remembers a crooked letter at one end, shaped like a fishing hook. He did not read it as a letter. He read it as damage.

Teo tak bisa berkata-kata. Ia ingat garis kasar bergelombang di tengah bagian belakang itu. Ia ingat sebuah huruf miring di salah satu ujungnya, berbentuk seperti kail pancing. Ia tidak membacanya sebagai huruf. Ia membacanya sebagai kerusakan.

"Gaspar, I am so sorry," he says at last. "I thought it was only scratches. I thought I was helping."

"Gaspar, aku sangat menyesal," katanya akhirnya. "Kukira itu cuma goresan. Kukira aku sedang membantu."

"I know you did." Gaspar sits down on the boards with his back against the rail. He holds the guitar on his knees and says nothing for a long time.

"Aku tahu." Gaspar duduk di papan dengan punggung bersandar pada pagar. Ia memegang gitar itu di lututnya dan tidak berkata apa-apa untuk waktu yang lama.

The radio behind them goes on playing. A fisherman at the next post reels in his line and puts it out again. The lamp above them hums.

Radio di belakang mereka terus berbunyi. Seorang pemancing di tempat sebelah menarik talinya lalu melemparkannya lagi. Lampu di atas mereka berdengung.

"I should have told you what the marks were," Gaspar says. "It was never your fault. It is just that I did not know I cared until it was gone."

"Seharusnya aku memberitahumu apa arti tanda-tanda itu," kata Gaspar. "Itu tidak pernah salahmu. Hanya saja aku tidak tahu bahwa aku peduli sampai itu hilang."

Teo kneels in front of him. His hands are still covered in pale dust. "Tell me how to fix it," he says. "Please. I will do anything."

Teo berlutut di hadapannya. Tangannya masih berlumur debu pucat. "Beri tahu aku cara memperbaikinya," katanya. "Kumohon. Aku akan melakukan apa saja."

"You cannot put wood back." Gaspar rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. "It is gone."

"Kamu tidak bisa mengembalikan kayu." Gaspar mengusap matanya dengan pangkal telapak tangan. "Sudah hilang."

"I cannot put it back," Teo agrees. "But I can carve it again. Deeper this time, so nobody can sand it away by accident."

"Aku tidak bisa mengembalikannya," Teo setuju. "Tapi aku bisa mengukirnya lagi. Lebih dalam kali ini, supaya tidak ada yang bisa mengamplasnya tanpa sengaja."

Gaspar looks at him for a long moment. Then, to Teo's surprise, he pulls a small tin from his jacket. It is full of hooks and weights and bits of line. At the bottom lies a bent nail, black with age.

Gaspar memandangnya lama sekali. Lalu, yang mengejutkan Teo, ia mengeluarkan kaleng kecil dari jaketnya. Isinya penuh kail, pemberat, dan potongan tali. Di dasarnya terbaring sebuah paku bengkok, hitam karena usia.

"This is the same nail," Gaspar says. "I kept it. Silly, right?"

"Ini paku yang sama," kata Gaspar. "Aku menyimpannya. Konyol, ya?"

"Not silly," says Teo.

"Tidak konyol," kata Teo.

They move under the nearest lamp. Gaspar takes a pencil from behind his ear, which makes Teo laugh in spite of everything. He draws the six letters on the smooth wood. They are large and a little crooked, the way he remembers them. The G has its hooked tail.

Mereka pindah ke bawah lampu terdekat. Gaspar mengambil pensil dari balik telinganya, yang membuat Teo tertawa meski dalam keadaan begini. Ia menggambar enam huruf pada kayu yang halus itu. Hurufnya besar dan agak miring, seperti yang ia ingat. Huruf G-nya punya ekor melengkung seperti kail.

"Now you," he says, and hands Teo the nail.

"Sekarang giliranmu," katanya, lalu menyerahkan paku itu kepada Teo.

Teo takes a deep breath. He presses the point into the wood on the first line of the G. It is harder than it looks. The nail slips, and Gaspar puts his hand over Teo's to hold it steady.

Teo menarik napas dalam-dalam. Ia menekan ujung paku ke kayu pada garis pertama huruf G. Ternyata lebih sulit daripada kelihatannya. Paku itu tergelincir, dan Gaspar menaruh tangannya di atas tangan Teo untuk menahannya.

"Slowly," Gaspar says. "Let the nail do the work."

"Pelan-pelan," kata Gaspar. "Biarkan pakunya yang bekerja."

They go from letter to letter, one stroke at a time. The pier grows quieter around them. A few of the fishermen glance over, then look back at their lines. When Teo reaches the last R, his arm aches, but the letters are clean and deep.

Mereka bergerak dari huruf ke huruf, satu goresan demi satu goresan. Dermaga makin sunyi di sekitar mereka. Beberapa pemancing melirik, lalu kembali menatap tali mereka. Ketika Teo sampai pada huruf R yang terakhir, lengannya pegal, tetapi huruf-hurufnya bersih dan dalam.

"One more thing," Gaspar says. He takes the nail and holds it out. "Underneath, a little smaller. Put your name."

"Satu hal lagi," kata Gaspar. Ia mengambil paku itu dan mengulurkannya. "Di bawahnya, agak lebih kecil. Tulis namamu."

"It is your guitar."

"Ini gitarmu."

"Not any more," Gaspar says. "Rule number one in my house. If your name is on it, you play it. So play it, Teo. You do not need to buy another one."

"Bukan lagi," kata Gaspar. "Aturan nomor satu di rumahku. Kalau namamu ada di situ, kamu memainkannya. Jadi mainkanlah, Teo. Kamu tidak perlu membeli yang lain."

Teo cannot say anything. He carves three small letters under the big ones, slowly and carefully. Then he blows the dust from the wood and turns the guitar over. He places his fingers on the strings.

Teo tidak bisa berkata apa-apa. Ia mengukir tiga huruf kecil di bawah huruf-huruf besar itu, pelan dan hati-hati. Lalu ia meniup debu dari kayu itu dan membalik gitarnya. Ia meletakkan jari-jarinya di atas senar.

He plays the first chord, and the sound runs out across the dark water.

Ia memetik kunci pertama, dan bunyinya mengalun melintasi air yang gelap.